Chapter 1

Hermione pulled the last two boxes closer so she could have a look-see at their contents. She was quite happy that two of the five previous lots had given good results to her quest. She had high hopes that one of these last two would yield the mother lode.

Hermione was searching for inventory to add to her business. A year earlier she'd left her job at the Ministry after years of beating her head against a brick wall and getting nowhere. Unsure at the time of what she was going to do—her departure had been somewhat hasty and very loud with much screaming and swearing on her part—she'd moped about for a month or so, not doing much of anything at all. Then one day she noticed, just down the street and around a corner from the Leaky Cauldron, an empty storefront with a 'for sale' sign. While standing outside the doorway, staring inside, she'd clearly envisioned it filled with shelves of books with little tables scattered around where customers could read or have a bit of tea, or just sit and visit.

Without taking time to give it too much thought—because she knew she'd probably talk herself out of it if she did—within a matter of days she'd invested her entire life savings and become a business owner. Top Shelf Books. From that point on it was sink or swim. Now, after a full year in business, her little bookshop was still afloat and doing quite well.

The downstairs level was just as she'd pictured it on that day, standing outside staring in: a bright, airy space where people came to read and mingle. It bustled with a variety of activities to bring customers into her store: story time for children, afternoon teas with poetry readings, regular meet and greets with authors for book signings, cookbook authors sometimes hosted cooking classes, and she had some regular do-it-your-selfers willing to give demonstrations of projects. It was a busy, thriving place.

Still, Hermione had decided early on that she needed some kind of niche as well, something to set her store apart from the norm. Upstairs was her real baby. The Nook was where she collected and restored rare and unusual second hand books. Where, unknown to her regular patrons, a good portion of her rare book clientele came to her store from directly down the street via the back of the Leaky Cauldron, the shadowy pub that no Muggles ever noticed or entered.

She sometimes took requests to find specific books, but more often, like today, she just went on an all out treasure hunt. She haunted auctions and estate sales looking for old and forgotten books. Hermione had many feelers out and was lucky enough to have got inside information on this sale at an estate outside Caerphilly in Wales. Plus her informant—oh all right, it was Harry, who now played seeker for the Caerphilly Catapults, and had heard about it from a teammate—had been able to arrange for her to have early access. Well, it wasn't just her, there were about a dozen buyers who'd been allowed in to examine the goods a few days before before the sale. Luckily for her, most of the others hadn't been too interested in the older books.

Hermione knew something she was quite certain the other early birds didn't. She'd done her research and knew that although the Astin estate was currently owned by Muggles, there was wizard blood several generations back. Not that it would have mattered at all to the other buyers, who were looking for typical Muggle antiques and collectibles, but it mattered to her because she was in hopes that she would find some rare magical tomes squirreled away. She hadn't bothered to search the vast library space yet, although she would—just in case. But she knew from past experience that if there were any magical books to be found they would most likely have been hidden away by past generations who did not want to destroy the books, but also did not want them to fall into Muggle hands. So, that was what had brought her up to the overly warm, dusty attic, sorting through boxes of books that had likely been stored and untouched for the past two hundred years.

Hermione was just getting ready to cast a cooling charm along with an air clearing charm to settle the dust when she heard footsteps coming up the attic stairs. Damn, she'd just have to suck it up. She couldn't use magic around Muggles. She pulled another book out of the box, but as her fingers brushed against a metal corner on the ancient binding she felt a strong ZAP of static electricity causing her to drop it back into the box. A cloud of dust billowed up and she sneezed violently.

"Bless you," said the man who had just entered the attic.

"Thank you," she replied. "It's a bit dusty up here, just to warn you."

"Yes, I'd expected that," he said as he looked around then headed farther back in the open room.

Hermione shivered as she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The man's voice reminded her of someone, but she couldn't place who. She hadn't got a good look at him when he'd come upstairs, although she did vaguely remember seeing him earlier. He'd come in late, the last to join the group looking for early finds.

She glanced up, but he stood in gloom half way down the attic. He was lifting the dust covers and examining various pieces of furniture, opening drawers and feeling inside and beneath each one, as if he were looking for something specific. It was hard to get a good look at him, until he lifted his head and glanced her way and the sunlight from the smudged window revealed pale silvery grey eyes and that haughty, aristocratic profile. Her heart pounded. It couldn't be him. But it was, she was sure of it.

She must have gasped or something because suddenly he looked at her, really looked at her. Within seconds he was striding across the attic and heading down the narrow stairs. Hermione fumbled, dropping another book and causing yet another cloud of dust to poof up into the air. Sneezing violently again, she hurried after him. Even though she rushed down the attic steps, he was already nearly halfway down the long hallway headed for the main staircase as she rushed to catch up with him.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she called. She might have thought she was totally crazy if he hadn't hesitated for just a split second when she'd called his name. "Mr. Malfoy, wait... Stop!" He didn't look at all like the Lucius Malfoy she remembered. There was no flowing platinum blond hair, no expensive wizard's robes, no silver snake-headed cane, but still, she would swear this man was Lucius Malfoy. He was still very attractive. He had short, dark brown hair, and he wore casual Muggle clothes. There was nothing to indicate he was a wizard, but she was quite certain it was him.

After the war trials the entire Malfoy family had been cleared of charges, mainly due to Harry's testimony on behalf of Narcissa, but he'd spoken for Lucius and Draco as well. It had kept them out of Azkaban, but revealing her involvement in saving Harry had most likely led to Narcissa's death. Nearly two years after the war, within a few months after the end of the Malfoy trials, she'd been ambushed and killed by a former Death Eater in retaliation for her actions of that fateful night. Lucius disappeared shortly after that and there had been rumors that he was dead as well, although his body was never found.

Apparently rumors of his death had been greatly exaggerated.

She had to sprint the last several yards, but she caught him before he could get away. "Mr. Malfoy, please, wait," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She clasped his arm to stop him from escaping down the stairs to the exit.

He looked down at her hand holding his sleeve, then turned to stare at her blankly. "Oh, were you talking to me? I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else."

Hermione frowned and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. The voice was different now even from a few minutes ago, and the eyes were blue instead of grey. In her gut, though, she was sure she was right. He could have easily cast a quick glamour to change his eye color, and charmed his voice to erase the aristocratic accent, but he hadn't had time to thoroughly alter his looks. It was him, she was sure of it.

"I'm not mistaken. I know who you are, Lucius." At his blank look she continued, "You are Lucius Malfoy, a very powerful pureblood. You have an estate in Wiltshire where your son, Draco, still lives. You have been missing for nearly five years."

He smiled, as though trying to humor the crazy woman. He carefully tried to extricate himself from her grip. "I am sorry, but you are quite wrong. My name is Luke Buonafede. I do not live anywhere near Wiltshire and never have. Now if you will kindly release my arm, I'll be on my way."

"Oh, please. Is that the best you could come up with?" Hermione sneered.

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Buonafede? Is that some play on the reverse of Malfoy?"

He jerked his arm out of her grasp, his face twisted in anger. "See here, young woman, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have never heard of this person... this Malfoy. I am not him." He started edging down the stairs, slowly, one step at a time, keeping his eyes on her as he went.

Hermione stepped back, suddenly unsure. She spoke quietly, almost to herself. "Maybe he really can't remember. Maybe he's been O..." She paused for a moment before coming to a decision. "He needs to know... he deserves to know."

The man's brow furrowed at her mumbled words and when she turned, head down, to walk slowly back toward the attic, his eyes followed her.

Hermione looked up and down the hallway, making sure she was alone before she hurried up the attic steps. She took a minute to concentrate before she raised her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" Her otter Patronus swirled into being, playfully gliding through the air doing circles and loop-de-loops around her. "Settle down and pay attention, I need you to take a message to..."

Before she could finish her request, strong arms grabbed her from behind. One hand covered her mouth stopping her words and the other confiscated her wand. "Miss Granger, stop. Do not do this." His arms shifted downward, one wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. The one over her mouth slid to her throat, not choking her, but holding her firmly, her head pressed back to his shoulder as his thumb stroked lightly at her pulse point. "Finite Incantatum," he said softly. His breath brushed across her skin like a whisper and she shivered in response. Her Patronus faded into thin air, looking comically disappointed at not being allowed to complete her request.

Hermione gasped and struggled against him. "Shh... I've no intention of hurting you," he muttered quietly, his lips right next to her ear.

As his breath whispered against her skin Hermione shuddered and groaned aloud, a wanton sound in the stillness of the attic. She squirmed to escape his embrace and only managed to grind against him as he attempted to hold her still.

"Stop, you're not helping matters," he muttered. His cock grew hard through no fault of his own. He'd long ago stopped apologizing for the horny little bastard. It was a fact of life, if a lovely young witch was going to moan and groan and rub up against him, little Lu was going to get as hard as granite. It didn't help matters that his reaction to the pretty Muggleborn was unlike any other since he'd first fallen for Cissy.

Angrily, she jerked away, her face bright red with embarrassment. She spun to face her captor. "You were lying, you arse! You do fucking know who you are and who I am as well. And I'd started to feel sorry for you, thinking someone had Obliviated you. Give me back my wand, you slimy Slytherin bastard!"

She reached out to snatch it back, but Lucius held it out of her reach. She was such a wild little thing, her fire pleased him. "Tsk, tsk. Let's forgo the name calling, shall we? I can assure you my birth was entirely legitimate." Lucius held her off with his other hand. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, my dear, I do intend to return your wand. Though first I want you to calm down so I know you aren't going to hex me, and then I want to know who you were planning on sending that message to. It would do you no good to call the Aurors. There are no charges pending against me, you know."

Hermione took three steps back, distancing herself from him, but that didn't stop her from giving him a 'death glare'. "I am calm," she said between gritted teeth. "Please give me back my wand."

Lucius had to work hard not to smirk at her. She was damn cute in all her righteous indignation. "Very well, I'm trusting you now," he said cautiously.

Using his wand hand he presented her wand formally, as at the end of a duel. Gripping it delicately at the quillion, he laid it across the back of his other wrist, the handle facing her, offering it with a slight nod of his head.

Still giving him a ferocious glare, Hermione pursed her lips like she'd tasted something sour and nodded back. She accepted her wand, and gave him a polite 'salute' by tapping it to her forehead and followed that with an intricate flourish and a small bow.

"I must say, I am impressed, Miss Granger. I had not expected you to be trained in the formalities of dueling," said Lucius.

"I'm sure there are many things about me of which you are unaware, Mr. Malfoy," she said curtly.

"Indeed. Now, in answer to my earlier question, who were you planning to call? The Aurors? The Minister of Magic? Harry Potter? "

Hermione hesitated briefly but then answered, "No, of course not, none of those. If you must know, I was going to contact your son."

"Draco?" Lucius asked, shocked. "Why on earth would you want to contact Draco?"

"Because, believe it or not, he's my friend and I think he has a right to know that the father he has mourned is not dead at all."

Lucius shook his head, a grim expression in his eyes. "You are wrong, Miss Granger. My son does not mourn me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have it on good authority that he's very happy I am gone."

She looked as though she wanted to hex him or slap him, possibly both. She swallowed once before she spoke, her voice low and a bit gravelly. "I assure you, I am not wrong, Mr. Malfoy. Draco does mourn you grievously and he blames himself for your loss. He searched for you for years before deciding you surely must be dead, because if you were alive, why would you not contact him? Why would you not let your only child know that you were alive and well and obviously just living some other man's life, without a care for your past or your son?"

Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand, but not before a little half sob escaped. "How could you do that to him?" The urge to slap him won out and she did. Her hand flashed out and smacked him hard across his cheek. "You're despicable!" she cried.

Damn, she was fast, and she hit hard too. Maybe she wasn't so cute after all. Lucius pressed one hand against his stinging cheek, but still managed to grab her with his other hand and drag her to him, their bodies intimately close. Hermione stared up at him, sparks practically flying from her eyes, her face flushed, her breath coming fast. Then again, maybe she was—more than cute actually. She was damned attractive. He wasn't sure what came over him, but he was sure it must be little Lu's doing. In the next instant he found himself leaning down, his lips a scant inch away from hers when...

"Errrm... excuse me? Hello... is everything all right up there? Miss Granger?" A timid voice came up the stairs.

Hermione gasped as though she'd been holding her breath. "It's Mr. Linton," she whispered. "The man in charge of the early sales."

She managed to disengage herself from Lucius' grasp and in a louder voice she called down. "Yes, Mr. Linton, everything's fine. I've found some boxes of books I'm interested in. Could you send up a couple of your helpers to carry them down for me? Then we can discuss price."

The man had cautiously edged partway up the stairs. "Very well, Miss. I'll send someone right up." He eyed Lucius suspiciously. "Are you sure you're okay, Miss Granger? I'd be happy to escort you down, if you like."

"Everything is fine, sir. I would just like to sort through this last box and then I'll come down."

With a nod and an angry glare at Lucius, Mr. Linton hurried back down the stairs.

Hermione sank down onto the stool she'd been sitting on and pulled the last box of books closer. Lucius stood staring down at her, his arms crossed. After a couple of awkward moments of silence she looked up at him.

"I am sorry for losing my temper and slapping you. I haven't indulged in smacking an arrogant Malfoy since my third year at Hogwarts. I shouldn't have hit you, but I'm not apologizing for anything I said. It was all true."

Lucius continued to look at her intently for a bit then sighed. "Miss Granger... Hermione... please give me a chance to explain. Not here. Let us go somewhere and talk, privately. Please... at least talk to me before you contact Draco. Give me a chance first."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, considering, then nodded. "On the main road there's a little pub at the edge of town, I'll meet you there in an hour. I need some time to wrap up my business here and arrange to have the boxes sent back to my shop."

Lucius frowned. "I had hoped for somewhere a bit more private than a pub. I'm letting a cottage near Ogmore Vale, perhaps we could..."

"No, absolutely not," Hermione snapped. "The pub is as private as I am willing to risk with you at this point. For all I know you'd get me to this cottage and Obliviate me, or worse."

"All right, I'll be at the pub in one hour." He knew it was the best he could hope for, and a smart choice on her part to consider her own safety. As for what he wanted to do to her, an Obliviate was probably the least of her worries.

TBC