Act Two

On Saturday evening, Lucius Malfoy was lying on the sofa in his music room, his eyes closed, listening once again to the same overture, the same arias, the same voices. He didn't bother opening his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching. Only two people had nearly unlimited access to his house.

'This is a pig sty.'

'And good evening to you, too, Severus,' Lucius said, slowly opening his eyes to see his old friend standing in the doorway, dressed in casual black Muggle trousers and a white shirt. 'Is France so boring that you have to come haunting me? In those... garments no less?'

'At least I am dressed,' Snape answered with a pointed look at Lucius's dressing gown. 'You didn't respond to my Floo calls, so I stepped through.'

'How touching.' Lucius slowly sat up, stretching the aching muscles in his neck. 'Fancy a glass of wine?' He pointed to the opened bottle on the small table, his own glass sitting next to it.

'Thank you.'

Lucius fished for his wand. 'Accio clean glass.' Nothing happened. After a quick glance at Severus, he swiftly Transfigured an empty bowl that had sat next to the sofa on the floor into a pristine wine goblet.

Severus didn't comment; he merely cleared a space on the armchair. With dexterous fingers, he removed scraps of parchment, an empty plate and a handful of crumbs before he sat down. Lucius simply flopped back on the sofa and closed his eyes again.

'So, are you moping because your elves deserted you?' Severus asked, one of his eyebrows close to his hairline.

'I. Am. Not. Moping. And my elves haven't deserted me. They're on holiday,' Lucius answered.

'On holiday?' Severus's hand holding his glass stopped midway to his mouth.

'Order of the Ministry. Tiffy cried when they left.'

'I see. No surprise there. She's utterly devoted to you,' Severus said, finally taking a sip of his wine.

'Of course she is. As a matter of fact so are the others.' Lucius crossed his arms behind his head.

'Who's the woman?'

Lucius opened his eyes again. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Ah. So there is a woman. What happened? Did she dare to reject the dashing Lucius Malfoy?'

Lucius scowled. 'If you must know, she didn't reject me. We spent a very pleasant evening.'

'And?'

'And nothing. She just... vanished. She doesn't seem to care for another little soirée,' Lucius answered.

'You have my sympathy.' Severus sounded vaguely amused. 'What's that?' he asked and bent forward to inspect the grey something that poked out from the chaos under the sofa.

'No idea.' Lucius pulled at the piece of cloth and retrieved a grey silk scarf. His heart started to beat a little faster when he recognised it.

Severus was watching him closely. 'It seems she left you a souvenir, at least,' he said with a smirk.

Lucius was too busy running his hands along the smooth material to answer. In one corner, he saw two entwined letters. 'HG,' he whispered, a slow smile spreading over his face.

Getting up, he said, 'Severus, don't let me keep you. I'll see you for dinner next week.' With that he swept out of the room, leaving Snape to stare after him.

*****

On Sunday afternoon, a bleary-eyed Hermione Granger was staring into her mug. Nearly a week ago, she had seduced Lucius Malfoy. No, Jean Wilkins had seduced Lucius Malfoy. Which precisely summed up her current predicament.

Her heart had nearly missed a beat when he had called her "Hermione", which had prompted her to leave him a little clue in return. She sighed. In the background, Guglielmo and Ferrando were entreating favourable winds to convey their longing. She'd expected Lucius to come barging into her office any day or to owl or...something. She had also strengthened her wards and made sure her post was double-checked for jinxes. It wouldn't do to underestimate Lucius Malfoy.

But nothing had happened. It seemed she had got exactly what she wanted: a steamy one-night stand with the dishy blond. That was all she wanted, right?

She stirred more sugar into her tea before she went and dug out a new packet of chocolate biscuits. Did Lucius like chocolate? What would his hair look like when he woke up in the morning? And what would it feel like to wake up snuggled against him? With another sigh, she popped a biscuit into her mouth.

*****

By ten a.m. on Monday morning, Hermione had snapped at her secretary twice because the tea was too hot and the milk was too cold, and then again because she couldn't find the report from the last meeting of the MLE.

By two p.m. on Monday afternoon, she found out that the reason Harry had neither owled nor been round to see her was because he was too busy spending every free minute with Draco Malfoy. Hermione briefly considered the bar of Honeydukes Dairy Milk in her desk drawer but instead pointed her wand at one of the obnoxious memos circling around her inbox and blasted it into smithereens. Much better.

At four p.m. the same afternoon, Tina stuck her head round the door.

'What is it?' Hermione snapped.

Her secretary was holding a large bunch of dark red roses in front of her like a shield.

'These have just been delivered for you, Miss Granger. There was no card.'

'Just put them on my desk. Thank you,' Hermione said.

After Tina had practically tripped over her feet in her haste to get out of Hermione's office again, Hermione stared at the flowers. They were beautiful, deep crimson, with long stems, tied together with a silver silk scarf. Her heart gave a little leap.

At nine p.m. on Monday evening, Hermione was sitting in her living room, looking at the roses, while she kept running the smooth grey material through her fingers, remembering the way it had looked whispering over pale skin. She contemplated a little visit to Malfoy Manor. In the background, Ferrando sang about his hope for love.

By two a.m. on Tuesday morning, Hermione had fallen asleep on her sofa, her cheek pressed into the scarf.

At eleven a.m. on Tuesday, two items arrived in the morning post. The first one, a long roll of parchment with several motions for the next departmental meeting, wasn't particularly remarkable. The second one was a small, dark blue box, tied with a silver ribbon. Hermione stared at it for a whole minute, her heartbeat accelerating considerably before she opened it. It contained another silk scarf, silver-grey, identical to the one she had received the day before. Closer inspection confirmed that this one didn't have her initials on it either. In addition, she found a silver clef and a card. It simply said Saturday, seven p.m. Your company would be an honour and a pleasure. Written in a confident, elegant script, silver on midnight blue. No signature. Hermione took several deep breaths to control the tingling that had spread through her, and then she smiled.

*****

On Saturday, it only took three changes, a few exasperated searches through her wardrobe, and one or two Transfiguration spells before Hermione had found an outfit she was happy with. She had toyed around with wearing blue again but wanted something different this time. Dark red was discarded because it didn't go well with her complexion. Dark purple made her look matronly as her mirror informed her in no uncertain terms. Finally, she settled on emerald green, so dark that it was nearly black. Her long taffeta skirt matched the tight-laced bodice perfectly and went well with her black, patent leather court shoes. She had decided to use one of the scarves as a shawl. I'll be hopelessly overdressed if he just wants to go down the pub, she thought as she fastened the second of her silver earrings. But somehow I don't think that's what's on the agenda for tonight.

She checked for the umpteenth time that her hair was still done up in a chignon with a few curls framing her face and hadn't reverted to the unruly bushy mane it usually was. Then, she draped the shawl around her shoulders, took her handbag and placed the silver clef firmly into the palm of her hand. It was two minutes to seven. Trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach, Hermione waited for the Portkey to activate.

*****

The familiar spinning stopped, and Hermione quickly took a look around. She had arrived in a small alley in what looked decidedly not like the UK. The soft, warm night air confirmed that assumption. Before she had time to survey her surroundings any further, a familiar looking figure stepped into view. Tall, impeccably dressed in obviously made-to-measure black dress robes, his long silver-blond hair gave him away despite the black Venetian silk mask he was wearing.

A long time ago, the idea of Lucius and a mask would have sent shivers of fear through Hermione; now, shivers of an entirely different kind were racing up her spine. He looked so very enticing, and she remembered the way he had looked with the grey silk over his eyes, his body stretched before her in all its glory.

He greeted her with a slight bow and an appreciative look, 'Good evening, Miss Granger. You look beautiful. Or would you prefer that I call you Jean?' he asked with a smile.

'Good evening. Actually, I'd prefer it if you called me Hermione,' she said, taking a deep breath.

'Hermione it is, then. Shall we?' he asked and offered her his arm.

Apparently, he wasn't going to tell her where they were. As Hermione took his arm, the butterflies were in full flight.

They walked a small distance in silence before they turned onto a larger square. At the look of the building that greeted them, Hermione gasped. She looked at the man next to her.

'I own a box; the rest is coincidence,' he said.

'How convenient.'

'Isn't it.'

Hermione leaned back in her chair, listening to the first notes of the familiar overture. Lucius was sitting next to her. Close enough that she could faintly smell his after-shave and feel his presence, but somehow not close enough. In the dark, their hands found each other, never parting company until the intermission.

*****

'Thank you very much for the invitation. I really, really enjoyed this,' Hermione said as they were standing in the foyer after the performance. She twisted the programme in her hands.

Lucius draped her shawl around her shoulders, his hand lingering over her skin a little longer than necessary. 'I'm glad you enjoyed our little excursion. Would you care for a drink and a little snack?'

Hermione's hands stopped. 'That would be very nice,' she said.

'We could go somewhere around here or retire to my home for something more private,' he suggested.

Hermione could feel his eyes on her face; despite his mask, he looked almost anxious. 'A little privacy would be nice,' she answered.

Lucius nodded and removed one of his silver cufflinks. He put it in the palm of her hand and then closed his own hand over hers before he steered her behind a pillar. Away from prying Muggle eyes, he took his wand from the fold of his robes and pointed it at their joined hands. 'Portus,' he whispered.

*****

They materialised in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, standing very close to each other. Hermione raised her head a bit so that their lips were almost touching; then she pulled back again. 'Take off the mask.'

'Sorry?'

'Take off the mask. I want to know that it is you I'm kissing,' Hermione said.

Lucius hesitated for a moment, then he did as she had asked. 'All right. No more masks.'

Before Hermione could say anything else, Lucius's mouth came crashing down on hers. She gave in and kissed him back, feeling a sudden raw hunger racing through her. He steered her backwards until she could feel the banister at her back. Lucius pushed her against it; fumbling with the strings for a bit, he untied her bodice. Hermione gasped when she felt his hands stroking and fondling her breasts. Then his arms closed around her, pulling her tight against him, and a familiar sensation informed her that he was Apparating them somewhere.

They materialised in front of a large bed. Hermione barely had time to register the room around them before they tumbled onto the bed, Lucius on top of her.

He slipped one leg between hers and hastily unfastened the rest of her bodice. He pushed the straps down so that her arms were trapped at her sides and then lowered his mouth hungrily to her nipples alternatively licking and nibbling at them. Hermione gasped at the pleasurable sensations and felt raw hot desire shoot through her. His hands went further down, pushing up her skirt and peeling her out of her knickers. Hermione happily assisted in getting rid of them. He moved his mouth up to hers again, his hand now between her legs, stroking and teasing. Hermione's arms were still pinned to her side, her nipples exposed to the cool air, and he was again kissing her hard. She moaned, becoming more and more aroused by his hunger. When he slipped two long, elegant fingers into her, sliding up and down quickly inside her, she gasped into his mouth. Meanwhile, he had managed to unfasten his own robes and free himself from the constraints of his trousers. She whimpered in protest when he withdrew his fingers from her. He released her arms and pulled up her legs around his hips and pushed into her. Hermione moaned as he was filling her. It felt so good.

'I've wanted you for so long,' he whispered into her ear as he thrust fast and hard.

Hermione threw back her head and matched his rhythm. 'Yes.'

'Say it,' he demanded.

She was so close now that she found it hard to remain coherent. 'Yesss, I want you.' She raked her hands through the strands of his long, silver hair, knowing it was the truth.

When he heard her answer, his rhythm became faster and deeper, then his thrusts became more and more erratic until he shuddered and moaned her name. Hermione clung to him as if her life depended on it, crying out his name as she came, her body shuddering in his arms while her world exploded in a world of living flame.

*****

They lay on the bed, panting and exhausted. Lucius wrapped his arms around her. 'I...' he began.

'Shshsh...' Hermione quickly placed a kiss on his lips. 'I know.'

Silver-grey eyes looked into hers, and then he slowly nodded. Hermione snuggled into his embrace, feeling warm and increasingly drowsy when her stomach rumbled audibly. 'About that snack...' she murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Lucius smiled at her and snapped his fingers. A house-elf appeared, wearing a pristine white tea towel, embroidered with the Malfoy crest.

'Master called,' she said.

'Tiffy, we'd like a few titbits and some champagne, please,' Lucius said.

'Right away, master,' the little elf answered, adoration clearly visible in her eyes.

Within minutes, a tray materialised, floating next to the bed. It contained a variety of sandwiches, mini quiches, samosas, cheese and olives, strawberries and grapes, a bowl with mousse au chocolat, as well as two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

By the time they had eaten their way through the nibbles and drank some of the champagne, Hermione was fully awake again, especially as she discovered that mousse au chocolat tasted ever so much better when she licked it off Lucius's body.

Soon another appetite took over. Their lovemaking now had nothing of the heated urgency from before. They leisurely explored one another's bodies, learning how they liked to be touched.

*****

Some time later, Hermione lay sprawled across Lucius's chest. He had one arm draped around her while his other hand played languidly with her wayward curls.

'What happened to my scarf?' she asked.

'I kept it.'

'As a trophy?'

'No, as a proof that you'd really been here,' he explained. After a pause he added, 'I wouldn't mind using it again.'

Warmth spread through her as Hermione smiled and looked at him. 'I can think of a number of good uses for it. Besides, I'm not going anywhere.'

*****

Several weeks later on a very cloudy Wednesday, two men met in a remote corner of the Malfoy grounds.

'Worked a treat,' the younger said with a grin.

'It was a well-executed plan,' the older replied.

'The Weasley brothers?'

'Not my concern.'

'It will be if Hermione finds out, Father.'

'I'll see that they get off lightly.'

~fin~

A/N: The Potterverse belongs to JKR. I only take them out to play.

Thanks to PyjamaPants for the beta. Additional thanks to chivalric and Karelia for reading and commenting on earlier versions of this story, and special thanks again to Karelia whose brilliant story Zu Hilfe, Zu Hilfe inspired Lucius's passion for Mozart in the first place. She very graciously gave me permission to let Lucius indulge a bit more.