Keynote: I am not a babysitter. This story is rated M for a reason. While there isn't really any violence, there are some pretty adult situations and adult themes throughout.

Hermione stared at herself in front of the mirror and twirled in place. She had never been a girl to childishly twirl in front of a mirror. Nor was she the type to do so while wearing a dress with prints on it. However, the dark blue gown had silver snowflakes etched throughout the skirt and when she twirled, it looked as though the snowflakes were dancing upon her dress. She giggled as she stopped twirling, the whole room moved for a moment before settling.

The young woman gazed into the mirror again, but this time, she didn't twirl. She smiled at her reflection. Her hair, though normally unruly, was perfectly curled with most of it piled atop her head in an elegant fashion with small rhinestone gems decorating it. Her makeup was perfectly applied, thanks to Hermione's sister-in-law… Or was she an "ex" sister-in-law now? The smile faded as the last few months cascaded through the witch's memory.

Ron had proposed to her shortly after the war. It had actually been a rather lovely, mature proposal, too, which had taken her by surprise. He had waited until they had found her parents and Hermione had restored their memories. Then, to Hermione's utter shock, Ron had gone into a room alone with her father and mother and personally asked them for permission to marry her. It was only after they had granted it that Ron had asked Hermione to a romantic evening at this high scale Wizarding restaurant in Paris.

They were married about half a year later, and for a time, they were happy. At least, that was how Hermione had seen it. She had begun working for the Ministry of Magic, fighting for the rights of magical beings and creatures. Ron had done the Auror thing for a little bit, but then decided to help his brother, George, with the joke shop. A few months into working at the joke shop, Ron decided to quit the Auror department and had begun working at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes as a full-time employee.

Hermione wasn't certain when things had truly started to change, but she supposed it had to have been sometime when Ron was trying to juggle being an Auror and working with his brother. He became… different. It was like he was turning back into his old self, the guy who was rude and didn't care much about other people. He had become this person who no longer gave Hermione's feelings or thoughts any consideration. He stopped asking her about her day. He stopped coming home in time for dinner. He would stay out until late, too, and once, he didn't even come home.

Hermione had done some digging. It didn't take her long to learn where his favorite pub was. Sometimes she would disguise herself, so she could go there and keep an eye on him, but she never saw anything untoward. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Ron told her he wanted to get a divorce. She demanded to know why, but the only reason he gave was because they had simply grown apart. According to him, they both wanted different things in life and she could not provide for him what he needed. He was unsatisfied.

So, she told him that if he was that unsatisfied, then he could leave. He was packed and gone before the sun melted into the horizon. Watching him walk out of the tent when they were searching for Horcruxes hadn't been nearly as heartbreaking as Hermione had felt when he left. She had Flooed to Harry and Ginny's home and ended up crying herself to sleep on their sofa. There she stayed for nearly a month until she found herself a small flat right outside of London.

Ten years of her life had been spent loving Ron. Longer than that if you counted her time in Hogwarts. Now here she was, going on twenty-seven, and her first marriage was on the verge of divorce.

A single tear fell from her eye and she quickly dabbed it, lest it mess up what Ginny had spent a meticulous thirty minutes on. She looked in the mirror again. The gown had a deep V neckline and it flared out at the hips.

"Oh, Ron is going to eat his heart out," Ginny said as she leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom.

Hermione had come over to the Potters' place to ready herself for the Ministry Yule Ball. She had wanted Ron to see what it was he was missing. Looking at herself, she wasn't sure anymore if that was really what she wanted. She sighed as she said, "I don't know, Gin. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

Ginny groaned as she pushed herself off the doorframe and entered the room. "Come off it, Hermione," she scolded. "It's been months now. You are a beautiful, powerful, single, young witch. It's time for you to get back out there. Show the world that Hermione Granger isn't some 'last resort'. Hermione Granger is fierce. Hermione Granger will not let some man bring her down."

Hermione gave her a wry smile. "Then why am I dressed up like a child?" she asked, touching her gown.

"My mother would box my ears if I ever even think about wearing something like that," Ginny told her. She shook her head. "Trust me, Hermione, you do not look like a child. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if half the eligible men tonight tried to take you home with them."

The Muggle born rolled her eyes and Ginny chuckled as Harry came up behind her. "Wow, Hermione," he said, "you look amazing!"

"Doesn't she, though?" Ginny gushed. She grinned at Harry. "And how do you think I look?"

The messy haired man kissed his wife on the nose. "Beautiful and pregnant," he answered her.

She popped him playfully on the chest and he smirked. Looking back up at Hermione, he asked, "Are we ready?"

Hermione took one last look in the mirror and nodded. "Let's get this over with," she commented and the three of them left the room and house to head to the Apparation Point.

(II)(II)

Three years. It had been three years since Narcissa Malfoy had passed from a tragic illness. Lucius had done everything he could to save her, from hiring the best Healers money could buy to even moving her halfway across the globe to try to find something, anything that could save her life. It was all for naught, though, for in the end, she perished.

Lucius closed his eyes and thought about that fateful night as he held her feeble hand and did the only other thing he could think of: he prayed. He hadn't known who he was praying to, but surely if there was a God, he was listening, right? It hadn't occurred to him until after she took her last breath that he was a Death Eater. Chances of God answering his prayer were, pretty much, non-existent for him. He hadn't really ever done anything to earn God's favor, or any god to be precise.

Her death had been a devastating blow to both him and Draco. For the longest time, Draco had blamed his father. If only Lucius hadn't done, or had done, some idea Draco had come up with, then maybe…

Lucius checked his chin in the mirror. It wouldn't do for him to show up at a ball with stubble on his chin. Taking his wand in hand, he rid himself of the pesky growth. He was a Malfoy, and as such, clean-cut perfection was key.

After the first year of Narcissa's death, Lucius went back into his routine. Every morning he would get in some cardio by either running three kilometres on the Malfoy grounds or taking his broom and flying the entire perimeter of the ground. Once he was done, he would go inside and spend about thirty minutes or so lifting weights in his private gym that was adjacent to his bedroom.

He would shower and join Draco and Astoria at the breakfast table where they would partake in a healthy meal full of fruit, grains, and yogurt. He would read the morning paper and they would discuss whatever news topics there were. The children would leave, then, to return to whatever they were doing for the day, and Lucius would go to his office where he would begin the painstaking task in ensuring the rise of the Malfoy empire.

He kept things honest, or at least as honest as he could. He stayed away from the black market these days. It was his fault, his dark dealings, that had nearly destroyed their family. If it hadn't been for Narcissa and her strength…

Lucius wouldn't think on it. He straightened his dark grey robes and put on his family ring. Slipping on his serpentine silver bracelet, he checked his face one last time. Without looking back, he grabbed his cane and began walking to the Floo.

It had been three years since his wife had passed away, even longer since he had attended a Ministry function. The war was over, had been over for a little over nine years now. Sure, there was still plenty of work to be done, but he had already given the Wizarding World about half of the Malfoy wealth in donations geared towards rebuilding the Ministry, Hogwarts, and St. Mungos. He had even sent money to help the orphanages and the victims of the war. He had been absolved of his crimes thanks to Harry Potter stepping forward at his trial. And, of course, Lucius's own willingness to help the Ministry capture the remaining Death Eaters and Snatchers.

There may still be some out there, for Lucius knew the Aurors were still searching. He stayed out of it. After turning in more than a dozen of the scum, he knew it would take even more years before he was welcomed back into the Pureblood society with willing, open arms. He hoped to keep it that way for a little longer. The war, though it was 9 years ago, was still rather fresh.

It was time for Lucius to restart his own life. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys did not wither away.

(III)(III)

If Hermione hadn't felt ambiguous about attending the Ministry Yule Ball without a date, she was undoubtedly feeling so now. Harry and Ginny entered the room first, arm in arm, and people stopped to stare at the infamous couple as they walked down the stair. Hermione took a few calming breaths before she commenced her journey to the bottom step. She was careful as she walked to not trip over her own gown and she noticed people gawking at her. No doubt they had expected Ron to be by her side, though they should have known by now the truth. Well, most of the truth, that was, at least.

An usher met her at the bottom of the stair and led her to her assigned seating. Thank Merlin for assigned seating. Ginny gave her a reassuring smile as the older witch join she and Harry at the table. There would be a small speech by the Minister, a light feast, and then dancing. Hermione wondered how long she would be forced to stay before she could make a hasty dash for the exit without anyone noting it.

Hermione watched as more wizards and witches entered the hall. She beamed at Neville and Hannah Longbottom, both dressed to the nines. The Ministry had given Neville such a handsome reward for his services during the war. He was a decorated hero, though the happiness he was currently showing seemed to be due to the woman on his arm rather than an Order of Merlin First Class.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly when she saw Luna coming down the stairs with a rather handsome bloke. She glanced at Harry who she caught frowning. "I know him, don't I?" she asked.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man on Luna's arm. "You should," he answered.

Hermione looked back up at the wizard. He had black hair and it looked as though he had dark eyes, too, though Hermione couldn't really tell from this distance. She continued to stare at him for a moment as an usher met the couple at the bottom of the stair and begun guiding them to their table. She gasped and put a hand over her mouth when she saw the other two couples at the table Luna was led to. "That's Theodore Nott!" the Muggleborn hissed under her breath.

Harry grunted. "After school, Luna had decided to travel abroad to look for her unusual creatures and she met Nott during one of her excursions," he explained. "From what I gather, they've been inseparable since."

Ginny glanced at Hermione and tilted her head. "I thought you knew that, Hermione? Luna came to our house last month and told us they would be getting married soon."

"What?" Hermione's attention shot to the red head. "Luna never told me she was getting married! And to him of all people?"

The younger witch shrugged. "He's actually not a bad guy, if I'm being honest," she said. "Luna had brought him with her to give us the news and introduce him to us. I couldn't tell if she had known we knew who he was or if she was wanting to simply show us that he wasn't who we thought he was, but it had been quite a pleasant evening. I reckoned she must have seen you as well."

Hermione shook her head as she gazed over at the other two couples. She quickly recognized Padma Patil and Blaise Zabini. When her eyes fell on Draco Malfoy and his wife, a little part of her died somewhere deep inside and she didn't know why. The three couples looked happy and lively as they greeted one another.

Hermione turned her attention back to her friends as Neville and Hannah joined them. The Muggle born beamed at the couple. "I heard you were going to be working at Hogwarts, Neville. Is that true?" she asked after they were seated.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he replied with a grin. "Professor Sprout is retiring after this year and I will be taking her place. I'm working as a teacher's assistant right now, learning how she does things. Though, I will admit I already knew most of what she's been trying to teach me. Herbology was always my favorite class."

Hermione's smile widened sincerely. "I am so happy for you," she told him honestly. She looked at Hannah. "And you as well, Hannah," she added. "I heard you were taking over the Leaky Cauldron?"

Hannah nodded enthusiastically. "It's going to be a great new adventure for both of us, I think. I can't wait, myself."

The happiness the couple had was contagious and soon Hermione found herself filled with merriment and joy. They both had complimented her gown and Neville even asked if she could save him a dance later, which she readily agreed to do.

The group of friends began chatting among themselves and Hermione could feel herself becoming the fifth wheel as Ginny preened over the second child in her stomach that Hannah gushed over. Thankfully, a waiter had come by and offered them champagne. Hermione took a flute and was busy sipping at it as she listened to her friends. It actually had a rather pleasant taste to it, though she was sipping more out of boredom than enjoyment. The enthusiasm she had felt moments ago had dwindled as more people settled into their respective seats.

A light tap on her shoulder nearly made Hermione jump out of her skin. She hadn't realized her mind had wandered so far as she turned to see who had interrupted her thoughts. Luna gave her a serene smile as she placed a hand on her husband-to-be's robe covered chest. Her smile faltered a smidge when she noticed the look on Hermione's face. "Oh, did I startle you?" she asked in concern.

Hermione waved a hand dismissively as she placed her flute on the table. "No. No, sorry, Luna," she said. "I just wasn't paying attention. My apologies."

The Gryffindor stood up then and kissed Luna's cheek. "It's so nice to see you, Luna," she told the young witch. "And you look so lovely."

The slightest of blushes graced Luna's delicate cheeks. "Thank you," she said. "And you do as well, Hermione."

"Thank you," Hermione said kindly. She smiled. "Luna, you didn't tell me you were getting married." She gave Nott a once over and straightened her shoulders.

Luna's head tilting in confusion. "I had," she told the witch. "Hermione, I told you about my engagement months ago. I had even gone to the Ministry and we had lunch together. Don't you remember? You called Theodore a scallywag and asked me if I was sure if I wanted to marry him."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Had she really forgotten about this event? She searched her mind for the memory as Nott gave her a roguish smirk. "I…" she glanced helplessly at Harry and Ginny who both looked at her in surprise. Frowning, Hermione turned back to her yellow haired friend. "I am so sorry, Luna. My mind hasn't been all here since Ron left and… I must have forgotten." She looked at Nott again and her frown deepened. "You are treating her well, aren't you, Nott?"

"Better than a scallywag would," he answered, drawing anxious chuckles from the table. He gave Hermione a small nod of his head. "Luna had told me of your plight, Mrs. Granger-Weasley. You do have my sincerest condolences. Apparently, the true scoundrel had been the man who had broken your heart and I do hope he is here tonight, so he could feel the shame of his actions."

"It's just 'Granger' now," Hermione told him. "And I would rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you. The past is the past and I think it is time to begin anew."

"Hear, hear!" Neville said boisterously as he banged his hand on the table.

Hermione turned back to Luna. "I do hope you can forgive me."

Luna shook her head slightly. "There's nothing to forgive," she said as they touched cheeks again. "Next week we will be having an engagement party at Nott Manor, Hermione. I do hope you'll be there."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," the bushy haired brunette replied. She gave Nott a stern look. "You better treat her well, Nott. If you hurt her, you'll be hunted and skinned alive."

He gave her a bow and said, "I wouldn't dream of it, Ms. Granger. Of that, you have my word as a gentleman and a wizard."

~3~3~3~

The Minister had given a powerful speech about unity and overcoming one another's differences. He had spoken over how well the charities had fared and even had the guests give Lucius, specifically, a round of awkward applause for his contributions. Honestly, Lucius felt as though he was back at Hogwarts and he didn't really care for the feeling.

The Pureblood had eaten his meal with the elegance and distinction that had been afforded him over the years of careful practice and precision. He even sipped his champagne with the grace of a nobleman, proving that the lack of his beloved wife did not dictate the generations of precise breeding than ran through his veins. He was, after all, still a Pureblood wizard begotten from an ancient Pureblooded family.

He was ready to leave. He wished to return to his Manor where he could brood in peace and quiet, like Severus Snape used to do back when he was still alive. However, as Lucius led his daughter-in-law onto the dance floor, he feared it would be hours before he had the chance to escape.

~3~3~3~

Hermione wondered when she would have the opportunity to sit down. Luckily, she had managed to charm her heels so that she wouldn't feel the pain of dancing in them all night until the morning, but she could feel her arms beginning to sack from having to hold them up the entire night as she danced with gentleman after gentleman.

It seemed every wizard, old, young, married, and unmarried, had deigned to dance with her. It was flattering at first, but now it was starting to wear on the young witch. Currently, she was curtsying to none other than Draco Malfoy, who had, surprisingly, approached her and requested to dance. She had wanted to say, "No way in Hell," but she had stopped herself before she could utter those words.

She had taken the Minister's words to heart, as she had always done, and knew she needed to put the past where it belonged and move on.

"You look lovely this evening, Granger," Draco complimented her as he guided her into a waltz.

She met his grey eyes with hers and lifted a single brow. "Did that hurt?" she asked.

He frowned slightly. "Pardon?"

She licked her lips. "It's not like you to compliment those you've always seen as adversaries, is it? So, I imagine doing so must have hurt," she reasoned.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Contrary to what you may believe, Granger," he drawled, "but I am human. I am learning from my mistakes."

He glanced over to where his wife and father were currently dancing and gave a slight nod towards the pair. "You have her to thank for that, by the way. Well, her and the horrors that still plague me from the war." He gave the Muggleborn a serious look. "I do hope you accept my apology for how I had acted in my youth. I was a bully and a coward for the better part of our time in Hogwarts."

Hearing him admit his faults was something new for the witch and she wondered if there was a catch to his current actions. She filed it away in the back of her mind for later perusal as she sighed. "Thank you," she whispered.

He looked at her curiously and she elaborated, "For apologizing, though if you would like to know a secret, back in our Second Year when you had first called me a 'Mudblood', I hadn't the faintest idea what it meant. I knew it was bad due to the reactions of my classmates, but for all the effect it had had on me, you might as well have called me a slug."

He chuckled a little at that, then she remembered how that day had ended and she joined in with his laughter. "My first attempt at insulting the famous Hermione Granger went completely over her head. How ironic is that?" he commented.

Her laughter came to an abrupt halt when he said her first name and she stared at him. When he noticed her staring, he grinned. "You've never called me by my name before," she told him.

He shrugged. "We were never friends, now, were we?" he questioned.

"We aren't now," she responded, looking up at him.

"No, we aren't," he agreed. "But I do think we are both at the point in our lives where we can be cordial. Perhaps, if not friends, then at the very least, we can be civil towards one another."

She nodded slowly in agreement to this proposition. "Perhaps in time we will become friends as well," she said softly. The new arrangement seemed to make him relax a bit and his movements became more fluid. She looked up at him in wonder. "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, Malfoy, but I do believe marriage looks good on you. You look… happy."

He smirked. "It's because I am, Granger," he confessed. "Astoria has become the light of my life, and…" He hesitated. She could see the worry etched in his perfect brow and Hermione frowned. "You can't see it now, Granger, but she's pregnant. We'll have a child soon."

Hermione's face lit up. "Oh, that's great, Malfoy!" she chimed. "I suppose I should offer you a congratulations?"

He shook his head. "We haven't announced anything yet and we would prefer to wait," he said. "In fact, I don't even know why I told you. Father doesn't even know yet."

She watched as a magnitude of emotions flashed over the Purebloods face. "I won't tell," she promised, and he looked at her gratefully.

"Not even Potter?"

She shook her head and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It isn't mine to tell, is it? And, well, we are being civil to one another. I would hate to break what little bit of newfound trust we may have for one another."

Bewildered, he looked at her. "Do you trust me, Granger?" he asked.

As she opened her mouth to answer, Lucius and Astoria approached them. "I'm sorry to interrupt," Astoria said as she curtsied to Hermione, "but may I cut in?"

Hermione smiled. "Of course," she said as Draco released his hold on her and turned to his wife. "Be my guest."

The Muggleborn watched as the couple danced away. Her thoughts fell upon what Draco had asked her. Did she trust him? No, not really, if she was being honest with herself. She had never had a reason to trust him, even though, in his own way, he had saved their lives during the war. She hadn't forgotten.

"Ms. Granger," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. Hermione looked up to see that Lucius was still standing there. His hair had been tied in a deep grey ribbon that seemed to accentuate his masculinity rather than diminish it. "May I?" he asked as he offered a white gloved hand.

She glanced down at the hand in question as a million thoughts went through her mind. Was he really asking her to dance? A former Death Eater? Brown eyes met grey as she gently placed her hand in his, hardly believing what she was doing.

He led her back onto the dance floor and into another waltz, but this was far different. Something was happening as he pressed his gloved hand against her waist and she wasn't sure what it was. She gazed up into his wintry eyes and found herself enthralled by them. They said nothing, though that intrigued her more than anything. She knew he had his secrets, but she could see that there was a wall planted. It blocked her view of his soul.

He raised an eyebrow and looked down on her in mild amusement. "May I ask what it is you find so fascinating about me?" he questioned.

She frowned. "I never said…"

"You don't have to," he interrupted. "You've been staring at me since the moment I asked you to dance."

She blushed and quickly looked away. "I wasn't staring," she said, though his chuckle told her that her defense was weak. She glared up at him. "Why do you laugh?"

"I find it refreshing that the brightest witch of her age is reduced to such childish defenses as 'I wasn't staring'," he told her as they glided across the floor.

She looked away in annoyance and the grin he had faltered slightest. "Come now, Ms. Granger. There is no need to pout."

She opened her mouth to point out the fact that she wasn't pouting when something caught her eye that she hadn't expected to see. She stopped dancing suddenly as she stared at a table not far from them.

Lucius stopped as well as he frowned. He glanced in the direction she was staring and his face darkened.

"I need some air," she whispered as she attempted to tug away from him.

Lucius kept hold of her hand, however. "There is a garden on the other side," he offered.

She nodded quietly and allowed him to pull her away. Somehow, the fact that he was Lucius Malfoy, ex Death Eater, did not occur to her at that moment. She just had to get away from the crowd. There were too many people. She could feel the walls closing in and she shivered.

A heavy cloth was draped over her shoulders and Hermione quickly pulled it tighter around her as Lucius led her into the beautifully decorated garden. She didn't see the plants or giant fountain however. She didn't see the fairy lights either.

The air was crisp, though there was no breeze. The cloth Lucius had given her turned out to be his own cloak and she buried herself in the soft fabric. It smelled like him, too. He helped her sit upon a bench near the fountain and she started to silently cry.

Arms were wrapped around her and she leaned into his steel body. No, it wasn't steel. It was warm. It was comforting. Her body wracked with her sobs and he continued to hold her. She could even hear him cooing at her, though she paid it no mind.

After what seemed like an eternity, her sobs calmed down and she stared at the ground. "How could he?" she whispered, still repulsed by what she had seen.

At that table, she had seen Ron, the man she had loved more than life itself, snogging a witch she did not recognize. The divorce hadn't even been finalized yet and he… "How could I have been so stupid?" she groaned as she wiped her eyes with her hand.

"Here," he offered, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief and dabbing at her face. She looked up at him as he cleaned her face. She sniffed. "No, don't do that," he said as he handed her the cloth. "Blow your nose. Keeping it in will only make you ill."

She laughed warily as she did as he told her. "This is so embarrassing," she said as she wiped her nose. She held onto the handkerchief as she let her hands fall into her lap. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sixteen years," she whispered as she opened her eyes and looked at Lucius. "I had met him sixteen years ago on the train to Hogwarts, and I waited for him. I stood by him through everything. All the heartache, all the anger, all the accusations, and the tantrums. I had helped him with his homework and even cheated for him, so he could become the Gryffindor Keeper on the Quidditch team. When things got rough when we were hunting for Horcruxes, I cried and begged him to stay. And I cried the day he asked for a divorce and it appears I can't stop crying. He just keeps hurting me, and I don't know why."

She dabbed at her nose again and he reached up to touch her cheek. Hermione gave a shaky laugh. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she admitted. "You don't want to hear this."

"Ms. Granger, I would implore you not to assume what I do or do not wish to hear," he told her. He cupped her cheek. "You are a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Any man worth his salt would be lucky to have you in his life. However," he caught her eyes with his own, "Mr. Weasley is not a man. He is no more than a boy who wishes to reap the benefits of his fame. I've read the papers, my dear, and I work in finance. I believe that within the next twenty years, even less if he has a bout of madness, the boy will deplete what he's saved and return to being no more than the pauper he once was. He didn't know what he had, the rare gem you are."

She hadn't realized how close they were to one another until he bent down and lightly brushed his lips over hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as she lifted her face closer to his, inviting him. He pressed his lips onto hers and her eyes shot opened as she stared at him. He was actually kissing her! She kissed him back, completely in awe of herself. They didn't get too far into the kiss before they separated. They stared at one another, unsure of how the other had felt about it.

Her eyes dropped back to her hands and she frowned. Her mind began to race with what had just taken place. She did the math in her head quickly. He was twenty-five years older than her. He had a son who was almost an entire year younger than her and, in fact, went to school with her! They had even been in the same grade. Hermione was an adult now and Lucius was handsome, intelligent, and, obviously, successful.

Hermione chanced a glance up at the man and saw that he, too, was lost in thought. What was he thinking? Did he like kissing her? Did he think it might have been a mistake? He had been a Death Eater. He hated Muggleborns!... Didn't he?

Lucius's eyes met hers again and he blinked. Shifting on the bench, he faced forward and stood. He was leaving?! She thought. He's just going to kiss her and leave her and…

"Fancy a turn about the garden?" he offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

Oh. She nervously took his hand and he helped her to stand. Hermione looked away, letting her eyes go from flower to flower as she continued to try to get her thoughts in order. She didn't say anything, though she probably should.

"It is quite beautiful, isn't it, Ms. Granger?" he commented.

She nodded. "It is," she agreed. "And the poinsettias look amazing. Whomever put this garden together did a fantastic job." What did you say to someone as prominent as Lucius Malfoy? He had been a Death Eater, but just like after the first war, he managed to worm his way back into the Ministry's good graces. Though, this time, he actually deserved it. "Mr. Malfoy," she said after some thought, "I never had the chance to express my condolences for the loss of your wife. I didn't really know her personally myself, but… I am sorry she is gone."

He gazed at her, his thoughts a mystery. "Are you? Truly 'sorry for the loss', that is? She wasn't exactly your biggest fan," he pointed out.

She wrinkled her nose and looked away. "That doesn't matter," she said. "I hadn't ever really attempted to gain her favor." The young witch looked up at the man. "But she was your biggest fan, wasn't she? Your wife, the mother of your only child… Didn't the two of you marry right out of Hogwarts? She must have been the love of your life, your soulmate."

He sniffed. "I do not dally in fantasies of 'soulmates', Ms. Granger. I loved her, yes, and we spent many years together, but I wouldn't call her the 'love of my life'. Disregarding the love between a parent and a child for a moment, love can be a fickle thing. People fall in and out of love every day. Like you and Mr. Weasley, for example."

"I didn't fall out of love with him," she protested. "We became best friends in our first year when he and Harry had saved me from the troll. I don't know when exactly I had fallen in love with him. I guess it just sort of grew and I thought he had felt the same way."

He smiled grimly. "I am sure at one point he had thought the same," he said, "however, I doubt that is likely. More than likely, he was either infatuated with you or he thought your love for him would blind you to the fact that he was using you."

"Rubbish," she growled while making a face. "Ron doesn't use people."

He lifted an eyebrow. "No? So, what exactly has he been doing for the past… sixteen years? What has he done to cause you to be so smitten with him?"

"He helped Harry and me defeat Voldemort," she replied.

He smirked. "You told me you fell in love with him before the Dark Lord was defeated," he reminded her. "Did he, say, take you to the Yule Ball? If I remember correctly, fourth years had been invited due to the fact that Mr. Potter was a champion."

"No," she responded, "but that was because Viktor Krum had asked me, and Ron had only thought of doing so at the last moment, when he couldn't think of anyone else. He did defend me, though, when your son had called me a 'Mudblood' in our second year. He also makes me laugh sometimes, when I'm not annoyed with him."

He frowned. "Draco called you that?" he questioned.

She nodded. "He was trying to insult me because I made a snide remark about him getting onto the Slytherin Quidditch team," she told him. She chuckled. "The joke was on him, though, because I had no idea what a 'Mudblood' was. I had never heard the term, so I wasn't the least bit insulted until it was explained to me by Hagrid. Even after he told me, I had a hard time accepting the idea that it was meant to be an insult. If anything, the word just grated on my nerves. He's a good man, Mr. Malfoy. Despite his flaws, Ron is loyal. He always has our backs, and when we needed him the most, he was there…" Her words trailed off as she thought about what she was saying.

"Except when he wasn't," the Pureblood finished for her. She shot him a glare and he shrugged. "Ms. Granger, I won't pretend to know or understand the relationship you had with young Mr. Weasley. In truth, it really is none of my business. You are young, and, from what I've seen, you've always been confident and strong. Powerful and gifted. You have more talent in your little pinky than most Purebloods could ever hope to dream of having. You seem to revel in challenges and have even outwitted the Dark Lord on more than one occasion."

She watched as a few fairy lights danced above the fountain and sighed. "You must really enjoy flattering young girls," she commented.

He stopped and pulled her to face him. Lifting her chin to meet his eyes, and looked down at her. "You are not a young 'girl'," he corrected. "You're not a girl at all, but a woman." He took her hand and led her to the fountain. Waving a hand at the frozen water, he continued, "You don't have to take my word for it, just look. This is what Mr. Weasley fails to notice, or perhaps he has and had realized that he was far out of your league. You deserve someone better."

"A man," she reiterated what he had said earlier. She looked up at him. "Like you?"

"I didn't say that," he pointed out. "But, yes, I do believe you deserve a man. Someone who can satisfy you in ways that no child, such as Mr. Weasley, could. He works in a joke shop, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione folded her arm defensively. "He's doing what he loves," she snapped. "And he's helping his brother. Besides, they're a great success. They're actually thinking of opening another shop in Hogsmeade. George is in negotiations to buy Zonko's."

Lucius sneered at the idea. "Yes, George Weasley. I've heard that he was intending on expanding that business. Maybe if he invests his money smartly, the Weasley's, at least George Weasley's descendants, could become quite wealthy indeed."

"Always the businessman," Hermione commented as she shook her head. "Do you ever not think about profit? Don't you ever do something just for the fun of it, or must there always be some angle, some… bottom line?"

"I do," he replied. "Though, the last time I had done such, it was a rather… deplorable act. In fact, it was something I have come to regret over the past few years, ever since the ending of the war."

She wondered what event he was talking about, but decided not to ask. If it was shameful enough that Lucius Malfoy regretted it, then it must be something she really didn't want to know. He had been a Death Eater, after all. They grew quiet again, though it wasn't an awkward silence. Hermione was rather fond of the moment as she leaned against his arm, feeling his warmth and breathing in his cologne. He smelled so good, too.

She pondered if he truly felt the things he had said. Did he really see her as what he said? Did he see her as powerful and gifted and talented? Did he truly see her as a woman and not a child? She wondered if he thought her beautiful as well, though he hadn't said it. Why did he kiss her? Would he attempt to kiss her again? Why was she thinking of kissing him again?! He really did have soft, warm lips, and she was curious about how well he kissed. They say you can tell a lot about a man in his kiss.

Ron was a sloppy kisser, in Hermione's opinion. She had always felt like wiping her mouth after kissing him, but she had been so in love with him that she disregarded that, thinking he just needed her to teach him. That seemed to make it worse, though, and eventually she gave up.

Lucius was right about one thing. She did deserve a man, not a boy. While she was sure Lucius hadn't meant himself, and believed that anything with him would end in disaster, there was still a small hope in the back of her mind. He was everything she shouldn't want; tall, dark, handsome, and dangerous. Yet, he was everything she wanted. Hermione had never been more confused in her entire life.

Lucius was lost in his own thoughts. He kept berating himself mentally. What was he doing? He was a middle-aged wizard and he would be a grandfather soon. The woman on his arm was half his age and had even attended school with Draco, and in the same year at that!

He had been taken with her when he spied her dancing with Draco. She was so beautiful that he almost didn't recognize her. When he did notice who she was, he couldn't find it in him to sneer at her blood status, and that troubled him. Since when did he stop caring about blood status?

Truth was, he wasn't sure he ever did, though he didn't know what that meant. He did know that blood status didn't necessarily dictate how powerful a witch or wizard could be. Ms. Granger was a testament to that. He also knew that a squib could be born into any Pureblood family and the idea that they were caused by mixing with Muggles was a fallacy created by blood supremacists centuries ago in an effort to keep Muggles and Wizards separate.

He had an urge to kiss her again. She smelled so good, too. Her perfume wafted to his nostrils and reminded him of a delicate spring meadow. He wondered if her skin tasted as delicious as she smelled.

He froze at that thought as he felt it go right to his crotch. That was an unexpected feeling, and completely inappropriate. It wasn't like she would be interested in that sort of thing anyway. She was a Muggleborn, after all, and he used to be a Death Eater.

"I do want to say, Ms. Granger," he said, interrupting the silence. Why was he interrupting the silence? "I do appreciate your condolences, even if they are not completely sincere."

She looked up at him curiously. "But they were," she argued. "I meant what I had said, Mr. Malfoy. We may be from two completely different worlds, but I am not without compassion. She was a beautiful woman, and it was clear that she loved you and Draco very much. You don't find that level of devotion from someone who doesn't."

He lowered his eyes, letting them fall upon the tops of the flowers. "No, you don't," he agreed. He looked at her. "And you won't find such a thing with a boy."

She pinched her lips together and glowered at him. She really was adorable when she made that face. Another shot to his groin and he silently cursed himself for letting his thoughts get away from him. He was a man, not some hormone-ridden teenager.

She poked him in the chest and said, "You are determined, aren't you? We are having a nice evening and I'm actually beginning to like you. You don't need to keep reminding me that Ron's not right for me. Nor do you need to keep repeating the fact that I should be with a man and not a boy. The problem is, I don't really have many options, do I?"

He picked a snowdrop and turned to her. "How do you feel about spending time with an older man?" he asked, presenting her with the flower. Her eyes widened, and he knew she was getting ready to deny him. That wouldn't do. "It wasn't my intent when I asked you to dance with me," he clarified. "I just wanted a dance with the belle of the ball. I'm also aware of the repercussions for both of us if we were to, say, have lunch together and the media should find out."

"Which would happen."

He nodded. "No doubt," he acknowledged. "However, I am too old to care about what other people say."

"You're too… old," she repeated back to him. "Mr. Malfoy, I am the same age as your son, and…"

He frowned. "Is that what you care about?" he asked.

She immediately shook her head. "No, what I care about is whether this is a good idea. We'd be the talk of the entire country. I can see the headlines now: 'Lucius Malfoy: Pedophile? Or Simply Cradle Robber?', 'Hermione Granger: Bewitched?', 'The Mudblood and the Death Eater.'"

Lucius held up his hand to stop her. "Don't ever call yourself that," he said. "Draco was wrong for ever insulting you in such a way, regardless if you had known what it meant or not."

She bit her bottom lip. "I have that word tattooed into my arm for the rest of my life thanks to your late sister-in-law. It doesn't offend me," she told him. "But it does prove how many wizards and witches, particularly Purebloods from old Wizarding families, see those like me. You'll be branded a blood traitor and will lose status."

He shook his head. "Ms. Granger, I am the richest wizard in all of Great Britain. Like you said, I'm a businessman. I'm shrewd and ruthless in my dealings, as well. I won't lose status. Before you say it," he added, touching her lips, "you won't either. You're too valuable to the Wizarding world, so… fuck them."

"I don't know…" she whispered while she looked at a Christmas rose bush.

He watched her, trying to gauge her reaction to his proposition. He had hoped she would immediately agree to the idea, especially after their kiss. Perhaps if he kissed her again? "What is it that makes you so unsure?" he asked. "I'm not asking you to become my wife, or even my lover. We don't know one another well enough for such conversation. However, friendship…"

Her eyes shot to his. "You want to be my friend?"

Not really. What he really wanted was something a bit more primal, but he was willing to work with her on it. Friendship would mean that he would see her again. But… "We have to start somewhere, correct?" he commented with a shrug. He waved his hand dismissively. "All this talk about Death Eaters and Mudbloods… We aren't at war anymore, Ms. Granger. You heard the Minister tonight. The best way for us to become united, I think, is for people to start conversing with one another."

He didn't really believe the problems of the Wizarding World were simple enough to be solved in such a way, but the light that filled Hermione's eyes, that ray of hope, and the soft smile that brightened her face, was enough for him to know he had said the correct thing.

She looked at him critically. "But we have nothing in common," she said.

He tilted his head. "You barely even know me," he argued. "How do you know we haven't anything in common? You haven't even been given a proper tour of my manor."

"I've seen your manor, thank you very much."

He shook his head. "You saw a small snippet of my manor," he corrected. "Even then, it had been tainted. We've done renovations and modifications since then. Once our crimes against the Wizarding World had been cleared by the Ministry, Narcissa had insisted on remodeling both the interior and exterior of the manor. Mind, much looks the same, I suppose, but she had utilized this method she had learned in the East called 'fengshui'? It's helped clear much of the negative energy out."

"I thought that was something only Muggles did," she remarked.

The aristocrat smiled softly at that. "It isn't," he told her. "The Chinese Wizarding World even teaches fengshui in their Wizarding school. They believe it helps a person center themselves, therefore, becoming more in tune with nature and more powerful. If you like, I could show you."

She seemed to contemplate his offer and he watched her, wondering what she was thinking. Judging by their conversation from before, he assumed she was weighing the positives and negatives of going to a gentleman's home. A critical eye swept over him. "You wish to bring me to the manor?" she asked, studying him.

He shrugged nonchalant. "If you'd rather, we could return to the ballroom and dance a bit more, or I could simply escort you home. Unless you wish to continue walking about this garden, though," he glanced around, "I do believe we've seen all of it, and it is getting rather late."

She folded her arms. "I'm not a woman of the night, Mr. Malfoy," she warned.

He sniffed derisively. "If I believed you were, I wouldn't have invited you to my home," he assured her. "As it stands, I am enjoying your company and would like to continue it. I'm not really ready to call it a night, are you?"

She glanced at the doors that led back to the ballroom. Was she seriously thinking about suggesting they return? He really didn't want to go back to dancing. He enjoyed the dance as much as any refined gentleman, but he really would prefer to bring her to his home, tempt her with a drink and, well, if he played his cards right, they could perhaps frolic into the realms of foreplay? He really wanted to delve back into kissing her again.

"I will need to say good night to Harry," she said, finally, and Lucius's heart caught in his throat.

He bowed his head and smiled. "Of course. While you do that, I can retrieve your cloak," he suggested.

She gave him a small smile. "Yes, please do. I'll meet you at the entrance, then?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her close to him. He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you there, my dear," he whispered and stepped away from her.

She blushed prettily and curtsied awkwardly. As she left, he silently applauded himself. Not only was he bringing the belle of the ball home with him, but she had forgotten she was wearing his cloak. He bit back a smile as he wondered what the Boy with the Lightning Scar will think of it.

(IV)(IV)

Hermione giggled uncontrollably as she recounted her meeting up with Harry to inform him she was leaving. "I think he was shell-shocked," she laughed. She deepened her voice dramatically and waved her arm at the air, "'Hermione, is that… Lucius Malfoy's cloak?!'" She shook her head as Lucius helped her take off her own cloak and hang it in the closet by the door. She put a hand over her face. "Oh, I was so embarrassed, but the look on his face was positively priceless."

Lucius chuckled. "I would have thought that would've been commonplace for him, or is it not?"

She sighed. "There are very few things these days that surprise Harry," she confessed, "even more so now that he's an Auror."

She gazed about the foyer. The entire room was decorated in rich greens and reds, and there was a large Christmas tree in the center of it. For a man who lived alone, Lucius kept the place looking beautiful. She frowned then, when a thought crossed her mind. She turned to him, watching as he hung up their cloaks.

"This is beautiful," she complimented. When he looked at her, she indicated the tree and garlands.

He gave her a nod of appreciation. "Thank you, Ms. Granger," he said. "I will make sure Poppet knows she's done a swell job."

Hermione could feel some of the color drain from her face. "Your house elf?" she questioned.

He looked at her curiously. "You didn't think I could do all this by myself, did you?" he countered.

"Why not hire someone?" she asked. "Why have someone you just enslave? It's barbaric."

It was his turn to frown. "I didn't say she was a slave," he pointed out as he led her into the sitting room. "Of course, she was a slave at one time. My family used to breed house elves, had done it for centuries. However, my father didn't really care for that business, so he had stopped doing it. We, as they say, nearly broke the bank by selling off our breeding pairs. He kept a couple, however, to help about the manor." He brought her to two light leather armchairs by the fireplace. "I'm sure by now you know that your friend tricked me into freeing one of my house elves."

She glared at him. How dare he! "You weren't exactly kind to Dobby," she accused him. "Even if you were, slavery is still wrong. People deserve to be free."

Lucius lifted an eyebrow as he took his own seat across from her. "I didn't consider house elves to be people," he admitted. "They were necessary, especially in a place as large as this one."

"But…"

"After the war," he cut her off, his eyes narrowing at being interrupted, "however, I had decided that no one, even a creature such as a house elf, should be made to do a person's bidding, so I freed the remaining elves I owned, which were but four. I then offered them a job, with wages and benefits. They receive a weekly pay of ten silver and free health care. They are also allowed to fraternize with one another freely and I offered them room and board."

Hermione stared at him in wonder. What would he do if she were to suddenly jump onto his lap and kiss him? "So, they're free?" she ventured.

"Yes," he replied, "though they still have a habit of referring to me as their Master, and I haven't quite figured out how to get them to stop punishing themselves when they make a mistake."

Hermione was having a hard time believing what she was hearing. It sounded too good to be true, which probably meant there was a catch somewhere. He was Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, and at one time, Voldemort's right-hand man. Then she remembered the state she had seen him in when she had been brought here that night. What had Voldemort done to this man?

"I suppose that is a choice they have to make on their own," she said softly.

He shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Do they keep you company?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Mostly, they leave me alone," he told her as he stood up. "Would you care for a brandy?"

She smirked at him. There it is, she thought. "I won't be swayed to nefarious activities with alcohol, Mr. Malfoy," she jokingly stated.

His eyes twinkled playfully. "I wouldn't dream of doing such," he assured her.

She leaned back in her chair. She liked this Lucius Malfoy, she admitted to herself. "A finger would be fine," she told him as he strode to the wet bar.

It was a shame that wizards wore robes, she thought. She reckoned the man had a nice ass under those robes. She had already determined he had to have a nicely defined chest, though she hoped he kept it was well-groomed as he did his face. Not that she was hoping to see it of course… Her eyes widened as she became aware of where her thoughts were heading. Her hormones were having a field day, apparently. Did house-elf liberty really affect her that much? That couldn't possibly be it.

She thanked him when he handed her the tumbler of golden liquid and returned to his seat. Did he have a perfectly toned six-pack? Or, dare she dream it… eight-pack? Oh, sweet Merlin's saucy underpants, Hermione! Get ahold of yourself! This is Lucius Malfoy for Christ's sakes. The man's old enough to be your father.

She took a small sip of the brandy and felt it warm up her body. "May I ask you a question?" she requested as she cradled her brandy.

"I believe you already have, Ms. Granger," he teased. Good Lord, give her strength! "But you may ask another if you like."

Maybe she was feeling sexual tension from him, or maybe she was just fucking horny as hell. It didn't make sense to her. She chose her words carefully. "Now that Mrs. Malfoy is gone, what do you do all the time? I mean, I assume you have continued with Malfoy Industries, and I know you aren't really in politics much anymore. You asked me out tonight, but have you dated since she left? Do you attend Quidditch matches like you did back in my fourth year? Do you have a favorite team?"

He held up a hand to stop her, chuckling. "Your enthusiasm is boundless, Ms. Granger," he said, his eyes dancing in amusement. "To answer your questions," he drew out the last word to show she had asked more than one; she blushed. "I have continued with Malfoy Industries and it takes up more of my time than you think. I have a rigorous schedule that tends to prevent me from dallying aimlessly with my day, and I haven't had time to properly court a fair maiden. Nor have I found anyone that I've been particularly interested in until tonight. As for Quidditch, I don't believe I've been to a game since the World Cup all those years ago, but I do read the scores in the paper. I don't really have a favorite team, however, the Montrose Magpies are, possibly, the most impressive one of them all."

She bit her lip and took another sip. She didn't know why, but something told her that she probably shouldn't drink the brandy. She snorted a little when Lucius mentioned the team. "It figures you would like the team that always wins," she retorted.

He shrugged. "I make no apology for it," he told her, "but I do believe that if you are going to play, it should be to win."

"Did you ever play the sport?" she asked.

He nodded. "I was made Captain of the Slytherin team my fifth year," he said. He took a pull of his own drink. "That was the year we won the House Cup, as well as the two years following."

"You were also Head Boy, weren't you?"

He studied her. "As I said, Ms. Granger, I play to win."

His eyes flashed with a lust she could tell he had been hiding. Her heart fluttered, and she could feel her stomach doing cartwheels as she felt her lower regions gather heat. She was in trouble. Fuck.

Author's Note: I am just fixing a few little errors I had found through rereading this story. Just a little tweaking, that's all. ;)