Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you JKR, for allowing such things to happen.
Thank You: To the amazing Lauren and Allee, who beta'd this fic, to SusanMarieS and AnneM, who both bannered this fic, and to ThornedHuntress for inspiring it inadvertently...
Story Summary: Bored with her life, Hermione decides to proposition Lucius Malfoy to create some excitement. What she hadn't counted on was falling for his son in the process. HG/LM at first, HG/DM ending.
Warnings: This story includes lemons (graphic sex), Strong Language, OCC characters, and very little plot.
Story Dedication: ThornedHuntress, this story is dedicated to you. :-)
Chapter One: The Cafe
(In which Hermione comes to a decision, and then follows through)
At twenty-six, Hermione was bored with herself.
When the war had ended, she had wasted no time riding the wave of reformist clamouring right into the Ministry courts, idealism in her eyes and fire in her heart. What she hadn't counted on was that no matter how many people were talking about changing the world around them, it was the few people with money whose words mattered. Changing the world took politics, and politics took money.
Still, fame and connexions were nothing to be written off. So she had politicked. She wore expensive, conservative clothes, she kept her hair tightly braided back, and she had assiduously rubbed elbows and agendas with the most influential people she could.
What she discovered was that the people with money had very little interest in actually changing the world. They were content in their positions of wealth and power, and while they played very nicely indeed with the war heroine, she found herself discreetly and politely on the outside of the conversations that mattered, and her endeavours effectively wrapped up in red tape.
As the years passed, her job title and description became more and more important sounding, her credentials more impressive…and the work itself became more and more meaningless. Until one day she woke up and realised that at twenty-six, she was awfully bored with herself.
Her job was boring, her clothes were boring, her tightly plaited hair was boring, and her conversations were boring. Her very sweet and politically correct boyfriend was boring, and their sex was…well. That conversation had gone abysmally. Hermione leaned back in her wrought-iron chair and idly replayed it in her mind.
"Anthony, are you passionate about me?" They were naked and half twisted up in the sheets of his bed, for all intents and purposes sated. They were the perfect image of a happy, sexually active couple. Hermione, however, was plagued by the feeling that neither of them had been really that involved in it. It had been sex for sex's sake, and thoroughly unsatisfying.
"What do you mean?" Anthony Goldstein had frowned at her, his very handsome features set in puzzlement.
"I mean…Like just now. Were you swept away at all by the passion of it?"
"Hermione, I would think it's obvious that I enjoyed myself."
Hermione huffed in irritation. "Just because you orgasmed doesn't mean you were passionate."
He gave her the insulted look of a thoroughly maligned male. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy yourself?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anthony, I'm saying that sometimes it feels like we're doing this just because committed couples are supposed to. Like…like it's a chore. Sure, the itch is there and needs to be scratched, and we take care of that for each other, but…"
"But what?" He was clearly very annoyed now.
"You never just tackle me in the middle of the day, or randomly kiss me in the street just because I'm there. We never experiment with positions anymore and half the time you can't seem to decide if you are more interested in having sex or finishing your research."
"Hermione, you understand better than anyone how encompassing and mentally stimulating research can be; it's why our relationship works so well."
"Or why it doesn't." She grumbled, not quite softly enough.
"So what, the sex is lousy all of the sudden, after five years?"
"No, not lousy." She amended. "It's okay."
The conversation had only gotten worse from there, and had finally culminated in the rather awkward break up that Hermione had felt coming for nearly as long as the relationship had lasted. It was long past time, at any rate, and honestly, she felt nothing but relieved.
Hermione stared moodily into her chilled glass of sauvignon blanc. She had been so daring in her school years, so full of uncompromising opinions and lack of pretense. When had that changed? Gradually, she thought. In little pieces she conformed and gave up. Now...now she just felt smothered by it all.
Confined and wrapped up in her proper little socially acceptable package of diplomacy. She had always been so good. Even when she was being a rebel she was still doing research and wearing jumpers and trainers. Even impersonating Bellatrix Lestrange she had still said "good morning."
Well, she was done with that. She was done with being proper, done with being political. She was feeling bored with herself, and damn it, it was about time she remembered that she was a Gryffindor. The best way, she decided, to feed her early quarter-life crisis, was to jump the bones of a man in early midlife crisis.
Which is how, at precisely seven o'clock in a balmy early August evening, Hermione Jean Granger found herself sitting across a wrought iron cafe table from a bored but curious Lucius Malfoy.
He slid into his seat with a practised grace, lifting a finger at the waitress to summon her. He ordered quietly, his low, measured tone rumbling pleasantly. She listened, as she had never really bothered before, to the nuances of it. Watching him through half-slitted eyes, she took in his presence as a man for the first time, rather than as an opponent or even as "Malfoy."
She hadn't really given him or his family much thought since the war. They had faded rather gracefully from the public eye since the Death Eater Trials that they had only just barely weathered. More so after Narcissa had succumbed to a particularly virulent case of shadowed star pneumonia.
When Hermione and Anthony's relationship had come to its painful end, she had carefully considered her next course of action. She wanted to break free from herself, from the image she had turned herself into. In short, she wanted to have an affair. Someone unmarried, worldly enough to know how to please her, and above all, not looking for something permanent. She wanted someone exciting, someone who was—in her head at least—taboo.
She had carefully considered her options, and two days later, had sent an owl to Lucius Malfoy, requesting his presence at this little outdoor London café. She had waited—more nervously than she would have liked to admit—for his expected refusal with something akin to resignation. They had barely exchanged more than a few words in the entire fourteen-odd years of their acquaintance. Certainly her school relationship with his son was hardly something to recommend her to him.
When his lovely eagle owl had returned a politely worded acceptance several hours later, Hermione had been both relieved and suddenly terrified. This was Lucius Malfoy, after all. She was going to ask Lucius Malfoy into her bed. She had been rather counting on him declining, she had realised, not without chagrin. Now, however…
Hermione took in his strong features, his long, soft hair and full lower lip. Something low in her abdomen thrummed, and she felt her own lips curl. He was attractive to her. Very attractive, even. He had reached the age where magical folk seemed to enter a physical stasis of sorts for several years. To someone who did not know him, he could be anywhere between forty and a hundred or so. A wizard's prime, when their magic and virility is at its strongest and most precise.
When they are finally old enough to not be complete idiots. Hermione thought amusedly, remembering Anthony. She took another sip of her sauvignon blanc, attempting to appear calm and collected.
He waited patiently, regarding her with the perfected urbane arrogance that she had never been able to mimic. They continued to sit in silence when the waitress returned, bearing with her a glass of rich, dark red wine and a small plate of various breads and cheeses. Flicking his fingers at the plate in indication that she should serve herself first, he arched an eyebrow at her, the merest hint of curiosity and amusement in his eyes.
Hermione smiled politely in return, selected a couple of choices off the plate, and waited for him to do the same. Another sip of sauvignon blanc. Finally his patience wore thin.
"Miss Granger, while I do approve of a good wine in the evening, I assume you invited me here for a reason?"
Hermione nodded and carefully sat her glass down on the table. Was she a Gryffindor lioness or wasn't she? Yes. She was. Her words echoed her thoughts. "Yes. I did. I have asked you here because I wanted to discuss the possibility of taking you as a lover."
To his credit, he didn't start choking on his wine, although both of his eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. "I beg your pardon, Miss Granger?" His response was incredulously stiff.
Hermione fought to not flush in embarrassment. "I said that I wish to take you as a lover."
"I…see." He studied her again. "Is there a particular reason why you suddenly felt the need to fill the role of my mistress?"
"I do not wish to be your mistress," Hermione responded, a little more sharply than she had intended. "I do not wish to be 'kept,' or tucked away as an embarrassment. I do not wish to have it expected of me to be ready and willing to drop whatever I am doing whenever you have the urge. Nor do I wish to pretend to be satisfied and pleased regardless of your performance. I wish to have you as a lover."
The older man's mouth quirked again. "I assure you, Miss Granger, I have not received any complaints."
"Of course you haven't." Hermione answered, striving to match his blasé tone. "Women who find themselves in the position of your mistress wouldn't, would they? It is their livelihood for the time being to be certain that you are happy with them. Men do not actually want honest assessment about their skill in pleasuring women. They want to be cossetted and told how wonderful they are."
"What makes you think that I would be at all tempted by this…offer?" He asked, seemingly genuinely curious. "You are telling me that you wish to be able to say you are unavailable, and that you will not lie or falsely stroke my ego in regards to my abilities as a lover, and surely you know that my son—the only family I have left—would not be pleased."
Hermione took another fortifying sip of her wine. "I think you are tempted." She stated boldly. "I think you are tempted because you are as bored as I am, and the offer of a witch half your age who is not after your money is intriguing to you. Your family has never fully recovered from the stigma of the war, and I represent everything the winning side stood for. Your mistresses would not dare to offer you a more stimulating conversation by disagreeing with you; you know I have no such compunctions."
Hermione reached out and placed her fingers lightly on the back of his hand. "You have been living a secluded existence without even your wife to keep you company. While I realise I am not the loveliest witch to ever cross your path in this way, I do think I can offer something to you that no other really could right now."
Steel-blue eyes met hers, and she could feel that he was reluctantly intrigued. "And what, pray tell, is that, Miss Granger?"
"Excitement. That long-lost thrill from being whispered about, from doing something outrageous and getting away with it for no other reason than because of who we are. No one could doubt your place returning to society as my companion. I have worked very hard to be perfectly presentable these last several years."
"That would change, you realise." He sipped his own wine, watching her from over the rim of the glass. "You would get called some very uncomplimentary names, if you decide to move forward with this. Your credibility towards all of your…projects would be ruined."
Hermione snorted softly. "You are an intelligent enough man, Mr. Malfoy, to know by now that no one is listening to me, anyway. I am tired of being safe, of being politically correct, of boring myself into an early grave with dull parties and duller sex."
"And you think, after all, that I would provide the exciting sex you seek?"
Hermione smiled wickedly. "If nothing else, Mr. Malfoy, you will provide the excitement of fucking my childhood image of the epitome of pureblood snobbishness."
He actually laughed at the audacity of that comment, the low chuckle taking even him by surprise as it escaped. The wry twist of his lips softened his face measurably, she noticed. He really was very attractive. Hermione felt the anticipation in her abdomen start tightening again.
He noticed. His eyes suddenly sharpened, and for the first time since he had sat down, she saw him actually look at her. She halted, literally holding her breath as he leisurely perused her face, her throat, and then lingered on her breasts. When his gaze met hers again, her breath huffed out in reaction.
His steel-blue eyes were now lit with the almost electric charge that leapt up between them. His lips curved again, and she felt herself grow moist. For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, their wine and appetiser forgotten. He was aroused. She could tell; she had seen that look before.
"Come on, Lucius," She said softly, drawing his given name out in a low purr. It was a sound she had never really heard herself make before, and it thrilled her. Hermione let out a low, delighted laugh at the sound of her own sultriness, and watched his eyes sharpen even more. "What do you have to lose? Let's create a scandal, shall we?"
A/N: Thanks for reading! I would love to know what you think!
As with all my current work, this story was posted first on my primary home site, The Maple Bookshelf. Likewise, any following chapters or any current chapters to my other fics will post at least a day ahead there first. It's a great site that *does* allow MA stories, of any fandom, of any genre. They also allow original work, artwork and banners. Right now I am also running a one-shot challenge there (there is still two weeks left to sign up and turn in a one shot!)
I strongly urge all my readers to go check it out and sign up!