Confrontations and Confessions

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Confrontations and Confessions

Lucius raced from her room as if the Hounds of Hell were upon him. Pain surged down his leg, but he ignored it as he hurried to the seclusion of his own rooms.

Slamming the door, he leaned heavily against it. His breathing was labored and his foot throbbed. As he slid to the floor, he became aware of being watched. Looking up, his eyes met those of his father.

The man within the portrait glared at him and crossed his arms in an angry gesture. "You are a shame to this family!"

Lucius glared back at the man he had once tried so hard to earn the approval of. "Don't you ever tire of throwing the same hateful slurs in my direction? Can you not find any other insults in that thick skull of yours?"

His father's ice blue eyes regarded him for a moment before he spoke in a softer, but equally cruel, tone. "Lucius, you have brought a Mudblood into this house. Never, in all the years of our forefathers has anyone dared to allow such filth within these walls!"

Lucius found his feet and moved to stand before the painting. "That woman is fighting on the right side of this war! She has known all along what has taken me the better part of my life to discover!"

"And what is that?" the painting queried back angrily.

"That your precious Voldemort couldn't care less about purebloods, Mudbloods, or Muggles! He only thirsts for power! He takes pleasure in the pain and torment of others!" As Lucius spoke, his voice went from normal, even tones to an outraged, angry yell.

His father shook his head. "Calm yourself, Lucius!" Disapproval was dark in the eyes of the older wizard. "You are acting like a miserable child!"

The younger man turned away from the painting and moved to his closet. "I am no child, Father! But I am miserable. Of that you can be certain!"

The wizard within the portrait was silent as Lucius dressed. When he turned back towards the man in the painting, his eyes were angry and defiant. "You dare to criticize my judgement, old man? I beg you to look at the cost of your own! Look what your folly has cost not just me, but our entire line!"

The older wizard sputtered indignantly. "Me? What have I done?"

Lucius shook his head. "If it had not been for my burning desire to make you proud, I would never have pledged my loyalty to that crazed lunatic!" His hands trembled with barely suppressed rage. "I wound still have my family! My son! My wife! The very things you always claimed were important, FATHER!"

If it was possible, the already pale skin of the man within the portrait became even paler. For once, the painting fell silent.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the other man's loss of words. "I am not the only one that brought shame to this family, Father. I only followed through with your wishes. Isn't that quaint?" With that last, biting remark, Lucius turned and strode angrily from the room.

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Hermione sat in Lucius' private library, reading through a book on dark spells used to counter other such spells. Unthinkingly, her eyes kept moving to the Book of Merlin that Lucius had shown her a few nights ago.

Conclusively, she gave up on trying to concentrate on the book she had in her hands and set it aside. Moving to the shelf, she reached out and picked up the ancient text carefully. Running her hands over the binding of the book reverently, she smiled at the idea of reading through its contents.

When she sat back down and began skimming over the intro, Serenity suddenly Apparated to her side. "Forgive my intrusion, Miss. But I thought you might like some spice tea, and some cakes while you read?"

Hermione smiled. "That sounds wonderful, Serenity. Thank you."

Serenity returned her smile and sat the tray down on the coffee table before Disapparating away. Hermione poured herself a cup of the wonderfully scented tea and added just a touch of sugar. When she took a sip, she closed her eyes, savoring the aroma.

"Is everything to your liking, then?"

Startled from her actions, she nearly spilt the tea in her lap, before placing the cup on the table before her and turning to meet Lucius' eyes.

"Uhmm... Y-yes. Everything is wonderful." She smiled when her eyes met his. "And you? Are you alright?"

That morning there had been an awkward moment shared between them. Hermione wondered if she had done anything to offend him when he had left so suddenly. She blushed as she considered her nudity in front of him that morning.

She wasn't some virginal child. She had lost her virginity in her seventh year to Ron. It had been a silly, drunken moment between them and they had later talked about the fact that although they loved each other, they would never be in love.

But after that, she had not been with anyone else. There had been plenty of young men that had been interested in dating her, but she'd always pushed them aside, saying she was too busy working for the Order to take time out for personal relationships.

The truth was, she had never wanted a relationship with anyone. Not like that. But now, she was twenty-two years old. She was feeling her first real desire for a man. It made her heart flutter in her chest to think of such things.

Lucius studied her for a moment before looking away and nodding. "Yes, I am well, thank you." His voice was soft and traveled like black velvet over her skin.

She fought the shiver that threatened to overtake her, but not before he had seen. Moving closer to her, he said, "You're cold."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm not. Not really... I just..." Her words died as he moved to sit beside her and reached out with his hands to rub some warmth into her shoulders. She bit her bottom lip as his hands rubbed warmth into her bare arms.

"His brow furrowed as he took in the spaghetti straps of her blouse. "I fail to see why you would wear such scant clothing in a home that is as drafty as most castles."

She couldn't help but smile. "I wasn't thinking when I dressed. It didn't occur to me at the time." She shrugged, feeling somewhat let down by what seemed to be a total lack of desire on his part.

Frustration built within her. How could he force such a flood of desire from her and not feel any of his own? Could she have imagined that he felt something akin to what she felt? Was she just making a fool of herself in front of him?

Pushing his hands away gently, she stood and moved to put the book back where she had found it. "I'm not cold, really." She fought to keep her voice calm.

Lucius watched her back. Had he insulted her? "I did not mean to offend," he said softly. "It is a lovely blouse. I just... There are parts of this home that can be rather drafty and cold. Even when you have a fire roaring in the hearth, the manor can feel like a cold-hearted bitch some days."

As he spoke, he had moved to stand directly behind her. Hermione could feel his breath on her neck. She found herself leaning into the bookshelves to put some distance between them. "Uh... Mr. Malfoy... You... I... I mean, uhm..." He was too close. She couldn't think with him so close.

"I what, Miss Granger?" Lucius knew that he was affecting her. He knew he should stop, knew he should move away to a respectable distance. It was just so hard to step away from her. Her scent. Her hair pulled up off of her neck. He wanted to bury his face in its softness. Run his fingers through its softness.

It had been so long since he had felt desire. He had never cheated on Narcissa. Even after she was gone, he had denied himself to desire anyone. He had always thought no one could desire him now that he was no longer beautiful. Yet, he could feel her desire. It flowed from her like a spring that coursed from her to him and back again.

Propriety demanded that he step back and give her space. Yet the combination of their desires made him step closer to her so that they were touching. Leaning his head down, he laid his head against the soft skin of her neck as his uninjured hand went around her waist.

He felt her swift intake of breath as he turned and touched his lips to her pulse. His breathing matched her own and he closed his eyes as he waited for her to break away from him and run from the room.

Instead, he felt her lean her head back against his shoulder. Her hand covered his. Slowly, she turned and her eyes met his. For a moment, they just stared at each other. He felt as if he could drown in the depths of her eyes. He searched for some sign of disgust but found none. He only saw the echo of his own desire reflected there in her.

Reaching up, he ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, smiling when her eyes closed. Leaning down, he replaced his thumb with his mouth, touching her lips gently with his own. It was the softest touch she had ever felt. When his lips parted, he ran his tongue over the seam of her mouth.

Opening her mouth to him, her tongue met his tentatively. Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst within him. Pulling her so close her body felt as if it had become a part of his, Lucius gave a strangled moan.

Hermione answered his moan with one of her own. Her free hand reached up between them to find the hard planes of his chest. His shirt was buttoned conservatively to the neck. Impatiently, she found the row of buttons and began undoing each one slowly so she could touch the skin beneath.

When Lucius broke the kiss and began to pull away from her, Hermione stayed him. "No. Don't leave me. I couldn't bear it if you turned away from me now." Her voice was a whisper that sent chills through his core.

"Hermione, I.." He started to pull away again. But Hermione followed him, holding on to him.

He pulled away again and this time, she released him. He missed the look of pain that crossed her features when he turned away.

Lucius crossed the room, running his hand through his hair in frustration. I have no right to touch her. "Hermione," he started softly. "I want you desperately, but I cannot let this happen. You deserve better."

Tears welled in her eyes as she moved closer to him. "What if you are what I want?" She asked, her voice breaking. "I never knew what it was to really want someone, until now."

She shook her head. "You want me, too. Why do you deny yourself, when the feelings are shared? I just don't understand. Make me understand, Lucius."

Turning back to face her, his heart melted when he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. "You are young. You have your entire life ahead of you. I am older than your own father. I cannot give you what you deserve."

Hermione dropped her jaw for a moment, then her eyes narrowed in anger. "My entire life could be over tomorrow, if we don't find a way to defeat You-Know-Who! I am not some silly little virgin that has never been touched! But I have never known a desire such as this with any other man." She heaved a sigh. "I may never feel it again. So what if you are nineteen years my senior. My father is twenty-one years senior to my mother, if you must know." She smirked when his eyes turned back to her. "So, your claim to be too old for me is a very lame one!"

Lucius stood and watched her for a moment. He felt suddenly very stupid, and angry with himself. What was wrong with him? She wanted him. He was no longer married. There was nothing standing in his way of having her but his own foolish idiocy.

When he started to speak, Hermione stopped him by holding up her hand. "No. Don't say anything. I realize that you may not be ready to be with someone. I know you and Narcissa were together from even before you got out of school." Her eyes met his. "I am not trying to replace her, Lucius. I could never do that. But, if you ever think that you could give what is left of yourself to another, I would gladly share that time with you."

She reached out, and pulled his hair away from the damaged side of his face. He winced at the exposure, but did not push her away when she leaned closer, placing a kiss on the damaged flesh. His eyes closed, and he held his breath when she whispered, "You are beautiful to me."

When she moved away from him, he turned and watched her leave the room. He wanted desperately to follow her and pull her back into his arms but he couldn't make himself do it. She needed space.

He needed to find a way to move past everything that had happened. As much as he wanted her-- as much as he wanted to pursue these emotions that were flooding him-- he owed it to her to be able to move past these memories that haunted him. Until he did, there could be no future for them.

He gasped at the thought. Future? Where did that come from?