Thank you once again for all of the reviews and follows. This will be the last chapter, in my head it was only ever going to be a slightly erotic, no smut one shot. So I hope you will enjoy how and where it ends.

Hermione felt like Goldilocks, a character from a Muggle story her parents read to her as a child. Clasping the towel and hairbrush, she went from one surface to another, trying to find a good place to sit.

The large hefty wooden chair she started in was precisely that, very big, very heavy and decidedly uncomfortable, it was also tucked away in the far corner of the room. She looked around for another possibility. The bed. Whilst being more comfortable and arguably much softer, Hermione decided it was a far more dangerous option. Her mind momentarily drifting back to that same childhood tale, but with a very different ending.…

Having fallen asleep on Lucius Malfoy's bed, the handsome dark wizard returned to find her still slumbering in its warm depths. Her hair splayed on the gloriously soft pillow. Her breathing even and relaxed as he leaned over, she could hear this Papa Bear growling in her ear, "Someone has been sleeping in my bed." The deep lusty growl turning to a soft purr as he wickedly exclaimed "and she is still in it!"

Hermione jumped up from the bed. She certainly had no intention of falling asleep in it, but there was no way she could sit on it, without it looking like an open invitation and she was certain Lucius Malfoy needed no encouragement.

Her final stop was the low chaise lounge in front of yet another stunning fireplace, something Malfoy Manor appeared to be awash with. Not only was it perfectly placed, but it was also extremely comfortable and large enough for two people to sit, albeit a tad snuggly. Hermione perched on the edge of the seat, running her hand over the sumptuous material, she strategically placed the towel and brush beside her.

A little wandless magic of her own: "Incendio" and the grate in the hearth burst into life, instantly bathing her in a soft glow.

For the second time that evening Lucius Malfoy leant against the door jamb watching Hermione Granger. She looked lovely in the soft firelight, even more so than she had earlier in the library. Or was that now simply because he was looking at her through a man's eyes?

He couldn't recall ever having seen her hair restrained as it was tonight. Caught in a loose pleat, it fell neatly down her back. The flames highlighting the copper flecks and revealing a long elegant neck. Lucius thought about trailing his lips from just above her collarbone, to the sensitive spot just behind the ear.

She had grown into beautiful young woman. Everything about her screamed femininity, despite her slight frame, she was curved in all the right places. The white, fitted shirt she wore accentuating the soft swell of her breasts, the unfastened buttons, exposing just a hint of cleavage and the merest glimpse of lace. Lucius thought about trailing a finger from that sensitive spot just behind the ear, down between the valley of her breasts.

He had surreptitiously observed her move from one place to another. Trying not to laugh when she had practically jumped up from the bed, as if she had been burned.

Clad in a black and grey silk velvet robe, he entered the room fully. Moving to join Hermione in front of the cheerfully crackling fire, but Instead of taking the small space next to her on the seat, he dropped to the floor immediately in front of her, making himself comfortable.

"I assume, I was told, not to dry it, for a reason. The towel and the brush were a giveaway, and I know you are a person that likes to see things to their conclusion."

He looked into her somewhat astonished face, mild amusement twinkling in his grey eyes. "This position makes that task easier does it not?"

She was already struggling to process everything that had happened this evening. The strange turn of events, and her own reactions to them. Having Lucius Malfoy quite literally at her feet was almost too much, whatever the reason!

The light springing from the fire illuminated his face, almost as if he were in a spotlight. It cast uneven shadows that emphasised his angular features. His hair, although a little dryer still clung damply to his head, its wet length leaving a small damp mark on his robe. His torso was a hairs breadth from her knees. She looked at him for an overly long moment, almost aching to reach out and run her finger along his cheek.

She had instigated this, but had she instigated the erotic tension that hung in the air like strong heady perfume?

"Turn around," she instructed, her voice husky and barely audible.

Lucius did as she asked, making no sound, save the soft rustle of his robe as he moved.

Having been subjected to this for many years by her mother, Hermione knew there was only one way to do it properly. Shifting her own position on the low seat, she spread her knees and gently guided Lucius Malfoy back between them. The intimacy of the action making her heart to beat so rapidly she felt it would jump right out of her chest.

The movement caused the tie of his robe to loosen. The garment came slightly undone, and it slackened at the neck, slipping marginally off his shoulders. Hermione inhaled sharply, the ridiculously inoffensive action was so utterly sexy. As was the way the material slid over his freshly bathed skin, clinging to the muscles in his back. Her fingertips stopped just short of his exposed flesh…

She tried not to touch him, but his broad frame made it impossible, her legs coming to rest against his arms. She felt more heat emanating from his body than the fire, her own body burning wherever it came into contact with his. And some places where it didn't!

The roughness of the towel removing any excess moisture, was replaced by the gentle rub of her fingers through his hair. Deftly freeing it from any tangles, and lifting the strands, a few at a time to allow the heat from the fire to dry them. Her delicate touches, and having her legs wrapped around him, even in this innocent way, were sweet intoxicating torture. Each touch sending a wave of unadulterated pleasure coursing through him, his body practically aching with arousal.

Lucius let out a very slow jagged breath as he felt her flat edge of her hand at his nape. Drawing his damp hair up and away from his neck, slowly letting the drier silkier locks fall back in in their place. She had an incredibly sensual touch, he closed his eyes, wondering if she had any idea at all as to the effect she was having on him.

His hair was drying surprisingly quickly, the thick, now lustrous mane tumbling well beyond his shoulders, in that curtain of mellifluous white gold that was so familiar to her.

So this was what is felt like to run her fingers through Lucius Malfoy's hair. Utterly sensuous, and ridiculously arousing. Her mind harking back once more to the childhood story, but this time…

As she lay sleeping in Lucius Malfoy's bed, he leant over to speak to her. His glorious mane of spicy scented hair falling across her face, shrouding her in a halo of silky platinum. She breathed in the heady scent of it, of him. His husky baritone voice rousing her gently from sleep. "Someone's been sleeping in my bed"…

Oh how she wished she were. Hermione's hand stilled at the unbridled thought that jumped into her mind. Sleeping in Lucius Malfoy's bed…with him stretched out beside her, one powerful arm thrown across her naked body. Where in Merlin's name had that notion sprung from? Her face burned at the thought, and so did her traitorous body.

Lucius felt her hand still, he heard the little sound the escaped from between her lips, and he felt the change in her touch. She might not be aware of what she was doing to him. But he suddenly became very aware of what he was doing to her. What he'd put down to the gaucheness of a slightly naive young woman, was in fact something very different! The blushes hadn't been borne out of embarrassment after all, nor had the slow appraisal of his body been awkward curiosity. Had it really been so long that Lucius didn't recognise arousal in a woman? He hadn't misread any of the signs at all, nor had he misinterpreted the tension in the room. She wanted him, as much as he wanted her. She just didn't want to admit it, or was afraid to.

He turned to face her, Hermione's breath was trapped in her lungs as he rested his large hands on her knees, still positioned firmly between them. His stomach was pressed against the frame of the seat, bringing him painfully close.

"When we were talking in the library," he began, his beautiful tones soft and enquiring. "You said I wasn't Methuselah. You were going to say something else but stopped yourself. Tell me Hermione what was it?"

Hermione wanted to say she didn't remember. But unfortunately she remembered exactly what she had been about to say with frightening clarity. The look in his penetrating grey eyes told her that if she lied to him, he would know. The look in those same penetrating grey eyes also told her that he knew a lot more. Denial would be as useless as lying to him.

The face before her was now that of the Lucius Malfoy she knew so well. A little frisson of fear trickled down her spine and raced back up again. She picked up the hairbrush by her side. Not breaking eye contact with him, Hermione, slowly and deliberately pulled the wide paddle through the length of his now dry, glossy hair. Using her actions to punctuate her words.

"I….was….going….to…say….that."

She paused momentarily, pushing an errant strand back with her finger, slightly brushing his bare shoulder as she did so. Hermione felt Lucius' quick intake of breath at the fleeting contact with his actual body, not his head, his face or his neck, but his body. His skin was beautifully soft, she imagined touching more of it, savouring its silky smoothness. Dragging her eyes up once again to meet his.

"That…you are still a very attractive man."

She watched a slow smile curve his lips, and those beguiling grey eyes warm at her words, feeling she were drowning in their infinite depths.

"And what about you?" She heard herself ask, watching as the warmth in his eyes altered to one of curiosity.

"Me?" Lucius thought quickly, had he started to ask something, and then not continued? No, not that he recalled.

She elaborated. "Just before you…when you were going…."

Hermione didn't want to mention Lucius getting in or out of the bath, not whilst she was looking into those twinkling silver eyes.

"Just before I left the bathroom, you were thinking something, or were going to ask me something. Tell me Lucius, what was it?"

She used the same words as he had. His given name feeling alien on her lips, but she liked how his face changed when she said it.

How very perceptive she was. Lucius had prided himself on how well he had concealed his reactions from her, both the mental and physical ones. Perhaps he had not done so well on either count as he'd thought.

He wondered for a moment if he was in that precarious position once more of possibly being evanescoed or having to explain to Draco why his friend had left so quickly. Something told him he might have more to explain to his son than just that.

"Truthfully….."

"Always" She countered, once again throwing his own words back at him.

"Legilimency isn't one of my skills, but I could tell from your face, you were contemplating something…. I hoped it was to kiss me."

There was a brief pause, heat suffusing Hermione's face yet again, before she said …"It was." Surprised by her own admission.

Their eyes were still firmly locked. She could feel Lucius' thumbs moving in delicate circles against her legs.

"Why didn't you?" He asked in equally hushed tones.

The gentle caress of his hands was exquisite, the tiny action almost robbing her of coherent thoughts. "I was scared." She finally said.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity Lucius broke eye contact with her. Casting his glance down as he done in the library. It was easy to understand why she was still afraid of him. He deserved nothing less, he didn't deserve her even being here, let alone anything else. Lucius felt the flat side of the brush under his chin, tilting his head up. Forcing his eyes to meet hers, a spark of defiance shimmering in their chocolate brown depths.

Hermione didn't need to be a Legilimens either to know what Lucius was thinking.

"I wasn't scared of you," she said directly, holding his gaze once more. "Of just about everything else, the situation, my own reactions. What would happen if I did….but bizarre as it may seem, not of you. Well not for the reasons you think."

It was true, she wasn't frightened of the former death eater who had been her nemesis as a child. She was however terrified of the gorgeous man, who made her feel more alive than she had done in a very long time.

Hermione edged forward, "I am not scared now," she whispered huskily, sliding off the small seat.

It was like stepping off of a giant precipice, and she knew once she committed herself, there was no going back.

Lucius bit back the moan that threatened to escape from his lips as her body slid down his, moving backwards and allowing her to manoeuvre herself between him and the chair.

His hand came up to cradle her cheek in the palm. Feeling her soft finger trace the outline of his lips, he yearned to wrap his arms around her, hold her close, but he didn't, allowing her to set the pace. Her tentative touch as thrilling as if she were touching him intimately. His body burned at the thought, and as he felt her lips gently pressed to his own, it practically ignited.

Hermione was swimming against a tide of fear, but as her lips touched his, she was driven by a wave of hunger that threatened to drown her.

His lips were warm and firm, but with a delicious softness that she wanted so much more of. Her mouth slowly moved over his, leaving nothing undiscovered. Kissing his top lip tenderly and then moving to the bottom, tracing the outline with her tongue. Lucius' lips parted slightly, his tongue brushing against hers, deepening the kiss.

A little part of his brain struggled with reality, but he didn't want to think about anything except the luscious feel of her. Her warm mouth plundering his, responding to him with such passion. Finally Lucius gave in, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close until her small frame was pressed hard against him, her body moulding perfectly to his.

The intimacy of the position leaving neither of them in any doubt as to their desire for each other.

"Hmmmm I was right," Lucius breathed against her mouth. Brushing her swollen lips with his tongue.

Through a haze of passion Hermione realised he had spoken, her body was on fire, her mind was total mush. He was talking to her…what did he say, he was right?

"About what," she managed to mumble, latching her mouth once again onto his.

Lucius' lips left hers, trailing a path of blazing heat along the column of her throat. Hermione's head fell back, giving him better access, revealing in the sensations he was inflicting on her senses. Gasping, and looking up suddenly as his teeth grazed the skin just where her shirt buttons began. His eyes smouldered with desire, a cross between glittering silver and slate.

"About you being in this house." He practically growled at her.

Genuine fear shot through Hermione's veins.

"You really have reminded me how empty my life is, devoid of warmth, and passion… Until now."

A huge sense of relief washed over her, she didn't mind reminding him of those things, as long as she was the one to rectify it.

"Well Mr Malfoy," she whispered in his ear. "Having dealt with your unwillingness to bother as you put it."

She ran her hand through his now silky hair, trailing a path across his perfectly smooth jaw. "Perhaps I need to deal with something else?" She ran a finger along his collarbone, kissing his exposed shoulder.

"Hmmm and what might that be Miss Granger?" She was driving him to distraction. Lucius wasn't sure how much longer he could restrain himself.

Hermione pushed him gently back, putting a few inches of space between them. She wanted to emulate his teasing, pretend to be affronted, but she couldn't.

There was still a little deep rooted fear of Lucius Malfoy ebbing though her veins, that same sense of fear seemed to be heightening her desire for him, her unrelenting need for him.

"I don't want you to wake up to any more nasty reminders."

Draco Malfoy was livid. When he had quietly and discreetly walked away from the library door last evening, Hermione and his father appeared to be talking quiet amiably. Well they were talking, that was a start, and there were no raised voices. He decided it was best to simply leave them to it, it was after all what he had hoped for. What had transpired after that clearly had not been good. What on earth had his father said, or worse, what had his father done, that had caused Hermione to not even talk to him and leave the manor at Merlin knows what time of night.

When she hadn't joined him for breakfast, Draco had assumed that Hermione had managed to get through to his father and that they had talked late into the night, that she was simply enjoying a well-deserved lie in, even if it was something he knew she rarely did, whatever the reason. Starting to worry a little he had gone to check on his friend. Finding her room empty and her bed clearly unslept in, the younger Malfoy saw red. His father really was the absolute limit, couldn't he have just been nice and polite to his friend for one evening!

He stormed from one end of the manor to the other, cursing under his breath. So annoyed he didn't even bother to knock on his father's door. Fortunately the door was so heavy it was impossible to fling open loudly, even with full blown anger. Thus it opened in relative silence, not disturbing the two people, peacefully sleeping in the room. The torrent of verbal abuse Draco was about to hurl at his father, died on his shocked lips.

His father, once more restored to his pristine self, albeit a little ruffled, and not, he imagined, entirely from slumber, was lying on his back fast asleep. His strong arms firmly wrapped around Hermione, who was draped across him, and sleeping equally as soundly. Her wild mane of brown hair covering his chest like a blanket.

Despite his shock, Draco smiled broadly, closing the door quietly.

Hermione Granger being wrong was a rare occurrence. Clearly his father had been only too happy to talk to her, listen to what she had to say, and it would appear a whole lot more.