Six

AN: Here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long to upload. Please enjoy! Thanks to everyone that's been e-mailing and commenting on this story during my little hiatus. And for the record, Hawaii was incredible. Yes. That's one of the places that I was. I drank from a coconut. It was awful. I had to mix it with sugar and rum to make it bearable.

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Lucius Malfoy proved to be a persistent shadow to Hermione. He deftly maneuvered her at every social function, making sure that his card was next to hers at a dinner for the new Mugwumps, volunteering to serve on her focus group for the Wee Wizard Orphanage, showing up at The Wand and Pistil for dinners though he always looked hopelessly out of place in the dingy pub.

She admired his tenacity, but when he sent her a set of silver combs for her birthday, she began to feel that she was in over her head. The gift was so costly and so blatantly a bribe to get into her good graces that she almost seethed at him. Instead, she sent them back (reluctantly) with a perfunctory note about how she could not possibly accept such an expensive gift from a man not related to her.

Perversely, at the party that Harry threw for her at Grimmauld Place, Hermione accepted a gift of earrings from Severus. They were simple Celtic knots, but they were made with excellent craftsmanship. Though they were nothing as exquisite as the combs, they were no trifle, either. When Lucius heard about them, he confronted Hermione at a soiree for disabled wizards and witches. He was polite, always perfectly gentlemanly, but very angry underneath it all.

Two days after the confrontation, he had sent her a letter begging for forgiveness and asking if they couldn't simply be friends. Of course, Severus had made it clear that there was nothing simple about being Lucius's "friend" even if she wanted to be, but how to communicate it to him without making him her enemy?

"I told you he'd be persistent," Severus murmured as he set his lunch tray next to hers. She was working on her third letter to Lucius, this one just as abysmal as the last one and just as likely to remain unsent.

"Yes, you did warn me. Why can't he just take no for an answer?"

Severus snapped open his newspaper and snorted. "If he took no for an answer, he would not be where he is today."

Hermione could not argue with this assessment, and lost all interest in the subject as her friends brought their trays to the table and sat down with them. The boys had finally gotten over their fear of Severus, though they still did not like him very much. They did like Hermione and Katherine, though, so they continued to sit together at lunch time.

"Anything new about the Quidditch scandal?" Katherine asked as she doused her shepherd's pie with brown gravy, making Evan look a little ill at the combination.

Severus turned to the sports page and almost spit out his peas. "You'd better look," he said, thrusting the page at Hermione.

Katherine, impatient, peered over Hermione's shoulder. "Impossible."

"Don't read it aloud or anything," John groused.

Hermione shook her head. "I can hardly say anything, John." She skimmed over the article for a second time, hoping that she had read it wrong before. "As Katherine said, it's impossible. They seem to think that Ron is taking Felix Felices."

Evan gave a laugh. "Anyone that's ever seen him play knows that it isn't true. He's an excellent Keeper, but he often makes mistakes. The other teams are probably just jealous that the Cannons are finally winning, so they're spreading gossip."

"Read it aloud, Miss Granger," Severus said quietly. "Let them decide for themselves."

Hermione obliged, and in her clear voice she read the article in its entirety. "Trouble may be brewing for the long-standing Quidditch team, The Chudley Cannons. The team is just now coming out of a two hundred and fifty year losing streak thanks to its new Keeper, Ronald Weasley, youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley and recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class for heroism during the war against Voldemort. Witnesses have seen young Weasley consulting with a Potions Master on several occasions--" Severus snorted at this..."and accepting a vial of gold-tinged potion from him. Weasley has denied all charges, as has Coach Marcus Fairbanks. Weasley is expected to report for testing at St. Mungo's Hospital before September thirtieth. Oh dear. What potion, sir?"

He smiled. "Wolfsbane. I was giving him Lupin's monthly dose. I had no idea that the foul potion looked gold. How absurd."

"When was this?" Katherine asked.

Hermione turned questioning eyes to Severus. "Your birthday," he said. "Lupin could not make it, remember?"

Hermione nodded. "That makes me feel sick! Whoever is spreading these lies was invited to my party-could be one of my friends!"

"Or an uninvited guest," Severus amended.

"A party at Potter's house was enough to get me a really hot date," Evan said. "The lure of seeing The Boy Who Lived up close and personal was probably a huge draw for some people."

Katherine gave Evan a sharp look, but Hermione ignored them.

"There were so many wards in place, if it was an uninvited guest, they would have to be very powerful and incredibly skilled. I'll ask Harry for a guest list. I want to know who this person is. No one messes with my friends."

Severus cleared his throat and snatched back his paper. "Clearly not."

Hermione looked at him quizzically, wondering why he suddenly sounded so cold.

"And you shan't use my office to send him a letter," Severus practically snapped.

"I wasn't even thinking of it."

"Good."

He softened a bit, and Hermione wondered what it was that had suddenly changed his demeanor. And why would he care if she sent Ron a note, anyway? She had a break coming in the afternoon, it would be more than enough time to jot down a few lines of encouragement if she wanted. Ron would probably appreciate it, too, but he liked to deal with crises in his own way on his own terms. He would contact her.

And contact her he did. When she got home that night, little Pigwidgeon was flitting about her kitchen, attempting to cozy up to Bubo whenever he alighted on a perch. The tiny owl held a note from Ron, asking her to meet him the following evening at The Wand and Pistil, their favorite haunt for good pub food and draught beer. The best part was that it was usually so noisy with the sounds of live music and even livelier conversation, they could have incredibly personal conversations without running the risk of being overheard at quieter places like The Leaky Cauldron or a proper restaurant. Plus, the patrons tended to not give any of them a second glance-not even Harry.

She arrived early, still in her work robes, hoping that one of the intimate corner booths would be available at such an early hour.

Naturally, Lucius Malfoy had to choose this night to try and catch her out. He was standing with a companion at one of the high bar tables, his clothes too rich and his manners too impeccable for even this fashionable, posh pub. Lucius belonged in velvet-draped salons, perched on an antique chair with an elegant glass of good wine in his hand, not at a bar table with a tankard of ale and a plate of sausage, egg and chips.

Hermione sighed and decided that the reason her letters weren't working was because she really should speak to the man in person. Impulsively, she crossed to his table with determined strides.

"Mister Malfoy," she said by way of beginning.

"Miss Granger!" he exclaimed, halting her words. "Did you indeed cross a room to speak to me?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I did. We have much to discuss."

Lucius smiled and took her hand, brushing a kiss to the back of it. "I am more than happy to accommodate you, my dear. But first, allow me to introduce you to my friend Piedmont. Peter, this is Hermione Granger. I'm sure you've heard of her."

Piedmont nodded and held out his large, rough hand to Hermione, barking out a salutation with a voice that was just a little too coarse. He did not look the sort that Lucius normally associated with. His skin was dark and leathery from sun exposure, and his hair an unruly mass of short, black curls. He could easily lose three stone without any dire consequences, and his waistcoat was bright purple with silver stars embroidered onto it. He was too loud, too large, and just a bit too vulgar. What was he to Lucius? Was he involved politically or socially?

"You work for St. Mungo's, do you not, Miss Granger?" Piedmont asked her.

"I do, sir."

"Excellent. I am on the Board of Supervisors."

Hermione almost slapped her forehead. "Peter Peidmont! Of course, you were only newly elected to the post, were you not?"

"Yes. My father was on the Board for many years before he died, and I am excessively happy to follow in his footsteps."

Hermione nodded. So he was another pocket companion for Lucius, a way for him to keep his pulse on all parts of the Wizarding World. Was anyone useless at anything but friendship with him?

"Forgive us, Peter, but I wish to have a few private words with Miss Granger, as she is willing."

Peter waved them off, more intent on his ale and the Quidditch game being broadcast over the Wireless than he was in them at the moment.

Lucius led Hermione to the quiet corner booth that she had been watching ever since she came in.

"I am so happy that you've finally stopped avoiding me," he said as he helped her into her side.

"I'm not avoiding you, I simply have no interest in your proposal."

"Ah, but how do you know until you've heard what it is?"

Hermione sat back and waved her hand. "Very well, tell me what you want."

Lucius laughed and relaxed against his side of the booth. He was too handsome, too charming. He looked sinful and exciting, and though Hermione couldn't imagine him fucking her against a door, she could imagine him doing other thrilling things to her behind closed doors. Worse still, his laughter was bright and cheery. How could someone so duplicitous laugh so honestly? This was how he fooled people. This easy façade.

"Don't play coy with me, Lucius."

"I would never play coy with you, my dear. Not when you are always so straight forward. I would not insult you in that way."

"Then tell me what it is you want."

"So that you can get around to refusing me?"

"Precisely."

Lucius took her hand and began to run his fingers over it. "I want you to be my lover for a night."

"Only a night?"

"Yes."

"And in return?"

He shrugged. "A night of pleasure is payment enough for both parties, don't you think?"

Hermione snatched her hand back. "You have ulterior motives. You always do."

"Not always."

She glared at him.

"If you wish for more, I would be more than happy to oblige you. For instance, I could teach you the ways of politics."

"I understand the political structure of both the Wizarding world and the Muggle one."

Lucius shook his head. "No, darling, not political houses and positions, I'm talking about how to play the system. How to be a Death Eater and still manage to have a strong toe hold in every prominent organization. How to fight against Aurors and kill them, and still manage to hold the title of Chief Mugwump."

"I fail to see how any of this would help me."

"That's your problem. You don't want to circumvent, to play games and enter through the back door. You and your school chums insist on announcing yourselves loudly through the front door every time. Never mind that everyone else is already behind the scenes, scheming for something else. Never mind that you're setting yourself up to be a pawn."

"You're the chess master."

Lucius shrugged and held his hands out. "I cannot change who I am, and this is part of it."

"Scheming and conniving, willing to sell anyone and everything to get what you want."

Lucius's face took on a dangerous look. "I am a murderer, Hermione. Cold blooded, too, the worst kind. I am not remorseful in the least. I hate Muggles, and there was a time that I hated Muggle-borns even more. I was twice accused and convicted-rightfully so, as well-of being a Death Eater. I am, to use your terms, a despicable person. I am untrustworthy at best, and you don't want to see me at my worst."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Hermione asked, about ready to pull her wand and hex him into the next century.

"Because I am still in good standing with the Wizengamot, the International Federation of Wizards, the Ministry of Magic, the school Governors, and even your friend Harry Potter was willing to allow me a chair on the board for his Wee Wizard Orphanage. Think about it, Hermione. I know how to wield power and listen to the call of opportunity. Without me to guide you along, you will be forgotten as a war hero, and you will eventually go back to being the poor little Mudblood who can't find a job to save her life."

Hermione felt as though she had been slapped. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy, for your c..."

"It's no good being indignant. If you can't face the truth, then there's no point in my trying. But consider: you are the brightest witch of your age. Do you really want to waste your potential making potions for St. Mungo's for the rest of your life?"

"Of course not!"

"Then put your ego aside for a moment and admit that what I'm saying makes sense."

Hermione mulled over his words. She was hurt and angry at everything he implied, but there was no denying that he was making sense. The Wizarding World was changing, but slowly. Certainly not fast enough for a "Mudblood" to take over as Potions Mistress of St. Mungo's in less than ten years.

"And your reward?" She finally asked, after thinking over what he was offering.

Lucius smiled smugly, apparently sure that he had convinced her to go along with his scheme. "I want to head the Wee Wizard Orphanage. Having a chair is all well and good, but Potter doesn't understand the first thing about running an organization. And before you ask, I will confess that there are still circles where I am considered a pariah and heading the orphanage will help get me back into the good graces of those circles. It may mean nothing to you, but you are not a professional politician."

"I would never hand the orphanage over to a Death Eater, even if I could. I can barely stomach the current governors who threaten to remove Muggle-born children from homes practically on a daily basis. With you at the head, these children wouldn't have a chance at keeping their parents."

Lucius scowled. "Give me at least a little credit. Your objection is exactly one of the main reasons that I want to oversee everything; Potter has not the patience nor the finesse to convince the other members that family is every bit as important as strong, capable wizards. Instead of arguing his point eloquently, he merely becomes exasperated and lashes out at anyone close by. With me at the helm, things would be very different. I promise you, on my honor, that I would not pull children from Muggle homes without express cause. A case like Potter's, for instance, would be good enough for me, but there would be no wil-nil about it. We will make policy and procedure for the right way to remove a Magical child from a Muggle family. You could even help us write the policy, if you like."

He was actually beginning to tempt her. "How would I guarantee you a seat? How would I persuade Harry to give up this project? It's something that he's been working on for ages."

"With what I will teach you, you will be able to persuade even me to give you something that I am unwilling to give up."

She doubted that very much. Still, it was an intriguing idea. "I have to think it over, Lucius. I don't make decisions like this quickly."

Lucius nodded. "I understand. And now that we've put all our cards on the table, so to speak, I do hope that you'll accept this." He pulled from his robes the box that contained the lovely silver combs. "I have no use for them. They were bought with you specifically in mind. I promise that there are no strings attached."

Hermione smiled. "No, not this time."

"You can't blame a Wizard for trying."

Hermione gave a little laugh and deposited the box in her pocket just before a Severus Snape-shaped shadow fell on the table. Hermione looked up to smile at him, but stopped short when she saw a look of such disappointment and hurt on his face that she had a hard time quantifying it.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lucius said amicably. "I didn't realize that Hermione had come here to meet you."

"She didn't," a voice from behind said. "She came here to meet me. Now if both of you will shove off, I think we would both appreciate it." Ron, a knight in dark blue robes stalked forward and pushed his way past Severus to glare down at Lucius balefully. "That's my seat, Malfoy," he growled.

Lucius raised his hands in mock surrender. "No need to get your dander up. Hermione and I have concluded our business here, and I was just about to leave."

Ron towered over Lucius, still scowling darkly. He was younger and slightly leaner, but he had proved more dangerous in battle. He also had a penchant for applying Muggle methods that dyed-in-the-wool Wizards such as Lucius had a hard time looking out for, which made him deadly in a duel. Lucius had enough aplomb to not look ruffled by the furious Wizard, but he was clearly not foolish enough to start anything.

Severus for his part was still staring at Hermione with that look of disbelief still firmly in place.

"It's not what you think," she said quietly while looking into his fathomless black eyes.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Ron groused, missing her exchange with Severus completely. "You don't want me for your enemy, Malfoy. Stay away from my friends."

"You should allow her to make up her own mind," he returned in clipped tones. "She is a grown woman."

"I believe that Miss Granger has made it abundantly clear that she will choose her friends herself," Severus said in his usual silky voice, betraying nothing by his steady tone, "no matter how unsuitable some people may find them."

Hermione frowned. Did he think that she had forgotten their little chat? That she didn't know firsthand how dangerous Lucius was? "I appreciate the concern. Really, I do. But it still stands that Mister Malfoy is just now leaving, and that I had agreed to meet Ron and no one else here tonight. I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy, but as you said, our business has concluded. Thank you for your company. Ron, please sit down. Mister Snape, it has been very nice to see you tonight. I'm sorry that I cannot offer you a seat at present, but Ron wanted to speak to me about something particular tonight."

Severus shrugged. "I was actually meeting someone here myself and thought I'd say hello. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Hermione inclined her head to him and watched as he stalked across the room and seated himself at a table with a beautiful middle-aged witch. She smiled as he approached, and seemed to know him well. He touched her arm when he sat down, and looked at her intently the way that he usually looked at Hermione. He went to the bar and brought them each a drink, setting it in front of her by sliding it around from behind so that he would be close to her, and Hermione felt more than just a twinge of jealousy. That was how he usually brought her lunch to her! Was he on a date with this witch? Was he intimate with her? Why did she have to be so beautiful?

"Hermione!"

She snapped her head away from the couple that looked just a little too cozy and brought her attention to Ron. He had asked her here, after all.

"Sorry, love. I just..."

"Don't apologize. I should be sorry. I should have sent you word that my testing was going to run into overtime. I didn't know that he would be here, forcing himself on you."

"It was all right, Ron. Really. He just wanted to petition me to help him with a political project."

Ron flagged down a waitperson. "I hope you told him no!"

Hermione looked over at Severus, who seemed very happy to sit next to his witch, who in turn was looking less and less attractive on closer inspection. "I told him I'd think about it. Really, it wasn't a horrible thing. He really wants to help Harry out with the orphanage, and I think we can all agree that Harry needs a little help over there."

Ron shrugged noncommittally. "He needs help, but not from the likes of that one. He'd probably petition to have all the Muggle-borns killed at birth."

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. She really didn't know Lucius well enough to refute that thought. "How did the testing go?"

"Bloody waste of my time and everyone else's. I'm clean. Of course, no reporters wanted to hear that. You should have seen their faces when the doctors proclaimed me innocent. Guess I won't be gracing the cover of The Daily Prophet tomorrow."

"I'm sure that you disappointed everyone except your fans."

Ron gave a smile. "There were lots of fans there, cheering me. It was nice. That's most of the reason why I'm so late. Everyone wanted autographs! It was amazing."

Ron still lived in Harry's shadow to an extent, but he could hold his own now. "Maybe you'll make the cover of Playwitch instead of the Prophet."

He scoffed at the thought, but it cheered him. "You should have seen that place, Hermione. It was crazy. Five of us were accused of abusing, and none of us was guilty."

"But how did you know? They could have been lying about their test results."

He waved off the question. "We were all in the same room together. We could see the wands glowing."

"You mean to say that they didn't put you in separate rooms?"

Ron shrugged. "Why should they?"

"Because, you need your privacy!"

"We just wanted to get it over with. Maybe if one of us had been guilty, he would have asked for a private room. It's one of the ways you can tell, you know. When people are evasive, it's a sign of guilt."

Hermione colored. "It's not a sign of guilt at all! It just means that someone doesn't want to be inspected in front of a dozen people! Everyone is entitled to privacy. All those years I wasted on House Elves...I should have been working to open the eyes of Wizards. Did the persecution in the sixteenth century teach us nothing? You are innocent until proven guilty by a court of law, or in this case, by testing. Not before."

Ron shrugged. "I'm just glad it's over and that I can play again."

Hermione gave up the argument. She was not a politician, and arguing her point would only serve if she was before the Wizengamot. Instead, she directed her attention back to the seemingly happy couple at the table across the pub, smiling and laughing with each other, looking completely at ease.

Well, if that was the sort of woman that Severus Snape was into, so be it! Why did she even care? And what was she hoping for? That he would like her? That he would ever invite her out to a pub? That maybe his admonishments against Lucius had been out of jealousy?

"I can't believe old Snape has a date."

"Why shouldn't he?"

Ron sighed and took a large gulp from his pint. "I wonder how much he's paying her."

"Oh for heaven's sakes, Ron..."

Ron laughed. "You are so predictable, Herms." He stretched his hand across the table and grasped hers. "Let Snape have the witch. Not a bad piece of goods, that one, but a bit old for me."

"I bet she could teach you a few things."

Ron got a gleam in his eyes. "I bet you could teach me more."

Oh hell, why not? She knew Ron. She had slept with him countless times. And if he wanted lessons in love... "Eat up. You'll need your strength if you're going to keep up with me."

When they left, arm in arm, Hermione barely spared a glance at the dark man and his companion who practically transcended beauty. She only looked long enough to see that they were still conversing companionably about something or other. She was smiling, he was his usual stoical self, and their hands were entwined. Hardly a glance.

Well, hardly a look.

"You better know some new tricks," she growled darkly at Ron. "You're going to need them all."

TBC