Two

"Let's try something low-key at first," Hermione suggested, pointing to the carousel they were approaching.

Lucius watched as the replicas of imaginary creatures meandered in a circle, the animals slowly rising up and descending to their original position on long vertical rods of steel. "That Pegasus is sadly lacking."

Ignoring his comment, she steered them to the end of the line. "I'll be sure to tell the artists next time they're looking for inspiration." Paying the attendant, she chose an overly large purple and pink striped cat and perched herself upon its back.

Unwilling to be parted from the only other person he knew, Lucius had no choice but to sit on the animal next to her... a brown hare dressed in a formal jacket and holding a cup of tea. He turned sharply to glare at her the moment she tried...and failed...to hide her laughter. "Say Jabberwocky, Hermione, and you'll find new meaning to the phrase 'mad as a hatter'."

As the ride began, she studied him, beside herself with curiosity. "You're constantly surprising me, Lucius," she admitted after several rotations of the carousel. "You spout pure-blood supremacy...though not so loudly anymore...yet you know who Lewis Carroll was."

"Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, to be correct," he tasked her, smirking. He tightened his grip on the metal pole in front of him as his mount rose. "And I believe the phrase 'know thine enemy' comes to mind."

"Ah." She nodded, rising as he was lowering. "Keep your friends close, your enemies closer." She noticed him staring at her thigh when a small gust of wind tossed the edge of her skirt higher, revealing the lacy top of her stocking. Embarrassed, she tugged the hem down to her knees.

More sniggering drew his attention away from the perusal of her leg, and he turned to sneer at the people behind him, only to have the chuckles turn to outright laughter when they saw his black eye. He faced forward once more, lips firmly pressed in a thin line until there was no colour left in them.

"Are you sure there is nothing wrong with my appearance this evening? Barring the grievous injury to my face, of course."

Forcing herself not to glance at the sugary mess in his hair, she shook her head. "They're just... giddy, happy about the festival." His arched eyebrow told her he didn't buy her explanation for one moment.

"When will this mind-numbing pursuit end?" he growled.

It was as if his words alone brought the ride to its conclusion. Sliding off the wooden animal, he took Hermione's hand and helped her down from the cat, his fingers lingering. He dropped them after she peered at him in a surprised manner.

Swallowing, she smiled hesitantly. "Would you like something to drink before we brave more rides?" She didn't understand why she was so hot all of a sudden.

He did not offer his hand as they stepped off the platform. "No, thank you, but if you are parched, then by all means."

Fanning her face, she indicated a booth that sold honeyed mead, and they made their way to the counter. After purchasing her beverage, another pretzel and more candyfloss, they strolled along the grounds taking in the sights and activities. Well, at least Hermione did.

"What is that?" Lucius asked, eyeing the blue floss atop the paper cone.

"You mean to tell me that you've never had candyfloss?" At the shake of his head, she offered him the fluff. "Here, have some, it's delicious!"

He drew back, his lip curling in disgust. "I think not."

Pulling a few strands free, she laid them on her tongue, taking great satisfaction in how his fascinated gaze followed the movement. "You don't know what you're missing."

"Perhaps I've been too hasty..." he mumbled, still staring at her mouth.

Pinching another morsel between her fingers, she brought the cotton to his lips, prompting him to open them. Once he did, she carefully slipped her thumb inside and nearly gasped when his tongue curled around the pad. Her heartbeat became erratic as his eyes closed in bliss, his lips refusing to release the digit.

"Uhmm, Lucius," she said a little breathlessly. "May I have my thumb back?"

Startled to find that he was, indeed, sucking on her thumb, he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and slowly withdrew it. "My apologies," he purred, though he didn't sound repentant in the least. "It seems I was wrong in my prior assumption." He released her wrist and gave her a heated look. "It was utterly divine."

Oh, the butterflies were flitting like mad in her stomach! Her previous fumblings with boys hadn't prepared her for a man of this calibre, especially one that was quite adept at flirting... dangerously so. Panic began to rise within at knowing she was way out of her league, and she became desperate to find another distraction.

"The Ferris wheel!" she exclaimed, breaking the trance they both seemed to have fallen under.

He blinked then quickly adopted a neutral expression. "Where you lead, I must follow."

Frowning, she laid a hand on his forearm. "If you don't want to, you don't have to, Lucius."

"The sooner we are done with this farce of an event, the sooner I can go home and take care of this," he snarled, pointing to his eye.

Her throat closed up at his abrupt change in emotion, and she reminded herself that this was, at one time, one of the most treacherous men in Wizarding history, next to Voldemort. "One more ride then," she murmured, her skin flushed. "After that you may leave, and I'll tell Draco you thoroughly enjoyed yourself."

Snorting, he shook his head. "He will know you're lying, Hermione."

"If you want to leave now, I won't hold it against you, and I'll explain to Draco that you had a little accident," she hedged, swallowing reflexively.

Observing her crestfallen expression made his good eye twitch in response, and he thinned his lips. "If it will please you, Hermione," he said with a faint tinge of irritation, "I would accompany you on one more ride."

"Really?" She honestly didn't want to force him to endure any more humiliations this evening.

"Really," he answered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He then froze. "What the bloody..." Separating several sticky, matted tresses from his mane, he gasped in horror. "What is..."

"Look at that," she said, feigning innocence. "Pink is definitely not your colour."

Snarling, he turned accusing eyes on her. "Miss Granger..."

"Now, now, Lucius," she interrupted, trying to divert his attention from the congealed mass on his head. "You promised me one more carnival ride."

He glowered at her. "Have I been walking around all night with this... this..."

"The sooner we choose one, the sooner you can go home," she reminded him, smiling mischievously.

Eyes narrowed, he hissed, "It is very fortunate for you, Miss Granger, that we are in a crowd full of Muggles."

"Or what?"

"I'd bend you over my knee and smack that pretty arse of yours raw." He added to his threat by looming over her.

"You'd have to catch me first," she huffed, and quickly fled... with his cane.

"Infuriating chit!" he growled, jaw clenched. He watched her trounce towards the circular machine that seemed much like the carousel, except inverted.

Arriving at the end of the line, Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see if Lucius had followed her. He paced within the shadows, probably debating whether to retrieve his wand and hex her, or just give in and indulge her in this last ride. She didn't let him see how his earlier comment about spanking her had affected her to the point of wanting to lift her skirt and tell him to 'get on with it'. Smug bastard probably thought she would enjoy it. The problem was, she knew she would.

"May I please have my cane?" Lucius asked in a dangerously low tone, his lips brushing against her ear.

Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she shook her head. "Not until after the ride is over." She was mentally kicking herself for letting him sneak up on her, but then again, her frame of mind was shot all to hell from the tension and casual flirting they'd been engaging in the entire evening.

Apparently, he wanted to up the stakes. Moving her thick curls to the side, he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. "A compromise then. I'll let you keep it... if you promise to hold it between your thighs," he purred, nuzzling just underneath her hairline.

Turning to face him, she quickly pressed the serpent head cane into his hands. "Here." The word came out panted. "That's not something I'm willing to negotiate."

Leaning closer, he brushed his nose against hers. "Has your courage abandoned you, Gryffindor?" he taunted.

"Next!" the ride operator yelled, holding the lap-bar, waiting for the couple. "Come on, I've not got all night!"

Anxious to escape his intrusion of her personal space, she moved away swiftly to the car and sat off to one side, wringing her hands nervously.

"Well?" the greasy looking Muggle man pressed, looking at Lucius and gesturing to the padded bench.

Sneering in disdain at him, Lucius took his seat next to Hermione, their thighs touching. "Isn't this cosy?" he drawled, scowling when the metal bar was snapped shut across the top of his stomach.

Any further conversation was stopped as the machine moved backwards and Lucius grabbed the bar to keep from falling forward. "Are you sure this is safe?" he asked cautiously, peering over the edge at the ground below.

"Quite," she assured, not looking at him. She was afraid he would see something in her eyes she didn't want him to see: desire. "It just goes around, nothing more." When had this fun excursion turned into a romp through Muggleville with an ex-Death Eater? Oh, that's right, back when she agreed to show Lucius the festival at his son's behest. Real smart, Granger.

The car moved back and up again as another couple was loaded into the seat below them and they were soon midway to the top. "Does the proverbial cat have your tongue?" he teased after several moments of silence.

Beginning to turn in earnest, the ride picked up speed as the giant wheel spun. "No," she muttered, pressing her fingers against her eyes. "I don't have anything to say."

"That's unusual for you, isn't it?" He was taking great pleasure in this ride as the breeze generated by the movement lifted her skirt once more, allowing him more than a glimpse of toned flesh. Eyes riveted to her legs, he almost missed her moan.

"Oh, Gods..."

Shifting his gaze to her, he quickly realized she looked very green. "Hermione?"

Clutching her abdomen, she pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.

His eyes widened in comprehension. "Don't you dare..."

But it was too late. Stomach rolling from all the sugar and mead she'd consumed, combined with the rapid motion of the ride and the stress of uncontrolled emotions proved too much for Hermione's intestinal fortitude. The contents of her belly landed all over Lucius, the crowd below, and her beloved skirt.

Since the sick-up fell onto the operator, he immediately slowed the ride until it stopped, hastening the filth covered occupants out of the car and away from the premises, and banning them from any further riding. This was quite all right with Lucius, who now looked like what Muggles called a 'vagabond', and probably smelled like one, too.

Hermione was embarrassed to the core, tears fringing her lashes. She moved towards the exit, leaving Lucius standing there, covered in sick while wearing pink in his hair, and sporting a black eye.

"Miss Granger!" he shouted to her retreating form. He grumbled when she either refused to listen to his call or was completely out of earshot. "Hermione!"

She slowed somewhat until she stood shaking in the evening chill, waiting on his words of condemnation for her behaviour. Wiping the tears away, she watched as he approached her. "I'm s-so sorry, Lucius." The words were barely audible through her hiccupping. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Trying hard not to smirk, he went for a dour look instead. "I suspect that if you did mean for this to happen, it would've been in retaliation for some offense in our past."

For some reason, that caused her to cry harder. "I'm not like that!" she sobbed.

Taking her elbow, he pulled her into an awkward hug. "I know you're not," he cooed softly. "That's how I know tonight was just... well, let's just call it a beautiful disaster, shall we?"

Sniffling, she withdrew from his arms, tentatively smiling. "Beautiful?"

The back of his cool fingers caressed her cheek. "Yes." He tilted his head and studied her. "We're a thorough mess," he observed, indicating her outfit and his. "Is it possible to Apparate now?"

Grimacing, she swiped at a deposit of what she assumed was pre-digested pretzel on his shirt lapel. "Yes. We're out of range for any Muggle contact, so I think it's safe for you to go back to the manor."

"I insist you accompany me, so that we may clean ourselves." He sounded adamant. "It would be such a waste if you were to have ruined your unique skirt. Plus, it would be very ungentlemanly of me if I did not escort you home."

Touching the hem, she took stock of the damage. "It was a gift from Luna Lovegood." Tears filled her eyes again. "She'll never forgive me if I destroyed it the very day she gave it to me."

He rubbed the cloth between his fingers. "I highly doubt that, Hermione." He then looked at her with hooded eyes. "She is your friend, no?"

"Yes," she whispered, unable to break the pull of his hypnotic grey eyes. She retreated in an effort to sever the connection, but found herself tripping over an exposed tree root and falling backwards.

A loud ripping sound filled the night air.

"Oh, for Morgana's sake!" she groaned, sitting on her backside in the dirt, staring up at a now practically shirtless Lucius.

His jaw ticked and nostrils flared as he looked down at his chest and the remaining shreds of his dress shirt. In her fall backwards, Hermione had grabbed hold of his lapels to keep her balance. It hadn't helped, however, because as she went down, she popped all the buttons and tore most of the fabric from neck to waist, the two strips of cloth still clutched tightly in her hands.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucius heaved a long-suffering sigh, much like the ones he'd issued at the beginning of the night. "I guess I should be fortunate that you're not hell-bent on my destruction, Miss Granger," he mused. "For you surely would've achieved it this evening."

"I'm sorry?" she offered timidly, cringing when he bent low and pulled her up to stand next to him. It was a monumental effort not to look at the sculpted chest that was laid bare by her clumsiness.

"You owe me a new shirt," he said.

Securing her against his body, he Apparated them to his manor, intent on scrubbing every inch of his sorely abused person. And if he were lucky, she might help him with those hard to reach areas.