Blindfold Lifted (Part 2/2) - a gift for redheadfaerie
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. All fics posted at this community were written entirely for fun and no copyright infringement is intended.
Title: Blindfold Lifted (Part 2/2)
Author: curia_regis
Gift for: redheadfaerie
Pairing: Lucius/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/somebody else
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity
Word Count: ~ 11, 000
Summary: Hermione discovers Ron cheating on her.
A/N: Thank you to H for the awesomely fast beta! <3
Blindfold Lifted, Part II
It took Ron three days to realise that she was no longer working on the rights of under-represented magical creatures. Three days, where Hermione could barely stand the sight of her husband. The previous night, he had tried to put an arm around her in bed and she had stiffened immediately. The arm had retreated and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was three days where she was wondering whether either Harry or Draco would inform Ron of her knowledge. Three days where she was wondering whether Ron would simply leave her right then and there.
A part of Hermione told her that she was simply being vindictive. The sensible, mature thing to do would be to confront Ron. To divide their assets. To leave. To get divorced.
But she was beyond being sensible.
Ron had lost the right to a wife who reacted sensibly when he screwed that unknown woman in their bed, she thought furiously.
Ron came home that evening and she could immediately tell that he was angry. He slammed the door on the way in.
"Good evening, Ron," she said pleasantly. "Did you have a good day at the office?"
He glared at her and she felt a shiver of fear slide down her back. It was not a pleasant expression in her husband’s eyes. Ron came up beside her and slammed a fist into the table. It shook. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he demanded.
"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, widening her eyes. She had been wondering how long it would take Ron to realise that she was now representing Lucius Malfoy.
"You’re representing that dirty ratbag scum!" he snapped. Spittle flew from the corners of his lips. "How could you? You know he’s a convicted Death Eater. Don’t you remember what Draco Malfoy called you at school? His father deserves to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life for that! But here you are, representing the scum!"
"Everybody deserves fair representation," Hermione said evenly. It took all of her energy to remain seated and to keep a calm expression on her face. She wanted to slap Ron. She wanted to cry and ask what she did wrong. She wanted to demand who the woman was so that she could go and gouge her eyes out. Hermione had always thought that if anything like this happened that she wouldn’t blame the other woman. She now thought differently. She would give anything to watch the husband-stealing bitch tremble. "Lucius Malfoy has as much of a right as you or me."
Ron sneered, the expression twisting his normally handsome features. "That bastard deserves nothing!" His expression changed and he laid a hand on her arm. She tried not to flinch. "Hermione, sweetheart," he said in a voice that trembled slightly, "don’t you see? He doesn’t deserve representation. He doesn’t deserve somebody like you - beautiful, kind, smart - to argue his case. Why are you doing this anyway?"
She pushed her chair back with a scrape. How dare Ron say those things about her when she knew that he was sleeping with another woman? In the back of her mind, Hermione knew that Ron didn’t realise that she knew, but it still didn’t make her feel any better. Her voice, when she spoke, was frosty. "It’s the right thing to do."
-
Hermione hadn’t realised how difficult working on Lucius’ appeal would be. Over the past few days, she had spent almost every spare minute on his appeal. She was determined that despite how despicable the man was, that she was going to give him the best possible representation.
She had never gotten a chance to talk to Draco about Ron, after all, but Hermione found herself telling Lucius the story. To her surprise, he had simply nodded and listened. It was more than she could have expected.
She had also been arriving home at odd hours, almost hoping to catch Ron in the act again, hoping to be able to catch more snippets of the conversation to figure out who the woman was. But it seemed as though Ron was being more careful. Probably last week had been too much of a close call for him.
"You don’t have much of a case," Lucius observed one day as they were sitting in a meeting room in Azkaban.
She glared at him. "Well," she said tartly, "that’s your fault, isn’t it? It would make my job much easier if you were innocent!"
He snorted. "If you were a good enough defendant, then it wouldn’t matter."
Hermione folded her hands on the table and then quickly snatched them up again. The table was somewhat sticky. She grimaced and wiped her fingers on her skirt. She didn’t want to touch some unknown fluid in Azkaban. "Our case," she said quietly, "will focus on the fact you have changed. You regret your service to Voldemort. You regret torturing and killing in his name. You extend your deepest sympathies to the families of those you hurt. Prison has shown you the error of your ways. You’ve changed."
"I certainly have," Lucius said.
She stared at him in surprise. She didn’t really believe that he had changed or reformed or however she was going to put it to the courts. She didn’t believe that he regretted his past actions. She did however, believe that he wouldn’t go around and commit any future atrocities. Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not a pragmatist. It was now no longer politically expedient for him to murder Muggle-borns. Therefore, he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be defending him if she truly believed that he was going to be a threat to society. However, Hermione knew instinctively that the courts wouldn’t accept that kind of argument.
"I hired you, didn’t I?" Lucius gave her the ghost of a smile.
Hermione couldn’t help but smile back. Whoever knew that Lucius Malfoy had a sense of humour, however slight, that didn’t involve killing Muggle-borns? She was quite enjoying her meetings with him. There was a quick adaptable wit behind those grey eyes. Plus, she admitted, the man was quite handsome for his age. Even Azkaban hadn’t seemed to give him the shrunken appearance of the other prisoners. She had asked him about it and Lucius had admitted to spending hours in his cell keeping up his muscle mass.
"So," she said briskly, looking down at her papers, "you should probably write letters to the families of everybody you remember… hurting."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"It corroborates our story that you have reformed and are truly sorry for your actions," she reminded him, slightly impatiently. Hermione was somewhat surprised that she had an aptitude for this kind of work.
"You know," Lucius said slowly, "you would make a good Slytherin. If you weren’t Muggle-born."
She rolled her eyes. "Concentrate on your case, Lucius," she said good-naturedly. "Now you should write letters to all of them. Expressing your sympathy. But don’t ham it up too much."
He nodded. "You’ll deliver them?"
Hermione was pleased that he had caught on to her idea. Most prisoners had no access to mail or anything like that. They would have an extra year added to their sentence if they were caught communicating with anybody from the outside world except their attorney. She thought that it would play in Lucius’ favour if he sent the letters. The families might be swayed in their favour if they realised that Lucius was risking his own term in prison by sending the letters.
Of course, they could always report both her and Lucius for the letters, however, Hermione had read up on the regulations enough to know that the punishment for her would be a slap on the wrist. Lucius was right, she realised with surprise, I would have made a good Slytherin.
She was glad that Lucius didn’t quibble about the possible extra jail time.
To her surprise, she found herself enjoying his company quite a lot.
-
"You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?" Ron snapped one night as Hermione was eating her dinner quietly over the dining room table.
She choked on her roast beef. "Sleeping with who?" she demanded, feeling like she was living in some sort of dream world. Shouldn’t I be asking him that?
Ron’s upper lip curled. "Lucius Malfoy, that’s who!"
Hermione burst out laughing. Out of everybody Ron could have mentioned, the last person on her mind would have been Lucius Malfoy. "Don’t be ridiculous," she managed to get out between peals of semi-hysterical laughter.
He frowned. "I’m not joking," he said thorough gritted teeth. "You come home every day with a glowing expression. It’s…" he hesitated. "It’s like the look you had when we first got married." Ron knelt down beside Hermione and took her hand. "Hermione, sweetheart. I miss that look."
She yanked her hand away from him, ignoring the hurt look in Ron’s eyes. "You’re being idiotic," she said flatly. She stood up and took her plate to the sink. "I’m going to read a book in bed. Feel free to join me when you’re no longer imagining things."
As she got ready for bed, Hermione frowned. She knew that she didn’t like Lucius that way. It was ridiculous. If she was coming home looking happier for the past few days it was because she was enjoying the challenge of representing Lucius. Plus, she admitted, Lucius was a good conversationalist. She had forgotten how much she loved a good debate. Whenever she tried to talk with Ron, it either turned into a talk about normal household matters, or a talk about Quidditch. While she didn’t mind Quidditch, she certainly didn’t enjoy it as much as Ron did.
She bit her lip. Where had her marriage gone? Even without Ron’s infidelities, she suddenly realised that she didn’t have the kind of marriage she had always wanted.
At Hogwarts, Harry had always been a barrier between them. Whenever she and Ron had a spat, Harry was always there to calm both of them down and to be the voice of reason. It had always been easy for both of them to talk to Harry. But once they had gotten married and the first flush of young love had died away… Hermione felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Their marriage had grown tired and old.
Still, she thought, gritting her teeth, it didn’t excuse Ron’s actions. They could have worked it out.
Another part of her mind questioned the validity of that statement. Could they have worked it out? Or were they simply too different now? Perhaps Harry, their friendship and the trio had been all that kept them together. They had all grown up now and everything was different.
Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny had a happy marriage. It was obvious whenever anybody looked at the couple or whenever they saw the sparkle in either of their eyes when they talked about the other. When was the last time Ron’s eyes sparkled like that when he thought of me? Hermione’s bottom lip trembled.
She knew she was starting to feel sorry for herself and she hated it. She knew that it had been a long time since her own eyes had sparkled when thinking of her husband. She had thought that it was just a normal stage that marriages went through, but now, Hermione felt deep down that it most definitely wasn’t normal.
Burying her face in her pillow, Hermione started crying in earnest.
-
"How’s the appeal going?" Draco asked.
Hermione looked up from her delicious meal. Draco had invited her over to have dinner with his wife. She suspected it was partly a gesture to thank her for taking on his father’s case, partly a way of checking up on her and partly probably for some private reason known only to Draco. "It’s going fine," she said politely. She really didn’t feel comfortable at the long dinner table that was set only for three people.
"How are you getting along with my father?"
Hermione frowned. Was that a sly tone she heard in his voice? "We have a perfectly acceptable working relationship," she said stiffly.
Astoria leaned over, smiling. "I’m so glad you’ve chosen to take on his case." Her hand went protectively to her stomach. "We’re expecting our first child and I would like to have my father in law home when the child is born."
Hermione blinked. "Congratulations," she said faintly while both Astoria and Draco looked at each other in a way that was vaguely sickening to her.
-
They were having a break in their work on the appeal. Hermione had sat back on her chair and was nursing a flask of coffee she had brought with her. She made a face when she tasted it. "Damn it," she muttered, "I wish they let us bring our wands in here."
"They’re afraid I’ll use it to hold you hostage," Lucius pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. "If you can even use it. It’s not like a gun. My wand’s attuned to me."
He shrugged. "It’s still possible, you know that."
"More than likely you’ll end up arse-over-teakettle," she said crossly as she drank her cold coffee.
He chuckled and nodded. "I concede that’s more likely to happen than not, but I do think you’re underestimating my skills with a wand."
She stared at him and raised an eyebrow. Was Lucius Malfoy coming on to her? Hermione worried her bottom lip for a second before deciding that she was being ridiculous.
"What are you smiling about?"
"I was just thinking," Hermione said. "Ron seems to believe that we’re having some sort of sordid affair. I could have sworn your son hinted the same thing. And just then, I thought you were flirting with me." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But that’s just ridiculous."
"Of course." His tone was perfectly even.
Hermione looked up at him. She was noting the orange prison scrubs less and less nowadays. Lucius was staring at her with an intense look in his eyes. "It is ridiculous, isn’t it?" she repeated.
"I said of course," he said sharply.
Hermione nodded and turned back to her work. She rubbed her hands together briskly, not knowing why she suddenly felt like she had lost something important.
-
Hermione swallowed. Now that she was standing outside the chambers of the Wizengamot, she suddenly felt nervous. She could feel her hands sweating but she didn’t want to rub them on her new robes, for fear of staining them.
Behind her, Lucius whispered, "You look like you’re the one on trial. It’s only a bench of five members. Relax."
Hermione snorted. She would have never imagined it a few weeks ago that Lucius Malfoy would be trying to comfort her at all. She knew that it was only because she was representing him but she oddly felt better. She needed to win this case. The rest of her life seemed to be falling apart. She hadn’t talked to Harry in weeks. The last time she saw Ginny, the conversation had been so stilted that Hermione hadn’t wanted to floo her friend after that. As for Ron. Well… Hermione shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Ron. For all she knew, he was screwing his mistress right now.
She turned around and looked at Lucius. Today was the first time he was dressed in anything other than prison scrubs. She had to admit that he looked good in his robes. They probably weren’t the kind he was used to. She had bought them for him. "You need to look presentable," she had insisted. He had given the robes a looking over. "Just put them on," she had ordered him.
In those robes, Lucius looked distinguished, intelligent and like a productive member of society. My job done, Hermione thought in satisfaction.
The door in front of them opened. She took a deep breath and walked in, Lucius a half-step behind her.
She strode across the room, careful to keep her steps even and to look forward and to seem professional. She looked up at the bench and was disappointed she didn’t even recognise any of the members.
"Hermione Weasley representing Lucius Malfoy," one of the judges read off a piece of paper in a drone. He looked sternly down at her and she felt like sinking into the floor. "Lucius Malfoy, you were charged with more than three counts of murder as well as serving Tom Marvolo Riddle, known to his followers as Lord Voldemort. The original court was more than lenient with your punishment. Tell me now why we should shorten their sentence?"
"Your honour," Hermione said politely. "My client has been a model prisoner." She was starting to feel better now. She was prepared. She knew her material.
Beside her, Lucius was nodding and looking serious.
Hermione mentally crossed her fingers and launched into her appeal.
-
"So?" Ron demanded when she got home. "What happened?"
Hermione smiled. "We won."
Ron goggled at her. "Are you telling me that five, sane, non-bewitched members of the Wizengamot voted to suspend the rest of Lucius Malfoy’s sentence?"
"Got it in one," she said serenely. Secretly, Hermione was enjoying the expression on Ron’s face. "As I said, we won."
He spluttered. "How could you do that?" Ron cried. "You know how dangerous that man is! He’ll be killing other Muggle-borns within the month, I promise! How could you do this?"
Hermione whirled around and glared at her husband. She was enjoying the victory. She had been planning to file for divorce quietly in the next week or so, citing irreconcilable differences. Surely given what she had heard Ron say, he wouldn’t contest it. But she suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer. She couldn’t stand Ron’s sanctimonious bullshit! "How could I do this?" she said coldly. "How could you cheat on me?"
Ron’s mouth fell open.
"Yes, Ron," she snapped. "I know."
"But…" he managed to get out. "How?"
"I came in a few weeks ago. I heard you," Hermione said. "Don’t worry," she got out through gritted teeth, "I won’t hurt you. Or her, whoever she is. I wish both of you a happy life."
Ron seemed incapable of coherent speech. "Whu… at?"
"I’m filing for divorce next week," Hermione said simply.
"You can’t do that!" he burst out.
Hermione lifted up an eyebrow. She had imagined this day for the past few weeks. She had seen a million different scenarios in her head, but she had never imagined this one.
"She didn’t mean anything!" Ron babbled. "I’m serious. I love you, Hermione. We can work it out."
Hermione could feel the blood freezing in her veins. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you fucked this woman in our bed," she ground out. "You told her you loved her. You told her you wanted to leave me. You promised her you’d leave me." A part of Hermione’s mind noticed the irony of the situation that she was arguing for the other woman, but she ignored it. "And now you’re breaking the promise to her?"
"I lied!" Ron burst out. "You … we hadn’t talked properly in months. We never had sex any more!"
"So this was all about sex?" she said icily.
"Ye… no!"
"Then, pray, Ron, what was it about?"
He looked down at the floor miserably. "I don’t know," he muttered.
"Oh, that’s precious," she snapped. "Ron, you don’t know how you managed to fuck up our marriage enough to sleep with another woman. God knows it’s not a perfect marriage but we could have worked it out."
A light suddenly appeared in his eyes. "Was this why you wanted to take the case?"
She stared at him.
"The Lucius Malfoy case," Ron said, sounding eager, "you wanted to get back at me."
She shook her head. The idiot actually sounded happy that she had been so vindictive. "I started because of that," she admitted, "but also because I wanted to."
"So you have been sleeping with him!" Ron accused.
Hermione glared at him. "You, Ron, are the only person who has been sleeping with anybody else during our marriage."
At least, she thought, he managed to look ashamed. She thought she saw a flicker of surprise through Ron's eyes. Perhaps, he had expected her to demand the identity of the other woman. Well, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction!
"Our marriage is over," she said quietly. "I think it’s been over a long time. I trust you won’t contest the divorce?"
Without waiting for his response, Hermione left the room, feeling oddly relieved.
-
"He’s devastated," Harry said with a note of pleading his voice. "Hermione, won’t you speak to him?"
"Don’t be ridiculous," she said. "That chapter of my life… it’s over. I filed the papers at the Ministry this afternoon." A thought entered her head. "He isn’t going to try to drag this through the Wizengamot, is he?"
Harry shook his head. "I don’t think so. But he really wants to talk to you. To explain."
"I don’t need explanations," she said angrily. "I want the last few years of my life back!" In the back of her mind, Hermione cringed at how melodramatic she was sounding. She studied the pale skin on her left ring finger and wondered how long it would take for it to darken to her normal skin colour again.
Harry sighed. "I’m worried about you."
"Don’t," she said, a note of finality entering her voice. "I’ll talk to you later, Harry. I’m going over to Draco’s. They invited me over for dinner to celebrate."
"That’s why I’m worried," Harry protested. "I was fine with you taking on the case. I know how much you believe in a fair trial. That’s okay. But now you seem to be becoming friends with the Malfoys. Hermione. You aren’t friends with them, are you?"
"You were the one who told me that Draco had changed," she pointed out, her voice trembling.
"I said that he wasn’t as much of a bastard now as he was when we were in Hogwarts! That didn’t mean you had to go and become his new best friend. Draco’s bad enough, but now you seem chummy with Lucius Malfoy too!"
Hermione gritted her teeth. "Even if I were friends with Lucius, you have no right to dictate my friends." She was starting to be really angry at Harry. She knew that he had her best interests in mind, but deep down she still hadn’t forgiven him for not telling her about Ron’s affair. And frankly, his attitude was just pissing her off immensely.
"And you call him Lucius!"
"That is his name, isn’t it?" she said frostily. "Anyway, I must be off now." Without waiting for a reply, Hermione tossed a cup of water on the fire and watched the steam rise from the hot coals. She had the bedroom to herself now ever since Ron had moved out a few days before. Closing her eyes for a second, Hermione decided to not think about the floo conversation.
Getting up from her keeling position, Hermione walked over to her closet and stared at her robes. She wasn’t sure what she was going to wear to the Malfoys. She knew that it didn’t matter and it was a celebration. She was the reason why Lucius was out of Azkaban. She could have turned up in a burlap sack and Draco would have had to invite her in.
She suppressed a smile. It would have been interesting to turn up in a burlap sack just to see Draco Malfoy’s expression.
-
Hermione smoothed her satin dress as she stood at the doorstep of Malfoy Manor. She knew she was impeccably dressed. Muggle-style, but she had been told that they were going out to celebrate and she didn’t want to wear robes if they ended up in a Muggle establishment. She knew the red sheath clung to her curves, showing them off. She knew she looked fine from when she had looked at herself in her own mirror not ten seconds ago before she Apparated.
Yet, she was nervous. And she didn’t know why.
The door opened. "Please, come in," a low voice said.
Hermione blinked. If there was a world of difference between Lucius Malfoy in his prison scrubs and Lucius Malfoy in the robes she had bought him for his trial, there was the same world of difference between those robes and the suit he was wearing now. She was faintly aware that she was probably blushing. "Thank you," she said, in a faint voice as she stepped past Lucius.
"You look lovely," he said from behind her, his breath caressing her neck.
She took an involuntary step forwards and turned around to face him. "Thank you," she said again, feeling like a dolt.
There was a silence.
Hermione frowned. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was almost funny. During the appeal process, she was never at a loss for words around Lucius. It was surprising, really, since she had always been almost painfully shy around people for all of her life. Most of the time, even around her best friends, Hermione had to concentrate to ensure that there were no awkward silences. But around Lucius, she always had something to say.
Except, now it was different than when they were in Azkaban. For one thing, Lucius certainly wasn’t wearing that outfit in Azkaban. She was painfully aware of her blush. She normally didn’t have such a strong attraction towards men. Even her attraction towards Ron had grown gradually out of a friendship. But right now, Hermione was suddenly aware that she hadn’t had sex for months.
"I’m glad you chose that outfit," Lucius’s words broke into her thoughts. "I have chosen a quaint little Muggle eatery."
She blinked. "You?" she repeated.
"Yes," Lucius said, in mild surprise. "Didn’t Draco tell you? Tonight, I will be taking you out to thank you personally." His low voice caressed the words and she shivered.
"I thought Draco and Astoria would be accompanying us," she said.
Lucius shook his head. "I’m afraid you were mistaken. They are having a small party this weekend - to which you are, of course, invited - but tonight is my treat." He held out his arm. "Unless you want to freshen up or anything, shall we be off?"
Hermione took the chance to go to the powder room. Once there, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling. If Hermione didn’t know better, she would have said her own face was that of a person in love. She shook her head and splashed a little water on her face to compose herself. She was obviously being ridiculous. Sure Lucius was handsome, but he was also a Malfoy! It was hormones, that was all.
It would be rude to leave now. She had to go and have dinner with Lucius. A date, her mind supplied helpfully but she quashed it.
As she emerged, Hermione placed a hand on Lucius’s arm. "Let’s go," she said.
-
Apparently Lucius’s idea of a quaint Muggle eatery was a fancy five star restaurant. Hermione was glad that she had dressed for the occasion. The maitre’d had addressed her as his partner and Lucius hadn’t corrected the assumption.
As they were handed the menus, Hermione gaped at the prices.
"My assets were unfrozen the minute I left Azkaban," Lucius said calmly. "I could easily afford far more extravagant meals. However, I like this place."
Hermione closed her mouth before her mind decided to offer to pay half the bill. Just half would have been about her monthly salary! "It’s beautiful," she said.
His lips quirked. "I have you to thank for being here. I am aware that your work was pro bono, however, I feel that I should repay you."
She blinked. "That’s not necessary!" However, she couldn’t help wondering what Lucius was offering her. She wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t wealthy either. She wouldn’t mind extra disposable income.
"Nonsense," he said. "I insist that I repay you. I have to admit that was the true reason I invited you out tonight." He leaned in towards her and Hermione almost forgot to breathe. "I’m going to find out how best to repay you."
She leaned back slightly, hoping he wouldn’t take offence to that. From the look of amusement in his eyes, she suspected Lucius knew the real reason. "You don’t need to repay me," she repeated steadily.
He smirked at her.
-
Three hours later, Hermione sat back and stared at the rest of her dessert. Chocolate soufflé with gold leaf. She hadn’t even looked at the price but she suspected that it would have been exorbitantly expensive. It was delicious though. There were maybe three mouthfuls left on her plate, but she didn’t think she could finish it.
"Thank you for the meal," she said politely.
Hermione looked up at Lucius and suddenly noticed a wicked gleam in his eyes. Their waiter came over to them and Lucius gave him - to her surprise - a Muggle credit card. He came back and Lucius signed the slip.
"I didn’t know you had one of those," she commented as they walked out of the restaurant, more to break the silence than out of curiosity.
"There are many things you don’t know about me." Lucius’ voice was so soft that she had to lean in to hear it.
"What do you mean?" Hermione couldn’t help herself asking. She suddenly felt like a spider that had just walked into a web. She looked up and shivered from the heat in his gaze.
Lucius’ hand came up and caressed her face. "I think I’ve just figured it out."
"Figured what out?" she managed to get out in a strangled voice.
"What you want," he murmured and then those lips were down covering her own. Hermione heard a needy sound and suddenly realised that it was coming out of her own throat. Oh God, she felt like ripping off his clothes right then and there in the street. Out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione could see people give them scandalised looks.. She had never, ever felt like that before. His arms encircled her and she was pressed up against his tall lean form.
The rational part of her mind told her she was being ridiculous. She was kissing Lucius Malfoy! It was inconceivable!
Hermione told the rational part of her mind to shut up as she squirmed with exquisite pleasure. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against her stomach. With a sudden surge of wetness, Hermione realised how long it was since she'd had sex.
"You're coming home with me." Lucius's voice was a low growl.
Hermione nodded.
-
Her mind was fuzzy and her throat felt closed up. Hermione coughed slightly and opened her eyes. Silk sheets, brocade curtains… she definitely wasn't in her own apartment!
Hermione could vaguely remember details of the previous night. She had gone over to Malfoy Manor only to be told by Lucius that Draco and Astoria weren’t going to accompany them to dinner. She had gone to Lucius to some five star Muggle restaurant where she was thankful that she was dressed appropriately for the venue. They had an exorbitantly expensive meal.
And then.
Hermione suddenly realised that there was an arm thrown across her waist. She shifted in the bed slightly and looked over.
Lucius Malfoy looked back at her. He reached over and pushed a curl out of her eyes. "Any regrets?" he asked quietly.
Hermione took a deep breath. She had obviously somehow ended up in bed with Lucius Malfoy last night. Lucius Malfoy. A former Death Eater who was only just out of Azkaban. A man who would have gladly murdered her when she was back in Hogwarts.
But still. Lucius was the man she had gotten to know over the past few weeks. Intense. Witty. Intelligent. He had never repented for his actions, regardless of how much they had managed to convince the Wizengamot of that. Yet, she was positive that he would never commit any of those crimes again. She had to admit that it wasn’t out of any real moral quibbles on Lucius’ behalf but rather because of a political expediency.
"I don’t think so," she said slowly. It was true. She was surprised she had ended up here. But she wasn’t regretting it.
"Good." He gave her a lazy smile and leaned down to kiss her. Hermione would have turned away (morning breath and all, she thought) but she forgot all about that as she felt his lips. She felt as though she was melting into the bed as he kissed her long and hard.
-
Astoria lifted an eyebrow as she saw Hermione exit from Lucius’ room. "Did you have a good night?" she enquired politely.
Hermione was positive her face was tomato red. "Yes, thank you." With her face still flaming, she hurried down the stairs and out the door where she could Apparate away back to her own apartment.
Once she was back, she sat down at her dining room table and pressed her face into her hands. It was only a few weeks ago that she had come back that evening and heard Ron and his mistress together. A few short weeks. Yet so much had happened during that time. She had decided to represent Lucius. She had discovered… almost a kindred spirit, she had to admit, in Lucius. She had managed to get the man out of Azkaban.
And, they had ended up in bed together.
She wasn’t sure what Lucius thought of it all. After all, she was still a Muggle-born and he had shown no real signs of renouncing his pureblood supremacist ways. Yet, this morning, he hadn’t shown any disgust. In fact, he had seemed eager to repeat what had happened the previous night.
When she had gathered her belongings to leave, he had asked her to come to Draco and Astoria’s party over the weekend. She had promised to come. So it seemed as though he wanted to see her again.
Hermione sighed.
She could probably think and over-think this for the rest of her life.
She hadn’t a clue where this was going to lead. She had no clue about what Lucius’ intentions were. Briefly, she wondered whether she was just another instrument in his battle to show the Ministry he had truly changed. She thought they truly had a connection, but it might have just been in her imagination.
She sighed.
There was no point in wondering.
She didn’t even know what her own intentions were!
Still, Hermione thought, a smile creeping onto her face, I’m definitely going to Malfoy Manor on Saturday.
She ran a finger over her bottom lip. She could still taste Lucius. There was time enough to discover his intentions later. She wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship with him, especially so soon after Ron. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship with him at all.
Still, they did have a rapport. There was no way to fake that. They had chemistry in bed. There was no way to fake that either.
Everything else, well, Hermione supposed she would just have to discover where this was going to lead later.
- fin
Title: Blindfold Lifted (Part 2/2)
Author: curia_regis
Gift for: redheadfaerie
Pairing: Lucius/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/somebody else
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity
Word Count: ~ 11, 000
Summary: Hermione discovers Ron cheating on her.
A/N: Thank you to H for the awesomely fast beta! <3
Blindfold Lifted, Part II
It took Ron three days to realise that she was no longer working on the rights of under-represented magical creatures. Three days, where Hermione could barely stand the sight of her husband. The previous night, he had tried to put an arm around her in bed and she had stiffened immediately. The arm had retreated and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was three days where she was wondering whether either Harry or Draco would inform Ron of her knowledge. Three days where she was wondering whether Ron would simply leave her right then and there.
A part of Hermione told her that she was simply being vindictive. The sensible, mature thing to do would be to confront Ron. To divide their assets. To leave. To get divorced.
But she was beyond being sensible.
Ron had lost the right to a wife who reacted sensibly when he screwed that unknown woman in their bed, she thought furiously.
Ron came home that evening and she could immediately tell that he was angry. He slammed the door on the way in.
"Good evening, Ron," she said pleasantly. "Did you have a good day at the office?"
He glared at her and she felt a shiver of fear slide down her back. It was not a pleasant expression in her husband’s eyes. Ron came up beside her and slammed a fist into the table. It shook. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he demanded.
"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, widening her eyes. She had been wondering how long it would take Ron to realise that she was now representing Lucius Malfoy.
"You’re representing that dirty ratbag scum!" he snapped. Spittle flew from the corners of his lips. "How could you? You know he’s a convicted Death Eater. Don’t you remember what Draco Malfoy called you at school? His father deserves to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life for that! But here you are, representing the scum!"
"Everybody deserves fair representation," Hermione said evenly. It took all of her energy to remain seated and to keep a calm expression on her face. She wanted to slap Ron. She wanted to cry and ask what she did wrong. She wanted to demand who the woman was so that she could go and gouge her eyes out. Hermione had always thought that if anything like this happened that she wouldn’t blame the other woman. She now thought differently. She would give anything to watch the husband-stealing bitch tremble. "Lucius Malfoy has as much of a right as you or me."
Ron sneered, the expression twisting his normally handsome features. "That bastard deserves nothing!" His expression changed and he laid a hand on her arm. She tried not to flinch. "Hermione, sweetheart," he said in a voice that trembled slightly, "don’t you see? He doesn’t deserve representation. He doesn’t deserve somebody like you - beautiful, kind, smart - to argue his case. Why are you doing this anyway?"
She pushed her chair back with a scrape. How dare Ron say those things about her when she knew that he was sleeping with another woman? In the back of her mind, Hermione knew that Ron didn’t realise that she knew, but it still didn’t make her feel any better. Her voice, when she spoke, was frosty. "It’s the right thing to do."
-
Hermione hadn’t realised how difficult working on Lucius’ appeal would be. Over the past few days, she had spent almost every spare minute on his appeal. She was determined that despite how despicable the man was, that she was going to give him the best possible representation.
She had never gotten a chance to talk to Draco about Ron, after all, but Hermione found herself telling Lucius the story. To her surprise, he had simply nodded and listened. It was more than she could have expected.
She had also been arriving home at odd hours, almost hoping to catch Ron in the act again, hoping to be able to catch more snippets of the conversation to figure out who the woman was. But it seemed as though Ron was being more careful. Probably last week had been too much of a close call for him.
"You don’t have much of a case," Lucius observed one day as they were sitting in a meeting room in Azkaban.
She glared at him. "Well," she said tartly, "that’s your fault, isn’t it? It would make my job much easier if you were innocent!"
He snorted. "If you were a good enough defendant, then it wouldn’t matter."
Hermione folded her hands on the table and then quickly snatched them up again. The table was somewhat sticky. She grimaced and wiped her fingers on her skirt. She didn’t want to touch some unknown fluid in Azkaban. "Our case," she said quietly, "will focus on the fact you have changed. You regret your service to Voldemort. You regret torturing and killing in his name. You extend your deepest sympathies to the families of those you hurt. Prison has shown you the error of your ways. You’ve changed."
"I certainly have," Lucius said.
She stared at him in surprise. She didn’t really believe that he had changed or reformed or however she was going to put it to the courts. She didn’t believe that he regretted his past actions. She did however, believe that he wouldn’t go around and commit any future atrocities. Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not a pragmatist. It was now no longer politically expedient for him to murder Muggle-borns. Therefore, he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be defending him if she truly believed that he was going to be a threat to society. However, Hermione knew instinctively that the courts wouldn’t accept that kind of argument.
"I hired you, didn’t I?" Lucius gave her the ghost of a smile.
Hermione couldn’t help but smile back. Whoever knew that Lucius Malfoy had a sense of humour, however slight, that didn’t involve killing Muggle-borns? She was quite enjoying her meetings with him. There was a quick adaptable wit behind those grey eyes. Plus, she admitted, the man was quite handsome for his age. Even Azkaban hadn’t seemed to give him the shrunken appearance of the other prisoners. She had asked him about it and Lucius had admitted to spending hours in his cell keeping up his muscle mass.
"So," she said briskly, looking down at her papers, "you should probably write letters to the families of everybody you remember… hurting."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"It corroborates our story that you have reformed and are truly sorry for your actions," she reminded him, slightly impatiently. Hermione was somewhat surprised that she had an aptitude for this kind of work.
"You know," Lucius said slowly, "you would make a good Slytherin. If you weren’t Muggle-born."
She rolled her eyes. "Concentrate on your case, Lucius," she said good-naturedly. "Now you should write letters to all of them. Expressing your sympathy. But don’t ham it up too much."
He nodded. "You’ll deliver them?"
Hermione was pleased that he had caught on to her idea. Most prisoners had no access to mail or anything like that. They would have an extra year added to their sentence if they were caught communicating with anybody from the outside world except their attorney. She thought that it would play in Lucius’ favour if he sent the letters. The families might be swayed in their favour if they realised that Lucius was risking his own term in prison by sending the letters.
Of course, they could always report both her and Lucius for the letters, however, Hermione had read up on the regulations enough to know that the punishment for her would be a slap on the wrist. Lucius was right, she realised with surprise, I would have made a good Slytherin.
She was glad that Lucius didn’t quibble about the possible extra jail time.
To her surprise, she found herself enjoying his company quite a lot.
-
"You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?" Ron snapped one night as Hermione was eating her dinner quietly over the dining room table.
She choked on her roast beef. "Sleeping with who?" she demanded, feeling like she was living in some sort of dream world. Shouldn’t I be asking him that?
Ron’s upper lip curled. "Lucius Malfoy, that’s who!"
Hermione burst out laughing. Out of everybody Ron could have mentioned, the last person on her mind would have been Lucius Malfoy. "Don’t be ridiculous," she managed to get out between peals of semi-hysterical laughter.
He frowned. "I’m not joking," he said thorough gritted teeth. "You come home every day with a glowing expression. It’s…" he hesitated. "It’s like the look you had when we first got married." Ron knelt down beside Hermione and took her hand. "Hermione, sweetheart. I miss that look."
She yanked her hand away from him, ignoring the hurt look in Ron’s eyes. "You’re being idiotic," she said flatly. She stood up and took her plate to the sink. "I’m going to read a book in bed. Feel free to join me when you’re no longer imagining things."
As she got ready for bed, Hermione frowned. She knew that she didn’t like Lucius that way. It was ridiculous. If she was coming home looking happier for the past few days it was because she was enjoying the challenge of representing Lucius. Plus, she admitted, Lucius was a good conversationalist. She had forgotten how much she loved a good debate. Whenever she tried to talk with Ron, it either turned into a talk about normal household matters, or a talk about Quidditch. While she didn’t mind Quidditch, she certainly didn’t enjoy it as much as Ron did.
She bit her lip. Where had her marriage gone? Even without Ron’s infidelities, she suddenly realised that she didn’t have the kind of marriage she had always wanted.
At Hogwarts, Harry had always been a barrier between them. Whenever she and Ron had a spat, Harry was always there to calm both of them down and to be the voice of reason. It had always been easy for both of them to talk to Harry. But once they had gotten married and the first flush of young love had died away… Hermione felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Their marriage had grown tired and old.
Still, she thought, gritting her teeth, it didn’t excuse Ron’s actions. They could have worked it out.
Another part of her mind questioned the validity of that statement. Could they have worked it out? Or were they simply too different now? Perhaps Harry, their friendship and the trio had been all that kept them together. They had all grown up now and everything was different.
Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny had a happy marriage. It was obvious whenever anybody looked at the couple or whenever they saw the sparkle in either of their eyes when they talked about the other. When was the last time Ron’s eyes sparkled like that when he thought of me? Hermione’s bottom lip trembled.
She knew she was starting to feel sorry for herself and she hated it. She knew that it had been a long time since her own eyes had sparkled when thinking of her husband. She had thought that it was just a normal stage that marriages went through, but now, Hermione felt deep down that it most definitely wasn’t normal.
Burying her face in her pillow, Hermione started crying in earnest.
-
"How’s the appeal going?" Draco asked.
Hermione looked up from her delicious meal. Draco had invited her over to have dinner with his wife. She suspected it was partly a gesture to thank her for taking on his father’s case, partly a way of checking up on her and partly probably for some private reason known only to Draco. "It’s going fine," she said politely. She really didn’t feel comfortable at the long dinner table that was set only for three people.
"How are you getting along with my father?"
Hermione frowned. Was that a sly tone she heard in his voice? "We have a perfectly acceptable working relationship," she said stiffly.
Astoria leaned over, smiling. "I’m so glad you’ve chosen to take on his case." Her hand went protectively to her stomach. "We’re expecting our first child and I would like to have my father in law home when the child is born."
Hermione blinked. "Congratulations," she said faintly while both Astoria and Draco looked at each other in a way that was vaguely sickening to her.
-
They were having a break in their work on the appeal. Hermione had sat back on her chair and was nursing a flask of coffee she had brought with her. She made a face when she tasted it. "Damn it," she muttered, "I wish they let us bring our wands in here."
"They’re afraid I’ll use it to hold you hostage," Lucius pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. "If you can even use it. It’s not like a gun. My wand’s attuned to me."
He shrugged. "It’s still possible, you know that."
"More than likely you’ll end up arse-over-teakettle," she said crossly as she drank her cold coffee.
He chuckled and nodded. "I concede that’s more likely to happen than not, but I do think you’re underestimating my skills with a wand."
She stared at him and raised an eyebrow. Was Lucius Malfoy coming on to her? Hermione worried her bottom lip for a second before deciding that she was being ridiculous.
"What are you smiling about?"
"I was just thinking," Hermione said. "Ron seems to believe that we’re having some sort of sordid affair. I could have sworn your son hinted the same thing. And just then, I thought you were flirting with me." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But that’s just ridiculous."
"Of course." His tone was perfectly even.
Hermione looked up at him. She was noting the orange prison scrubs less and less nowadays. Lucius was staring at her with an intense look in his eyes. "It is ridiculous, isn’t it?" she repeated.
"I said of course," he said sharply.
Hermione nodded and turned back to her work. She rubbed her hands together briskly, not knowing why she suddenly felt like she had lost something important.
-
Hermione swallowed. Now that she was standing outside the chambers of the Wizengamot, she suddenly felt nervous. She could feel her hands sweating but she didn’t want to rub them on her new robes, for fear of staining them.
Behind her, Lucius whispered, "You look like you’re the one on trial. It’s only a bench of five members. Relax."
Hermione snorted. She would have never imagined it a few weeks ago that Lucius Malfoy would be trying to comfort her at all. She knew that it was only because she was representing him but she oddly felt better. She needed to win this case. The rest of her life seemed to be falling apart. She hadn’t talked to Harry in weeks. The last time she saw Ginny, the conversation had been so stilted that Hermione hadn’t wanted to floo her friend after that. As for Ron. Well… Hermione shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Ron. For all she knew, he was screwing his mistress right now.
She turned around and looked at Lucius. Today was the first time he was dressed in anything other than prison scrubs. She had to admit that he looked good in his robes. They probably weren’t the kind he was used to. She had bought them for him. "You need to look presentable," she had insisted. He had given the robes a looking over. "Just put them on," she had ordered him.
In those robes, Lucius looked distinguished, intelligent and like a productive member of society. My job done, Hermione thought in satisfaction.
The door in front of them opened. She took a deep breath and walked in, Lucius a half-step behind her.
She strode across the room, careful to keep her steps even and to look forward and to seem professional. She looked up at the bench and was disappointed she didn’t even recognise any of the members.
"Hermione Weasley representing Lucius Malfoy," one of the judges read off a piece of paper in a drone. He looked sternly down at her and she felt like sinking into the floor. "Lucius Malfoy, you were charged with more than three counts of murder as well as serving Tom Marvolo Riddle, known to his followers as Lord Voldemort. The original court was more than lenient with your punishment. Tell me now why we should shorten their sentence?"
"Your honour," Hermione said politely. "My client has been a model prisoner." She was starting to feel better now. She was prepared. She knew her material.
Beside her, Lucius was nodding and looking serious.
Hermione mentally crossed her fingers and launched into her appeal.
-
"So?" Ron demanded when she got home. "What happened?"
Hermione smiled. "We won."
Ron goggled at her. "Are you telling me that five, sane, non-bewitched members of the Wizengamot voted to suspend the rest of Lucius Malfoy’s sentence?"
"Got it in one," she said serenely. Secretly, Hermione was enjoying the expression on Ron’s face. "As I said, we won."
He spluttered. "How could you do that?" Ron cried. "You know how dangerous that man is! He’ll be killing other Muggle-borns within the month, I promise! How could you do this?"
Hermione whirled around and glared at her husband. She was enjoying the victory. She had been planning to file for divorce quietly in the next week or so, citing irreconcilable differences. Surely given what she had heard Ron say, he wouldn’t contest it. But she suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer. She couldn’t stand Ron’s sanctimonious bullshit! "How could I do this?" she said coldly. "How could you cheat on me?"
Ron’s mouth fell open.
"Yes, Ron," she snapped. "I know."
"But…" he managed to get out. "How?"
"I came in a few weeks ago. I heard you," Hermione said. "Don’t worry," she got out through gritted teeth, "I won’t hurt you. Or her, whoever she is. I wish both of you a happy life."
Ron seemed incapable of coherent speech. "Whu… at?"
"I’m filing for divorce next week," Hermione said simply.
"You can’t do that!" he burst out.
Hermione lifted up an eyebrow. She had imagined this day for the past few weeks. She had seen a million different scenarios in her head, but she had never imagined this one.
"She didn’t mean anything!" Ron babbled. "I’m serious. I love you, Hermione. We can work it out."
Hermione could feel the blood freezing in her veins. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you fucked this woman in our bed," she ground out. "You told her you loved her. You told her you wanted to leave me. You promised her you’d leave me." A part of Hermione’s mind noticed the irony of the situation that she was arguing for the other woman, but she ignored it. "And now you’re breaking the promise to her?"
"I lied!" Ron burst out. "You … we hadn’t talked properly in months. We never had sex any more!"
"So this was all about sex?" she said icily.
"Ye… no!"
"Then, pray, Ron, what was it about?"
He looked down at the floor miserably. "I don’t know," he muttered.
"Oh, that’s precious," she snapped. "Ron, you don’t know how you managed to fuck up our marriage enough to sleep with another woman. God knows it’s not a perfect marriage but we could have worked it out."
A light suddenly appeared in his eyes. "Was this why you wanted to take the case?"
She stared at him.
"The Lucius Malfoy case," Ron said, sounding eager, "you wanted to get back at me."
She shook her head. The idiot actually sounded happy that she had been so vindictive. "I started because of that," she admitted, "but also because I wanted to."
"So you have been sleeping with him!" Ron accused.
Hermione glared at him. "You, Ron, are the only person who has been sleeping with anybody else during our marriage."
At least, she thought, he managed to look ashamed. She thought she saw a flicker of surprise through Ron's eyes. Perhaps, he had expected her to demand the identity of the other woman. Well, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction!
"Our marriage is over," she said quietly. "I think it’s been over a long time. I trust you won’t contest the divorce?"
Without waiting for his response, Hermione left the room, feeling oddly relieved.
-
"He’s devastated," Harry said with a note of pleading his voice. "Hermione, won’t you speak to him?"
"Don’t be ridiculous," she said. "That chapter of my life… it’s over. I filed the papers at the Ministry this afternoon." A thought entered her head. "He isn’t going to try to drag this through the Wizengamot, is he?"
Harry shook his head. "I don’t think so. But he really wants to talk to you. To explain."
"I don’t need explanations," she said angrily. "I want the last few years of my life back!" In the back of her mind, Hermione cringed at how melodramatic she was sounding. She studied the pale skin on her left ring finger and wondered how long it would take for it to darken to her normal skin colour again.
Harry sighed. "I’m worried about you."
"Don’t," she said, a note of finality entering her voice. "I’ll talk to you later, Harry. I’m going over to Draco’s. They invited me over for dinner to celebrate."
"That’s why I’m worried," Harry protested. "I was fine with you taking on the case. I know how much you believe in a fair trial. That’s okay. But now you seem to be becoming friends with the Malfoys. Hermione. You aren’t friends with them, are you?"
"You were the one who told me that Draco had changed," she pointed out, her voice trembling.
"I said that he wasn’t as much of a bastard now as he was when we were in Hogwarts! That didn’t mean you had to go and become his new best friend. Draco’s bad enough, but now you seem chummy with Lucius Malfoy too!"
Hermione gritted her teeth. "Even if I were friends with Lucius, you have no right to dictate my friends." She was starting to be really angry at Harry. She knew that he had her best interests in mind, but deep down she still hadn’t forgiven him for not telling her about Ron’s affair. And frankly, his attitude was just pissing her off immensely.
"And you call him Lucius!"
"That is his name, isn’t it?" she said frostily. "Anyway, I must be off now." Without waiting for a reply, Hermione tossed a cup of water on the fire and watched the steam rise from the hot coals. She had the bedroom to herself now ever since Ron had moved out a few days before. Closing her eyes for a second, Hermione decided to not think about the floo conversation.
Getting up from her keeling position, Hermione walked over to her closet and stared at her robes. She wasn’t sure what she was going to wear to the Malfoys. She knew that it didn’t matter and it was a celebration. She was the reason why Lucius was out of Azkaban. She could have turned up in a burlap sack and Draco would have had to invite her in.
She suppressed a smile. It would have been interesting to turn up in a burlap sack just to see Draco Malfoy’s expression.
-
Hermione smoothed her satin dress as she stood at the doorstep of Malfoy Manor. She knew she was impeccably dressed. Muggle-style, but she had been told that they were going out to celebrate and she didn’t want to wear robes if they ended up in a Muggle establishment. She knew the red sheath clung to her curves, showing them off. She knew she looked fine from when she had looked at herself in her own mirror not ten seconds ago before she Apparated.
Yet, she was nervous. And she didn’t know why.
The door opened. "Please, come in," a low voice said.
Hermione blinked. If there was a world of difference between Lucius Malfoy in his prison scrubs and Lucius Malfoy in the robes she had bought him for his trial, there was the same world of difference between those robes and the suit he was wearing now. She was faintly aware that she was probably blushing. "Thank you," she said, in a faint voice as she stepped past Lucius.
"You look lovely," he said from behind her, his breath caressing her neck.
She took an involuntary step forwards and turned around to face him. "Thank you," she said again, feeling like a dolt.
There was a silence.
Hermione frowned. She wasn’t sure what to say. It was almost funny. During the appeal process, she was never at a loss for words around Lucius. It was surprising, really, since she had always been almost painfully shy around people for all of her life. Most of the time, even around her best friends, Hermione had to concentrate to ensure that there were no awkward silences. But around Lucius, she always had something to say.
Except, now it was different than when they were in Azkaban. For one thing, Lucius certainly wasn’t wearing that outfit in Azkaban. She was painfully aware of her blush. She normally didn’t have such a strong attraction towards men. Even her attraction towards Ron had grown gradually out of a friendship. But right now, Hermione was suddenly aware that she hadn’t had sex for months.
"I’m glad you chose that outfit," Lucius’s words broke into her thoughts. "I have chosen a quaint little Muggle eatery."
She blinked. "You?" she repeated.
"Yes," Lucius said, in mild surprise. "Didn’t Draco tell you? Tonight, I will be taking you out to thank you personally." His low voice caressed the words and she shivered.
"I thought Draco and Astoria would be accompanying us," she said.
Lucius shook his head. "I’m afraid you were mistaken. They are having a small party this weekend - to which you are, of course, invited - but tonight is my treat." He held out his arm. "Unless you want to freshen up or anything, shall we be off?"
Hermione took the chance to go to the powder room. Once there, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling. If Hermione didn’t know better, she would have said her own face was that of a person in love. She shook her head and splashed a little water on her face to compose herself. She was obviously being ridiculous. Sure Lucius was handsome, but he was also a Malfoy! It was hormones, that was all.
It would be rude to leave now. She had to go and have dinner with Lucius. A date, her mind supplied helpfully but she quashed it.
As she emerged, Hermione placed a hand on Lucius’s arm. "Let’s go," she said.
-
Apparently Lucius’s idea of a quaint Muggle eatery was a fancy five star restaurant. Hermione was glad that she had dressed for the occasion. The maitre’d had addressed her as his partner and Lucius hadn’t corrected the assumption.
As they were handed the menus, Hermione gaped at the prices.
"My assets were unfrozen the minute I left Azkaban," Lucius said calmly. "I could easily afford far more extravagant meals. However, I like this place."
Hermione closed her mouth before her mind decided to offer to pay half the bill. Just half would have been about her monthly salary! "It’s beautiful," she said.
His lips quirked. "I have you to thank for being here. I am aware that your work was pro bono, however, I feel that I should repay you."
She blinked. "That’s not necessary!" However, she couldn’t help wondering what Lucius was offering her. She wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t wealthy either. She wouldn’t mind extra disposable income.
"Nonsense," he said. "I insist that I repay you. I have to admit that was the true reason I invited you out tonight." He leaned in towards her and Hermione almost forgot to breathe. "I’m going to find out how best to repay you."
She leaned back slightly, hoping he wouldn’t take offence to that. From the look of amusement in his eyes, she suspected Lucius knew the real reason. "You don’t need to repay me," she repeated steadily.
He smirked at her.
-
Three hours later, Hermione sat back and stared at the rest of her dessert. Chocolate soufflé with gold leaf. She hadn’t even looked at the price but she suspected that it would have been exorbitantly expensive. It was delicious though. There were maybe three mouthfuls left on her plate, but she didn’t think she could finish it.
"Thank you for the meal," she said politely.
Hermione looked up at Lucius and suddenly noticed a wicked gleam in his eyes. Their waiter came over to them and Lucius gave him - to her surprise - a Muggle credit card. He came back and Lucius signed the slip.
"I didn’t know you had one of those," she commented as they walked out of the restaurant, more to break the silence than out of curiosity.
"There are many things you don’t know about me." Lucius’ voice was so soft that she had to lean in to hear it.
"What do you mean?" Hermione couldn’t help herself asking. She suddenly felt like a spider that had just walked into a web. She looked up and shivered from the heat in his gaze.
Lucius’ hand came up and caressed her face. "I think I’ve just figured it out."
"Figured what out?" she managed to get out in a strangled voice.
"What you want," he murmured and then those lips were down covering her own. Hermione heard a needy sound and suddenly realised that it was coming out of her own throat. Oh God, she felt like ripping off his clothes right then and there in the street. Out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione could see people give them scandalised looks.. She had never, ever felt like that before. His arms encircled her and she was pressed up against his tall lean form.
The rational part of her mind told her she was being ridiculous. She was kissing Lucius Malfoy! It was inconceivable!
Hermione told the rational part of her mind to shut up as she squirmed with exquisite pleasure. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against her stomach. With a sudden surge of wetness, Hermione realised how long it was since she'd had sex.
"You're coming home with me." Lucius's voice was a low growl.
Hermione nodded.
-
Her mind was fuzzy and her throat felt closed up. Hermione coughed slightly and opened her eyes. Silk sheets, brocade curtains… she definitely wasn't in her own apartment!
Hermione could vaguely remember details of the previous night. She had gone over to Malfoy Manor only to be told by Lucius that Draco and Astoria weren’t going to accompany them to dinner. She had gone to Lucius to some five star Muggle restaurant where she was thankful that she was dressed appropriately for the venue. They had an exorbitantly expensive meal.
And then.
Hermione suddenly realised that there was an arm thrown across her waist. She shifted in the bed slightly and looked over.
Lucius Malfoy looked back at her. He reached over and pushed a curl out of her eyes. "Any regrets?" he asked quietly.
Hermione took a deep breath. She had obviously somehow ended up in bed with Lucius Malfoy last night. Lucius Malfoy. A former Death Eater who was only just out of Azkaban. A man who would have gladly murdered her when she was back in Hogwarts.
But still. Lucius was the man she had gotten to know over the past few weeks. Intense. Witty. Intelligent. He had never repented for his actions, regardless of how much they had managed to convince the Wizengamot of that. Yet, she was positive that he would never commit any of those crimes again. She had to admit that it wasn’t out of any real moral quibbles on Lucius’ behalf but rather because of a political expediency.
"I don’t think so," she said slowly. It was true. She was surprised she had ended up here. But she wasn’t regretting it.
"Good." He gave her a lazy smile and leaned down to kiss her. Hermione would have turned away (morning breath and all, she thought) but she forgot all about that as she felt his lips. She felt as though she was melting into the bed as he kissed her long and hard.
-
Astoria lifted an eyebrow as she saw Hermione exit from Lucius’ room. "Did you have a good night?" she enquired politely.
Hermione was positive her face was tomato red. "Yes, thank you." With her face still flaming, she hurried down the stairs and out the door where she could Apparate away back to her own apartment.
Once she was back, she sat down at her dining room table and pressed her face into her hands. It was only a few weeks ago that she had come back that evening and heard Ron and his mistress together. A few short weeks. Yet so much had happened during that time. She had decided to represent Lucius. She had discovered… almost a kindred spirit, she had to admit, in Lucius. She had managed to get the man out of Azkaban.
And, they had ended up in bed together.
She wasn’t sure what Lucius thought of it all. After all, she was still a Muggle-born and he had shown no real signs of renouncing his pureblood supremacist ways. Yet, this morning, he hadn’t shown any disgust. In fact, he had seemed eager to repeat what had happened the previous night.
When she had gathered her belongings to leave, he had asked her to come to Draco and Astoria’s party over the weekend. She had promised to come. So it seemed as though he wanted to see her again.
Hermione sighed.
She could probably think and over-think this for the rest of her life.
She hadn’t a clue where this was going to lead. She had no clue about what Lucius’ intentions were. Briefly, she wondered whether she was just another instrument in his battle to show the Ministry he had truly changed. She thought they truly had a connection, but it might have just been in her imagination.
She sighed.
There was no point in wondering.
She didn’t even know what her own intentions were!
Still, Hermione thought, a smile creeping onto her face, I’m definitely going to Malfoy Manor on Saturday.
She ran a finger over her bottom lip. She could still taste Lucius. There was time enough to discover his intentions later. She wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship with him, especially so soon after Ron. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted a relationship with him at all.
Still, they did have a rapport. There was no way to fake that. They had chemistry in bed. There was no way to fake that either.
Everything else, well, Hermione supposed she would just have to discover where this was going to lead later.
- fin