Three

The HP universe belongs to JKR, I only borrow. Can I keep Lucius?

Many thanks for all their comments, help, and encouragement to my fabulous betas Anogete and Dacian Goddess. Special thanks go to Chivalric for her support and a number of very inspiring conversations that involved Switzerland, snow, food, and beautiful male bodies, though not necessarily in that order.

*****

Hermione waited a few seconds until the world around her stopped spinning. She carefully moved one of her feet, testing the ground. Definitely solid. And cold. Before she had time to take a look at her surroundings, a soft noise alerted her to the arrival of another person. Training, experience and habit kicked in, and she whirled around, drawing her wand without thinking twice about it, only to find herself facing Lucius Malfoy. Though she had speculated or even hoped that it might be him, coming face to face, or rather wand to wand, with the object of her fantasies caused a torrent of contradictory emotions to wash over her in rapid succession: happiness, a trace of fear, a flicker of desire and anticipation.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before they lowered their wands.

'You,' Hermione said, wishing she'd come up with a more elegant opening while she admired the way he looked. Those dark grey robes went well with his hair and eyes. She briefly wondered if he had made that choice deliberately in memory of their last encounter. So maybe she wasn't the only one who had dressed for the occasion. She didn't fail to notice the appreciative glance he cast at her pink dress, either.

'And good evening to you too, Miss Granger. And why would you be surprised to see me, considering that you sent me an invitation?' Lucius managed to sound ever so slightly hurt.

Lucius had received an invitation as well? Something didn't add up here. 'But you sent me a letter. Or at least someone did.' Her mind quickly tried to work through the problem. 'Hm, I most certainly didn't send you anything, and if you didn't either ...'

'... then it appears that someone else must have.' Lucius finished the sentence for her.

They looked at each other for a moment before they slowly started to take in their surroundings. They were standing at the edge of a little square on what appeared to be a plateau near the top of a mountain. It was lit by torches that were strategically placed around it to give off just enough light without spoiling the mood. The square, like the world around them, was covered in deep snow. By daylight the view would have to be spectacular. As it was, with the clear, dark sky above them and the snow that dampened every sound, they seemed to be all alone in an eerily beautiful world ...save for the small building that was visible on the other side of the square. The flicker of fear Hermione had felt earlier had decided to go back to sleep, at least for now.

Despite its isolation, the place felt friendly; or did it feel friendly because she wasn't alone here after all? No point musing about that now; better evaluate the situation. A look at Lucius confirmed that he was trying to assess their circumstances as well. That didn't exclude the possibility that he had set this up yet, just because he pretended not to. But if he was indeed behind this, he certainly hid it well. Nothing less than she expected of a man who had managed to wriggle out of being sent to Azkaban twice.

As if on cue, they both went and inspected the small building. It had the structure of a small wooden châlet, its windows alight with a warm glow. It looked like an ordinary if luxurious holiday home ... or would have if not for the small brass plaque next to the door. Lucius raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as he looked at the inscription, his wand still in his hand.

Hermione tried to read his carefully neutral expression. 'Do you have any idea where we are? What this place is?'

No answer; only his eyes quickly flicking in her direction before they focussed on the door again were any indication that he had heard her questions. Hermione followed his look and deciphered the inscription on the little plate. She drew a deep breath. She had always thought that Le coeur du dragon was merely a myth, a place whispered about in drunken conversations. It was said to be a restaurant so exclusive that it had become legend even among the most affluent, most of whom couldn't even broker an introduction.

'How very interesting,' Lucius said softly.

Of course, he had been here before. It figured. She shivered in her thin evening dress; the cold mountain air called for thick woollen winter cloaks, preferably lined with something furry, not the thin elegant shawl she had wrapped around her shoulders. She could cast a warming charm, but her patience was wearing thin. 'Do you have any idea what is going on here?'

'Possibly,' Lucius answered, his face carefully guarded.

'What is this, then?' Hermione asked. It was obvious that he knew or suspected something, and she wanted to bloody well know what it was. She twirled her wand ever so slightly in his direction.

Lucius didn't react to her impatient tone or her subtle threat. Instead, he seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion. 'If my suspicions are correct, then it would appear that we are not in any immediate danger.' With these cryptic words, he took a step towards the door.

Hermione, though, didn't follow his lead. If he thought she would play along with his little scheme, he was in for a surprise. There was, of course, the possibility that this wasn't his game. Still, if he had any idea what was going on, she certainly didn't.

'So?' Hermione remained standing exactly where she was.

'Why don't we discuss this over dinner,' Lucius answered, his voice back to its usual smooth tones.

'What makes you think there'll be dinner? If you know anything, I suggest you tell me. Now. For all I know we could be in all kinds of trouble.' Hermione insisted. If he knew where they were, why didn't he tell her? What was he trying to keep from her?

Seemingly unperturbed by Hermione's glare, Lucius took the time to adjust his grey leather gloves before he chose to answer Hermione's question. 'Very well. It looks like someone has made dinner plans for us. A rather exclusive arrangement.'

Hermione translated exclusive correctly as "expensive" and "difficult to get" when the words "us" and "dinner" registered. 'Right, but I don't see ... Oh.'

Lucius nodded, nothing but polite interest visible in his patrician features. 'Exactly.'

'You mean someone has arranged this ... dinner for us.' At the thought of spending an entire evening with Lucius, the flicker of fear briefly sparked again before a delicious little flutter shoved it resolutely out of the way and took up residence in her stomach.

'So it would appear.' Lucius drawled.

'But why? And why you and me? Who would do such a thing? And what for?'

A corner of Lucius's mouth had started to twitch ever so slightly at Hermione's barrage of questions. 'I don't know, Miss Granger. But since we are here, I suggest we take the opportunity offered while we think about who might have arranged this.'

Exactly which opportunity was he talking about? Hermione decided not to pursue this specific question right now. She could just turn around and find a way home. The little flutter folded its wings, disappointed. Or she could stay and find out what this was all about. Here. With him. The little flutter raised a hopeful head. Hermione nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

As if it had seen her, the door in front of them opened, and the house-elf behind it, dressed in a pristine white tea towel, bowed so deeply that his nose nearly touched the floor. 'Soyez les bienvenus,' he said, leading them into the foyer where another elf took Lucius's cloak and gloves as well as Hermione's shawl. She could feel Lucius's eyes on her bare shoulders as the first elf lead them down a short corridor into the dining room. It didn't hold more than ten tables, placed at a comfortable distance from each other to give the guests some privacy. Hardly any conversation could be heard, and Hermione suspected that there were Muffliato-like charms around the tables to ensure that the guests' conversation couldn't be overheard. The roughly hewn grey stone walls contrasted nicely with the pristine white of the tablecloths and the silver candlesticks, giving the room a rustic yet elegant appearance, which was increased by the soft, warm light that infused the room despite no other source of light being visible than the candles on the table.

The elf led Lucius and Hermione to a table that was situated at one of the windows looking out over the valley covered in snow and bowed again. As soon as they were seated, two glasses of champagne appeared in front of them, accompanied by a dish of asparagus and scallops.

Hermione surveyed the arrangement on the table and swallowed. Asparagus. And Champagne. Whoever had arranged this was apparently trying to pave the way for something other than just a bit of polite conversation. As she reached for her glass with a slightly shaky hand, she tried to ignore the little flutter in her belly that had obviously decided to be her constant companion this evening.

Lucius raised his glass to her, smiling. 'To unexpected pleasures.'

Hermione swallowed again. 'To unexpected pleasures,' she answered.

They both sipped at their champagne. The bubbly liquid running down her throat still felt nice. In fact drinking it slowly here felt much better than downing it quickly at the Ministry's reception last year.

She looked at the asparagus, wondering whether there was any scientific base to its reputation or whether it was just a myth. Maybe not the best way to open a conversation right now. She looked at Lucius, casting around for a subject, something that wouldn't be too blunt or too personal, but found herself distracted by the curve of his mouth.

*****

Lucius caught her eyes lingering on his mouth. He pretended not to notice, but made sure that Hermione had something to look at while he slowly continued eating, taking the occasion to look her over as well. The tight bodice of her dress allowed him a good view of her cleavage while the colour nicely accentuated the flawless skin of her shoulders and neck. He imagined its soft, warm feel under his hands when his gaze was arrested by the tiny scar on her throat. The kind of scar that was left by a very sharp blade. His left leg started twitching, and the asparagus suddenly tasted like mouldy straw. He quickly took a sip of champagne to wash the foul taste away.

'I take it then, Miss Granger, you didn't arrange this little soirée,' he said, his tone well-practised, a friendly but disinterested enquiry.

'No, I received your invitation; well, what I thought was your invitation. An anonymous letter and a Portkey.' Large brown eyes focused on his now.

She had thought he had sent her a letter inviting her and she had accepted. Before an unnamed and unusual feeling could spread too far through his body, Lucius quickly reminded himself that there would be motives and hopes for advantages to be gained. There always were, and everything depended on anticipating those so he could make sure that they coincided with his own plans, even if said plans where as yet unformed.

'What did your Portkey look like?'

Hermione took a white rose out of her handbag. It looked exactly like the one he had received.

'Did you get a letter and a Portkey as well?'

Instead of answering, he produced his own rose from the folds of his robes, laying it silently next to hers on the table.

'And you thought I had sent the letter?' Was there a distinctive note of hope in her eyes and her voice?

'It was one possible conclusion, yes,' he admitted.

'Why?' Hermione's face held an expression that explained to Lucius how she had gained her reputation in both Magical Law Enforcement and the Wizengamot in only a few short months. It wouldn't do to forget that she could be a venerable enemy ... or ally if he played this right. He tried to ignore the voice that suggested that she could be something else as well. Something that involved warm, naked skin and her delicious mouth. Instead, he started to play with her rose on the table as he tried to decide how much he wanted to give away.

'A hunch,' he said vaguely.

'A hunch. You came here on a hunch?' It was evident that Hermione didn't believe him.

He tried a different approach. 'Why would I pass up the possible occasion to have dinner with a beautiful woman?'

The sight of her soft smile at his compliment sent a tiny, pleasant shiver down his spine. It was almost too easy.

But the distraction didn't last long. 'So, assuming I believe you, it seems neither of us sent these letters. Which brings us back to the initial question. Who did?'

While they were talking, their empty plates and glasses had disappeared, to be replaced minutes later by steaming seafood risotto and white wine.

Lucius realised that whoever had arranged this knew his taste in food well, but decided to keep this piece of information to himself for the moment.

'I have no idea, Miss Granger.' In fact he had a couple of ideas that ranged from very pleasant to those he'd rather not think about, but he first wanted to find out what the woman sitting across from him thought about this. Did she know what a delectable view her cleavage offered?

'Let's try this from a different angle. If we can solve the why we might come closer to the who.' Hermione suggested. She smiled, but her eyes remained serious.

Lucius swallowed a bite of the excellent risotto, quickly dispelling the fleeting images that involved various combinations of "angle" and Hermione's body with it, before he went along with her line of enquiry. 'Right, the most pertinent question seems to be why anybody would want us to spend an evening together. We are not exactly the most likely candidates to be thrown together like this.'

Hermione looked as if she was trying to suppress a snort. 'That, Mr Malfoy, qualifies as the understatement of the year.'

Of course; she had to rub it in. 'I thought we had a rather... pleasant encounter at last year's festivities.'

'Yes, that dance was very nice.' Suddenly Hermione's fork paused in mid-air. 'And there's one possible motive. After that, what do you think would happen if some nosy reporter saw us here? I can already see the headlines in the Prophet.'

Lucius nodded. 'Though this would only damage your name on various counts ... not mine,' he pointed out. 'Which would suggest that someone not only has a grudge against you, but is also completely unaware of the security measures Le coeur employs to ensure the privacy of its guests. An oversight which would be negligent at best.'

'I can think of quite a few people who would love to see my reputation in tatters. Hm, but none of them has either the means or the connections to arrange this. Somehow I think this whole set-up points more to your end.'

Lucius had come to a similar conclusion. 'You might have a point there. Which brings us back to why someone would throw us together. I find it hard to believe that anyone would actually be naïve enough to hope to gain something simply by forcing us to spend an evening together.'

They had finished their risotto while they were talking, and after their empty plates had vanished, the next course appeared on the table. Fillet of lamb. It smelled delicious, exactly like his favourite recipe. Lucius narrowed his eyes suspiciously; this was a bit too much of a coincidence. Whoever had arranged this knew his taste in food extremely well. Too well. Something about the whole arrangement and its set-up niggled at the back of his mind. He tasted the dark red wine that had come with the lamb. It was one of his favourite vintages. Very few people knew his taste in wine. Slowly a suspicion began to form in his head.

*****

Who said someone was hoping to gain something from this? Maybe they, whoever "they" were, hoped for something nasty to happen. Something naughty more likely judging by the whole set-up. But if she told him that he would surely take her observation as some kind of innuendo. Which of course it wasn't. She was just putting her famous analytical mind to good use. Right? And why had Lucius become so quiet since the next course had appeared on the table?

He took a sip of the dark red liquid in his glass, looking thoughtful. 'I don't think we'll be solving this now. It would be a shame to waste such an excellent meal with idle speculation. I suggest we enjoy the evening instead. Have you been to Switzerland before?'

Now, there was a quick change of topic. Interesting. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to play along with his suggestion, see what she could find out. Besides, she really didn't have a better idea. 'No, I've only been to the French part of the Alps. My parents used to take me skiing there. Usually over Christmas.' Hermione quickly quelled the wave of sadness that threatened to engulf her as she was talking about her parents. 'Do you know Switzerland well?'

'Reasonably. There are a couple of very nice resorts around here. Narcissa loved the mountains very much.' For a fleeting moment his expression looked sad as he mentioned his late wife, but it passed so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure if she'd really seen anything. 'Skiing?'

'It's a Muggle sport. You put small planks beneath your feet and glide down a mountain slope. If you are good at it, you can go very fast,' Hermione said hesitantly. Would his prejudices now make an entrance?

'That sounds ... entertaining. Are you good at it, Miss Granger?' Lucius expression was again carefully neutral.

It seemed he was trying to be nice. Whatever his motive for it, Hermione almost smiled. 'No. I don't like it very much. In fact I like summer and the sea much better than snow and mountains.'

'As do I. Have you been to other parts of France?'

'I used to go there on holiday with my parents; first to Provence and then, when I was a bit older, to Brittany. It's very beautiful. I love it there. Have you ever been to either?' Hermione took a sip of wine.

'Actually I happen to know both quite well. My family originates from France. We still own property in some parts. Did you know that there is a long and intriguing history of wizardry in France?' Lucius looked at her enquiringly.

'Yes, I went to see some of the places when I was there the last time, and I found some old books in a shop there. It's fascinating.' Could he really be interested in the history of magic?

'Have you read Lagarde? That's usually considered the standard work. He's quite thorough in his research, but some of his arguments are slightly absurd,' Lucius said.

Hermione nodded. 'I've read all his works on European history. Actually I found some of his ideas quite interesting.' While she was speaking their empty plates once again vanished and were replaced by a cheese board. She started to absent-mindedly nibble at a piece of Gruyère as she listened to Lucius explaining his opinion of the books. His eyes lit up in a very nice way when he was speaking about something he seemed to be passionate about.

They proceeded to discuss the finer points of wizarding history, agreeing on some points while disagreeing on many others. For the first time in her life Hermione had found someone who could not only keep up with her, but was well-read and had fascinating points and opinions of his own to contribute. At some point in their discussion, "Miss Granger" became Hermione, and "Mr Malfoy" became Lucius without either of them noticing. They were still talking long after their espresso cups were as empty as the glasses that had held the fine cognac they'd had as digestif. Neither of them wanted the evening to end, and only when they finally couldn't find any more pretext to linger, did they get up to leave.

Lucius took the shawl from the elf in the cloakroom and arranged it carefully around her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment on her naked skin, so short that it was barely noticeable, yet it was enough to send a tingle through her body right down to her lower belly.

The elf had handed them a note with another rose, this one dark red, wrapped inside it. The note read:

Hopefully your evening was enjoyable. Whenever you are ready tap the rose with a wand. Saying the Portus spell will enable you to go where you want.

Lucius quickly dissolved any awkwardness by saying, 'Allow me to see you safely home, Hermione.'

'That is very kind of you,' Hermione answered, taking out her wand. With a quick tap and a whispered, 'Portus,' she concentrated on the image of the door to her flat. The rose briefly glowed in a blue light, and then the familiar tugging behind her navel signalled that the Portkey had activated.

They materialised at the landing in front of Hermione's flat. Not for the first time she was glad that she had chosen to live on the top floor so that nobody would see them appear out of nowhere. After the spinning had stopped, they stood for a long moment, just looking at each other until Hermione said, 'Thank you for a very nice evening, Lucius.'

'The pleasure is all mine,' he answered and took her hand. His lips ghosted over her knuckles and then he was gone.