Chapter Nine

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you goes to my beta...Glorioux.

Chapter Nine

About the Danger of Dashing Smiles, Blond Locks and Yellow Roses

A little later, on that same Monday morning, our Gryffindor lioness stepped into her office only to find there a flushed, glassy-eyed and not entirely coherent Lora. The poor administrative assistant was still more than slightly dazed after her morning encounter with Lucius Malfoy.

In bewilderment, Hermione watched how, with trembling fingers, the poor girl was reverently arranging a single, long-stemmed, yellow rose on Hermione's desk.

The moment Lora noticed her boss at the entrance, she began babbling uncontrollably. "Oh, my goodness, Hermione, you would never guess what had happened to me today. Lucius Malfoy..." At this moment, Lora's blue eyes became even glassier than they had been before, and a trifle of concern for her employee's well-being made its way to Hermione's heart.

Fortunately, after a long and dreamy sigh, Lora gathered her thoughts again and continued. "Yes, just imagine, Hermione, I had a collision with Lucius Malfoy. Mmm," the girl said as she let out a breathy moan, "he is so bloody handsome. You know, his chest... it's just...there's miles of it, miles. And those shimmering, silver eyes. Oh, oh, and his smile." A somewhat hysterical giggle escaped from Lora's mouth. "I couldn't talk, seriously, I literally lost my voice. I could only nod. Can you imagine?"

To be honest, it was quite hard for our young boss to believe that. You see, Lora loved to talk, and she could actually do it for hours. Thus, Hermione took a preventive measure and interrupted this passionate ode to Lucius Malfoy.

"What did Malfoy want from you, Lora?"

"Oh, he asked me to put this rose on your desk. Isn't it pretty? So yellow. Oh, and his voice." The girl slipped into reverential mode again. "Soft, velvety, with a hint of darkness. I have spoken to him before, but today he was simply breathtaking." A breathy, wistful moan reverberated throughout the office again. Thoughtfully watching the girl's hazed eyes, Hermione guessed that Lora's imagination had taken her to a place where Lucius Malfoy could be found. A minute later, and looking even more flushed, the administrative assistant snapped out of her reverie, leaned toward her boss' ear and whispered, "You know, the moment he said 'Lora' and smiled...I fell apart completely. Seriously. I think my knickers are still totally soaked."

Arrggghh, God, Lora!

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush.

I'm sure you can tell, my dearies, that at that point, our heroine had heard quite enough. Hermione liked her administrative assistant. She honestly did. However, sometimes the girl truly gave her much more information than she cared to know.

The witch rolled her amber eyes at her assistant's nonsense. "Lora, please, can we get to work now? I really have tons of pressing matters...a presentation on Thursday, et cetera, et cetera. By the way, did you send out the invitations?"

Lora, thankfully, got the message and walked to the door. There, she turned for the last time. "Yes, of course I did. They all went out." With an enthusiastic smile she added, "Thank Merlin, I have a lunch with Zachary today. I am really not sure if I could get through the day after such an intense morning. You have to admit, boss...Lucius Malfoy is one hot wizard." And with that, she finally walked from the office and closed the door.

Phew! At last, Hermione was alone. Surprisingly, all these sighs and moans about Malfoy made her rather uncomfortably warm somewhere in the pit of her stomach. How odd. Her amber eyes focused on the yellow rose. Hmm, what a strange choice of colour, she thought, making the mental note to ask Neville about yellow roses. The rose, by the way, was truly beautiful...perfect, proud, almost flamboyantly bright.

Impulsively, she stretched her fingers to touch and gently caress the rose's dark green stem. It was thick, hard and smooth to the touch. Inexplicably, this action made the heat in Hermione's stomach creep down. She whimpered weakly and bit her lower lip. Damn, Lora! Luckily, a little note attached to the rose caught Hermione's eyes. Glad to redirect her attention and curiosity, Hermione reached for it, and the next instant an extremely sharp thorn punctured her finger. Immediately a bright, crimson drop appeared on her fingertip.

"Shit," cursed the young witch as she instinctively put her wounded finger in her mouth. Then, carefully minding the thorns, she took the note and read:

Hermione, my dear,

Lucius Malfoy

Our lioness frowned. Sure enough, with her quite...ahem...active weekend, Hermione had managed to forget entirely about her encounter with Lucius in the Leaky Cauldron last Friday. The note reminded her about Lucius' proposition of friendship, their drink, his palm on her knee and even the almost kiss.

Oh, how easily he made her give in to his charms... Hermione shook her head. Troubled thoughts filled our witch's head. To some extent, Lora was right...Lucius Malfoy was, in fact, one handsome wizard...smooth, elegant, evidently exceptionally skilled and experienced. With typical Gryffindor truthfulness and a sigh, she acknowledged these qualities. However, he was highly dangerous...this Slytherin snake. His smoothness was as deceiving as the stem of the yellow rose. Both were hiding their sharp thorns under a lush and elegant appearance. She knew perfectly well that Malfoy was not the wizard with whom she wanted to play games. Nope. He was too damn good at them.

On the other hand, grinned Hermione...he was too damn good period. And that charming, dazzling smile. Why does Severus never smile like that? Ahhh, what an asinine idea, she scolded herself.

Our little witch didn't like the direction her thoughts were going. She was with Severus now, or at least, she thought she was with him. The black-haired wizard's position on this matter was a mystery. And let's face it, my friends, there was a decent chance that it would remain a mystery for a long, long, long time. Still, to be having these thoughts turning her on about the blond locks, grey eyes and full lips of our Lord Malfoy weren't right.

Oh, yes, extremely dangerous wizard, indeed. Armed with that helpful conclusion, Hermione returned to her Monday morning routine. She truly had piles of preparations to do before her presentation.

Ah, my darlings, and here is just a little piece of information for you...Lora did not return to work from her lunch with Zachary. Evidently, one young wizard got seriously lucky that Monday, and all thanks are due to our Lord Malfoy, by the way. That's right, Lucius. Why not share happiness with the world?

A Mere Girl

With all the preparations and last minute revisions, the week went by in a blur. Finally, Thursday afternoon was upon our golden girl, and she was ready. Exactly twenty-five minutes before she was due for her presentation, Hermione stood up, took a deep, calming breath and fixed her fitted lavender robes. The hazel eyes of our young politician focused on the photo where the green-eyed and extremely dishevelled young man was laughing light-heartedly.

In one brief move, the witch kissed her fingers and pressed them to the photo. "Wish me luck, Harry. This one is for you," she whispered and walked out of her office.

Five minutes later, after the brisk walk through the Ministry's corridors, Hermione was at the door of room number seven. There, she briefly paused and then bravely stepped inside.

To say that the room looked gloomy would be an understatement, my friends. Aghast, our witch gazed at the grey walls that badly needed painting. The outdated, boring, dimly lit interior consisted of a narrow stage, dreary wooden chairs, an unhealthy looking plant and a table in the corner. There, on the table, stood a pitcher and a glass. Both looked as they were thoroughly used by flies as a mating field for the last century... or maybe even longer.

However, it wasn't the downright terrible condition of the room that shocked Hermione the most, but the realization that the room was empty. Nobody was there. Hermione frowned and checked the room number again. Yup, number seven. And a sign on the door clearly stated: Hermione Granger, Magical Creatures Rights Law Initiative Presentation, 4 pm.

Obviously, she wasn't ready for such an outcome. Never, even for a second, had our girl considered a complete lack of interest in her initiative. "Hmm, all right," muttered the young witch and began to organize the room for the presentation. If nothing else, Hermione Granger was an optimist to the core. There were still eighteen minutes before the start, and the Gryffindor in her hoped for the best.

At five minutes to four, when the poor witch was ready to give up, the doors were finally thrown open and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister, full of authority and self-importance, walked across the threshold. After him, a few wizards and witches surfaced as well. A sigh of relief escaped from Hermione's mouth.

Alas, her relief was short-lived. All in all, at four o'clock there were eight people present, which included Lora, who had arrived at the last second, five heads of different secondary Ministry departments, the Minister and... Lucius Malfoy, who, to Hermione's surprise, walked in and sat in the first row with a haughty expression, as if he completely owned the whole freaking place.

Of course, my darlings, you and I know that the invitations were, in fact, tampered with...

Perhaps, our crafty Lord Malfoy had the answer. Mm? I am sure that the information about who in fact had sent the invitations to the Ministry officials would've been much more crucial for Hermione than the condition of Lora's knickers. Lora, utterly swept off her feet by Lucius' charms, had failed to mention that particular circumstance of her Monday morning encounter with the wizard to her boss. Oh, well, no surprise there. Our Lord Malfoy knew precisely what he was doing...skilful and experienced Slytherin snake, indeed. Our unsuspecting heroine was left to deal with the consequences, not having a clue that she was being played like a pawn.

The presentation went smoothly and rather quickly. Only the Minister asked a couple of questions. The others, probably baffled by the low attendance, kept quiet and made a quick exit the second Hermione finished. Lora, smiling awkwardly, breathed out, "That was excellent," and disappeared as quickly as the others disappear.

Our Princess felt like a complete loser, of course, and a thought about Apparating home and crying in the bathroom was quite tempting. She had desperately wanted her initiative to get off to a better start. Slowly, she stepped down from the little stage and sank onto the first chair she stumbled to on her way. The heavy steps, low grunt and a creak of a chair next to her announced the Minister's presence.

"Why didn't they come?" whispered our amateur and utterly discouraged politician.

A big, warm palm patted her fragile shoulder, and she heard Kingsley's bass near her ear, "In the Wizarding society, Hermione, we are extremely fond of our traditions. I told you this before, but you didn't listen in your youthful ignorance. You need a strong wizard by your side, my dear. Even though you are a truly brilliant witch, and a war hero, most of the heads don't take you seriously enough. You are just a mere girl for them...no family yet, not even a significant other by your side. Think about it, Hermione." With that, the Minister lightly smoothed her wild, chocolate curls, stood up and left.

The Minister's words swirled in her head. The burning urge to stamp her feet, or yell, or swear loudly was pulsing wildly inside her. "A mere girl!" she muttered through her clenched teeth, and a single, hot tear made its way down her cheek.

"A mere girl your arse!"

Please Quiet! Seduction in Session!

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I never thought I would see the Gryffindor princess, the better part of the golden trio, so to say, in such a tearful state after only one minor bump along the way. Tsk, tsk, Hermione, Hermione, you are disappointing me." A familiar, pleasant drawl forced our witch to look up.

There, right in front of her stood Lord Malfoy in all his elegant glory. With one springy step, he moved closer to the witch, now melancholically slumped in the old chair, so that his knees, clad in black cashmere, were almost touching hers, and offered the girl his white, lacy handkerchief. "Here, my darling, wipe those tears immediately, before somebody notices." A soft, charming smile played on his lips, and his grey eyes were focused on her with a considerable amount of compassion in them.

"Mister M...," began Hermione, but noticing a questioningly arched single, blond eyebrow, she corrected herself. "Lucius, why are you here? I have never imagined that Magical Creatures Rights Law could interest you."

Lucius chuckled, "I am interested in politics, my dear Hermione, so Magical Creatures Rights is quite interesting for me." His smooth, mellow baritone was stirring something warm and fuzzy in Hermione's belly.

"I heard, by the way, the nonsense our beloved Minister was feeding to you." A hint of annoyance surfaced in the aristocratic drawl. "Don't mind him, Hermione. Even though I do agree that a strong wizard by your side could, in fact, help to boost your image. Yet, I firmly believe that today's low attendance was only due to the lack of the proper advertisement. You need to market your initiative more. You have to gather interest, create a trend, darling."

Listening to this, our lioness suddenly felt a surge of hope fill her heart. She didn't trust Lucius, not even for a second. However, her keen mind recognized a grain of reason in his words. The wizard had a point, a bloody good one. Almost against her will, a hopeful smile made its way to her bright-rose lips, and her caramel eyes focused on the blond man.

Sensing that he had gained the girl's undivided attention, the master manipulator leaned toward her ear while his arms came to rest on both sides of her chair, imprisoning the witch between them. In a deep, velvety baritone, he continued, "I could help you with that, Hermione. I have played politics long enough to become quite proficient in it."

Lucius' breath teased the sensitive skin on Hermione's neck, causing her breath to become laboured. The young woman's irregular air intake obviously didn't go unnoticed, and the blond wizard closed the last inches between them with one little tilt. Now, their knees were undoubtedly touching.

"Let me help you with it, Hermione. You'll see the difference immediately," murmured Malfoy and pushed even further toward her, discreetly trying to insert his left knee between Hermione's legs. A little 'ah' escaped from Hermione's mouth. The wizard's boldness brought her mind back to reality. She firmly pushed her knees back together and tried her best to suppress a peculiar heat that began to spread from the pit of her stomach to certain regions located slightly lower.

"Why?" she managed to utter, common sense and caution kicking in at last. "What is there in it for you, Lucius?" The young lioness narrowed her eyes. Knowing quite well the dark past of this particular wizard, along with his general cunning tendencies, she was seriously doubting his motives and thus was watching his reactions to her questions very carefully.

A low huff and a chuckle was accompanied by, this time, a two-hundred-watt brilliant smile that almost dissolved Hermione's suspicions. "You are such vigilant creature, Hermione. Doubting my sincerity, my dear, well, well, well, you are right, of course. You are just too clever. Surely I have an interest in this."

Lucius paused, as if seeking the right words, and gently traced Hermione's jaw line.

"You see, my darling Hermione, the Malfoys are not yet at the level we held before the war. It's my fault, and it is my responsibility to remedy that. It would do me good to be seen helping such a progressive and well-known witch. What do you say, Hermione? Would you accept my help, would you be willing to let me work with you on the project? I will show you how to gain their interest, how to influence their minds, and you will show them how entirely I have reformed."

During this speech, the wizard did not move his silver eyes from the witch's brown ones not even for a second, and Hermione felt her heart begin literally to melt under his intense, shimmering gaze.

What can I say, my darlings? Hermione Granger wasn't made of stone, you know. She liked men and appreciated a good-looking bloke. Then again, he stood so near her that she could sense the distinctive, tantalizing scent of his outrageously expensive cologne, which wasn't helping at all.

She had to run. Now! But alas, the blond wizard hovered over her, not giving her any opportunity to flee, and Severus wasn't there to rescue her from the prison of these grey eyes. Hence, she was left to deal with her ill-timed arousal and its hot waves, which were by now unabashedly surging through the lower part of her body.

His eyes were focused on her face intensely, and the back of his hand softly caressed her cheek. Their noses were almost touching, and his blond locks were tickling her face. Desperate to break the heart-melting and body-burning eye contact, the poor witch tore her eyes from Lucius', only to land on Lucius' rather sensual lips.

Shit, shit, shit, was pulsating in her mind.

"Yes," breathed out the young Gryffindor, hoping earnestly that she would not regret this momentary lapse of judgment in the future.

"Wise decision, my darling, we will be the most powerful pair the British wizards ever knew, believe me," Lucius said as a triumphant smile lit up his handsome face. He took the witch's little hand and placed a long and altogether inappropriate kiss on her palm.

"When will we start? What about today, after a dinner perhaps?" The blond wizard was all over the young witch.

"No, Lucius, I am sorry, but I am tired," whispered Hermione, gathering the last shreds of her strength. "We will start on Monday, all right? Will lunch work for you?"

If Lord Malfoy was disappointed by this tiny rebuff, he didn't show it at all. The next instant, he finally straightened up and stepped back, giving Hermione the opportunity to rise from the chair. She practically jumped up, excited that she could finally escape Lucius' lust-evoking hands and eyes.

Evidently, the blond wizard was quite satisfied with the outcome and himself. After placing a light kiss on Hermione's hand, and murmuring, "See you Monday, my dear partner," he left, humming a refrain from Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries". Bedazzled and breathless Hermione, on the other hand, was left to peruse her thoughts.

The Slytherin snake, you say? Precisely, my dear readers.