Author's Note: Hello everyone! Just to be clear upfront: I am still working on A Repulsion of Denial. That isn't going anywhere, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. But this has been going on in my head at the same time, and so I wanted to share!

Like the description says, it is a companion piece to A Repulsion of Denial, but this one takes place entirely from Hermione's POV as opposed to Narcissa's. You don't have to read that to understand this one, but it does show a different side of things. Hopefully this gives some more insight into Lucius and Hermione's relationship, and in a different way. I've had a lot of fun with both of these stories so far and I hope you all are too.

Now, just another quick thing to take note of- I completely made up Lucius' (and subsequently Hermione's) position at the Ministry. In trying to figure out what exactly he would do there, I eventually decided that he'd do some sort of consulting within the Ministry itself- basically deciding which departments get attention and funds, how they should be running better, etc. I figured he'd want to do something where he gets to have a lot of power over other people.

Also- just to be clear, I've completely made up anything I mention about centaurs' rights. As far as I know there's no centaur-related department in the Ministry (apart from any magical creature-related departments), nor do any known centaurs want to work there. I'm just weirdly fascinated with the centaurs of the Harry Potter universe and I wanted to bring some of that to light. Rights for centaurs! (Maybe I'll start a SPEW-esque campaign).

Anyway, on with the story! And of course I own nothing but my words here.

I never meant to fall in love with him.

I meant to hate him entirely, to loathe him with every part of me that still cried out in residual anger and pain, to live the remainder of my life satisfied with my contempt for him. Somewhere along that pathway, however, I went very, very wrong.

Life after Hogwarts fell into a surprisingly normal routine. After the near endless chaos of my school years, I found myself grateful for it. I gained a job immediately at the Ministry of Magic and worked as hard as I ever had at Hogwarts, and after a matter of months my effort seemed to pay off when I earned a promotion as assistant to the rarely-seen (and never by me) head of the Internal Ministry Affairs.

I knew little about my new position at first; I now know why my superiors were so reluctant to tell me about it.

Lucius Malfoy's assistant.

Nothing had ever sounded so terrible. It felt so degrading, despite the significant step up from the grunt work I had been doing as a new employee to a role in a far more prestigious department. Upon hearing about it I had immediately colored my view with my existing opinion of the man. It was admittedly valid, to be sure, but yet undeveloped. Eventually I allowed myself the open-mindedness to see for myself whether he had changed, as Kingsley Shacklebolt himself had insisted was the case.

I accepted the position with a mix of determination in my career, insistence upon not letting one allegedly-no-longer Death Eater scare me away, and the smallest hint of intrigue into the man so recently reinstated to a shadow of his former glory.

Things went entirely wrong almost immediately.

It started with the job itself. Rather than fetching lunches and rushing between offices with stacks of parchments, Lucius insisted on actually utilizing my knowledge in his work.

("What good is having an abnormally large brain, Miss Granger, if you are going to squander it on learning whether or not some ineffective Ministry dimwit in a forgotten department takes milk or sugar in his tea?")

It all deteriorated quickly from there, as we found ourselves lost amongst stacks of books for hours in the name of research, or hovered over important documents with unintentionally matched expressions of concentration as we discussed each part. I quickly grew to appreciate his shrewd mind; with our obvious differences put aside, arguments between us became a thrill more than a nightmare.

I oddly began to look forward to said arguments. They took on the feel of a duel that utilized wit rather than magic, and I found it exhilarating. I suddenly understood why Ron and Harry always seemed so excited about them. Something about the exchange of quick-fire retorts in passionate argument on whatever we had just read sent a thrill throughout my blood.

Within moments (or so it seems to me now) that thrill centralized within me, the electricity concentrating in the very core of my being so that I could know it for its true name: desire.

I realize now with the clarity that hindsight affords just how inevitable it all was.

Each argument, even from the very beginning, ended in the same fashion: out of responses, we would simply face each other in sudden silence. I would always take note of the flash in his steely eyes, the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks, the way the exertion of conversation would leave him nearly as breathless as I. With each involuntary glance at his lips or subconscious admiration of his broad chest, the movement of it quickened with his increased breaths, the desire within me threatened to erupt.

The entirety of the outside world melted away, in those heated moments. The fact that we had always been such rightful enemies ceased to matter. My relationship with Ron seemed nonexistent; not to mention Lucius's wife. For just a little while, when we stared unblinking into the darkened depths of one another's eyes, we were the only thing in the universe who could possibly matter.

The intensity boiled to its conclusion on an otherwise uneventful day. As rain beat steadily against the window, my employer and I found ourselves in yet another heated debate on Centaur legalities.

"It is a simple matter, Miss Granger. There is absolutely no reason for the Ministry to accommodate a Centaur legal division."

"There is every reason! Did you not read Article Three? The entire thing talks about Centaurs losing their land and not being able to stop it! They need representation here!"

"I have no idea what you are actually expecting, Miss Granger," he drawled, "But it is useless to create something like that when in all likelihood they would never even show up."

"Things are changing. There are Centaurs that want to be part of the Ministry, that disagree with those antiquated laws keeping them in a lesser status to humans. Can you honestly not understand anything outside of yourself, Mister Malfoy?"

His eyes flashed at my mocking demeanor. For a moment I thought I'd gone too far and actually angered him, but a breath's distance later he was in front of me, mere centimeters away, so close I could smell his aroma hovering before me. He smelled of rich leather, old parchment, and something deep and dangerous that I couldn't quite place. The sudden overwhelmingness of it clouded my mind and I feared I might faint.

"I would watch my tone if I were you, Miss Granger," he growled. His breath drifted across my face, causing me to shiver. "You're likely to get yourself into trouble."

I forced myself to keep steady despite the unnerving tension that coiled deep in my belly at the rich timbre of his voice. My eyes flicked up to meet his; the normally icy grey had been lit by a fire that turned them to liquid silver. His gaze threatened to burn my soul. "I think you know all too well that I can handle it."

A smirk ghosted across his hardened expression. I bit my bottom lip and watched his focus slip downward at the motion. The molten silver darkened and I recognized it at once. I knew it as the desire reflected so obviously upon my own face, and my insides jumped in thrilled surprise.

He smirked, all of him typical Malfoy arrogance. I suddenly flashed back to a moment nearly ten years earlier at Flourish and Blotts, staring so heatedly at the man before me as he looked me over with that familiar sneer, both of us only able to eye one another with disdain. Oh, how things change.

We were at each other before either of us even blinked.

His lips met mine with bruising force and I could only respond in kind, opening immediately to his insistent mouth and delighting in the thrill of his tongue moving against my own. He tasted of fire, burning with thrilling intensity, a deep smokiness threatening to overwhelm me. Between his heady flavor and his kiss robbing me of breath I thought I might faint. Oddly enough, I didn't mind.

Just when I was certain I would faint he tore his lips from mine with a reluctant groan. I echoed the sentiment even if my burning lungs welcomed the sudden rush of air. It seemed suddenly impossible to live without him kissing me; how on earth had I survived before?

Though frustrated at first that he did not return his lips to mine, I quickly forgave him when he dragged them down my neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that hit like molten steel where his teeth scraped against my skin.

Too soon he reached the first barrier of my top and grunted in dissatisfaction at it. In mindless agreement I pulled away only enough to rid myself of the offending shirt. He tugged me back to him immediately.

I understood then that there would be no further shedding of unnecessary clothing; there couldn't be. He needed me as I needed him, with a painful urgency that couldn't afford time.

He didn't even remove my bra, only tugged at it until my breasts heaved over the cups. His mouth descended to one while his hand covered the other, both teasing with such intensity I thought I might burst. One of my own hands curled around the back of his head, holding him to my chest, while the other reached down blindly to fumble at his trousers.

Thankfully it didn't take long to work them loose, just enough to pry him from within the trousers' opening. He groaned at that, moving from my breasts to bunch my skirt up around my hips. I helped him in pushing my underwear down. They slipped down and hung off of one ankle when I sat back on his desk. I hardly noticed, and certainly didn't care.

When he positioned himself between my thighs he met my gaze, and I nearly gasped. Amidst the dark desire and the ever-present arrogance there was a spark of something else- hesitation. He looked into my eyes and, for just a flash of a moment, sought my consent. That brushed away any lingering doubt in my mind with sudden overwhelming force. I answered with a slight nod, one of my legs snaking around his hip. He took hold of himself, and in one fluid motion he was inside me.

"Oh...fuck…"

I couldn't help the expletive that escaped my lips, but he echoed my sentiments with his own hissed cursing as he set a rough pace inside me. I reveled in it, in the way that he filled me, surrounded me, seemed to occupy every part of my being. Never before had I felt such utterly perfect completion.

I wrapped both legs around his waist to pull him deeper, needing him more and more. He thrust with bruising force, his fingers pressing into my skin as he gripped my waist almost painfully. I welcomed it, giving the same in return with my nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned and a particularly forceful thrust hit the spot inside me that made me scream.

"Yes! Fuck...again...I'm so close…"

He growled at that, slipping a hand down to the swollen nub of flesh between my legs. It only took a few skillful movements before I fell apart with an unrestrained cry.

"Oh...Lucius!"

He groaned as he reached his own peak mere moments later, his face buried in the curve of my neck. "Yes...Hermione…"

The sound of my name from his lips caused a shudder to radiate throughout my body, highlighting the delightful little aftershocks. I struggled to catch my breath and he did the same, both of us panting and clutching one another, the sounds of our mingled breaths the only noise in an otherwise oppressively silent room. He lifted his head just enough to press his forehead against my own while we slowly floated down from our mutual high.

Reality encroached on the moment all too soon. Voices filtered in from the corridor; other employees shuffling about their days, oblivious to the tightly closed door of Lucius Malfoy's office. After all, it wasn't uncommon for us to barricade ourselves away when focused on work, and they allowed us our space. At first I had resented that we were so shut away, then grew to be grateful for the solitude with my sole companion, but at that precise moment the mundanity of it all caused me to startle in sudden horror.

I pushed myself away from Lucius, trying not to note the sudden feeling of disappointment and loss when he slipped out of me. I stepped back. My body immediately missed the warmth of him, the strength of his arms as he held me surprisingly gently.

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?" he drawled, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between us.

I turned away from where he was rearranging his clothing in order to fix my own. "I- this shouldn't have happened. This was a huge mistake."

"Was it? I found it rather enjoyable. I don't consider something that pleasant to be a mistake."

When I looked back over, he was smirking.

"But you're married!" I exclaimed, as if he didn't already know. "You have a wife! And I have a-"

I stopped short and he arched a brow. "You have a what?"

I didn't quite know how to answer. The word boyfriend suddenly sounded so ridiculous, so juvenile. I eventually sighed, "I have Ron."

His eyes grew suddenly cold. "Ah yes, Mr. Weasley. It always did seem a curious choice, the two of you. He is not the most refined individual. I would think a woman such as yourself would need something a bit more...stimulating."

For a moment I hated him again, possibly worse than I had before. "You are in no position to comment on Ron, or my relationship, Mr. Malfoy. Ron is a good man. I love him."

His lip twitched. It looked like a smirk. "Enough to stray, it seems. Imagine what the man you love might think if he knew how willingly you gave yourself to a former Death Eater…"

"Stop it!" At some point I had begun to sob. I struggled to keep my voice even, but determination pressed me on. "You are a horrible man, Lucius Malfoy. I don't know how I could have thought differently. I made a serious mistake today, I know that I did, but at least I can admit it and try to better myself from it. I may have been unfaithful to Ron...I will have to live with that...but your unfaithfulness to your wife hardly renders you blameless here. And you certainly don't seem to care about that. You have no regard for anybody else. You are..."

I found myself unable to think of anything, and shook my head instead. When I spoke again my voice had somewhat calmed. "I want nothing- nothing- more to do with you, Mr. Malfoy. Goodbye."

With that, I gathered my things in a rush and stormed out the door. If he wanted to retort, I didn't see it. Within moments I had made my way to one of the Ministry's many fireplaces and Floo'd my way home. The only thing that lingered in my thoughts was the image of Lucius Malfoy standing before me as I unleashed my anger upon him, a stunned yet hardened expression on his face.

When I arrived at my flat, I broke down once more. I barely made it across the living room to the couch before I collapsed onto it with a heaving cry. Everything seemed to hurt- the shock of my behavior, the guilt at what I had done to Ron- but nothing, nothing tore at me as much as the knowledge that all I wanted was to do it again.

Leave a review if you are so inclined! There is sure to be more of this, their story is far from over.