A naughty romantic tale to provide some relieve all the serious dramatic stuff I've been writing lately and to celebrate my one year anniversary on fanfiction.

On a blind date, a certain couple breaks all the rules, but that's not necessarily a bad thing ;-)

*Disclaimer: All characters and canon situations belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit by writing and posting this story.

"You've got to be joking?" Hermione asked Ginny, incredulous at her friend's ludicrous suggestion.

The redheaded witch tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm not and what's wrong with that?"

"A blind date, Ginny? Do I look that desperate?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "One, it has nothing to do with level of desperation. Two, you haven't been out with anybody since you broke up with Ron. That was couple of years ago. Three, you need to have some fun. Four, you're in a rut. You're in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady forty years before your time."

"I'm not in a rut," Hermione vehemently protested. "I've been busy at work. I'm away 40 weeks out of the year, it doesn't leave much room to go out and meet men, you know. I'm not purposely avoiding dating, it's just lack of current options."

"Yes, but you're not taking any action to change your situation. Options are out there, but they won't be knocking on your door. You have to be more proactive in putting yourself out there and you're not doing it. You're in a rut and you're becoming very comfortable in it. I'm not asking you to take vows with the guy, just go out. Shake up your routine Sunday. From what Draco told me, you might even be a good match."

Ever since they went back to Hogwarts two years ago to finish their N.E.W.T.s, Ginny and Draco had become the closest of friends, much to the chagrin of their families.

"So what makes him such a good match then?" Hermione asked. "At least, give me a name."

Ginny wrinkled her forehead. "Draco and I agreed on no-name policy. We want both of you to be very open-minded going into this. We're didn't even share the names with each other. Suffice it to say that you both want the same things. Plus, if this date will crash and burn, you'll never have to see each other again. He doesn't really live in London, from what I gathered, so it's all good."

Hermione was unconvinced. "I don't know. I'd feel better about going if I knew a little bit more about this mystery guy."

"Well, Draco told me he's older, divorced, and attractive. You're always saying how you don't want kids and he already has a grown son and doesn't want any more. You also want someone who'll give you your space and won't be intimidated by either your career or friendship with Harry and, according to Draco, that's this guy to a T. He's successful in his own right, doesn't want anyone clingy, and isn't all that impressed with Harry. Draco was certain that this person won't be trying to use you to get to Harry, so … it's a great start. Just go to Chez Laurent on Sunday and discover the rest."

Hermione's eyebrows rose up. "Isn't that a little too upscale for casual lunch?" And a little … well, a lot, out of her comfortable price range.

Ginny shrugged. "Apparently, it's one of his favorite restaurants. Draco said this guy's old-fashioned, so he'll probably won't let you pay."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable having someone buy me luxury meal. I think I'll feel obligated or something," she said, feeling more and more skeptical about this whole thing.

"Why should you feel obligated, and what for? It's only lunch, Hermione. Some dates treat others to nice things because they want to, not because they expect something. Even if he does, so what? You don't owe anyone a thing."

Hermione caved, wary of this conversation. Ginny clearly wouldn't give up until she agreed anyway. "You know what? I'll go, but if this doesn't work out, you'll stop trying to set me up."

"Well, technically, Draco is setting this up since he's the one who asked me if I had a friend for his friend. You're the only single person I could think of who would be mature enough for this guy."

"Ginny."

"Fine, fine. I promise," her friend gave in. "Admit it, though, it's for your own good. Some day you'll be old and gray, and wished you'd taken more chances in life. Spontaneity is good for the soul."

"I will admit nothing until this date is over. Then we'll see."

Ginny stood up. "I'm going to let Draco know you agreed and it's all go for Sunday. Trust me, it'll be great."

And just as she had arrived in a whirlwind of excitement, Ginny left just as quickly.

Standing outside the doors of Chez Laurent, Hermione was plagued by second thoughts. Except it was too late to back out. On one hand, it felt good to dress up and get out a little. On the other hand, she was feeling completely out of her element. Still, it would be impolite to be late. Rule 1: don't be disrespectful by being late. Everyone's time is important to them. And no one wants to sit around in public by themselves with nothing to do.

Gathering her courage, Hermione walked in. Her eyes widened at the luxurious decor. The walls were done in pale pink, sharply contrasting against the crimson carpet. A crystal chandelier hung above her head, illuminating the impressionist art on the walls. The only sounds were hushed voices and the tickling of glassware.

She approached the hostess and quietly said, "Hello. Party of two. The reservation is under Malfoy."

"Right this way, please," she said, smiling at Hermione.

Hermione followed her through a sea of tables, anxiously looking around.

Rule 2: relax. There is no need to feel pressured; it's only a date. If it's a total disaster, we never have to see each other again.

The hostess suddenly stopped. "Mr. Malfoy, your other party has arrived."

Gobsmacked, Hermione nearly collided with her, tittering on her pumps.

Lucius Malfoy was my mystery date? It had to be joke! Obviously, not a funny one.

Trust Ginny-Draco matchmaking production to screw up the most basic task. This is why you ask for names, she bitterly thought. To avoid awkward moments like this!

Lucius Malfoy stood up and walked over to her.

"Miss Granger," he said politely, extending his hand to her.

As she shook it, a warm sensation shot up her arm and spread to the rest of her body. "Mr. Malfoy, how do you do?" she weakly returned.

He pulled out her chair for her, then took his own seat. Well, this was … strange. He still wanted to have lunch with her?

Hermione glanced across the table at him, desperately raking her brain for something to say. She had a list of topics in her head, but none of them seemed appropriate now.

His eyes sliced right through were like a pair of fjords — the shimmery, lonely ones somewhere in Scandinavia. And they looked almost as cold as they examined her; his gaze intent on her face before it trailed down the rest of her body. His look was so brazen, yet she found it oddly flattering. Thank goodness for Rule Three to dress smart: not too revealing, yet appropriate for the occasion.

She should say something. Now!

Rule 4: address the elephant in the room.

Hermione opened her mouth to comment on the situation, but he beat her to it.

"This is unexpected," he said.

Hermione let out a little laugh. "That's an understatement of the year! I'm pretty sure that even our matchmakers would be shocked. I was warned to be open-minded."

He sneered. "Let's not be so open-minded that our brains fall out."

Her mortification was complete. She leaned in. "Listen, I won't be offended if you wanted to call this off. There's no point in doing it if you're … uncomfortable."

Unfazed, he brushed off her suggestion. "It's one lunch, Miss Granger. We both have to eat."

"Yes, but if you rather not … do it together, I understand."

"Do you have any particular objections?" He imperiously raised one brow at her.

"I rather thought you would. But no, I don't have any objections," she replied, feeling her face grow warm.

"Very well."

"What would you like to start with this afternoon?" A male voice asked them.

Hermione blinked blankly at the waiter, then glanced down at the menu before her.

It was all so … in French.

"How about a dozen oysters for an appetizer?" Lucius suggested, his eyes twinkling at Hermione.

"Great," she said, but silently screamed, No, not great at all! I don't know the first thing about eating oysters!

"Perfect," the waiter said, scratching the order on his pad.

"What is plat du jour?" Lucius asked with perfect French accent.

"Today's specialty is roast duck with vinaigrette sauce. Highly recommended."

"How does that sound?" Lucius asked Hermione.

"Sounds good," she said, watching him, in admiration of his ease and poise.

The waiter walked away with their orders and they were once again they had only each other to focus on.

Her mouth went dry as Hermione desperately wrung her head for something – anything – to talk about!

"I remember reading something about you winning Transfiguration Today's Most Promising Newcomer award. Are you in the field now?" he asked her.

She smiled. "I have a regular column there now. It was mainly advice on taking O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, but now I cover conferences, new theories, and even publish my own research, especially in more obscure areas of Transfiguration."

Lucius looked mildly impressed. "Remarkable. It was never my best subject, so I must commend you. I thought you'd end up running the Ministry of Magic by now."

Hermione grimaced. "I worked at the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures for a while, but … I found out that slow bureaucratic process is not for me. It actually drove me mad. I always felt like I wasn't doing anything productive, which is why I started submitting articles to Transfiguration Today and the rest, as they say, is history."

"I must start reading it again," he said. "I think it's wonderful to have something you're so passionate about."

Hermione beamed at him. She was flattered that he had taken such keen interest in something so important to her. He made her feel so vibrant, like everything she said was important.

"What about you? What have you been doing since these past couple of years?" Then she remembered about his sentence in Azkaban and that he was only released this past winter.

"I'm sorry," she quickly added, embarrassed at how tactless she must have sounded. "That was really stupid of me. I can't believe I forgot that you were only released from Azkaban this year."

"It's okay." He placed his hand lightly on her chin. A tingling sensation rushed through her body at the contact. Suddenly Hermione felt as though she were floating on air.

"It happened. I survived. I moved on. There's no point in pretending that part of my life didn't exist."

"I can't imagine how difficult and lonely it must have been for you," she sympathized.

Rule 5: Don't talk about heavy topics. But it seemed more wrong not to acknowledge it.

"It's in the past now," he airily said.

"What do you do to relax … to take your mind off things?" she asked him.

"I've taken up tennis again," Lucius replied. "I've always enjoyed that in my youth, but it's hard to find anyone to play with me. Draco's so busy of late and I'm sure he'd rather be off with his own friends rather than be bored with his old man."

Hermione sat up straighter. "I love tennis. I used to play it every summer!"

"Perhaps we could play sometime," he suggested.

"That would be great," Hermione said, excited by the idea, but stopped herself from pursuing it further. They weren't supposed to be making plans for next dates without seeing how this one went first.

The waiter arrived with a platter of gray oysters, placing the tray down in the middle of the table. He set two china plats in front of them.

"Bon appétit," he said and left.

Panic hit Hermione as she eyed the platter with apprehension. She decided to take her cues from Lucius Malfoy. As if sensing her unease, he picked up his shell-fork to separate meat from the shell, then smoothly picked it up and tipped the contents into his mouth. Hermione was more and more impressed with him. Not only was he sophisticated and cultured, but he was actually very gallant to her. He was nothing like she thought he was. She assumed he'd storm off rather than sit at a table with her. Obviously, she was way off the mark about him.

"When I was a boy, I once dug for oysters in Monaco. I almost fell into the water trying to retrieve one," he told her.

"You've seen quite a lot of the world, then?" she asked, carefully fiddling with her shell-fork. Despite the awkward beginning, she was actually starting to relax.

He shrugged. "No matter where I go, there is no pleasure in this world like coming home."

Hermione brought the shell up to her mouth. "You don't have to swallow it whole, do you?"

His eyes twinkled at her. "It's a myth, Miss Granger. You can't get the whole taste unless you chew it. Even eating it off the shell makes it lose a lot of the flavor. You don't want to risk that. Those are the best oysters in the world."

She laughed. "Really? According to whom? Who ranks what is best and worst anyway?"

"Life is too short not to appreciate its finest pleasures," he told her. "I think you'd agree."

"I don't disagree, but would something second best be so bad? If something's good, it's good, no? Who cares if it's not the best?"

"Our time is too limited to waste it on second, third, tenth best," he disagreed. "Pretend that we're at the State Hermitage or the Louvre."

"It's only a first date and you already have me traveling to Petersburg and Paris with you," she joked.

"Don't get sidetracked now. If we're at the Louvre, for instance, it's far too large for us to cover it all in one trip, so what do you do? You go to see the most famous pieces, no? You don't want to go and not see the Mona Lisa or Venus de Milo, do you? You go to a museum like the Louvre to see its most famous pieces, the ones that are considered the best. That's why they're housed there and not at some local gallery."

"True," Hermione agreed. "What does that have to do with oysters though?"

"It's a matter of taste. Limited time makes us more discerning in our tastes."

"But taste is subjective," she countered.

"Some people certainly think so."

"But you don't?"

"No, I don't," he said, giving her a small, mysterious smile.

The waiter returned with two steaming plates of roast duck. He set them down and picked up empty oyster tray.

"Enjoy your meal," he told them.

"This looks delicious," Hermione said, eyeing the dish with appreciation.

As they ate their meal, they continued to converse. She was finding him to be absolutely captivating. She couldn't remember last time she had so much fun. Or had such a magnetic attraction. Hermione felt her face glow pink just from the way he kept looking at her. The food was amazing and Lucius's company completely enchanting. Time had flown by so much that by the time they had finished their chocolate caramel cake for dessert, Hermione didn't want the date to end.

"What shall you do now?" he asked her as they walked out of the restaurant.

"Well, I've already packed for the conference in Manchester. I don't have any plans for the rest of the evening," she answered. "There is a movie I've been wanting to see, so I suppose I could do that. What about you?"

"What movie?"

She glanced at him. Her heart pounding at the implication. Would he like to go with her? "The Imperial Affair. It's about Emperor Paul's mistress, Anna Lopukhina."

"Sounds scandalous. Why don't we see it together?" he offered.

A smile bloomed on her lips. "I'd like that," she said.

Within minutes, they purchased tickets and took their seats. They were the only people in the audience. Sunday's tea time was clearly an unpopular slot for moviegoers. Still, the intimate atmosphere was welcome. Thirty minutes into the film, however, Hermione was mortified to discover that the movie took an unabashedly erotic turn. Common sense should have told her that a film about a royal affair would inevitably include showing said affair. But she didn't think it would be like this. And it was her suggestion! What must he think of her?

Aren't there rules about not introducing the topic of sex on the first date?

During one love scene, Lucius bent to whisper in her ear, "How long is his tongue that he can reach between her thighs while his head is still on her stomach? This is ridiculous."

Good, he's not finding it at all sexy.

"I know!" she enthusiastically agreed. Her leg accidentally brushed against his. She tried to ignore the subtle jolt that rushed through her, reminding her what it felt like to be near a man. "In quite a few of those shots, it's obvious that his face is nowhere near her crotch, yet she goes into orgasmic convulsions. I'm completely side-eyeing this scene: I'm not buying that a virginal girl on her second time of having sex is that interested in being tied down."

"What's wrong with being tied down?" he asked.

"Nothing, I guess," Hermione responded. "Well, I wouldn't know. I'm just finding it unrealistic that a late 18th century ingenue is that into kink with only one introduction to sex without kink. Nowadays, it's not unusual, but how much sex education could she have had? This is someone who in the last scene thought there was only one sexual position."

He chuckled. "I see your point."

"And the scene where she orgasms at a banquet just from his innuendoes is asking for an eye-roll. If orgasms were so easy without physical contact, then sex toy shops would go out of business."

Hermione felt a tickling sensation of his breath on her neck. "Not true. Without ever putting a hand on you, I could make you come like she did," Lucius smugly announced.

Stunned but intrigued by his declaration, Hermione challenged him in return, "You can try."

"I don't try. I do."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself."

A throaty, slightly sinister laugh left him. "Care to make a wager, then?"

"All right," she agreed, turning all her attention on him. "What shall we wager?"

"The winner chooses our next activity," Lucius drawled in his aristocratic, well-modulated tone.

"You're on," Hermione breathed out, her voice quivering.

"There are a few rules," he told her. "First, you must keep your eyes closed. Second, you cannot speak, only listen. Third, you cannot touch yourself. Nod if you understand."

A thrill rippled through her body as she nodded.

He waited until she closed her eyes and gripped the hand rests, then he spoke, "Last spring I saw you walking in the rain in Diagon Alley. You kept lifting your face towards the sky, almost enjoying nature's caresses. You had this look of pure happiness on your face, as you stepped into every puddle. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy and carefree. You mesmerized me, so I followed you. You didn't notice me, why should you have? You were lost in your own cloud of euphoria. Then, the rain came down harder, molding your clothes to your body, outlining every lovely curve. You went inside Flourish and Blotts. I followed you there. As you browsed through the books, you looked at me briefly, then turned away. I kept looking at you. I could see your pert nipples straining through your thin, soaked blouse. How I longed to kiss them, lick them, suck them, run my tongue over each one before gentling biting down … would you even like having your breasts played with?"

As she listened to him talk, Hermione began to feel the first signs of arousal seep through her veins. She had never been spoken to like this. She did go to Flourish and Blotts often, did he really see her on one of those trips? Did he really think those things or is he simply saying it for her benefit now?

Regardless of his motivations, each word aroused her more and more as he continued to walk her through his memory, "In that moment, I desired you like I had no other woman. I wanted to know you, to feel you, to taste you … my cock became so hard just by watching you. But you … you had no idea. You were oblivious to everything but the books in your hands. As I stood behind you in line, I could smell the rain on you along with that sweet scent you have on now. You have no idea how intoxicating it is."

Lucius moved closer to her now, as he provocatively delivered each word, "I imagined peeling that blouse off your breasts … imagined grasping them in my hands, caressing the cold, wet skin, pinching the nipples before tasting them. Is it something you would like me to do to you?"

She could only nod in agreement, soaking with arousal by now.

"Hmm. Do you know what I would like?" he asked in amusement. "I'd like to get you out of this dress and run my hands up those lovely legs of yours until I reach your pussy. I'd touch you first through your underwear, rubbing those wet lips through the material."

It was agony not to touch herself. Hermione squeezed her thighs together, but the tension continued unabated.

There was a tension in his voice as he continued, "I'd love to slide those knickers down your legs and leave them pooling around your graceful ankles. I want to lick you slowly at first, tasting your essence. Then I'll plunge my tongue deep inside your cunt until you grind your hips in my face, wanting my tongue to bury itself deeper and deeper inside you. You'll want to come so badly, but I won't let you just yet. I'd pull back from you, replacing my tongue with two fingers, thrusting them fast inside you while I flick my tongue over your clit before I suck hard on the throbbing bud. I won't stop until you come and when you do, I'll fuck you with my cock. I wonder how warm and tight your pussy will feel around me."

Hermione felt her inner vaginal muscles contract. She was so close. If he so much as breathed on her now, she'd sail over the edge.

"As I fuck you harder with each plunge, you'll squeeze your inner muscles around me, gripping my cock hard, unwilling to be parted from it even for a second. I'll keep driving into you until your body writhes beneath mine in ecstasy and you'll spasm all around me from pleasure."

Mental image struck her and Hermione gasped as the blood rushed to her head. Her body constricted, then jerked up from searing orgasm. More wetness gathered between her thighs as she eventually relaxed back into her chair.

"Then and only then, I'll come on those beautiful breasts," Lucius went on. "Once you've recovered your wits, you'd lick my cock clean. Would you like that?"

"Yes. Oh, yes, Mr. Malfoy," she quietly called out, only half comprehending what he was saying now.

He drew a thumb across her bottom lip. "It appears I won our little wager. I am not as incompetent as you thought."

"I never said you were. Only that … never mind. You're the winner, obviously. What shall we do now?" Hermione's energy was suddenly renewed by her curiosity.

The wizard looked her up and down. "What do you think about coming home with me and trying some of this out first hand?"

"You mean bondage and stuff like in the film? I don't know. I've never been restrained before."

His expression became more intense. "Are you interested in giving it a try?"

She hesitated. "I am, but I'm … nervous?"

Cardinal rule of all dates: never, ever sleep on a first date! Never, ever!

But she didn't care about the rules now. He'd just made her come from the power of his words alone. Hermione wanted to see what else he could do to her. She had to face some hard truths anyway: this date might as well be their last whether or not sex was on the table. If they were never to repeat this, she'd probably regret it.

He put a hand on her arm. "You have no reason to be nervous. If it gets too uncomfortable, we'll stop." His breath grew harsh. "Do I have a yes?" he queried in a low, gruff voice.

Hermione was apprehensive, yet aroused. "Yes," she whispered. "But I'd like to return the favor first." She looked at his lap and licked her lips, running her hands suggestively over his inseam.

Understanding her hint, he slowly unzipped his trousers. His cock was already erect as it sprang out from its dark confines. Hermione slipped out of her seat and slid down to her knees in front of him. He waited without urging her. Finally, she put two hands on his thighs, leaned forward, and took him into her mouth.

Experimentally, Hermione went up and down once. She looked up at him and he watched her with a neutral expression. She brought her hands to his cock, caressing the hard flesh while she worked him with her mouth and tongue. He stretched her jaw, but Hermione ignored the discomfort. His hips flexed and his hands went into her hair, but he didn't force her motions.

She tried to relax her throat and take even more of him. Her efforts were rewarded with a long, low moan. Hearing his pleasure thrilled Hermione, and she managed to take in a little more of his length into her mouth, increasing her pace. It wasn't long before his hips moved under her. Lucius gathered her wrists, restraining them against his thighs so that she could use only her mouth on him. Hermione was surprised to hear her own low moan when he pinned her hands, but she let his hips guide her pace.

When he spoke again, his voice was strained pleasure, "I'm going to come. Stop if you don't want me to do it in your mouth."

She didn't slow down.

Hermione sucked a little harder and then he stilled, gushing forcefully into her mouth. His hands were still tight around her wrists, his hips pushing up into her. She continued to suck on his shaft until he was done, swallowing the thick, slightly salty fluid. When he let go of her wrists, she stopped.

His handsome face was flushed and his cock still twitched. "That was …" His eyes searched her face. "…surprising."

Hermione was still on her knees in front of him. "Was it okay?"

He lifted his eyebrows and helped her off the floor. "No, it wasn't okay. It was … perfection."

Blushing, Hermione couldn't believe what she had just done.

Lucius regarded her with an intense look. "Instead of relieving my tension, you've made me want you that much more. Still yes?"

No, you fool! You don't have sex on a first date! You just don't!

"Yes."

For better or for worse, she had sealed her fate.

And so the night begins ...