Chapter 8

The next day, work was torture. Hermione, already prone to intensive introspection, was reaching levels of near-painful self-inspection.

She wanted Draco. That was undeniable. His boyish charm, his slightly petulant demeanour, even his immature reaction to the owl attack...all of these things appealed to her. His ever-changing attitude and the way he always surprised her. His tombstone eyes and silken tresses. His rough hands and firm....

Near-painful levels.

Lucius, on the other hand.... Lucius was suave, debonair, and sophisticated. But he was also intelligent, passionate, and sweet.

Neither man was the cold, reserved, or cruel person she'd known when she was a student. Or at least Lucius wasn't. Draco was giving her cause to doubt his maturation; he was still avoiding her, though he'd graced her with a small smile, which Hermione had practically gobbled up until she reminded herself she was a self-respecting witch who didn't need scraps from the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Especially since his father had sent her a very sweet owl just a few moments ago with an invitation to dinner that night at Guilleme's, since his previous attempt at taking her there had resulted in cafeteria food instead.

Hermione strongly suspected she should not be entertaining the notion of dating two men at the same time, let alone son and father. However, it just didn't feel wrong to her, and she was not one to invent feelings that did not exist just because society dictated it. If it didn't feel wrong, then she would continue to do it. She did want to tell Draco; se felt as though he deserved to know, even though he'd barely said two words to her all week.

But with the way office gossip went, she was certain he'd already heard about her lunch with his father. And he hadn't said anything; he'd even smiled at her. Therefore, everything must be okay...as okay as it could be without him talking to her, anyway.

She wasn't wrong. Draco had, indeed, heard of his father's unprecedented venture into the mess hall. His shock had only been surpassed by hearing that Hermione had joined him.

His father and Hermione had eaten lunch together. Like a date? He didn't know.

At first he was a little hurt and a lot jealous. He knew that he and Hermione were not exclusive; she'd never given him a solid answer as to whether or not they were actually dating. She was well within her rights to play the field.

As for his father, Draco had been more surprised than anything. But at the same time, when he tried to remain objective about the situation, he was happy that Lucius was happy. And from what he'd heard, he had been. The rumour mill had the two of them laughing, talking with heads close together, and Lucius walking her out of the cafeteria with her arm tucked into his. Objectively, he recognized that Hermione could be a good match for his father; they were both stubborn, temperamental, and passionate.

But the subjective part of him, which was the majority by far, pouted. He was all those things, too! He was good for her, too! But alas, the minority piped in, you have been ignoring her with absolutely no cause, and for all she knows, you've moved on.

Draco's love for his father and his growing affection for Hermione allowed the objective part of himself to gain control. Just a few more days, that niggling part of himself reminded him. Just give her a few more days, and then go back to her.

Draco's head settled in the by now familiar cradle of his arms once again.

Hermione spent an unusual amount of time dressing herself that night. She rarely went out socially on weekdays, but this was a special occasion. The more she thought about it, the more excited she allowed herself to get. She also could not stop the comparisons between father and son. Draco had taken her to a pub in Muggle London; how would Guilleme's compare? Draco's kiss had been intense and persistent; how would Lucius' compare?

Hermione groaned as she finally decided on a simple black dress with a square neckline and a bold slit, which usually exempted it from her selection. Thinking about kissing Lucius sent spirals of heat throughout her body. Hermione wondered what it meant that she didn't feel uncomfortable with this new development. She told herself it was because Draco had given up on her, but somehow she knew it was more than that.

Not wanting to dwell on Draco's hurtful behaviour, Hermione chose a delicate white gold necklace with a small diamond pendant...a gift from Harry for graduation. She opted for small silver hoop earrings and black peep-toe pumps with a daring heel. Ginny had given them to her because they'd been too small for the red-haired girl, and Hermione had laughed, putting them into her closet to never meet her feet until today.

Lucius' owled message had been so sweet; the least she could do was make an effort. Unfortunately, her hair did not agree, and Hermione was running late by the time she'd mangled it into something that almost resembled a chignon.

She crossed her fingers and Apparated to the coordinates she'd been given. Against all odds, she made it there in one piece. Perhaps her magic was back to normal? Not wanting to test that theory and destroy her tenuous hairstyle, Hermione made a note to try it out later in the privacy of her home.

Since Hermione was late, she went inside and gave Lucius' name to the Maître d'. She tried not to cringe at the excessive attention his name afforded her, and she was seated with a flourish next to the immaculately attired Malfoy Senior. She nodded her thanks and greeted Lucius, who had risen to greet her.

He kissed her cheek in salutation, and she couldn't stop the flush from flowing over her face. What an effect he had on her!

They sat, and Lucius told her he'd ordered for her. Her annoyance abated when he said it was salmon, her favourite.

"How was work today, Hermione?" Lucius asked cordially.

She waved her hand dismissively. "The same as usual. Despite sending out nearly fifty owls with requests for volunteers, only four people responded, and now we are, as always, shorthanded for our Equal Rights for Werewolf fundraiser at the end of the month." She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't want to talk about work."

"I don't mind. It's obviously important to you, and that makes it interesting. So why were so many owls sent in the first place? Don't you have a volunteer database to choose from?"

Hermione nodded, trying not to get worked up, but not succeeding entirely. "The owls were sent from that database! That's the frustrating thing. People put their names on the list, then act affronted when we actually ask for their help! It's ridiculous."

Lucius agreed sympathetically. "Maybe a new sign-up sheet should be circulated to make certain all the volunteers are still amenable and available." Lucius hoped his suggestion was taken in the manner in which it was intended, and that she would not think he was trying to tell her how to do her job. He knew that would rub her the wrong way.

"That's actually a great idea. I should do that first thing tomorrow. The sooner, the better." Hermione nodded decisively and whipped out a small agenda. After ostensibly writing his sensible suggestion on her To-Do list, Hermione smiled. She seemed to be more at ease, and he took advantage of that fact.

"I'm glad I could help." He smiled winningly, and she returned it. "That's a lovely necklace," he continued, reaching over and caressing the chain gently with his fingertips. Her hand automatically reached up to touch it, and her fingers met his. They hesitated there for a moment before she drew them back and blushed. She was really beginning to get annoyed at her propensity for redness in his proximity. She usually had more control over herself than this.

"Thank you. It was a gift."

"From a lover?" His question was bold, but he was sure she could handle it. To her credit, she did not blush this time.

"Not at all. It was from Harry; a graduation gift." She fingered the chain in exactly the spot his fingers had vacated.

"An unusual gift from a man who proclaims to be only a friend. Surely he had ulterior intentions." His certain tone had Hermione laughing freely, and he could only smile in return, her hearty chuckle warming him.

"Oh, no. I'm sure Ginny picked it. It's something she would buy for herself, after all." She smiled at the thought, certain she was right in her assumption. It didn't cheapen the gift for her, because Harry had cared enough to ask for Ginny's help.

Lucius had his own thoughts on the topic, but wisely kept them to himself. If he was going to court her properly, he would want Potter on his side after all, and this seemingly innocent gift may give him an advantage with his intentions. Lucius filed that little morsel away and turned his attention back to the lovely young woman before him.

Before either of them wanted, the dinner ended, and even tea could no longer prevent their parting. They both had to be at the Ministry early the next day, and as much as Lucius wanted Hermione, he knew he would have to wait until the timing was better.

In order to get a few minutes more with her, Lucius Disapparated with Hermione to her apartment building. He walked her to her door, which was a rather alarming shade of pink, but Hermione didn't offer an explanation and he didn't ask.

"I'm delighted you agreed to come with me tonight, Hermione. I had a lovely time, and I'd like nothing more than to do it again."

Hermione smiled that sunny grin and rested her fingertips on his upper arm. "I'm glad you asked me out, Lucius. I was a little nervous, but I had fun. I'd love to see you again." No sense being coy, she figured; she might as well lay all her cards on the table.

Lucius sensed her all-or-nothing attitude and stepped closer to her. He again traced her necklace with one hand, letting the other rest on her waist. Her breath caught slightly when his fingers grazed her collarbone, and she lifted her face to meet his gaze. His stormy grey eyes were trained on her neckline, and she drew a deep breath to steady herself. His eyes flashed as her lungs filled, and her breath caught at the tumult there.

Taking the initiative, Hermione moved her hand from his arm to his face, and finally his eyes met hers. They seemed to be looking for something in her face, something which he must have found, because his eyes softened and his lips parted slightly. Hermione stepped on her tiptoes and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, his breath sweet from the tea. He didn't move, and Hermione was afraid she'd misjudged the moment, but she moved her lips anyway.

Lucius was finally jolted from his stupor. Her kiss was so sweet, so gentle and yet the sexiest thing he'd felt in a long time. He held back from crushing her body to his and settled instead for sliding his tongue into her mouth, relishing her soft moan and tracing his hands along her waist to her back. She leaned into his embrace, wanting more, but he was already pulling away.

Her lips parted, breath coming heavily and eyes glazed with desire. She stood unsteadily before him. He took her hand in his, and as he had in her office, grazed a kiss against her knuckles.

"Sweet dreams, Hermione."