LUCKY

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this tale, and receive no proceeds from it. All borrowed courtesy of Ms. J.K. Rowling

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hermione sat up suddenly aware that she was in strange surroundings. Clambering down the dais quickly, she awkwardly landed on her feet. She glanced around for something to cover her nudity. She was late and felt upended. She needed something to bring a smidgeon of normality to this odd situation. A dressing gown preferably. Finally deciding that she would only find clothing in her dressing room, Hermione made her way to the door. Only the door wouldn’t budge.

“It’s warded shut Hermione. The door to the left is the bathroom if you need it.” Lucius’ voice came from the direction of the enormous bed. It seemed he was awake after all.

“I need the dressing room. I presume my clothing is in there?” Hermione wanted to escape as soon as she could.

Lucius pushed to sit up, scowling slightly. “You don’t need any clothing. Come back to bed.”

“I’m late for work. You may have the luxury of lying about until noon, but we peasants must be up and about our workday.” Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration barely suppressing an angry scream.

“I’ve already called the ministry and you have the whole week off. Come back…” Lucius’ words were drowned out by Hermione’s shout.

“You did what!!” Outrage contorted her visage and she was visibly trembling. Lucius wasn’t quite sure how angry she was, but she certainly seemed to have taken the news badly.

Not wanting her to think she could that she could get away with her pedestrian behaviour, Lucius slid from the bed. “There is no need to shout. We are in the same room, dearling.”

The little sneer that coloured his ‘dearling’ made Hermione’s gaze turn crimson. She utterly forgot that she was unclothed. She strode to stand nose to chest with the startled wizard.

Lifting her head to look him dead in the eye, she whispered fiercely, “If I want to shout, I will shout. If you have a problem with my manner, then ‘dearling’ there is only one solution. DIVORCE ME!!” The last was said a in a roar that nearly singed Lucius’ eyebrows.

“You have a lot of nerve. First you blackmail me into ‘pretending’ to be your fiancée, for all of thirty seconds. Then you humiliate me by flaunting the fact that the man I loved has moved on to someone else.” She stopped Lucius from speaking with a lethal glare.

“Don’t think for a moment I think that encounter was pure happenstance. I’m not that daft!” The slight tightening of his already taut lips confirmed her suspicion. A shaft of misery pierced her already bruised emotions. The slimy, fake bastard!

“You go behind my back and arrange a wedding that was unnecessarily rushed, only to secure me in your bed. This after announcing our bond to the world at large. Why not wait until the betrothal was ended to bed me? I’ll tell you why.” Her arms flailed punctuating her point.

“Because the great and almighty Lucius Malfoy must always have whatever he wants, when he wants. You self-indulgent prick! It will be a cold day in hell before I let you touch me again.” She wanted so badly to hit him that it brought her to tears.

Unable to prevent the tears that gathered in her eyes, Hermione turned sharply and made a beeline for the bathroom. She locked the door and leaned her head back. She could only hope that Lucius hadn’t realised she was about to cry. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak. Tears did that. Men often would forget everything you said once the waterworks began. Immediately, they would discount whatever points made, simply to say that you were being ‘emotional’. Little would Lucius know that when Hermione cried it was a dangerous sign. It meant that she was so angry that she couldn’t physically lash out, that some release had to be found. If he had touched her or spoken to her, he would have found himself with one very pissed off witch attempting to injure at will.

On the other side of the wall, Lucius was temporarily at a loss as how to deal with Hermione. Narcissa had never had such displays of temper. She had always been very collected and any anger was dealt with in a straightforward manner. Some type of financial retribution would ensue. Whether it was a trip to a wildly expensive couture house or some signature jewels, Lucius paid for his slights in a way that never dented his pride. Only his pockets.

No matter. He was fairly certain that in that all women were the same. He would go shopping this morning and hope his offering would smooth his way. If it wasn’t enough, he could always take Hermione to Paris for some shopping. Certainly in the more ‘romantic’ surroundings, she would forget her supposed grievances. It was only a matter of time before she began to enjoy all that the Malfoy name and fortune afforded.

Feeling more in control, Lucius rang for a house elf. Thank goodness the manor had several bathrooms. He unwarded the door to the sitting room and the bedroom. It would be harmless for Hermione to wander the manor as she would be unable to leave without Lucius’ allowing her to do so.

Hermione was relieved that she was able to dress. And even happier to find she could leave their suite. Her new home was gorgeous. She had expected one of those homes chock full of ugly heavy antiques and heavy drapes. Instead the stately rooms were tastefully done with precious artefacts and beautiful fabrics. Hermione was unable to enter all the rooms, but most of those that she saw were quite impressive. She especially liked a small dining room that was done in shades of blue with ecru and pale yellow accents that leant a peaceful air to the room. In one nook there were bay windows that had a wide window seat beneath it. The long, crystal clear windows let in tons of light and it seemed almost other-worldly.

It was here Lucius found her, sitting and gazing out of the windows to the manicured lawns below. She wore a sand coloured linen pants with a matching fitted cashmere sweater. Her hair was casually caught in a ponytail at her nape, with tendrils that curled sweetly at her temples. How innocent she looked, his young bride. Her brown loafers were discarded on the floor beneath. Bare toes curled in the cushioned seat. She turned at his entrance, her face swiftly going from relaxed to tense. Swinging her legs down to her shoes, Hermione quickly replaced them.

“I see you’ve found the breakfast room. Have you eaten?” Lucius hoped the relatively innocuous question would forestall any more ranting.

“Yes, a house elf was kind enough to bring me something earlier. Where have you been?” Hermione stood hoping the added height would lessen her sense of disadvantage.

“I had a rather important errand.” Seeing Hermione’s face sour slightly, Lucius continued, “I would like us to start this marriage on a better note. So in the interest of peace, I’ve a peace offering.”

“Lucius, I don’t want a gift. What I want is out of this farce.” Hermione returned his gaze stonily.

Grasping a long box wrapped in gold foil with a golden ribbon, Lucius held out to Hermione. “Why don’t you see what I’ve gotten first before you make any rash decisions?”

“What is it Lucius? Jewelry? Did you think that you could buy my affections, my cooperation?” Hermione could see from his expression that she was right. Spot on. Suddenly sick to her stomach, Hermione felt a wave of self-revulsion. She had let this shallow, petty, cruel man into her body. She had forgotten what and who he was. For sex. That’s all it was. That’s all it could ever be. There could never be anything with a Death Eater. Former or not. That is what he was in the end, someone who reviled her and her kind.

Lucius could see the play of emotions across her expressive features, and he knew that he had to gather himself once again to convince her that this was her only option. “There is no divorce in the wizarding world, Hermione.” His voice was harsh with repressed fury. “I didn’t take you for a coward. Certainly, there are benefits that you are not considering. For example, becoming the first female Minister of Magic. On your own, you would not have a chance. But together, I do believe that there is much we could achieve.”

He tossed the box onto the window seat as if it held a mere trinket and a not an incredible set of pearls. “You don’t want jewels or clothing, I take it. But there is something I have to offer you. It’s up to you to accept it.” Saying so, he walked out the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Sighing deeply, Hermione wondered how it was that this man knew just the buttons to push with her. As much as she may disdain worldly goods, she did want to do something useful. And being Minister of Magic would put her in the position to really effect change and to truly help those that needed it.

Sitting down she felt something crumple under backside. She reached under her to pull out the bent box. Unable to help it, she opened the box to find the pearls. Their sheen beckoned, but it wasn’t the lure of riches to come that had Hermione fastening the string of precious pearls around her neck. It was time to bargain with the devil, and hopefully wearing the necklace would herald a truce of sorts.


A.N. No lemons this time. I’m finally on vacation for a few days and relieved that I was able to find some time to write. I’ve started Chapter Eight already.