Four

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

Additional thanks to Anogete, Chivalric and Dacian Goddess for reading and commenting on earlier versions of this chapter.

*****

Lucius Apparated into the entrance hall at Malfoy Manor and threw his cloak and gloves towards the house-elf that had come running at his arrival. He strode into his study, picked up the potions vial that sat on a tray next to a glass of water and threw it forcefully into the fireplace, where it shattered with a very satisfying crunch. 'Damn.'

He quickly poured himself a glass of Firewhisky. He downed it in one gulp and poured another. Sitting down behind his desk, he stared at nothing in particular. After a few minutes, he got up again and started pacing in front of the window, when the trembling of his hands, combined with the sharp pain that seared through his left leg, made him aware that destroying the potions vial hadn't been one of his brighter ideas. He hurled the glass into the fireplace as well and watched as the flames soared upward, fuelled by the alcohol. He sat down again with a groan and took a large gulp directly from the bottle.

*****

Hermione took a sip of her herbal tea before she closed her eyes and leant back against the rim of her tub with a sigh. Rose-scented steam was rising in little spirals from the hot, foamy water. Her favourite bubble bath – another of the presents she had bought for herself after the break-up with Ron. Her cat was perched on the shelf above the wash-basin, eyeing her curiously.

The events of the evening kept replaying in her head. It had been a nice dinner; very nice, in fact. True, they had come no closer to solving the puzzle of the mysterious arrangement, but the food had been excellent and Lucius had been perfectly pleasant. He had been charming. Who would have thought that he was interested in history? And intelligent, too. Hermione searched her memory for the last time she had had such an engaging discussion with anyone, but couldn't remember when or if ever. So he was bright, well-mannered, good-looking and charming. Not to mention that he had beautiful hair, an enticing mouth and eyes that sparkled in the nicest kind of way when he made a point he was passionate about. What would it be like to see him passionate about her? He seemed to have a very nice body under those dress robes as well. Hermione sighed.

She went through the catalogue of all the reasons why this was a really bad idea. He was a ruthless, arrogant bigot and had done things she didn't even want to begin thinking about. The trouble was that all the valid points she came up with were overlaid with the way he had smiled at her tonight, the clever things he had said, his eyes, the tone of his voice, how his hands had felt when he had draped her shawl around her, and the memory of his lips barely touching her knuckles in goodbye.

She wished she had someone to help her sort this mess out and see reason again. Hermione pictured Ginny's face if she told her that she feared she might be attracted to, of all people, Lucius Malfoy. Ginny would either think she was taking the mickey or send her straight to St Mungo's. Besides, Ginny and she didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. The last time they had spoken, the other girl had tried to persuade her to give her relationship with Ron another go. She had nodded at everything Hermione had said as to why this wasn't a good idea. 'Yeah, but, y' know, Ron really likes you, despite...'

'Despite what?'

Ginny had gone on to argue that Hermione should take Ron back because he was willing to put up with Hermione's "eccentricities", such as her love of learning, her thirst for knowledge and her plans to have a career...and could see beyond the fact that Hermione wasn't conventionally pretty. Hermione was still very proud that she had only laddered Ginny's tights with a neat, little, wordless spell instead of hexing her six ways to Sunday, but that conversation still rankled.

So, clearly, talking to Ginny was completely pointless. When had that changed? They used to be friends. Right after the war everything had been different. In the evenings Ginny, the boys and she used to sit around the old kitchen table in Grimmauld Place. They had chatted, played Exploding Snap or one of Hermione's Muggle board games. Kreacher had made sure that their supply of nibbles and tea or beer never stopped. Once, when they had been rather pissed, they had fantasised what it would be like to send their own children off to Hogwarts at King's Cross one day.

Obviously, that hadn't worked out. For a moment, her flat seemed very empty and way too quiet, and she missed the hubbub of the house she had shared with the others. It had felt safe. At least before everything fell apart, before Ron and she found they had nothing to talk about anymore and agreed about even less; before everything he did or said rubbed her the wrong way; before Molly had started constantly nagging them to get married; before she had been unable to make it through an evening without drinking too much in an effort to avoid screaming at everybody; before she had been unable to make it through the night without Dreamless Sleep Potion to keep the nightmares at bay.

A furry little head butted against her cheek, interrupting her train of thoughts and bringing her back to the present. She opened her eyes to see her black cat awkwardly balancing on the rim of the bathtub. Hermione smiled. 'It's all right. I'm fine. Don't fall in.'

As if he had understood her, he leapt gracefully back onto the shelf and curled his tail around his paws, still watching her. Suddenly feeling a lot better, Hermione decided that it was time to get out of the tub.

Later, snuggled up in bed under her warm duvet, Hermione remembered that she hadn't come any closer to finding out who had set her up with Lucius tonight. That thought was quickly forgotten while she wondered what it would be like to run her hands through that hair, to feel the silver-blond strands as they cascaded through her fingers.

*****

Lucius's eyes didn't want to open. They had a point; the day didn't like him. He pried them open anyway. The sodding light was piercing and far too bright. He quickly snapped his eyes shut again. A few minutes later, he tried again, very slowly opening first one and then the other. That was marginally better, though the light still seemed to cut right into his already aching head. His left leg felt as if it was on fire while a furry animal seemed to have taken up residence in his mouth. All in all, the world felt like a shitty place this morning. Very slowly, his surroundings came into focus, and he could make out two potions vials and a glass of water in front of him. His stomach decided that the sight of water was an excellent occasion for a few somersaults. Lucius waited until the wave of nausea had subsided and then downed both potions before he closed his eyes again, waiting for them to take effect.

Some time later, as the headache and the pain in his leg slowly subsided, he started to feel a bit better, but his brain was still fuzzy. He didn't remember why he was in a chair in his study. What had happened yesterday to make him sleep in his clothes? In a set of dress robes, no less. Lucius pondered this puzzle as he shuffled upstairs to take a shower and find clean clothes.

As the beam of hot water helped to clear the remnants of his headache away and massage his sore muscles into cooperation, a whole list of things to be taken care of was swimming back into his brain. One of them had a curvy body, large, beautiful brown eyes and incredible amounts of bushy hair. Lucius filed that particular problem away for later. Unfortunately, it turned out that those next on the list seemed all in some way or other to be connected to the first one. Damn. On the other hand, wriggling out of tricky situations or rather making sure that things were resolved to his advantage had always been one of his greatest talents. Most of the time, anyway.

Two cups of black coffee and a plate heaped with eggs, sausages and toast later, Lucius decided that it was time to have Draco and his wife round for a cosy little Sunday tea. He was on the way to his study to pen the respective missive when the entertainment section of the Daily Prophet caught his eye. He smiled as he took the paper with him. The world had just started to look a lot friendlier.

*****

'Astoria, dear, would you like to see the books on rose cultivation I was recently able to acquire?'

'Yes, thank you.' Astoria's face clearly indicated that she knew a dismissal when she heard one, even if it was couched in a tempting offer. Still, she rose with a smile and followed the house-elf to the library.

Lucius watched his daughter-in-law's retreating back, pleased with himself that his little manoeuvre had made Draco's wife happy and got her out of the way so that he could talk to his son in private.

When the door of the drawing room had closed behind Astoria, Lucius took a sip of his tea before he leant back comfortably in his arm chair. 'Her talent for horticulture is truly amazing,' he remarked.

Draco was still gazing after his wife. 'Yes, you should see her rose garden. Apart from mother, she's the only one who has ever managed to cultivate the Reine de neige,' he answered.

Lucius smiled. 'How interesting that you should mention that particular species, since someone sent me one of those recently. Remarkable coincidence, don't you think?'

Having learnt from the best, Draco apparently tried very hard to keep his face unreadable. 'Could be,' he murmured.

'And you'll never guess what came with it,' Lucius continued.

'Do tell.'

'An invitation to spend an evening at Le Coeur du Dragon.' Lucius was watching his son closely.

Draco whistled through his teeth. 'Some bird must really fancy you. Who was she? Was she pretty?'

Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son's insolence. 'Actually, the lady in question received the same invitation as I did.'

'Weird.' Draco looked at his father, an expression of complete innocence on his face.

'It gets weirder. Not only did the menu contain a number of my favourite courses, the vintage served catered precisely to my taste. Now, how many people would you say, Draco, know my exact taste in wine?'

'A fair few?' Draco ventured.

'You, your mother, and Severus. I think we can rule out the latter two. That leaves you. Again a remarkable coincidence. One too many, wouldn't you say? And don't try "I have no idea what you're talking about" on me.'

Draco started fidgeting with his teaspoon, apparently playing for time before he came up with an answer.

'Well?' Lucius didn't need confirmation that his son was responsible for the events on Friday. He already knew, but what he didn't know was why.

'I wanted you to have a nice evening,' Draco said tentatively.

'I certainly appreciate the gesture, but why the clandestine set-up? And why Herm...Miss Granger? And do I want to know how you managed to get me a legal Portkey?'

Draco wouldn't be his son if he hadn't noticed his father's slip, and the little smirk on his face clearly showed he had. 'You don't want to know. And you seemed to like her well enough at the ball last year.'

'And that prompted your idea?' Lucius tried to hide his impatience with his son's elusive answers.

Draco didn't seem to notice that he was still twisting the teaspoon around in his hands. 'Yes. I mean no.' He sighed. 'I don't know how to say this without offending you, but I haven't seen you dancing with anyone like that. Not since...

'I guess what I mean to say is, I want you to be happy. After everything that happened. You've been so lonely ever since Mother... And I thought maybe Granger could make you happy again, even if she's, well, you know; but I guess that doesn't matter anymore, does it?' He didn't look at his father when he finished his sentence.

Lucius didn't know what to say. Several things rushed through his head. Was that what that one single dance had looked like? Was Draco right? Was Hermione the witch to make him happy again? And was it really of no consequence that she was Muggle-born? Did he appear so miserable that Draco would go to any length to help him? Lucius glanced at his son, all grown-up now. He remembered the look in the eyes of the boy who had worshipped him. He had taken his son's adoration for granted as he had so many other things. Now, the same eyes were full of worry for him. They shouldn't be. Not yet.

His throat felt very tight. He swallowed a few times before he softly said, 'Thank you.'

Draco only nodded and both were quiet for a few moments. Lucius rose and poured them each a glass of brandy. The occasion seemed to warrant it.

They drank in silence before Draco asked hesitantly, 'Will you see her again?'

'I hope so,' Lucius answered with uncharacteristic honesty. 'You do know, though, that she might be one of the people to handle my case before the Wizengamot.'

'Bugger. No, I didn't know that. Do you think that could be problem?' The look he gave his father was an odd mixture of worry and calculation.

'Depends. If I play this right, it might come in handy.'