I own nothing!

Mostly canon compliant. Fluffy Lucius warning! Enjoy!

"Why do I do this?" I mumbled as I tried to adjust my neckline.

Sighing in frustration, I pulled the offending garment from my body and threw it to the floor of my bedroom. I had spent the last year living in Grimmauld place with Harry and Ron while the wizarding world "picked up the pieces." That's what they liked to call it, anyway. Looked more like drinking away bad memories if you asked me.

Every bloody week it was something else. A party, an unveiling, a function, tea with the bloody Minister, and the golden bloody trio just had to be there.

I was so tired.

Fighting back tears, I looked back to the mirror that I'd spent the last 2 hours standing in front of. I hated mirrors. My scars glared back at me, marring my pale skin, each summoning a gruesome memory.

I wrapped my arms tightly around my naked body. Why did they think that Malfoy Manor was where we'd want to celebrate the one-year anniversary?

Four months I'd spent in that accursed house. And tonight…tonight I was expected to raise my glass for everlasting glory, to smile and thank the gods that we'd won. I was to stand on a floor that was stained with my blood and celebrate our victory. That wasn't victory; that was irony.

I took a shaky breath and opened the wardrobe again. One gown remained, hanging like a black ghost in a shadow. Reaching out my hand, I caressed the soft silk beneath my fingers. It would have to do.


I arrived at the imposing house alone and incredibly late. The warm, early summer air embraced my exposed skin, but I was ice cold. I breathed in deeply, composing myself, and knocked on the door.

Instead of the house elf that I expected, the Lord of the house himself greeted me. A brilliant smile was plastered on his face before the door even opened. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Miss…" his haughty tone faltered and I tensed as his eyes took me in. "Miss Granger, please come in," he continued, his discomfort written in volumes across his face.

I smiled tightly and nodded, stepping into the foyer.

He had barely escaped Azkaban by the Ministry's verdict, but those of us in the Order knew the depth of his loathing for the Dark Lord. The brutal murder of his wife had been the last straw for the once proud man. Voldemort might as well have fallen at the hands of Lucius Malfoy for all he had done in the final months. "Miss Granger," he said again, his gaze resting on my chest.

I self-consciously brought my hand to cover the scar that bisected the deep neckline of my dress.

His grey eyes snapped up to meet mine and he stepped closer, pulling my hand away. "Don't do that." His voice was quiet but firm.

I breathed in sharply when his fingers touched my neck, tracing the dark, purple line that his former sister-in-law had carved. When he reached the edge of my dress, he kept moving, caressing the underside of my breast, along the path he knew it took.

I saw my own humiliation mirrored in his face as he touched me. There was something else there, too. Not pity, thank Merlin, I had seen enough of that to last a lifetime. His hand paused and I recognized remorse painted plainly across his features.

"There are a great many things that I regret, Miss Granger," he began, his voice still soft. "But you…this," he glanced at my chest before meeting my gaze again, "there is nothing I regret more."

My hand rose of its own accord and gently grasped his arm.

I saw the muscles in his jaw tense and he began to move away.

"Wait," I whispered, holding his arm in place. I wanted more.

"Miss Granger?" He looked at me suspiciously.

"Hermione," I whispered, the heat rising in my cheeks.

His nostrils flared and he closed the space between us. "Hermione," he breathed, the hand on my hip sliding around my waist, pulling me against his muscular frame.

It felt like forever that we stood there in the foyer, staring at each other, wars raging behind our eyes. Nothing good could come of this, but the warmth of his body against mine screamed at me not to care.

Decision made, I slid my hands up his perfectly tailored robes and around his neck, pulling his head down. He was stiff at first and moved only where my hands took him. When our lips met, suddenly the aloof, proud, enigma that was Lucius Malfoy shattered. He pushed me against the wall and moved his mouth against mine. I yielded to him, dissolving into his arms. I could taste a delicious wine on his breath as his tongue warred with mine. A hand found my breast and another gripped my arse, firmly holding me in place as he gently thrust his arousal into my stomach. As quickly as it began, he pulled away, his eyes closed in frustration.

Disappointment and rejection tore through me with a force so great that I actually cried out in despair.

His eyes snapped open at the sound. "We can't do this," he whispered.

"Do what? Feel?" I asked, my voice shaking.

His eyes blazed and he pulled me close again, apparating us to a room that I didn't recognize. Judging by the glimpse of a dresser, I assumed it was his bedroom. Before I could scrutinize the room further, he threw me to the bed and the rest of the world disappeared. This man knew all too well how broken I was and he still desired me. Whether this was the only time or only the first, I would not deny myself this gift.


Some time later found me watching the expressions flit across his beautiful face as he gently explored my body.

His nails grazed the scars that ran across my hip, each finger with it's own jagged line to follow. His brow furrowed and he frowned, presumably at the memory associated with those particular wounds. Greyback had torn open more than the flesh on my bones that night. He had taken my innocence from me, ripped me open and laughed while I bled.

Lucius' gaze slowly lifted to meet mine. "I am so sorry, Hermione," he whispered.

I smiled at him. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"Don't say that," he hissed. "I should have done something!"

"If you had stopped them, they would have killed both of us," I said calmly. "Personally, I prefer this," I gestured around us, "to death."

He snorted. "Well that doesn't say much about my performance, does it?"

"You'll just have to try again, then, won't you?" I retorted, trying to restrain my laughter.

His face turned serious as he watched me. "I will…I will try until I never see that broken woman that stood in front of my house again, and then I will keep trying."

"Lucius," I whispered, my eyes wide.

"Now put your dress back on, we have some guests to make uncomfortable." He smiled then, a mischievous glint in his eye.

This obviously has room for expansion, but I don't know if it needs it. This is my first Lumione fic, reviews are much appreciated!