When You Least Expect It

Authors Note(s): Thank you to my wonderful friend, t_stevenson. She is a goddess and helped me with some initial direction. And to such a lovely cheerleader sweething10…she was so supportive, even when my brain had shut down. Finally, to the ever deserving beta – the shy and anonymous W – she made it all better. This piece started out with a prompt from a Dramione fan who asked if I could write a Lumione. She sent me a prompt that read, if I recall: “Lucius, Severus and Draco are in a bar. Hermione walks in.” I thought I couldn’t do this yet I decided to challenge myself and venture into Lucius’ world. This was supposed to be 1,500 words or less; clearly I surpassed the word count and my own expectations. I hope you enjoy what morphed into my Lucius Big Bang submission (a Roar, nonetheless).

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PART ONE

Pushing the door open to Diagon Alley’s newest pub, The Beggar’s Brew, Hermione Granger was seriously contemplating taking a vacation from her life. Because from where she stood, it was truly, honestly at rock bottom.

Merlin, she despised men at this very moment. Perhaps becoming a lesbian was the path for her. Women were soft, attentive and loving. Of course, they could also be vindictive, bitchy and vengeful. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ was never a truer adage.

Ronald Bilius Weasley. Just the name made her scowl. Bastard!

True, things hadn’t exactly been fantastic between them for some time but it didn’t give him the right to cheat on her. And Harry had known. Ron had been having casual one-night stands with different slags he’d meet in pubs and Harry, her Harry, had known. All the times she’d gone to him for support, a shoulder to cry on or just ranting she was going to break up with Ron, he’d listened and encouraged her to keep trying. He’d assure her that Ron loved her; his aloof behavior had nothing to do with her. He told her to ‘hang in there.’

B-A-S-T-A-R-D! She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to speak to Harry again.

The warmth of the pub’s interior greeted her like a hug from an old friend. She’d become a regular when things had started going downhill with Ron Weasley, git extraordinaire. The place was a wonderful blend of Wizard and Muggle offering butterbeer, the finest Firewhiskey along with top of the line ales from around the world. The menu was simple yet scrumptious. Finding solace in the always burning fire roaring in the oversized stone hearth, dark wood tables, worn floors as well as the friendly and familiar faces of the regulars, she knew she could come here and leave her worries at the door. No one here would judge her; no one here would break her heart.

Sighing, she waved wayward curls from her face and made her way to a small private table in the back. She waved hello to Seamus Finnegan, the owner and bartender. In no mood for company, she shrugged off her robes and slid into the high-back booth then gave her order to the waitress who had marched over promptly upon her arrival. Seamus was a godsend to all his patrons. He just listened if you wanted to unburden your woes; he made you smile if you needed some cheering up; his generous nature and affable personality made him popular with Muggle-borns, half-blood and purebloods, alike. As for Hermione, having known him for so many years, well, the man could read her moods from a mile away.

Hermione didn’t notice the men sitting at the table, in front of the fireplace, who came here for the same reasons as she, anonymity and warmth. The proprietor treated them fairly and respectfully. It had become their weekly meeting place.

Draco sipped his dark lager. “She doesn’t look too good, does she? I wonder what the jagged-faced fuck and freckled arse did this time.”

“Honestly, Draco, language.” Lucius Malfoy shook his head, never taking his eyes off the petite, pretty witch. “And why do you presume that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are the cause of her sullen mood.”

A snort from his left was the reply. “Lucius, those two dunderheads are always the reason she’s upset.” Severus Snape tapped his fingers on the wood table. “They have no tact and are still as childish as they were as first years.” Taking a long drink of his pale ale, he continued, “No, Draco is right. Mark my words; they are the cause of her, obvious, anguish.”

Lucius Malfoy admired the little Muggle-born from afar. She had certainly grown into her looks. Petite with lush, full curves traveled down the lengthy of her supple body. Breasts that would surely more than fill his hands and firm thighs that looked as if they would grip him tightly as he . . . he took a drink of his pint.

As luck, or fate, would have it, she usually strode in on the days he, Draco and Severus were meeting. Watching her had become a favorite pastime. Her expressive face and wide eyes held every emotion, making him want to see more than just her face. He wanted to see what was under those tight Muggle jeans she favored. After some discreet inquiring, he’d learned she was dating the foolish, youngest Weasley. It made him want to empty the contents of his stomach at the thought that a woman so fine would, willingly, be with such an idiotic boy.

Lucius Malfoy mused at the feelings the slip of a witch elicited from him. During the war, he had switched sides when Draco had been given the task of murdering Dumbledore. He never wanted his only son to have to endure such a horror. Seeking Dumbledore’s help while in Azkaban, he became a successful double agent for the Order. Only Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and Albus Dumbledore knew of his role. When the old headmaster had died on the Astronomy Tower, Lucius had feared for his family’s safety. With the white-haired wizard gone, who knew where that left him with the other senior Order members. Luckily, Remus and Arthur had not turned on the older Malfoy.

He mourned the ever-amused and wise Dumbledore. While he knew Severus had no other choice and the old man had planned it all, it was, nonetheless, a shock to learn it had been his oldest friend to cast the curse. After a lengthy investigation, Severus had been exonerated by the Wizengamot.

During the final battle, he had marveled at his beautiful wife’s courage in lying to the Dark Lord. Her death on the battleground had come as a blow. The pain cut deep. Now, eight years later, despite bedding the occasional witch, he’d not seriously courted one since. None stirred his blood, let alone his loins. Not until Hermione Granger had walked into this very pub, nearly a year ago.

Her mere presence had awakened the dormant beast within him, which prowled its cage waiting for the chance to pounce. Lucius didn’t know if it was her delicate femininity, which hid a fierce nature, her womanly curves or, simply, her tiny size that made him want to yank her by those wild curls, ram her up against the wall and fuck her brains out until she couldn’t walk or talk. Dominate her. Brand her. Own her. Truthfully, he didn’t care. He just wanted her.

Powerful, beautiful and intelligent, she broke all preconceived notions of Muggle-borns being inferior to purebloods. She was a prize to be won and cherished. However, approaching the volatile vixen was another matter, entirely. She would surely hex him if he came within an arm’s length.

Seeing her looking so sad and worn brought out a combination of tender possessiveness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Perhaps, this was the moment he was waiting for. Perhaps, with her defenses down, he could lure her into his arms. Perhaps, he needed to allow his Slytherin nature to take over and take advantage of the situation.

Lost in his thoughts, he missed the sly grins and looks between his son and oldest friend.

Draco leaned forward. “Father, why don’t you send her a drink? At least it’ll give you a reason to speak with her.”

Turning to look at his son with a raised eyebrow, Lucius stared at him through hooded eyes. “Is that so?”

“Naturally, you stare at her every time she walks through the door.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Just go speak with her. Please, it’s much better than watching you want to fu . . .”

“Do not finish that thought, Draco.” Lucius’ eyes darkened. “You’ll refrain from speaking of Ms. Granger in such a vulgar manner.”

Lifting one eyebrow, Snape proffered a lop-sided smirk. “I’m sure your thoughts are much worse, Lucius.” Motioning for the waitress, his tone turned serious. “Draco’s right, you’re mooning and it’s rather unsavory to witness. Do something, before someone else does.”

Tilting his head, Lucius leaned forward. “Are you challenging me, Severus?”

Putting up three fingers at the waitress, who nodded his way, Severus spoke in clipped tones. “She was my student, don’t be ridiculous.” Watching Lucius visibly relax, he struck quickly; like a wasp to its victim. “However, I do think the tall wizard making his way towards Ms. Granger could provide ample competition.”

Following Severus’ gaze, Lucius watched a tall, muscular man walk up to Hermione and lean over her, a wide smile plastered on his prattish face. The next thing they knew, the man had paled visibly and stumbled back, his smile fading to a thin line. Turning on his heel, he briskly walked away from the irritable witch. Lucius eyed her as she sneered at the retreating figure and went back to sipping her beer and picking at the herb omelet and chips she’d ordered, both having arrived only moments before the confrontation.

Draco laughed. “Send her a pint, Father. Please, I want to see what she does to you.”

Glaring at the guffawing younger Malfoy, Lucius spoke in a low tone. “She won’t do anything to me. I’m no boy who can be easily put off by a few words from a mere little girl. If I send her a drink and she is rude, she’ll know the wrath of a real wizard.”

Severus shook his head as Draco’s laughs died down. Tapping his fingers on the wood table again, Severus fixed Lucius with a hard stare. “Well, then stop boasting like a school boy. Send the witch a drink. Let’s see what she does, shall we?” Grinning evilly, he said, “Go on, I dare you, Lucius.”

Lucius turned serious and motioned for the waitress. He smiled at her approach. “Good evening, Clara.”

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.” The waitress gave Lucius a wink. “Can I get you something else?” She made it clear it was more than food and drink she had to offer.

“As a matter of fact there is,” Lucius whispered. “In the back, there’s a pretty, brunette sitting by herself . . .”

Clara frowned. “Hermione Granger?”

Lucius nodded.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, I wouldn’t do what I think you’re about to do. Hermione’s not in a very good mood tonight. Boyfriend broke up with her, I think. She nearly castrated Marcus Flint, over there. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Draco broke into a fit of coughing laughter. Severus sat back looking smug. Lucius glared at both and cleared his throat. “I’m not worried, Clara. Ms. Granger knows us . . . me. Would you please send over a pint of whatever she’s having? Let her know it’s courtesy of Lucius Malfoy.”

Hesitating, Clara winced. “Are you sure?”

Lucius gave her a charming smile. “Very. Thank you.”

Clara walked away with a worried look. Lucius watched as she spoke to Seamus in hushed tones. Seamus glanced over her shoulder to give Lucius a wide-eyed look before turning to pour out a pint of amber ale. Nervously, the waitress walked over to Hermione’s booth and placed the glass in front of her. Hermione looked up confused as Clara bent over to whisper in her ear and turned to point at Lucius. Shock clearly written on the Muggle-born beauty’s face quickly faded to a dark scowl as she narrowed her eyes and fixed the tall, blond wizard with a glare.

Nostrils flaring, she rose to her full five foot three stature, picked up the pint and, with a determined stride, made her way over to the three men. She clunked the glass down in front of Lucius and turned to Severus with a sweet smile. “Good evening, Professor. Nice seeing you.”

“Ms. Granger.” Severus returned a polite greeting.

Hermione looked at Draco next. “Draco, how are you? How’s Pansy?” She and Draco had been friends for some time. He was dating Pansy Parkinson, who, oddly enough, was now one of Hermione’s closest female friends.

“Didn’t you just see her last night? Aren’t you two going shopping this Sunday?” He grinned.

Lucius was becoming extremely annoyed at being ignored. How dare the chit speak to his companions in such a familiar tone whilst giving him the cold shoulder? “Ms. Granger, good evening.”

Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head to give him a withering, cold look. “Mr. Malfoy,” she gritted out.

He smiled.

“Did you send this to me?” She motioned at the pint.

Lifting an aristocratic eyebrow, he answered smoothly. “Indeed. You looked like you needed another.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, my dear, you seemed so forlorn and lost. I thought a drink would offer you a nice pick-me-up and brighten your mood.”

“Forlorn? Lost?”

Lucius shrugged his shoulders. “Sad, and a bit pathetic, in all honesty.”

Chairs scraped away from the table.

“Sad? Pathetic?”

Lucius leaned back into his chair. “I believe that’s what I just said. Do you make it habit to parrot everything you hear, or do you actually have a unique notion in that pretty, little head of yours?”

“Uh . . . Father . . .?” Draco gulped loudly while Severus watched the exchange in fascination.

Lucius held up his hand, never taking his eyes from Hermione. By now the brunette witch was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed and her hands clenched in to tiny fists. Lucius knew what he was doing. The last thing she needed was a simpering boy. No, the vixen needed someone to take her in hand and to task. He was just the man to do it. She was quite a sight to behold – eyes like molten chocolate, skin flushed a bright pink, stance like a warrior goddess. He couldn’t wait to have her and have her, he would. Once a Malfoy decides he wants something, a Malfoy gets it.

He grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong, Ms. Granger? Something you’d like to say?”

The next think he knew, he had pushed back his chair, sputtering beer from his lips, strand of his silken hair covered in rich amber ale. The little termagant had poured the pint over his head.

“That, Mr. Malfoy, was to cool your hot head!”

A sharp and loud slap blossomed into stinging pain on his cheek following her statement.

“And thatwas for your presumptuous and outrageously rude words!” Spinning around, Hermione marched to her booth, gathered her robes and bags; and then with a loud ‘crack’ Apparated from the spot.

Lucius was fuming! How dare she strike him? How dare she pour beer on his head? Merlin, how was he going to get rid of the smell? She better hope it didn’t ruin the color . . . His thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s booming laugh.

“Gods, I warned you.” Draco was trying to catch his breath and speak through barking laughter. “What possessed you to insult her?”

Even Severus was struggling to hold back his laughter. “Honestly, Lucius, you do look quite the fool. Oh, I think she left her handprint on your face.”

Clara and Seamus rushed over to make sure they were fine. Lucius waved everyone off, dropped several galleons on the table, gathered his cane and walked out of the pub, the occasional chuckle trailing behind him.

The little chit had no idea what she’d done and who she was challenging. This was war. He smirked. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt so alive, or so aroused. Ms. Hermione Granger was in for quite a battle. In the end, he knew he’d win. She’d be his.

Straightening his shoulders, he Apparated away.

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Hermione couldn’t believe her horrid luck.

Lucius Malfoy’s goal in life seemed to be to drive her barking! Since their confrontation at The Beggar’s Brew, three months ago, he’d insinuated himself into nearly every aspect of her daily activities.

He was now on the committee that oversaw her projects with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her job entailed reviewing, researching and re-writing pro-pureblood slanted laws. Now, the king of all righteous pureblooded prats sat at the head. Granted, he’d not interfered – in fact, his input had been somewhat helpful – but knowing that he had some measure of oversight on her work was infuriating.

Some bloody idiot had also thought it helpful that he have an office next to her. She saw his pale face every single day, now. He was there when she arrived at eight in the morning. When she went to lunch, he’d be leaving his office. If she left early, she’d bump into him. If she worked late, he also just happened to be having a late night, as well. Forced to endure the barmy blond’s presence in the lift just about every time she took it, she would cram herself into a corner, as far from him as humanly possible.

Worst, he never said a word to her. He just stared. And stared. And stared. Those stormy grey eyes were, invariably, fixed on her person. It reached the point that she constantly walked looking over her shoulder. Hairs on her neck were always standing on end. She felt she never had privacy.

Grateful for the end of the day, she would Floo home as quickly as she could. Home was her haven, the only place she could relax. On the weekends, she avoided Diagon Alley, unless absolutely necessary and it couldn’t be purchased via owl. Muggle London was where she did most of her shopping.

Unfortunately, her visits to the Seamus’ pub were cut short, as well. Whenever she’d show up, she’d only take a sip of her favorite ale and in strode the tall, imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy. Usually alone, he would sit at the table in front of the fireplace and stare at her. After another sip or two, she would flee to the safety of her flat, away from that piercing gaze.

The high and mighty pureblooded lothario was truly nearly as tenacious as Hermione. However, brains always beat out experience, in her belief. And she would prove to be no easy mark to his wily ways.

If she were honest, she would concede what bothered her most was her, albeit reluctant, growing attraction to him. He was haughtily handsome, insidiously intelligent, and smarmily sexy; and so many other things she wouldn’t admit in the light of day. Of course she wasn’t privately thrilled at the off chance of possibly bumping into him. She would deny the rush of heat that laved her body when he looked at her. Her heart absolutely didn’t beat madly when she cast furtive glances at his back, should she spy him by pure happenstance. And no, it was not Lucius Malfoy that took the shape of her fantasy lover when she was wrapped in the sheets of slumber.

She was truly beginning to go barmy, she decided. And it was all that blond git’s fault. Damn, smug bastard! She despised that he drove her from every place of refuge: her office, the pub, the bloody Wizarding world. Well, she had her home; there she could find some refuge.

At least during the waking hours, when her subconscious didn’t take over her dreams.

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Lucius Malfoy sat in his study at Malfoy Manor and sipped on his Firewhiskey, contemplating. The fire from a large stone hearth cast the only light in the room.

His synapses were on overload regarding one petite, annoying, sexy witch. The chit barely reached his chest yet she was proving a most worthy opponent. He did his best to rile, prod, push and provoke her. As of yet, she still held on to that tough exterior. But he knew he was cracking it, and her. He couldn’t get wait to get to the soft, smooth interior. He chuckled at his analogy.

He’d inserted himself into nearly every aspect of the little witch’s life. Grinning conspiratorially, he marveled at how he’d managed to ensure his spot on her committee and secured an office next to hers. He’d cast a monitoring spell on her office to alert him when she was going to lunch and had her assistant notify him when she planned on working late. He knew her schedule by heart.

Laughing aloud, he was positive he was driving her to the brink of her patience.

“Hello?” Draco’s voiced echoed from the hall. A brief knock followed by the door opening announced his son’s arrival. “Father? Why are you sitting here in the near dark, laughing? Are you all right?”

Lucius looked up and cast a spell to light the rest of the room. He was met with the worried gaze of his only child. “I’m fine, Draco. Just thinking.”

Nodding, Draco entered the room and sat on the dark, brown leather sofa opposite his father. “Thinking about Granger, no doubt. Really, Father, why are you pursuing her? If it’s to toy with her, I’m sorry but I . . .”

Brows furrowed, jaw clenched, Lucius felt a sudden stab of jealously. “Aren’t you and Ms. Parkinson involved, Draco?”

“Yes, but what has . . .”

“Then, why are you inquiring after Ms. Granger?”

Draco paused, then tilted his head as understanding dawned. “Merlin, I’m not interested in Granger, romantically.”

“Is she not pretty enough, Draco? Are you implying Ms. Granger is, somehow, less than Ms. Parkinson?” Lucius leaned forward staring at his son with dark intent.

Raising his hands in defense, Draco rose. “Calm down! I’m not implying anything. Granger is very pretty, gorgeous, in fact. What’s not to like? Smart, sexy, funny . . .”

Lucius stood at that moment. “For someone who claims no interest, you seem to be quite familiar with her best qualities.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Draco growled. “Would you stop twisting my words? Sit down, man.” Draco’s face was red from the fury and frustration. “I said, sit down. Now!”

Taken aback, Lucius sat. He couldn’t recall Draco ever losing his temper with him. “Draco . . .”

“No. You listen and don’t interrupt me.” Taking a deep breath, Draco waved his father’s protest away. “Granger is Pansy’s friend. And, therefore, my friend. I like her a lot. As a friend. I know her best qualities, because we’re friends! Therefore, in good conscience, I cannot allow you to continue to toy with her. She’s not some slag, which you can merely shag and add a notch to your impressive bed post. I’m sorry but she went through a bad break-up with The Weasel, and was let down by Potter; the last thing she needs is someone like you breaking her heart, just because you can.” Draco gave Lucius a serious look. “Look, I’m not trying to push you into anything with Granger but I’m asking you to leave her alone if your only intent is to bed her and be done with it.”

Folding his hands in front of him, Lucius felt a wave of pride wash over him. His son stood up to him, defended a friend and followed his conscience to do something good. Draco was a far better man than he. “Draco, I must first commend you on your stance. You are quite the man to come to the defense of your friend in a most chivalrous manner. I’m proud of you.”

Lucius smiled at Draco’s shock. “Let me also assure you that Ms. Granger is no mere conquest. In fact, I don’t know what the little witch is – she frustrates me to no end. I’ve practically wedged my way into nearly every aspect of her life and she continues to ignore me. She completely flummoxes me; I don’t even know what to say to her half the time so I end up staring at her, like some idiotic school boy.”

By now, Lucius was talking more to himself than Draco, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Lord, I can’t seem to stop thinking about her. Ever since I saw her enter the pub over a year ago, I’ve wanted to approach her but she was with that stupid boy. Now, she’s available but she drives me mad. Then, I think of her age. She’s young, perhaps too young for me. What would such a young, beautiful woman want with an old, ex-Death Eater spy such as myself? But then, I’m Lucius Malfoy, aren’t I? What woman wouldn’t want me? But then I remember she’s Hermione Granger, and if there’s one woman in this world that probably wouldn’t want me, it’s her. She’s . . .”

“Do shut up, Father!”

Lucius’ gaze shot up to find Draco smiling.

“You have it bad for her, don’t you?” Draco held up his hand. “No, I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone too long.” Striding over to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey, Draco continued, “Now, please stop this insecure dialogue that’s better suited to Hufflepuffs. It doesn’t become you. It’s clear you like Granger. Actually, I think you more than like her but since I know you’ll deny it; I shan’t force you to admit it.”

Lucius grunted.

“Look, why not just court her? Be a gentleman? Invite her to dinner? Stop trying to drive her insane. You’re only driving her away. Man up, will you?”

“Man up?”

Draco nodded, tossing back his drink. “Man up!”

The elder Malfoy remained silent, clearly mulling Draco’s words. Wooing the wild witch would be something she’d never expect. It would catch her off guard and give him a bit of an upper hand.

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Honestly, did the fool actually think he could turn her head so easily at the receipt of some colorful, blooming plants or amalgamation of processed cocoa solids, cocoa fat and sugar?

For nearly one month, Lucius Malfoy had been sending small presents, on a daily basis, to Hermione with accompanying notes inviting her to lunch, dinner or drinks. Apart from the flowers and expensive chocolates, he’d sent books, magical objects, pricey quills and ink, thick parchment, even ice cream. Every day, she would gather the item and have her assistant deliver to him in his office. Never mind that he was right next door, Hermione avoided him at all costs.

It didn’t help that her attraction for him was starting to go into overload. Her dreams were out of control, she woke up, at times, drenched in sweat and painfully aroused. Pleasuring herself to relieve the tension was the only way to get back to sleep. And she did that with thoughts of him on her mind. It was absolutely Machiavellian the way he seemed to seep in her thoughts and life. She said she didn’t want him but she had caught herself staring at him on more than one occasion in public wondering if he was truly as romantic as his gestures made him seem. Was he dominating in bed? Shaking her head from such notions, she told herself she was no silly school girl prone to daydreaming so her behaviour was irrational, in her mind. Perhaps he’d cast a spell on her?

This train of thought caused her to reinforce the wards around her office and invent some new ones to keep a certain particular Slytherin prat away from her. Sniggering at the thought of how he’d fallen flat on his arse when he’d first attempted to see her, Hermione returned to her task at hand of reviewing some new language around some ancient law.

Happily, she had also managed to only communicate with the elder Malfoy via her assistant and owl. If she needed his approval, she would note all the details in writing, and then send them to him asking for his feedback or approval. She also sent copies to the Minister as well, under the guise of keeping him informed of her department’s progress. If Malfoy was late in a response, he’d have to answer to the Minister himself.

Oh yes, she was quite proud of herself.

It was with a light spring in her step that had her walking briskly to meet one of her dearest friends for breakfast before heading into the office on a crisp, chilly London morning. Entering the tiny café just across the street from the Ministry, Hermione spied Pansy Parkinson settled into a table, enjoying a cup of tea.

Hermione knew it seemed odd to some people to have Pansy as a friend. Their childhood had been filled with cruel taunts, sharp barbs and downright wickedness. But time heals wounds, and people change. Pansy Parkinson was one such person.

They had bumped into each other at Madam Malkin’s reaching for the same pair of shoes. At first, neither realized who the other woman was and both had attempted to apologize. Upon looking up, both were shocked at recognizing the identity of the other. It was as if a spell had been cast, at that moment. Neither woman decided to give an inch and wouldn’t let go of the shoe. They pushed and pulled and struggled until they’d ended up tussling about on the floor of the establishment with onlookers gazing upon them shocked. Madam Malkin had promptly separated the two and levitated them out of the store. Neither was invited back in until they learned proper manners, she’d exclaimed.

Something clicked in that moment. To this day, neither are quite sure if it was sitting on their rumps in the middle of Diagon Alley looking as if they’d been chased by a hunting party of Centaurs, or realizing they were both still in possession of said shoe, only Hermione had the heel and Pansy held the body. Either way the both started laughing, hysterically. As the laughter died down, Hermione muttered an apology and Pansy mumbled something about how Hermione shouldn’t be the one to apologize.

After that, the women had tea and, somehow, a friendship began to blossom. It wasn’t easy at first but slowly the women warmed to each other. In the end, it was Hermione’s rash actions involving Pansy’s long-time crush that solidified their friendship

Draco had dated other girls since leaving Hogwarts but always came back to Pansy. Pansy, on the other hand, dated many wizards since Hogwarts and always ran from Draco. Tired of the couple’s bickering and unresolved sexual tension, Hermione had intervened one night and locked them both in a closet at The Leaky Cauldron until they’d sorted out their feelings. Three hours later they’d emerged, disheveled and smiling. They’d been together ever since.

As for Pansy and Hermione, well, their friendship took off from there. Neither woman regretted their decision; after all, the days of childhood were long past. They balanced each other quite well, ironically. Where Pansy was still snarky, Hermione was sassy; where Hermione was still a book smart know-it-all, Pansy was a realist.

Their weekly breakfast was a ritual each depended on.

“Pansy!”

Glancing up, the dark-haired woman smiled warmly. “Hermione!” After embracing her friend, Pansy turned to call over a staff member to take their order. “I’m starving. The usual, I assume.”

Hermione nodded and nestled herself comfortably at the table. “So, what do you have to tell me? Merlin, when I got your owl last night I was so worried because you said I had to see you this very morning. What’s so urgent?”

Grinning madly, Pansy held up her left hand. There on her fourth finger was the largest diamond Hermione had ever seen. “Pansy! Draco proposed?”

Screeching gleefully, Pansy nodded as Hermione hugged her. “Last night. It was so romantic. I never thought he’d do it.”

“Neither did I. I thought I was going to have to lock you in another closet. You have to tell me everything.” Hermione was so happy for her friend. “And that ring! Ginny and Millie are going to be so jealous. Honestly, could it be any bigger?”

“He said it was a family heirloom. I don’t care how big it is, really Hermione. I’m so happy that he finally asked me to marry him. That bastard was taking forever.”

The two friends laughed and spent their time talking about the proposal and wedding. They were nearly at the end of the meal and preparing to pay the bill and leave, when Pansy placed a hand on Hermione’s wrist. The brunette witch looked at her questioningly.

“I have a favor to ask.” Pansy’s voice was suddenly serious.

Hermione was slightly taken aback. “What is it? You look so serious.”

“Well, I-I’d like to . . . look, will you be my maid of honor?” Pansy blurted out.

“Is that all? Goodness, of course. I’d be thrilled.” Hermione smiled. “For a minute, I thought you were going to ask me to have dinner with Lucius Malfoy.” The laughter in Hermione’s voice and eyes died down as she continued to stare at her friend’s face. “Oh, no. Merlin, no! Pansy, I hate that man!”

“Look, its not dinner like you think. Like a date. You just have to get along with him for a little while. Draco’s asked his father to be his best man so you’ll be spending some time with him . . .” Pansy’s voice trailed off. “Like . . . tomorrow evening . . . at Malfoy Manor . . . dinner . . .”

“No!” Hermione rose abruptly.

“Yes!” Pansy’s nostrils flared as she stood to stare down her friend. “Listen, here, Granger. You just agreed to be my maid of honor, and, as such, your duties include mingling with the best man. In this case, Lucius Malfoy. A happy Draco makes a happy Pansy. So, you will uphold your responsibility and ensure that this bride remains happy!” Hands on hips, the Slytherin beauty stared at Hermione with relentless determination.

Hermione leaned in to whisper. “I could always back out, you know.”

Pansy’s eyes went wide. “You . . . I thought we were friends? I thought you, of all people . . . Humph, fine, Granger, I’ll ask someone else.” Grabbing her items in haste, Pansy went to walk by but was blocked by Hermione.

“Stop, Pansy!” Sighing, she went to hug her friend. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that. I wouldn’t dream of not being there for you.”

Hugging her back, Pansy gave her a little smile. “Thank you. And I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it. I know that your attraction to Lucius just drives you a bit mad . . .”

“I am not attracted to that . . . that . . . man!” Hermione snorted, looping her arm in Pansy’s and walking towards the exit. “He infuriates me, I despise him. He’s so smug and full of himself. Merlin, he sends me presents on a daily basis thinking I can be bought like some Knockturn harlot.”

“I think he’s wooing you and I think it’s sweet. I mean a man his age, so distinguished and handsome, and he likes you, Hermione Granger. And it scares you to bits!” Pansy smirked. “Oh, you don’t have to admit it, I know you well enough. It’s all right. Though, why you put up such a fuss is beyond me? I mean, that man is so tall and delicious, can you imagine the size of his co . . .”

“Pansy! That’s Draco’s father! Your soon-to-be father-in-law!”

“I know. I mean Draco’s a beast; I can only imagine what Daddy must be like. You lucky girl, you.”

Blushing furiously, Hermione looked away. “Well, not so lucky as I’ve no intention of being some notch on his belt.”

Walking slowly towards the Ministry entrance, the women slowed their gait. “Oh, Hermione, I think you’d more than that to him and that’s what’s got you so afraid. He’s not Ron, you know.”

“I know.” Hermione frowned. “I just . . . I don’t know, he’s so imposing and, well, yes, I’m attracted to him but I just don’t want to have my heart broken again, Pansy.”

Gripping both of her hands, Pansy smiled. “Hermione, it’s all right to take a chance. And you can’t just assume every man will break your heart. Just think about giving Lucius a chance, won’t you? I mean he’s been in hot pursuit to get your attention for more than four months, and he’s still trying, despite your rejections.”

Pansy hugged Hermione one last time and whispered in her ear. “Just promise you’ll think about it, and him. Yes?”

Hermione pulled back and nodded her head once. She waved good-bye to her friend before turning to face her work day, emotions and thoughts over a tall, blond, sophisticated Slytherin weighing heavily on her mind.

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