A/N Thank you to Vitellia for her beta skills. If you haven't read her lovely story, Past Imperfect then you should.

"What happens next?"

She gazed up at him and realised he looked like she felt. He was panting as if he had run a marathon. His pupils were dilated so only a thin rim of silver grey was visible around their edges and his lips were slightly puffy from the force of their clinch. He looked thoroughly debauched and she felt her blush spreading at the thought of what they had just done in the crowded ballroom. Her hands still rested on the front of his waistcoat and she realised that she had been trying, fortunately without success, to disrobe him here in front of hundreds of people. Embarrassment coursed through her. Of course she didn't care what the likes of Narcissa thought of her, but she was aware her behaviour was barely skirting the boundaries of decency. What was it about this man that caused her to behave in such a wanton manner?

He was still looking down expectantly at her and she almost wanted to snap at him that she had no idea what happened next. He was always one step ahead in all of their political maneuvering why couldn't he just take the lead here too? Tell her what to do and absolve her of the responsibility of any decision making? Something told her that he would not grant her such absolution.

He was still holding on to her though. His hands rested lightly on her hips and one of his thumbs circled absentmindedly above her waist band circling the silky material of her blouse against her sensitive skin.

"What do you want to happen?" She kept her eyes fixed on the jeweled pin at his throat as she attempted to shift the focus of attention from herself. His lips curved a fraction of a degree upwards and he shifted his hips pressing himself briefly against her.

"I think I have made myself abundantly clear, don't you?" His lips were millimetres away from her ear and his hot breath blazed a trail across the nerve endings of her neck. Her fingers twitched as she repressed the urge to palm the erection he had pressed so flagrantly against her belly.

"We should leave."

"Yes, I have no desire to create a public spectacle."

Hermione glanced around the room, numerous gazes were averted as she did so. "I think we may be too late in that regard." She chewed her lip. She was going to have her way with Lucius Malfoy. What an unexpected development. Her dilemma now lay in the location of their tryst. She couldn't face the idea of returning to Malfoy Manor. The thought made the bile rise in her throat - not a sexy feeling. She supposed that left her own home. The one she hadn't wanted him in earlier.

She took a deep breath and summoned her courage.

"Would you escort me home?" She tried to keep the uncertainty from her voice as she made her request.

"I'd be delighted."

She wasn't sure if his words were an automatic response borne from years of conditioning or if he understood the 'will you take me home and shag me?' subtext of what she was saying, or if he was merely happy to take her home. Whichever it was it was time to leave.

They collected their cloaks from a house elf and made their way to the front door.

"Don't you want to say goodbye?" Hermione asked.

"Not particularly." Lucius' voice brooked no argument and she wasn't really inclined to push him back into the arms of his ex-wife anyway. In fact, she was quite relieved to get away without any further confrontation with the formidable blond.

"I don't mean to be critical," Hermione began as they walked in what Lucius assured her was the direction of the nearest Apparition point. "But that was an odd choice for a first date."

Lucius stiffened a little beside her. It appeared his ego was more fragile than she would have guessed.

"In what way?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him. He was avoiding her eyes. "Well," she began carefully not wishing to offend him. "I've never been on a first date where the man in questions' ex-wife was the hostess before."

"Ah." Lucius continued to not look at her. "It hadn't occurred to me that Narcissa would cause a problem. When she was off enjoying herself with a whole host of eligible bachelors she never stopped harping on at me to start seeing someone. She is currently between paramours thus her rather embarrassing display."

"I see," said Hermione who didn't really. She didn't think she'd ever had a paramour let alone been between them. Lucius made it sound very glamorous, like being the filling in a delicious sex sandwich as opposed to the harsh reality of being a single woman living in London with only her geriatric cat for company. "Well, I'm sorry if she was upset by my presence."

"I'm not," Lucius said cheerfully. "She's rubbed my face in her indiscretions one too many times. "

"So that was why you invited me?"

"No!" He frowned. "Not consciously at least." He frowned even harder a furrow appearing between his eyes. "I must admit it was nice to be the one flaunting their beautiful and exotic partner, but that was not my primary reason for asking you."

"Beautiful and exotic," Hermione said faintly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You think I'm beautiful and exotic?"

"I mentioned that earlier."

"No." She shook her head as she mentally replayed their earlier conversation. "You called me desirable and beautiful."

"Well, you may add exotic to the list of accolades." He stopped walking and looked down at her. "Miss Granger, Hermione, despite my concerted efforts I feel as if we may still be operating at cross purposes."

"How so?" Hermione looked up at him. Here it was. The real reason behind his frankly odd behaviour…

"My earlier assurances appear to have fallen on deaf ears, so I will attempt, once more, to make myself clear. My sole reason for inviting you this evening was because I wished to spend more time with you, in an informal setting. With the hope of pursuing a romantic attachment. In retrospect, I appreciate that my ex-wife's party might not have been the best choice of venue, but please believe me when I say that I chose it with the best of intentions."

"Really?" Hermione was struggling to process the entire scenario. Not just this new honest Lucius, but the fact that he appeared to be genuinely interested in her.

"Yes." Lucius resumed walking. "I knew you would be uncomfortable coming to my home so

I didn't invite you there. I thought you would be embarrassed to be seen in public with me, but would prefer to security of an audience in case I relapsed and fell back into my old murderous ways," a hint of a smile suggested that this were not a genuine concern, "and I wanted to spend New Year's Eve with you so I would have an excuse to kiss you at midnight."

He removed a key from the pocket of his robes and unlocked the gate to a small private garden. "The Apparition point is in here." Hermione followed him through the gate.

"Erm, how are we going to do this?" She asked, her head still reeling from his revelations.

"In the normal manner." Lucius looked at her askance. "You do know how to Apparate, I'm sure?"

"Yes, but you don't know where I live, so how will you…?"

"Side along is fine." Lucius held out a large well-manicured hand.

Hermione swallowed. She couldn't quite believe that Lucius Malfoy, pureblood supremacist, was about to allow her to whisk his precious body through space. She took a deep calming breath and prayed to any deity she could think of that she wouldn't splinch either him or herself.

They made it to the back garden of her parent's house without incident. Hermione has elected to live in the large semi in a pleasant suburb rather than in the small flat her salary could have bought her. Sentiment prevented her from selling the house where she'd grown up and living in the family home made her feel closer to her parents somehow. Besides, it was a very nice house.

Lucius looked appreciatively at the frontage as Hermione fished in her cloak pocket for a key.

"I do believe the ministry is paying its junior ministers too much," he remarked.

"Don't you dare." Hermione pointed her door key threateningly at him.

"Don't I dare what?"

"You've got that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"The one you always get right before you cut someone's budget."

"I was merely making an observation."

"Well stop observing. This is my parents' house."

Lucius looked alarmed. "Your father isn't waiting inside to ascertain whether my intentions are honourable, is he?"

"No. My parents don't live here." Hermione wasn't in the mood to explain the whereabouts of her still Obliviated parents. "You're quite safe….shit," the last part was muttered under her breath as an elderly couple rounded the corner and eagerly crossed the street to accost her and Lucius.

"Hermione," the elderly woman gushed. "How lovely to see you. You must introduce your friend."

Must I? "Lucius, this is Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. They live across the road. I've known them since I was a little girl. Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, this is Lucius Malfoy." She purposefully did not give her nosy neighbours any further information regarding Lucius. They could jolly well draw their own conclusions. She could see them looking him over carefully.

"It's lovely to meet you, Lucius." Mrs. Briggs held out her hand. To Hermione's relief Lucius took it. "You must be in the same 'club' as Hermione." She made little inverted commas in the air around 'club'. Lucius looked across at Hermione and she nodded slightly.

"Yes," he agreed. "That's how we know each other."

"Of course, of course. It's lovely she has such an immersive hobby." The old lady beamed at Lucius until Hermione began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, erm, I'm afraid we need to go. It's terribly late. It was lovely to see you both."

"Lovely to see you too, dear." With a flurry of well wishes the elderly couple tottered off to their own home casting numerous unsubtle glances in Hermione and Lucius' direction.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Hermione pulled him through the front door and shut it firmly behind them.

"Club?" Lucius asked.

"My parents made something up when I started going to Hogwarts. The told the neighbours I was part of some pagan society. It explained the strangely dressed visitors and the owls at least."

"Paganism?" Lucius looked affronted. "That couldn't be further from the magic we practice."

"Thank you, I am aware of that." Hermione removed her cloak. "But the Statute of Secrecy forbade me from revealing exactly what magic I do practice to to the neighbourhood so this seemed like a harmless compromise. Except all the neighbours think I'm terribly eccentric now. Would you like me to hang that up?" Lucius had removed his cloak and was looking around her home with interest. "Just make yourself at home," she muttered as he handed her the cloak and made his way unbidden into the living room where he paused to examine the photos on the dresser.

"Why aren't they moving?" He gave a portrait of Hermione and her parents a poke.

"Muggle pictures don't move." Hermione abandoned their cloaks over the end of the bannister and followed him into the room.

"How strange." Lucius moved carefully around the room. He spent several minutes examining the television remote and as long over the bookcase which contained her father's collection of National Geographic magazines. When he had flicked the living room lights on and off three times Hermione interrupted him.

"Would you like a drink...or some tea?"

She bit her lip shyly as his attention was suddenly brought back to her.

"I've never been in a Muggle home before."

"Is it what you expected?"

"I'm not sure what I expected." He looked around him. "It is less primitive, I suppose."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I remember the first time I visited Ron's home. I was blown away."

Lucius gave a disdainful sniff. "I can assure you my own home is infinitely superior to that of Arthur Weasley."

"I've had the pleasure of visiting your home," she said quietly. "On the whole I think I preferred the Burrow."

Lucius winced. "I'm sorry." She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so nonplussed before. "That was crass of me. I hope that one day you might return under more auspicious circumstances." He took a hesitant step toward her.

She ducked her head in order to avoid his gaze. "Maybe," she finally answered.

He stepped closer still and tucked an errant cur behind her ear. "I don't really want any tea."

"Me neither."

His fingertips traced along her cheekbone. She wondered if she imagined the slight tremble as his hand cupped her cheek.

"I have been thinking of nothing but this since Christmas Eve," he said as he covered her lips with his own.

Hermione might have wished to dwell on his words, but already that intoxicating magic was taking hold and she was helpless in its thrall.

"Why does this keep happening?" She pulled away enough to ask.

"Why do I keep kissing you?"

"No." She smacked his chest, certain that he was being deliberately obtuse. Somehow her hand lingered there her fingers toying with the buttons of his waistcoat. "When we do kiss. I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?"

She spread her fingers as she groped desperately for words. "I don't quite know how to describe it...it's quite overwhelming."

"I know." His admission took her by surprise.

"You do?"

"Yes, I feel the same."

"I can't imagine you being overwhelmed by anything."

He gave a brief shrug. "Then perhaps you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Hermione privately thought that she didn't know him at all and right now she didn't much care. They were not going to get to the bottom of their strange sexual chemistry by discussing the matter. Instead, summoning her considerable reserves of courage, she took his hand and backed out of the living room, leading him determinedly up the stairs.

He hesitated in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely." Her response surprised her a little, but she realised she spoke the truth. She didn't think she had ever been more certain of anything in her life. And, as if to prove her point, she began to undo the small buttons of his waistcoat. He stood patiently as she undressed him. Occasionally he lifted an arm in order to assist her, but otherwise he allowed her to work without interference. Hermione unwrapped him as if he were a long awaited Christmas gift. She set his robes aside as if they were a delicate paper she planned to reuse and folded his cravat as if it were a ribbon she might bring out to fasten around another gift the following year.

After what seemed like an age he stood topless before her, his grey eyes alight with desire and fixed on hers.

"What now?"

In response she began to unbutton her own blouse. Still, he watched her although she could see from the tick of a muscle in his jaw how much effort remaining still cost him. She managed to unbutton her shirt entirely before he lost his internal battle and closed the distance between them. Within seconds she was divested of her shirt and bra and his hot mouth had closed around one of her nipples. She cried out with surprise and excitement as he sucked hard enough to bruise. His hands were everywhere. They stroked the curve of her spine and kneaded the flesh of her buttocks. They toyed with her other nipple and curved around her back to hold her more closely against his mouth as he trailed hot biting kisses between her breasts before fastening onto the other nipple.

Hermione writhed and wriggled against him. Her own hands were as impatient as his. Her fingers splayed across the flawless plane of his back. They tangled in his platinum hair and pulled him even closer to her as she moaned and whimpered her encouragement.

Before she quite knew what was happening he had tumbled them both backward onto the bed and then he was kissing her and she was seeing stars once again. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts eagerly against his chest even as her hands crept down to cup his taut backside.

The foreplay didn't last long. They were both too revved up, adrenaline flowing along with whatever other pheremones they were exuding, and much sooner than perhaps either of them expected Lucius managed to strip off Hermione's trousers and knickers in one go.

"Are you ready?" There was a note of desperation in his voice as he positioned himself between her thighs. But Hermione didn't even take the time to revel in her power over him as she gasped her response.

"Yes, God yes, please, Lucius."

He needed no further encouragement and she gave a wail as he thrust hard, bottoming out on the first stroke. She hadn't really had time to appreciate how large he was and it really had been two years since her last sexual encounter. The stretch as her body acclimated to his was more than a little uncomfortable. She whimpered, her fingers clenching convulsively around his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" his voice was a mere gasp. "I can stop if you need me to." There was a hint of desperation behind his assurance.

"No, no, don't stop." Pain and pleasure were so very closely connected and she could feel that the pleasure was right there, just within her grasp. "Can you kiss me again?"

He obliged and her body melted into his. That glorious cacophony of sensation that his lips had never ceased to ignite began once more and she unconsciously arched against him. His thick length buried deep inside her now somehow made sense as it hadn't before and they began to move in harmony.

The burning aching stretch was still there. Right beneath the pleasure was an edge of pain. Just as beneath Lucius' veneer of social civility there was core of brutal determination. Hermione took pleasure in both. He stopped kissing her and it occurred to her that he, like she, was so overwhelmed by what was happening that he lacked the co-ordination to move his hips and mouth at the same time. Then he raised his head so his eyes locked with hers and she realised that he simply wished to see her. He watched as she writhed beneath him helpless to temper her response to him. At first she feared what she might see in his eyes, self-satisfaction or triumph perhaps. But there was only wonder in his silver grey gaze as he angled himself so his pelvis ground against her clitoris and he brought her to orgasm more quickly than she could even manage herself. It was too much. The pleasure, his stare, his kisses; the entire phenomenon of her and this man was too much to take and she closed her eyes to shut out something as the waves of pleasure consumed her.

"Look at me."

"What?" she panted. She was barely capable of basic comprehension at this point.

"Look at me." She felt his hand on her cheek and she forced her eyes open even though she felt wrung out by her orgasm and ready to pass out at any moment. The blazing intensity in his eyes was almost enough to make her faint in itself. Nobody had ever looked at her like this. As if she were the most precious and wonderful thing in the world. His mouth dropped open and he shuddered above her, his entire body quaking with the strength of his own orgasm.

Then he collapsed on top of her and cradled her body against his as his heart beat painfully fast against her own.

Hermione could only lie beneath him, still pulsing with the occasional aftershock, wondering what exactly had just happened. Because it felt as if she had experienced the most mind blowingly intimate sex of her entire life with Lucius Malfoy of all people. He shifted a little to allow her to breathe, but otherwise he said nothing, seemingly content merely to hold her in his arms as their vital signs gradually normalised.

Eventually, the analytical part of her brain woke up and began to ask questions. Questions like what the hell just happened? And, is that going to happen again? And she found herself asking out loud, "So what happens next?"

To her surprise Lucius let out a slightly hoarse chuckle. "Well, I haven't drawn up a detailed timetable. But, I shall have to recover for a short while then I shall have you on your hands and knees in front of that mirror." He gestured with his head toward the mirror at the end of her bed.

"Oh." Hermione stared up at him and to her surprise she felt her slightly bruised and battered body clench with anticipation.

For a man so fastidious in his dress Lucius was a very untidy sleeper. During the night he had somehow taken over three quarters of Hermione's not small double bed. She woke to find him sprawled inelegantly on his front. His hair and limbs were strewn across the covers and one large hand weighed her down, the fingers clenched possessively over the curve of her backside.

Untidy or not, he was also exceptionally beautiful. His smooth skin glowed in the early morning light and she could see the subtle definition of the musculature of his back and thighs. It was as if a marble statue had lain down for a nap in the middle of her bed. She was loathe to wake him, but eventually the demands of her bladder overrode her desire to feast her eyes on the vision before her. She tried to slip out from under his hand, but was met with a protesting groan.

"Where?" A single grey eye looked beseechingly up at her as his hand tightened on her backside.

"Bathroom."

"Oh." He reluctantly removed his arm and the eye closed.

Hermione limped her way to the bathroom feeling more than a little well used. Whilst Lucius had been undoubtedly worshipful in his lovemaking he had been extremely enthusiastic too. She ached all over as if she had taken part in a particularly strenuous exercise class. She winced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked as if she'd gone six rounds with a heavyweight boxer not a member of the wizarding elite. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, she sported a love bite over her collarbone and her hair was matted, actually matted at the back.

There was precious little she could do with her appearance. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and glamoured the bags under her eyes. With a heavy sigh she pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Presumably Lucius hadn't chosen her for her hair.

He appeared to be asleep when she came back to the bedroom. A blanket was now pooled around his waist and she did wonder if he had spent a few minutes arranging it to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible. She slipped under the covers doing her best not to disturb the sleeping man who took up most of the bed.

"I thought you'd run away." His voice was gravelly with sleep.

"I couldn't fit through the bathroom window." She finished on a slight squeak as an arm snaked out to pull her up against his chest her bottom nestled against his erection. "Steady on!" She reached down to intercept his wandering hand. "I'm a bit sore."

"I'm sorry." He leaned up on an elbow in order to see her face. "Was I over enthusiastic?"

"No!...Well maybe a bit, but I enjoyed it at the time."

"Five times," he said a little smugly.

"Now now, Mr. Malfoy," she turned to face him and wrapped her fingers around his cock. "Nobody likes a braggart."

"Whatever you say." He gasped for breath and thrust his hips against her hand. "Circe, please don't stop. You have no idea how many times I have imagined you doing this."

Really?

"You've imagined me doing this?" She pumped her hand up and down a couple of times. He winced.

"Yes. Although gently, please, I may have overexerted myself last night."

She loosened her fingers, stroking down the hard length of him instead. He purred contentedly.

"For how long exactly have you been imagining me doing this?" she asked. She wondered if it had been that first kiss under the mistletoe which had ignited his interest as it had hers.

"Since I came to work at the ministry. On my first day...I knew then…" He looked a little hurt. "You don't remember?"

She wracked her brain. "I'm not sure."

"There was a debate on a piece of legislation you were trying to implement. Werewolf rights if I recall."

"Oh, that day." Her fingers stilled against him. "You were a complete arse. You argued against every point I made just to spite me."

"I most certainly did not." He placed his hand over hers encouraging her to continue her stroking. "I simply wished to ensure you had fully considered all the repercussions of your recommendation. I'll have you know I voted in your favour."

"You did?"

"I usually do in the end."

She slid her fingers lower and stroked his balls as she considered what he was saying. "Did you vote for me because you wanted me to do this?"

"No," his voice was slightly strangled. "Although if you keep doing that I'll vote for any bill you want to pass."

She smiled slightly. His admiration was puzzling, but hugely gratifying.

"I wanted you to do this because you made me vote for you." His grey eyes sought out hers.

"I don't understand."

"You grabbed me by the balls," he glanced down at her exploring hand, "metaphorically speaking, and really made me think. I was predisposed to reconsider much of the dogma I had previously subscribed to anyway. But you, you were so passionate, so certain, so idealistic. You made me believe in the possibility of a better world. From that day I knew I had to have you."

"Really?"

"Yes really."

Hermione frowned. "Well you have a funny way of showing it."

It was Lucius' turn to frown. "I don't follow."

"For the last six months you've made my life a misery."

"I have?" He looked contrite.

"Yes! You've opposed every piece of legislation I've proposed."

"Not opposed, questioned thoroughly in order to make sure it was legislatively sound."

She ignored that. "You've slashed my budget."

"As I have everyone else's in order to save the economy from complete collapse. You are really overly preoccupied with how I do my job."

"You've called me mudblood."

"For heaven's sake, woman." He rolled suddenly so he was on top of her. "It was the only thing I could do that ever got your attention!"

She blinked slowly. "You called me names in order to get my attention?"

At this he buried his face in her shoulder and gave an exaggerated sob. "Sweet Merlin, I'm dealing with an imbecile. No. In order to get your attention I have worked every hour of the day and night for no financial recompense. I have attended every debate for every piece of legislation you have tried to pass. I have joined every board and committee you are a member of. I've even donated money to your ridiculous house elf movement and freed my own bloody elves."

"I didn't know—"

"It was all over the Daily Prophet. I made sure it was in the hope that other pureblood families might follow suit. I have done nothing short of prostrate myself at your feet. Only then, when I had done absolutely everything possible to get your attention and still you ignored me did I call you names…"

She gaped up at him. "But why—"

"Because I'm in love with you." His face was inches from her own and it struck her that he ought to have morning breath. She would never have the confidence to declare her affections to anyone at point blank range before she had brushed her teeth. But of course Lucius fucking perfect Malfoy still smelled as fresh as a daisy. "I have been in love with you for six months. Six months during which time you have barely given me the time of day. Then I discovered that all I had to do was call you mudblood and you'd pursue me into my office and harangue me for hours on end." He flexed his hips against hers. "You have no idea how much those encounters meant to me."

"You...you...got off on me shouting at you."

"I got off as you so crudely put it on you acknowledging I existed." He flexed his hips again and they both groaned a little as his cock rubbed against her tender genitals. "You shouting at me sustained my sexual fantasies for weeks on end."

"You might as well have pulled my hair."

She slipped her hand between their bodies and guided him inside her, wincing as her bruised interior stretched to accommodate him.

He grimaced and bit her shoulder. "This is really quite painful."

"I know." She curled her toes as he began to move slowly inside her.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No." She dug her fingers into his buttocks. "Do you want to stop?"

"No." He sucked in a sharp breath. "But if we're going to continue at this frequency I'm going to have to purchase some sort of salve."

"I could make one, I think. I'm good at potions."

After that they didn't speak for several minutes although Hermione made a variety of interesting noises.

"Lucius?"

"Hmm," he answered sleepily. She was lying half over his chest and he vibrated pleasantly as he spoke. "How long had you been standing under that mistletoe?"

"About four hours." His fingers gently stroked the skin of her back.

"And was I really the first person to pass?"

"Of course not. I had forcibly rejected several other witches and that enthusiastic boy from the mailroom before you came along."

"But how did you know I would come?"

He yawned. "I had made sure to position myself between your office and the lifts, I knew it would just be a matter of time."

"What?" She raised her head to stare at him. He returned her accusatory gaze with a look of sleepy satisfaction. "You mean you—"

"Are you always this slow on the uptake?" He guided her head back down onto his chest. "Yes, I planted the mistletoe myself. I decided if I couldn't win you over intellectually I would have to do it physically instead."

"And the mistletoe outside my office?"

"Do you really think the ministry allows enchanted mistletoe as part of its standard decorating package? Think of all the wasted man hours...I vetoed it months ago."

After several minutes when Hermione still hadn't spoken he said, "You're not saying anything and it's making me uncomfortable."

"I'm just thinking."

"You normally do that whilst talking."

"I know...I'm just.." she looked up to meet his gaze. "I think I'm flattered."

"Good." He gave her a sleepy smile. "Now I have your attention I'd very much like to go back to sleep for a few hours."

"And what happens after that?"

We brew up this restorative salve you promised and then…"

"Then?"

He shrugged. "We spend the rest of our lives applying it at regular intervals?"

Hermione balked a little at that. "You know I've only just got my head around you not hating me. Perhaps we could go on a few more dates before we discuss the rest of our lives."

Lucius gave a sleepy smile. "As you wish, my dear."

And they lived happily ever after.

~Happy New Year~