The Cave of Wonders

MALFOY MANOR

25TH JUNE, 2006

The soft light of an earlyish Wiltshire morning flooded through the east windows of Malfoy Manor’s main corridor, and felt like a warm greeting from the house against Hermione’s back as she silently made her way towards the library. She hadn’t apparated to the main gate as she usually would, but to a lesser known, magically concealed ‘back way’, which could be entered by tapping her wand against the bricks beneath the ivy, much like entering Diagon Alley from London proper. 

It was the old Death Eater entrance, and as she walked down the hallway from the family reception room, reminiscent of her primary school corridors, she found it quite amusing that she was now a frequent user of a path once commonly used by vilest creatures to have ever walked the earth. ‘Bellatrix must be turning in her grave,’ she thought joyfully, but only momentarily, before something else dawned on her, and a cruel smile lit her face. “Oh, that’s right, she doesn't have a grave; Molly turned her to dust.”

It was rare that she indulged this darker side of her nature, and even less frequently did she allow it to show on her face or be voiced, but something about knowing she would (hopefully) be staying at Malfoy Manor for a few days - the one time powerbase of Voldemort’s forces - had it bubbling at the surface and wanting to rub the noses (or lack of, in Voldy’s case) in it. ‘Look where I am,’ she wanted to crow to the past. ‘Free to wander the halls of this ancient, noble, pureblood homestead, without fear of censure, torture or death. I won, suckers. Ha-ha-da-ha-ha-ha!’

Burying the desire to dance the rest of the way, just to further the ‘rubbing in’, Hermione stiffened her stride a little to overcompensate for the urge and forged ahead. It had been three days since Percy’s late night intrusion of family dinner had sent her running here for sanctuary, and two days since Severus had picked up on her attraction for Lucius. ‘Perceptive bastard!’ she thought with mock annoyance; she actually quite liked how perceptive he was, most of the time. The point was, that until yesterday and the impromptu day of babysitting, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d been avoiding things, or, more specifically, a certain Lord Malfoy. 

His flirtations at dinner had been in fine form, especially when they’d gone down into the wine cellar, and she didn’t know what to make of it; not with his divorce being at the forefront of his personal affairs at the moment. Then there was the glaringly obvious realisation that the disturbed sleep she’d suffered for the past few nights wasn’t a result of finding a new string of research to work through on her project, No, the bags under her eyes were thanks to another wizard altogether; one of the ex-friend, ex-boyfriend, ginger-twat variety. She’d put the sleepless hours to good use, of course, with more research and work; in fact, she’d done so to such a degree, that her reserve of excess materials and resources had now dried up and she needed to return to the manor for more. 

Throwing herself into work to distract herself from overthinking had come with the bonus of avoiding all the other areas of her life that were chaotic or messy, including her feelings for Lucius and because yesterday had broken that avoidance, now she was feeling the need to see him again. Her little chat with Severus hadn’t exactly helped matters either; his penchant for ‘popping in’ to check on her over the past few years was starting to grate on her nerves, especially now that he’d deduced the way her hormones were drawn to Lucius like a bumble bee to pollen. 

Honestly, if he’d not been by to do his ‘curious Potion Master’ bit, he’d have never discovered her interest in his Adonis of a best friend, and since the colossal slip, she had another thing to worry about… whether or not Severus had told him. Yesterday had eased her fears on that front though, because she had no doubt that the man would have at least asked her about it, if not outright teased her for it.

She wanted to see Lucius, and she needed the library, although, after the events of the dinner party, there had been an extra level to her ‘constantly on edge’ way of life, and sincerely, what she really wanted and needed was a place to feel safe . Nightmares about Ron had started to surface again, when she had managed to catch a few hours, interspersed with fantasies about Lucius, and whilst she shut them down quickly upon waking - because she refused to give him the satisfaction of still affecting her - it was all starting to take its toll.

There was also a new line diverging in her personal equations - the ones she had running for all the aspects of her life - that sprung from the lines of numbers that signified Lucius and Severus’ friendship. The two men were close, despite current events, and the maths, as well as common sense, made it obvious that the pair would sort out the changes to their lives well enough in the end. Following the line's divergence hadn’t given her anything conclusive about if Severus was likely to say something about her attraction or not, which unnerved her slightly. 

She didn’t like that her equations couldn’t predict something this monumental to her life. What he’d figured out could be very powerful information for him to wield, and it wouldn’t exactly be outside the scope or wheelhouse for a Slytherin, especially that Slytherin, to use this juicy bit of self-serving knowledge for his own ends.  She trusted Severus, of course, but used correctly he could leverage her attraction to Lucius to help him maintain his friendship with the man. 

‘It wouldn’t be that awful, if Lucius found out; just rather embarrassing’ she decided mentally. ‘Particularly if he had absolutely no real interest in me other than friendship.’ She knew that would just be a devastating thing to be in no doubt of, but Severus had a definite conflict of interest, and a character-defining motivation to tell her secret. The probability of a powerplay from him, which would take the whole thing out of her control, had her feeling rather nervous. After all, Severus wanted Narcissa, and the feeling was apparently mutual; what better distraction was there to dangle in front of his best friend as he steals his wife, than the knowledge that  Hermione Granger has the hots for him. 

Her first instinct was to believe he would keep the information to himself for the time being though, and from dinner the other night, she could tell that things weren’t horribly tense between Cissa and Lucius, so that gave her hope that one day Severus and Lucius could rebuild their friendship. It wasn’t pleasant to think about but they’d been through worse; they all had. No matter what happened in life from 2nd May, 1998, onwards, they’d all, always been through worse. 

Not wanting to dwell on that, she let her mind wander to a different moment during that evening, when she and the beautiful, sex-on-legs, blond Adonis of her dreams, wandered the wine racks; she wasn’t certain of his exact feelings for her, but she knew there had been a definite flirtation between them. She wanted to believe there was a glimmer of something more in those interactions, but it didn’t make sense that he would be honest about an attraction until he was at least properly divorced. As much as she wanted to believe it, their ‘banter’ was as likely to have been just that than not.

Much later that evening, after a long floo call with Molly, she’d drank another half bottle of wine and replayed the most delightful parts of the evening, over and over in her head and eventually come to the conclusion, after discarding the possibility that he was just using her to get back at Narcissa, likely that he was just in one of his more Slytherin moods and messing with her. She’d seen them in Draco and Severus often enough; it was just harder to detect with Lucius because he was very good at playing innocent. 

This reconciliation of her knowledge of most things Slytherin-y, led to her forming a new resolve, to give herself a break, to spend time with her friend without the constant look out for more, and to let the cauldron problem percolate in her subconscious for a while. There were plenty of other pieces of the ritual spell that completed her project to focus on; at least half of her current work could use a final flourish. 

Now though, she needed to read through the Ortega collection, and pick up the arithmancy notes she’d left with Lucius yesterday; Hopefully, he’d had a chance to peruse them. Of course, over-acting the fact she was homeless and begging to park her trunk in the library would take precedence too; she could even be honest about why she wanted to do so; Harry and Draco not respecting the ‘no sex in the kitchen’ rule, whilst a lightly cringeworthy thing to explain to Draco’s parents, would surely incite an invitation. They had to feel sorry for her… right?

Even so, that was only half the reason she wanted to get out of Grimmauld Place on a permanent basis, and picking a fight with them about breaking the ‘no sex in the kitchen’ rule was more of a smoke screen to the more pressing reason. For Aurors, Harry and Draco did a particularly shit job of covering up what they were actually dealing with at work; Draco especially, when one considered he was supposed to be a Slytherin. ‘Did they not think I’d notice Harry’s beaten up hands?’ 

It was all just getting too much. ‘ That’s why you’ve come to the library. Just relax, you ninny, and focus on your work,’ she advised herself, finally taking notice of a sweet, inviting fragrance that permeated the air around her. She took her own advice, burying the last few days behind some hastily erected occlumency shields and looking for the source of the pretty scent…

It seemed Narcissa had been gardening, as on several pedestals, lining the hallway of the still waking manor around Hermione, delicate vases of fresh flowers beautifully transformed the space from its usual quite academic feel, to a refreshing atmosphere that felt more like the Malfoy gardens. The once cold, austere manor now felt almost ‘cosy’, thanks to Narcissa’s touch. The lower walls were panelled with light woods, and cream plaster textured the vaulted ceilings adding warmth into the once colourless home. 

Hermione's heeled sandals whispered over plush, richly-coloured Persian rugs that could be found in nearly every room of the sprawling estate, and for some reason, she found herself feeling as though she had come home . It was a feeling she’d only ever felt in one other place, and that was, understandably, her parents’ house. She’d always felt like a visitor at The Burrow, despite Molly’s mostly warm hospitality, and Grimmauld would always be associated with the Order and the war for her, no matter how much Harry and Draco tarted it up.

The visual changes to the Manor however, had made it incredibly welcoming to Hermione. All done swiftly once they’d returned to England, and made permanent months ahead of Lucius’ release from Azkaban. It wasn’t until after he was home that the manor felt truly accepting of her though, especially after he warmed up to her a bit; the Lord of the Manor had to be in residence, the family acting and feeling like a unit, for the sentient building they inhabited to truly embrace a previous enemy as a friend. She remembered the day well; 1st November, 2005 had been a revelation. Lucius had been home for nearly five months to the day, and instead of avoiding eye contact and trying to pass off backhanded compliments as politeness, like he had done since his release, he was hospitable…

The usual ‘cool’ band of Slytherins, plus she and Harry, were in the grand salon, enjoying after dinner cocktails and board games, when shocking everyone into an awkward silence, Lucius joined them; shock because he usually returned to the library after dinner, and awkward because he’d been extremely combative and rude to all non-Slytherin houseguests from day one of his return. It seemed that he was on a roll that day though and the surprises kept coming; he parked his gorgeous arse next to her on the long couch, completely relaxed amidst the still stunned players of Magi-Monopoly, and deferred to Severus to request joining their game. 

Without missing a beat, quick-witted as he was, Severus had made a quip about Malfoys and money, to which she’d added a rather cheeky “we’re all doomed.” Lucius had actually turned to look at her then, their eyes locking as he let out a genuine and resounding belly laugh. That had been the first time she’d resoundingly ‘felt’ the manor too, when it gave a physical sigh of relief.

The evening had been pleasant then, the initial awkwardness melting away as both the Manor and its Lord relaxed and had some fun; never before had this wizard shown her anything but the Death Eater she’d known as a child, but during that game, and the others that followed, she saw Severus’ friend, the savvy businessman, and Draco’s dad… The  young, blond heir had arrived home later in the evening, positively floating and particularly randy… but it was his comment about the family magic singing in his veins that had her more believing that she’d felt the stately home's sigh of contented relief, where she’d been doubting it before, with three whiskey sours addeling her brain. 

Leaving her reminiscences, she turned the next-to-last corner onto the east wing, she found herself suddenly curious about the Lord of the Manor’s sleeping habits… Was he an early riser, like Draco? Or was he a night owl, like Severus and Harry? She’d never paid that much attention to that detail before, and now her curious mind needed to know the answer. She wondered whether he walked these very halls in silk pyjama bottoms, the matching sleep shirt undone, its ends fluttering in the breeze he created by his confident stride… the same breeze also wafting his loose hair about like a Loreal advert. One thing was for certain though… he was definitely ‘worth it’.

She was getting closer now, she realised, as she took notice of where she was, and ran her fingers gently along the wood panelling of the wall to her left, reaching the final corner, the library's main entrance now in sight, a few metres away. The Manor had been built, she knew, thanks to many a Draco-lecture on the history of the place, within a handful of decades after the founding of Hogwarts, and the long occupation of the powerful Malfoy family - Draco’s words - was likely what had given the house its sentient quality, similar to her alma mater.

Infused with a sense of whimsy, and perhaps a touch high at the idea of never walking in on a Drarry session again, as Hermione reached the library entrance, she leaned close to the wall and whispered an introduction. “Good morning, beautiful Manor. I'm Hermione Granger,” she said, making her voice as warm as possible, which was difficult considering how ridiculous she felt. Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually trying one of Luna’s wild theories, but she couldn't help being intrigued, and she often talked to Hogwarts when she was there, so really, she couldn’t see much difference.

After a few seconds, when the wall beneath her hand had warmed in response, she stepped back from it and reached for the handle of the large arched door, pushing the heavy oak panel on the right-hand side. What she found on the other side, was not what she’d expected… Firstly, the room was not empty, but instead hosted Lucius and Bookworm - the house elf in charge of the library and commonly referred to as B.W - standing side by side, staring blankly at her travelling trunk.

Secondly, the trunk wasn’t even supposed to be in this main part of the library, but in the workroom, as per her instructions to Tilly, the elf who greeted her when she arrived. She couldn’t imagine how things had changed so much during the ten minutes she’d been walking through the Manor, but the sight before her was hardly an unpleasant thing to behold; she was always happy to see B.W, and she was here to talk to Lucius anyway.

Looking at him though, it was once again, almost impossible to form a coherent sentence, mentally or verbally. He was going to be bad for her IQ because of this, she just knew it. Quickly taking in his appearance, she admired the fit of his shirt, waistcoat and trousers, noticing his feet remained undressed, only socked, and that he held her note, which she’d only written less than two hours ago, in his hand.

“You missed breakfast,” he mentioned casually, noticing where her eyes had travelled. “Pansy also considered it the height of rudeness to leave without at least saying goodbye to her .”

Hermione cringed, slowly bringing her eyes back up to his face. “I’m sure she’ll live.”

“I have no doubt, even if only to hold it over your head for the rest of her days,” he offered with a chuckle. “How’s the headache? Do you need a potion?”

“Taken care of, thank you, and I feel much better,” she explained. “A shower helped too, of course,” she added without thinking, not even realising that she’d offered him a visual of her naked until his eyes slowly surveyed her body, as if imagining what she would look like without her sundress. She felt herself colour under his scrutiny, as the tension between them tightened again at the first opportunity. ‘Hope,’ she thought gleefully, the butterflies picking up in her stomach again as she did the same as him, and imagined him without the clothes.

The tension-filled silence that stretched out between lasted only a moment, before B.W interrupted. “Master Lucius… Missy Bookworm has many treasures in this big space,” she informed her master excitedly, as Hermione moved closer, the awe in her favourite elf’s voice tickling her senses and helping to distract her from images of ‘Lucius in the shower’ that invaded her brain. Apparently, today was the day she would be showing Lucius her ‘Cave of Wonders’, a term she had admittedly stolen from Disney’s Aladdin, and in this context sounded way too much like a euphemism to be ignored. There was just no way he was going to let go of that curiosity she could see in his eyes.

“I absolutely do. Would you like to see inside, B.W.?” Hermione asked with a smile. She assumed that Lucius had thought, from the note, that she wouldn’t be back today; little did he know that she was planning to pick his brain and squat in his library. 

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, Miss Bookworm,” the elf accepted excitedly, jumping up and down on the spot in her glee. “B.W would very much like to see inside the big, magic trunk.”

Sauntering around the large, still locked, mystery in question, Hermione stood behind it, letting her fond smile for B.W transform into a mischievous grin as she removed her work satchel from where it was secured to the lid. Lucius returned the expression, smirking in a way that caused her insides to melt a little; she refused to look away though, even as she felt her face warm. “I’m afraid my toxic trait falls into the category of being over-prepared; I like to carry all of my work with me everywhere I go,” she admitted, running a hand over the locks that decorated the front and sides. The fact that this ‘toxic trait’ was partially a trauma response from the war, she left unsaid.

B.W was looking on curiously as she prepared to lift the lid - both Lucius and the elf had heard about the trunk in conversation with mutual friends, Hermione knew -  but Lucius chuckled heartily, no doubt at her self-deprecating comment, and when she grinned knowingly at him, his laughter softened, leaving just a heart-stopping smile. 

“As you can see, I'm not far from mine either, even before-” he explained with a little wink, gesturing to his desk as he pulled an antique-looking pocket watch from his vest. “-half past eight in the morning.” Smirking, he tucked the monogrammed watch back into his waistcoat. 

“Workaholics, the pair of us,” she teased back, feeling more of the tension that had been drowning her, ease out of her shoulders. This was what she was used to with Lucius, banter and teasing, but with an underlying warmth; it was what had started her on the road to falling in love with him.

“When you weren’t here for breakfast, I assumed I wouldn’t see you until Friday,” he mused aloud, turning away from her to ditch his frock coat, and remembering his disappointment that she wasn’t present in the dining room an hour ago. It took a moment, as he was draping the fabric over a nearby chair, for a sudden panic hit him as he realised how that might have sounded. “Not that I’m complaining at your being here…” he corrected, worried that she would turn around and leave again. “It’s just that, since our delivery is fully catalogued and you gave me the homework of deciphering your equations, I thought you might give me time to do it.” 

She was always welcome company, of course, and she knew it, which was a comfort in one way, but also indicated how deeply he was falling for her, when the very thought of her mistaking his meaning, had his heart racing with panic that she’d leave. Her physical presence had him buzzing with nervous energy, and it was clearly starting to slip past his ability to be unflappable, and show.  Dinner at Grimmauld Place a few nights ago had been eye opening, to say the least, and all he’d really been able to concentrate on since, was their interactions in the wine cellar.

“It wasn’t necessarily part of my plans to be back yet,” she explained distractedly, waving her wand over the seam of the trunk to release the wards; she looked back to him with a pleading smile though. “However, your son is a complete wanker, who can't keep his hands to himself,” she added in complaint, grimacing at the reminder of what she’d walked into earlier.

In response, Lucius merely raised a curious eyebrow, remaining silent, and giving her the go-ahead to continue. It was an odd subject to continue talking about though, so Hermione took her time to decide whether she should try to be delicate in her language as she explained the extent of issues that arose from living with newlyweds, or just be blunt. The silence as she thought about it stretched on, her face heating as she couldn’t help but picture the many occasions that had led to this moment.

When Lucius finally grew impatient with her indecision, and cleared his throat to prompt her reply, she blurted her argument without filter… “They've been together for six years now, and whilst I don’t deny them having a good time, it’s like they’re training for the Olympics, to shag for all of Britain; it’s off-putting. And then there’s this atrocious case they’re working on, which, as curious as I am, I don’t want to know any more about than I already do.” 

“I see,” he commented blithely, the imperious eyebrow raising again as he made a mental note to ask Draco about his case. Anything that Hermione would turn her curious mind away from, had to be truly hideous. “So, you are here to escape? Oh, the irony!” he concluded, volleying her self-deprecation from before with a little of his own.

Hermione cringed at his ill-subjected humour but also rolled her eyes. Her reason for showing up had clearly been rumbled. The trunk had been a rather massive clue for the perceptive Slytherin though. “Actually, it’s a bit more than that… I've put Pansy on notice; she’s tasked with the fun job of finding me a suitable place of my own. So, I was wondering - hoping really - whether it would be ok to park my trunk in the library for a few days, to give Harry and Draco, and me, some space. Please?”

Lucius smiled, giving her a slightly bemused look before glancing back down at the trunk and thinking… he knew from conversations with Draco that there was something of another world in there, but Hermione hadn’t been present for that conversation. Returning his gaze to hers, he wondered what she knew of his talks with Draco about her… “You may park the trunk here for as long as you wish, but… Where will you be staying if you plan to give my randy son and son-in-law some space?”

‘This is it,’ she thought excitedly, suppressing the urge to jump up and down on the spot, as B.W had when she first arrived; this was the moment she would show Lucius and B.W her crowning achievement, at least personally. If she ever finished her project, that would outstrip what she’d done with her trunk by a mile; but that would be a professional achievement. Now, as the last lock clicked its release, Hermione grinned, and lifted the lid of her masterpiece… “Lucius, B.W, welcome to The Cave of Wonders.” 

Lucius didn’t hesitate to step toward the now open trunk, B.W following in his wake, and after a few seconds, they both reached Hermione and peered over the edge. It was the masculine gasp, rather than the small, squeaky one, that filled her with satisfaction, and she recognised that there might be a touch of a praise kink stirring within her at the excitement she felt, knowing she'd impressed the Lord of the Manor.

This was no ordinary trunk, and she’d worked very hard to get it the way she wanted it, to get it right. When they looked over the side, instead of seeing a base, there was a unique step ladder, with iron rails, based on the American fire escapes she’d seen on TV, and leading down to what appeared to be a sort of small sitting room. “Dance on the Dark Lord's grave…” Lucius gasped as he took in the sheer magnitude of skill that had formed what he was looking at, his eyes wide and alight with wonder. “Draco has mentioned your travelling trunk, of course, but this… You are undeniably impressive.” 

A genuine look of excited appreciation coloured his aura as he craned his neck, trying to see every corner of the room below, and Hermione was floored by it. Reading auras was a newly acquired skill, and this was the strongest change, the most obvious reaction to something she had done that she’d seen. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she commented smugly, trying to cover how her heart was melting over his genuine awe, unnoticing of how flirtatious her words were.

B.W interrupted any reaction Lucius may have had though, as unable to contain her excitement for what book treasures lay within ‘the Cave of Wonders’, she spoke before he could have one. “Can B.W see Missy Bookworm's books now?” 

She was stood on her tiptoes, peering over the edge of the trunk with a longing look on her face, that made Hermione feel a very kindred connection with the elf. Her long, knobby fingers were white knuckled where they wrapped around the lip as if she was only just stopping herself from diving in and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable elf's enthusiasm. “Of course, you can; I’ve been waiting to show you. Why don’t you head down first?”

Before she could say another word, before B.W had a chance to react to Hermione’s invitation or do as she had suggested, Lucius grabbed the elf under her arms and assisted her onto the ladder, leaving Hermione in the world above, gawking after them. It had been a high-handed but sort of sweet move, and she had no doubt that part of their impatience was a shared enthusiasm to explore ‘the cave’, but sensing the powerful books within was the more pressing motivation.

Her companions descended quickly, excited chatter from B.W echoing back to Hermione from the depths below and looking down, she had a quick flash of longing that she’d gone down first, just so that she could watch Lucius’ backside getting closer and closer. She shook the image away when she saw them reach the bottom of the ladder, and climbed onto it herself, joining the other two quickly with practised steps. 

With her feet back on solid ground, Hermione looked up to the open lid and felt her senses twitch uncomfortably, which made her grimace, as she lifted and swirled her wand at the opening, bringing the lid down. It didn’t matter that she knew she was safe behind the manor wards, or that she knew she could flaw an opponent at a hundred paces. She even trusted Lucius and B.W would protect her above themselves, but none of it was enough to make her war-honed instincts to relax; she never left herself vulnerable. 

The “Cave of Wonders,” as she and Harry had lovingly dubbed the trunk, was fortified with the most powerful protections in her arsenal as a witch. It provided her with everything she needed, no matter where she was in the world - shelter, food, medical care, and, most importantly, her beloved books - yet remained almost featherlight and completely mobile, if only to her. Anyone else attempting to move it, open it, or even try to detect what was inside, would find themselves facing some rather impractical challenges.

She had added Lucius and B.W to the ward’s allowances remotely as she unlocked it, so as to not make it obvious exactly how OCD her protective measures were. She knew they were excessive but she kept on top of it, seeing a therapist once a month still, just to keep herself grounded in the present. 

It took her a moment to catch up with the others, as they’d walked ahead, making their way toward the veranda, and when she reached it, Lucius was alone, trying to take in the courtyard that spanned the centre of her space. “B.W. took off in that direction,” he explained, pointing toward her library cabin. “Already sniffing out your collection. She wasn’t going to wait any longer,” he concluded, finally tearing his eyes away from the setting and facing her. 

“I can’t deny her that; I’d be the same way if I was seeing all this for the first time,” she answered, knowing exactly how the elf felt. It was exactly the way she’d felt when she first saw Malfoy Manor properly, and when she’d first experienced a magical auction; the sense of excited impatience was like that of a child on Christmas Eve, but a hundred percent more intense.

Lucius chuckled his agreement, but refrained from following his elf, leaning into a different curiosity altogether. “If you would permit me, I would very much enjoy a look at the arithmancy work you did for this,” he enthused, his bright blue eyes lit with academic curiosity and pure admiration for what she’d achieved with the trunk. “The charms are… flawless,” he breathed out, tearing his gaze away from hers to look over the lush courtyard again, marvelling at the size of it, and how even with the power of his magic, he doubted he could create something so beautiful.

His enthusiasm for her work was not a new experience for her, but every time, it made her moony-eyed. Severus was the only person she could ever draw into academic conversations, and though Draco could keep up, he rarely wanted to put in the effort outside of how he could use it for work. Lucius seemed genuinely interested now, as he had been several times in the last few months, and she couldn't help but smile. “Thank you. Of course you look over the specs; the work is in my office. And as you can see, I’m sorted for a place to sleep, or to do anything else really; I just need somewhere safe to park this baby, so, no matter where I am in the world, I can still enjoy all the comforts of home .”

Lucius laughed, tucking his hands into his trousers as he imagined the trunk parked in various locations across the magical world. “So it would seem… This is quite the home you’ve made for yourself. Does the celestial arithmancy bind with the location or is it a standard day/night cycle?” he queried, inspecting the cloudy morning skyline as he followed her down the steps of the veranda to the ‘entry closet’, as it had been lovingly named by Draco.

“Oh, I bound the charms to the trunk’s location with a rune binding stack; This is a perfect imitation of the current sky above the manor. It’ll even rain in here, if it does so outside,” she informed, putting on her best professorial tone, clasping her hands in front of her. “That took some work… I combined the geminio spell with a mirroring charm, then infused an advanced aguamenti,” she added in explanation at his surprised expression. Even Hogwarts didn’t have that little twist; she liked to think she’d out-inspired the founders but not wanting soggy students, or soggy breakfast was the more likely reason for a dry Great Hall.

She wasn’t focusing on that constant internal debate as she led Lucius through the trunk though; her insides were doing excited little flip-flops, just like they always did whenever he instigated conversation about her arithmancy work. She was an absolute nerd in this reaction because when Lucius talked numbers, it was quite possibly the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced; it just spoke to her on the nerdiest level of her consciousness and set her ovaries into a frenzy. 

Averting her gaze from his beautiful, well-defined form, where the tailored waistcoat, shirt and trousers he wore showed off his every sculpted line, she assumed her role as ‘hostess’, heading onto the path that circles the courtyard and mentally preparing to give him the grand tour. She was excited for his further reactions to her personal masterpiece of magic, having poured every bit of magical architectural know-how she had into it.

He retracted his hands from his pockets as he walked beside her, and started undoing his cuffs. It was a simple manoeuvre, but one that made Hermione have to choke down a whimper; anything this man did that made him more casual, had her teetering on the edge in seconds. Clearing her throat as she steadied herself, barely managing to not stumble on the cobbled path with her lust-weakened knees, she motioned to the footpath where they stood, and attempted to smile through her internal struggles. “This pathway was one of the first things I added; it circles the courtyard for easy access to all the cabins, but branches off by my office, then by the gym,” she explained nostalgically, pointing beyond the manicured lawn and garden beds that decorated the courtyard, towards a stone arch that was covered in foliage. “Through that archway is something that was not my choice; Harry, Draco and Ginny insisted on somewhere to play Quidditch, so there’s a small pitch that way.” 

He turned to the right, to follow where she pointed to, and sniffed in amusement when he saw the small wooden sign, decorated with three gold hoops across the courtyard; it was rustic, and displayed a lot less care than everything else he’d noticed. “And how have you treated the other corner of the trunk?” Lucius teased as they passed by the first couple of cabins. 

“Well, that is… something special. I wanted a piece of Hogwarts in here, so I used the prefects’ bathroom as inspiration and created a bathing grotto,” she told him proudly, if in a slight rush, trying to avoid thinking of Lucius in her luxurious bathhouse. Her traitorous mind went there anyway, supplying plenty of wet dream fodder for weeks to come, even as she pretended it wasn’t happening and pointed to some of the different coloured cabin doors that circled the courtyard. “These three are guest cabins,” she explained, motioning to the smaller white bungalow-style structures on their left. Heat still flushed deeply into her cheeks as her mind continued circling the thought of him taking very naked dip in the warm, watery heaven that was her bath; she just had to hope he didn’t pick up on it, or at least assumed it was some sort of shyness about her work. 

Lucius’ eyes narrowed in response to that; not that she could see it as she was looking toward the next cabins in the row. “Do you have many guests here?” he asked, hearing the note of jealousy in his own voice. He was unaware of her love life, other than Severus, but this trunk would make it very easy for her to be discreet. Although he believed she would mention it to him if she was seeing someone, he could see the pinkness in her cheeks as if she were remembering some sort of tryst.

“Only the usual crowd,” she replied, not watching his face, so missing the way his shoulders lost a large degree of their sudden influx of tension. “George Weasley stayed here for a while during a breakup with Angelina, but it was only for a few days, and that was in the early days, when the spellwork was still rustic; no bathing grotto or Quidditch pitch back then, or most of the other cabins, to be honest.”

“You are a very generous witch,” Lucius complimented fondly, wondering if she would accept him as a guest, if he didn’t have the Manor or his other properties to fall back on after his divorce; technically, he was going through a breakup too. “What about that cabin?” he asked, pointing to a cabin across the sun deck that had a glass front, decorated with a planter box either side of the door, from which vines crept out, slithering around the edges of the glass. ‘A touch of Slytherin inspiration?’

Looking to where Lucius was pointing, Hermione’s eyes lit  up. “Oh, that’s the kitchen/dining room. Those planters are charmed to grow whatever botanical ingredients I want, though the default when I’m not cooking is the vines. I can’t take all the credit for that one though; I helped with the runes but overall the planters and the plants are Neville Longbottom originals. Vines because of my wand wood, and endless plants because for some reason Neville is a big fan of my cooking.”

“Hmmm…” her companion responded minimally, prompting her to look at him for an explanation. She found his face contemplative, which confused her a little; he knew Neville was a friend of hers. After a few more seconds of further consideration, he put voice to his thought process, and Hermione understood the momentary malaise. “You appear to have always had an abundance of male friends, and with respect to Miss Parkinson, Miss Weasley and Mrs Scamander, I can’t help wondering, was it by design or are you just more comfortable with wizards?”

“You forgot to mention Narcissa and Andromeda,” she teased with a little laugh. “You’re right though, the list of my male friends is much longer than the female one. The truth of it is, I’m not sure why. I mean Harry was my first friend at Hogwarts, and that led to the rest of the Gryffindor boys and the Weasleys, who as you know, are bountiful with male members. Before school, I didn’t really have friends at all, and this might sound like I’m psychoanalysing myself but I think because my formative years were spent in relative solitude, thanks to the lack of friends, when I had to share a dormitory with other girls, I found them incapable of living up to the expectation that books had given me for what a friend should be.”

“So your truest friends are not boys, but books; that, I find more understandable than you might imagine. Draco was the same way, as was I; many of our respective ‘friends’ were a product of status and family connections. It took time to understand that, for both of us, and until you came along last year, I believe Severus is the only person I could ever count as a true friend. He was the only one who never treated me like a bank or a gateway; he was different in that he never expected anything from me. For Draco, it seems your Harry Potter was the different one, though I assure you, not in the same way.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Hermione said with a laugh, taking his cue to dismiss the very idea, though there was something rather indulgent in the thought of Lucius and Severus together, and her mind superimposed them onto the scene she’d witnessed in the Grimmauld Place kitchen earlier in the morning. ‘Well, this is a much better way to remember it,’ she decided, the flush returning to her cheeks with full force at the imagery her ever-ready sexually-deprived brain supplied. 

The mention of Harry provided a useful change of subject though; she didn’t want to push Lucius too far into discussing the past at the moment, even if he did seem relaxed whilst doing so in the moment; and Severus was definitely a touchy subject for him, right now. “Harry and I used to sleep on the upper treehouse deck a lot when I first created the trunk; star gazing in here is top notch without all the muggle light pollution. Mesmerising really.”

“Perhaps a midnight tour later, then?” he inquired politely, turning his head from the enchanted ceiling to Hermione’s face with something akin to hope. ‘A celestial display would be the perfect opportunity to dust off my courting skills and…’

“Why wait?” she asked rhetorically - excitedly - pulling her wand and pointing it at the ceiling, before with a widdershins half circle, making the projected sky appear to move quickly backwards in time. “This is last night’s sky, at about midnight,” she explained quietly when the clouds stilled and the sunlight descended into darkness. “I didn’t incorporate a divination pattern into the runes, so I can only cycle it backwards, but I hope you’ll agree it’s rather beautiful.”

“Stunning,” he agreed absolutely, though his eyes had not yet left the visage of Hermione in starlight. When they did, he couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. “This is the sky above the Manor, not Grimmauld.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, the darkness hiding her smugness at his impressed tone. “The rune stack has a sort of global roaming element, so it can duplicate the past sky of its current location even if the trunk has moved in the interim. Tricky bit of spell work, that.”

“I can only imagine…” he began to respond, but spun on his heel when a sudden swarm of light, like golden wand sparks, danced in his peripheral vision, prompting both his curiosity and war-honed reflexes. His wand was in his hand before he finished spinning, but the sight that greeted him was not what he expected… Hovering over a lilypad-shaped pond in the middle of the central lawn, was an entire frolic of Balinese water faeries, their light reflecting off the surface and making it shimmer.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Hermione whispered, watching the faeries too as they performed a light show for the humans, dancing and playing on the pond. “I rescued them from a destroyed habitat when I was on a foraging trip for ingredients. They were the deciding factor in adding a water feature to the trunk, but they’re nocturnal, so they live out here at night, but in the day, I made homes for them in the bathhouse. I guess when I played with the light, they were drawn out.”

“Simply marvellous,” he complimented, a large grin reaching from ear to ear as they walked along, feeling in absolute awe of this witch and what she’d created; the magic of the space was just incredible, and when one added the faerie rescue to her talents, along with her mastery of conjured colour and the genuine sense of nature, it just got better the more he looked. “No wonder you don’t spend much time in your office at the Ministry. Why would you when you have a space like this? I’d never go into the office again if I had something like this.” 

In minutes, and completely unintentionally, Hermione had laid one of his deepest fears to rest, a fear he had worried would hinder any real possibility of them being together in the future, because she had created a sense of wonder in him that he had never experienced. ‘This is the reason magic is a gift,’ he recognised, having never felt that way about it before; growing up in a house where magic was just a given made it easy to take it for granted, but this… this made him feel more humble than he had in his whole life, more grateful than ever before that Voldemort was dead and this beautiful, intelligent, compassionate witch had been spared.

“I can imagine,” Hermione said with a laugh as he stepped off the main path a little and paused to take in the treehouse she mentioned earlier, and how it was suspended over one side of the long rectangular sundeck. On the far side of it, peeking out from the hanging branches of the massive willow tree centrepiece, was another deck, though in more of a porch-style, that hung over the water and made for an excellent diving platform (or cannonball platform when ‘the boys’ were here). 

“This entire place is magnificent, Hermione; the time and spellwork that must have gone into creating it, I can barely imagine. Where did you even begin with the arithmancy for something like this. It’s one of your muggle fairy tales… made real; you even have the fairies.” The awe in his voice was so genuine, it almost brought a tear to her eye, and when he turned to her, the grin on his face took twenty years off him, and made him seem as youthful as Draco. “I need one,” he added hungrily.

Hermione couldn’t help but snort in amusement at it; Draco had been exactly the same way when he’d first seen the trunk, and their sense of entitlement only inspired amusement now, rather than derision. “Of course you do,” she said sarcastically, breathing through her real reaction of cosmic elation from that smile as she pulled on his arm by the elbow; the need to touch him overwhelming. “Come along; there’s more to see. We haven’t even got to the good bits yet,” she teased, her skin tingling where they touched as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. 

“Ah, yes. We probably should look for my book-loving elf before she emigrates to this little paradise and I never see her again,” he jested, motioning with his free hand for her to lead the way as they headed back to the stone pathway. 

It was still a revelation sometimes, that Lucius Malfoy was funny, but she couldn’t help but laugh again as they got closer to the large bungalow-style buildings at the far end of the trunk. “This is my room,” she explained, as they reached the first one. “...and directly behind it is my office, which is connected to the library. There are central doors on the long veranda for that too though,” she added, pointing ahead of them to the largest building. “If I had to guess, I’d say that is where our little friend has scurried off to.”

Looking ahead to where Hermione was pointing, Lucius couldn’t help but admire the pristine blue waters of the pond, reflecting the early morning sunlight that bathed the entire scene in a warm, picturesque glow. He’d hardly noticed as they were walking, but she must have sped up the cycle back to morning, because in the dawn light that now suffused the air, the faeries had disappeared. He took in every little detail he could see; to a Slytherin, this was a veritable gold mine of insight into the witch walking by his side, and he wanted to mine every nugget to help him in his quest to keep her. 

His eyes moved further down the path, beyond the library, to another set of double doors at the far end of the veranda that connected her office and library. “So bedroom suite, office and library; from what I know of you it makes sense to design those things together, but what’s at the other one?”

Hermione let out a small snicker, but wrinkled her nose in a slight self-deprecating cringe. “That would be the library overflow; I underestimated the extent of my habit and the space it would need, so what was once the potion lab, is now a library extension, dedicated to reference books, and the main library is for practical application books.”

“And what fate befell the potion lab?” he asked, though he thought he knew, as there were more buildings along the next row, after a turn on the path, which were yet to be identified.

“This one is the potion lab,” she confirmed as they took the corner. “...and the next one down is my spell creation lab, though it doubles as a testing arena for them as well. Then, at the far end is my personal Gym & Spa, where Quinella, my house elf, lives.”

Though she didn’t look, Hermione could imagine Lucius’ eyes going as wide as saucers at the news that she had a house elf; everyone’s reaction to that was always more shocking than to the trunk itself. Sure enough, the question came quickly… “ You have a house elf?”

Hermione sighed, but indulged him with a quick smile. “Quinella is technically a free elf, employed by me as my- ‘Trunk Manager’, but she also insists on being the one to give me and any guest I have, a massage and mani/pedi in the spa. She was a gift from Pansy after our first girls weekend in the spa; I used to hire a freelance massage and beauty therapist, but I was told, and I quote… ‘You are one of the elite now, Granger. Start acting like it.’ ”

Lucius actually guffawed at the too-accurate impression of his goddaughter, barely avoiding the likely disastrous utteration of his feelings for Hermione in his delirium of hilarity. “Quite right too,” he said instead, quite breathless from his laughter. No one had ever made him laugh like Hermione did, she was… everything. “Do I get to meet this Quinella, or do you plan to keep her locked away in the spa to file your toenails, and work out your tension knots after a long day?” he teased.

Hermione scowled playfully at the implied slave-labour contract she would never consider making any house elf sign, and pinched at the skin on his bicep where her fingers rested. “It’s her day off, but I’m sure you’ll meet her eventually if you come back here. She’s quite a shy little thing and doesn’t venture out very often, but as she constantly tells me she doesn’t need a day off, her free time tends to be spent at Hogwarts, catering to the toenails of professors.”

Lucius snorted as they passed by the Gym and Spa. “Severus included?” he couldn’t help but ask, disliking the visual provided by the thought of it but needing to know all the same.

Hermione chuckled too as they passed by her training pit - which would take more explanation, and probably a demonstration - heading into a second circuit of the path and back toward the guest cabins. “Not that either of them have ever admitted to me, but I believe him likely to indulge. Now, this is the path that takes you out to the pitch, which is technically a bubble in the trunk wall because I really couldn’t be bothered to rework the equations for weeks making something I have no intention of using.” 

“Understandable,” Lucius agreed with a nod, regaining his equilibrium and continuing to take in as much as he could with this golden opportunity whilst they walked the flagstone path (which she had called ‘the boardwalk’), passing Hermione’s private suite again. It was all so beautiful; each elven-style cabin had a uniquely decorated veranda that looked onto the boardwalk, and he could hardly imagine where he might begin in trying to create something like this; it was practically impossible. “I can’t imagine what this must have looked like when you were drawing it up,” he murmured to himself, looking back at the massive willow tree, with its cosy sun deck and the ‘treehouse’ under its heavy hanging branches. 

“It did take a while to get right,” she answered, not sure whether he was speaking to himself or her. Looking at him, she couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but wanted to answer all his questions. “Has something piqued your interest over there?”

“Mmmm… I’m wondering why you have that large golf course bunker at the other end?” he asked, gesturing with his head toward a huge dug out sand pit that ran along the short edge of the courtyard opposite the Office and Library buildings. He hadn’t noticed it when they first arrived, too focused on his disappearing elf, and the Wonderland she’d disappeared into, then Hermione’s derriere as she descended the ladder. The sand ditch really did remind him of a bunker on a golf course though, the likes of which he was only familiar with from private dealings with muggles to secure shares in their large companies. 

She couldn’t help but laugh again at his description of the training pit, but was happy to tell the story behind its inception, if not right now; they were back at the library, so more important discoveries were at hand for her companion. Using their linked arms to pull Lucius up the two steps that led onto the long, wooden planks of the veranda in front of the main library doors, she answered evasively. “ That is the training pit, and I’ll find some time with Draco and Harry soon to give you a demonstration, but this… ” she emphasised with a mischievous grin, gesturing to the library, “This is the highlight of today’s tour, and where I think we might find your runaway elf.” 

“Delightful and intriguing, on both counts,” he purred, taking his first proper glimpse into her library through the glass-panelled double doors. It appeared to be a complete haven of escapism, and he sighed appreciatively at the luxury. “Oh, I’d never leave,” he hummed serenely, squeezing her hand in whole-hearted approval, where it was still tucked into the crook of his arm.

Then he turned that knicker-melting smile on her again, and Hermione was grateful for the constriction on her hand because it was the only thing keeping her upright. She returned the smile, of course, softly, and willed a little tension into her legs so she could continue the tour. “It’s hard to pull myself out sometimes, which is why we’re saving it for last, in case no one ever sees us again, I should at least show you inside one of the other cabins,” she offered logically, turning her head to examine the space around them, before pulling  him further down the veranda, towards the office doors she’d pointed out earlier. “There’s never enough space for my projects in my office at the Ministry, and it’s not nearly as secure as they’d like us all to believe.”

Lucius gave her a curious look, his shoulders growing a little tense at her words. “Narcissa told me Kingsley had performed a rather deep house-cleaning after the war, with Harry and Arthur’s help,” he confided, passing under a small grouping of moss-covered trees that filtered the morning sunlight, stopping it from reaching this part of the path. The sudden shadows felt telling.

She scoffed and let out a small sigh of exasperation, letting go of his arm to move toward the door. “Baddies aren’t always as redeemable as the Malfoys,” she explained, looking over her shoulder to wink at him as she brandished her wand to release a complex series of wards. “They’re slippery and sneaky, and will find any little chink in the armour to worm their way in. My office has been broken into twice in the four years I’ve been at the DoM,” she added conversationally, finally pushing the door open and holding it wide for him to precede her.

“An apt description of baddies ,” he said with a slight grimace, his eyes going a little wider as he stepped into the office and saw more of her marvellous creation, though the increased tension in his shoulders was a reaction to the dread that settled in his stomach over the topic of conversation and the intensity of her wards. If he hadn’t deduced a few tidbits about the goal of her project from the notes she’d given him, they would seem excessive in addition to the wards she had on the outside of the trunk. Similarly, he would be shocked that her office had been broken into, especially within the heart of the Department of Mysteries where he knew it resided. 

“Thank you,” she returned, sharing his grimace as he stepped into the private office; they were skirting perilously around the edges with this conversation of things he didn’t like to talk about. The smell of him though, wafting into her senses as he passed by her, had her gripping the door frame for balance. ‘Nimue, give me strength…’

On seeing the level of detail with which she laid out her work in the office, he knew without any more proof that the dangers it brought down on her were very real. “And I’m not surprised by the break-ins, considering what you’re working on here. It was a smart move to keep the bulk of it away from the Ministry,” he added carefully, choosing to make this his only comment on the matter, knowing the day would be much lighter if he maintained his tight-lipped attitude about the past. “However, I now feel as though I must thank you, for your constant compassion in setting my family and I apart from others, and calling it a redemption.”

Hermione sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that it is not compassion?” she asked rhetorically, sounding a little weary, and feeling a strong case of emotional whiplash from the suddenly charged atmosphere, not to mention the shock that he had willingly, if briefly, addressed an element of his past. “It’s just deserved praise for the changes you’ve made, the progress. I mean, just look at us, here, alone…  nary a harsh word or drawn wand, no trace of fear or disgust in the other’s presence. I hardly consider it noteworthy as I know we have grown fond of each other but, knowledge bomb, Lucius… I trust you.”

There were undertones of her feelings in everything she’d said, as well as echoes of the difference in their relationship now contrasting with what it was ten years ago, but he was overdue a reality check if he was still thanking her for not considering him a ‘baddie’ any more, which he apparently was. The fact that he’d hinted at his shady past as much as he just did showed progress too, and deep down, Hermione knew that’s why she’d decided throw her feelings into the subtext of ‘telling him off’; he needed to figure it out on his own, but she wanted him to know that she accepted all of him, even the baddie bits. In fact, with hindsight, she could almost understand the war from his point of view… 

His whole belief system and way of life had been showcased by Tom Riddle as threatened by the general populous of muggles, and muggleborns were a gateway between the two worlds. The threat was real too; muggles had a well-documented history of shunning anything that was different, and whilst there was the deplorable option of closing that gateway as a means of protection, Tom Riddle had decided on attempting to squash the opposition on his way to world domination. Anyone with Lucius’ upbringing would have got swept up in that; not that she’d tell him in such a blunt fashion until he was ready to hear it, but she could play with words like she had today, and give him hints.

Lucius had chosen not to respond to her little rant as he looked around, examining several different bits of projects that were pinned up or laid out within the office. It made Hermione feel hopeful that he was digesting what she’d said, and with a bit of luck, learning to live with it, if not full on accepting it; the road to recovery, no matter what the trauma, was long, and she wanted her forgiveness to be ray of sunshine along the way. He was making progress - that little slip of his iron will was testament to it - and Hermione found herself having to control her elation over the small reference to the past; there had been today, perhaps, a small break in the clouds of his ever-stormy sky, allowing her light to shine through.

“Now, nevermind all the Ministry morons; this is much better anyway…” she directed, gesturing to the wall behind her main desk, which held several framed, vellum blueprints, the central ones covered in her handwritten notes. The redistribution of his focus apparently helped to soothe the last of the tension in his shoulders and once he joined her at the wall, she explained the purpose of the blueprints. “This trunk was the backup project for my Charms Mastery,” she enthused proudly, showing her work like the forever-student she still was at heart. 

“Good Gods, Granger,” Lucius exclaimed with a gasp, finding that little tidbit of information to be even more proof that the years he’d spent in ignorance about muggleborns were the most wasted of his life. For something to do - to stop himself just grabbing her into an entirely inappropriate embrace - he pulled his reading specs from the inner pocket of his waistcoat and put them on. “If this was the backup, what was your final project?” he asked with a slightly indignant sniff, bending closer to inspect her work. ‘No wonder Draco never beat her in a single class.’

“Something far more boring, I assure you,” she chuckled, before pointing to a more aged vellum to the far left of the back wall. “ This is the original mockup of Newt Scamander’s infamous briefcase,” she explained, standing before the oldest sketches, in gilded frames. “Luna married his grandson, as you know, and after being fed something particularly potent when I was visiting them in the Spring of 2001, I was given a tour of her grandfather-in-law's travelling menagerie. It was from that ramble, through the wilds of a zoo-tcase, that this giant idea sprouted.” 

As Lucius started to examine the artwork of the Scamander drawings, snorting at the term ‘zoo-tcase’, Hermione shuffled to the right of that blueprint, and pointed to her first draft of trunk plans. “As you can see, my imagination, as well as my obsession with numbers, sort of went a bit mad when I first started, but as I continued to add or shift things around, I calmed down a bit and it got closer to what I actually wanted. Down there,” she explained, directing his attention to the other end of the wall, “...is the last iteration of the plans, but I started the spell work abouuut here…” 

Lucius followed her as she moved several frames down the wall, and leaned in again to closely inspect the print where she’d stopped, taking time to read through the notes she’d added. The collection in its entirety ran the full length of the wall behind her desk, having started from Newt Scamander's lovingly-gifted original plans and moving right, as it chronologically showed each major modification or improvement. “I really should just scrap the current plans for a new library and let your marvel of a mind have at it,” he muttered, his brows furrowing as he tried to follow her work from one diagram to the next. “Thank Salazar I have vaults and vaults full of gold.”

“You think I’d charge you?” Hermione asked in mock annoyance, just to disguise how much she enjoyed seeing the depths of his engrossment in her work; his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, softening the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The awe and hyper-concentration painted on his face was what made her heart melt though; as comical a picture as it made, the fact that he was so into the numbers made her fall so much harder than she already had. “I know you have more than enough galleons to waste, but it's hardly necessary when it comes to enlisting my services; besides, I’ve already integrated the modifications that will make it perfect,” she quipped.

Lucius didn’t change his position but turned his head to look at her, just as she parked her bum against the edge of the desk, mentally trying to suppress an urge. ‘Don’t look at his arse! Don’t look at his arse,’ she told herself almost sternly, but it was too late, and a sigh left her just as his eyes found her again. ‘He has a fine, fine- Oh shit; no, stop! Think of anything else,’ she scrambled, bringing her gaze to his now smirking face. “Do you mind if I park in the library then?” she blurted in a panic, nowhere near ready for him to comment on where she’d been looking.

His eyes narrowed slightly at her attempt at changing the subject but the smirk stayed in place; she was so rarely flustered, especially by him, that it was amusing to consider milking it. Upon reflection though, he decided to let it pass for now; there would be opportunities to tease her about it at another time - in Zurich maybe. “Of course, you may park this magnificent creation in the library, or anywhere else in the Manor for that matter; there is an entire suite of rooms set aside for you, after all.”

Already beetroot red from being caught ogling, she doubted he noticed the deepening of her blushes from forgetting that little fact. She nodded her understanding though. “I just wanted to check, considering I’ll basically be camping there for the foreseeable, and I know it’s the area you frequent the most.” It had taken her completely by surprise to learn that Lucius Malfoy, of all people, might be the only contender, other than her, for the title of ‘Most Obsessive Bibliophile’. It was the only reason she envied his wealth - even with a small fortune of her own - because the spoiled, pampered, and obscenely wealthy Slytherin Lord was a book hoarder with unlimited resources. Granted, there had been a few generations of collecting before him, but short of marrying the man, she had little chance of ever catching up. ‘Oh God, don’t let your mind go there, Granger…’

“It looks as if you’re finally going to fulfil those dreams I know you’ve had, of sleeping in my library,” he teased, straightening from examining the blueprints and creating little cracks along his spine.

“Guilty! Although, technically, I slept in the library last night,” she shrugged, an easy smile on her lips as they both avoided mentioning her red face, and he removed his glasses from his, tucking them back into the breast pocket of his navy vest. 

Lucius returned the smile and turned toward her properly. The sundress she wore was very becoming on her smallish frame, and she filled the bust of it very well, sending his mind reeling. He pulled it back though, and decided to see how she’d react to a more charming and obvious compliment than what he usually offered. “The library will be all the warmer and more beautiful for your presence in it, with or without the trunk… and the snoring.”

“I do not snore,” she sniped automatically, missing the compliment entirely. Severus had accused her of such things in the past - snoring, drooling, farting; the smirk when he’d said it always told her he was just teasing, but she was hardly the most ladylike of women to start with and it was one of those things that had just stayed with her as an insecurity. Now Lucius was at it too. ‘Does that mean they’ve talked about me? Oh, heavens!’ 

“No, but the drooling was very real,” he replied wryly, his smirk dropped to indicate a more sincere confession. “All over my grandfather’s seventeenth century brocade upholstery too.”

She scowled in response, suddenly reminded of Pansy’s very insistent advice from just after Lucius was released, to always keep her wits about her around him; though she couldn’t help but be amused by how much the reason for said advice had changed in the intervening months. After all, who would have ever thought that she would be struggling against this unusual seduction he didn’t even know he was committing. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your morning,” she said a little less warmly than usual, not wanting to be too nice whilst he accused her of drooling.

“Hermione, I was just teasing…” he backpedalled, wanting to hear more about the trunk, and see the library. “Well, not about the drooling, but you said you prefer it when I’m honest with you.”

“I do, but not about that, and I actually have lots of work to do, so what I actually meant to say was ‘I need to get back to my morning’, and whilst I definitely do not drool, I do need to go through the last of the Ortega books I have marked with significant passages. There are also casting configurations to be finalised for a new spell I’m working on, and an elf to find,” she explained, heading toward the door. “I’ll check on her in about an hour, once I have a few things ticked off my list.”

“Hermione…!” he called, sounding a little desperate and reminding her of when Baby had called out to Johnny, just needing a smile to know she hadn’t upset him. Lucius seemed frozen as she turned back to him. ‘Maybe he needs the same thing?’ she thought, offering an indulgent quirk of her lips. It seemed to snap him out of the momentary catatonia, but he was clearly mulling something over as his stare left the trance-like state, a shadow of seriousness falling over his features. “Do you mind if I browse for a while too?” he asked, nodding in the direction of her library, which could only be partially seen through the walkway that connected the buildings.

She frowned at him for half a second, worried over what was going through his mind, but eventually pushed it aside and smiled again.“Not at all,” she said softly, stepping backwards now toward the door. “I’ll be in the Charms lab if you need anything.” 

“I’ll- see you for dinner then?” he asked as she turned around and reached the door. “If you’re staying at the Manor, inside a trunk or not, you can at least let me feed you.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed without turning back, and making her feet walk steadily toward cabin seven. Tension had built up in her like a volcano with the prolonged exposure to Lucius’ gorgeousness and appreciation of her work, and it needed to be burned off.