"Name it." The frost in his voice chilled Hermione to the bone.

"I will go on the condition that you tell me everything I ask of you tonight. Truthfully," she declared.

Lucius scowled. "I thought I was doing just that."

Hermione shook her head, feeling her courage return to her. "No. You gave me vague deflections. They give an appearance of answering questions without giving me solid information. I need to know why I am such a desirable candidate for this in your mind and why do you do those sort of arrangements. I mean, you're not a deviant or a sociopath. Being busy with work and travel doesn't automatically make someone want to have that much control over their partners."

He slightly withdrew. "I'm not a sociopath, I hope. Nevertheless, analyzing my reasons for such preferences will get you nowhere with me. The truth, Miss Granger? I've always been like this."

"Even when you were married?"

Lucius let out a gruff sigh. "Yes, even then."

Hermione dropped her eyes, staring at the bubbles in her champagne glass. She wasn't sure why his admission made her so sad. Why would anyone place such limitations on himself and his relationships? It felt impersonal somehow … and rather finite.

"I understand why you want to know." His words hung heavily in the air. "At one point in my life, I did too. I guess the best way to explain it is that fetishes are akin to phobias. Some are common, some are not. Some come early in life, some later."

The summersaults in her stomach were somewhat mollified by his understanding and, unable to resist the delicious meal in front of her, Hermione took the first bite of the herring on her plate. Still, she needed to know more. Lucius Malfoy seemed like a man of many secrets and, if she was going to hand herself and her life over to him, she had to know more. Much more.

"So again, why me? What makes me so ideal in your eyes?" Hermione carefully proceeded. "You said it's not only about sex, even if I have qualities that make me ideal for your particular tastes. So what is this other part of choosing me?"

His gaze leveled darkly. "It is the only way I see to atone for the past."

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he held a finger to her lips.

"You don't have to say anything. You've already voiced your opinions on that subject. But it is what I feel must be done. I can never make up for the past, but I can do this. I can give you a life of limitless possibilities for as long as you want it."

"Or rather until you've assuaged your guilt and moved on to a new object of obsession," Hermione plainly declared.

He dropped his fork on a plate with a clatter. "Listen carefully when I tell you that if there was anyone else I wouldn't have made this offer to you. I never involve myself with more than one. Only one witch gets the brunt and burden of my focus. I can't give you a reason for why. It's just my nature." He reached over and set his hand tightly on her forearm. "I also don't share anything I like. Ever. If you choose to come with me, you won't be seeing other men. You will be mine alone." His grip thinned into soft strokes. "And it is not guilt. Atonement, Miss Granger. Reparations must be made in the best way I know how. Yes, it has a very selfish, primal component. But … that is me."

"And what about when you feel the reparations have been made? What then?" she pried.

A teasing half-smirk flickered over Lucius's lips. "Which former beau made you so insecure? That's why you avoid romantic entanglements, isn't it? One worthless prick hurt you and now you view all men with equal suspicion. That's why you assumed your gifts were not from an admirer, but rather some holiday-themed office scheme. That's why you assumed that once I had you, I had no further use for you. That's why you're alone. You don't want to be hurt again."

Tears simmered in Hermione's eyes and she looked down at her plate. "You're not as clever as you presume to be."

"Then tell me I'm wrong," he challenged her.

She couldn't. His assessment was accurate.

Lucius lifted her chin to lock his eyes with hers. It was almost too much. "You don't have to tell me. The truth is, Miss Granger, I don't care. I don't care who he was or what he did. I don't care why he made you so ashamed of your sexual needs. None of those things matters anymore. With me, it all becomes irrelevant, because you will always have the choice to walk away first. However, while you are with me, you will be the only one."

Hermione wiped at her eyes with her napkin. "You're making me sound like another object in your vast collection."

His voice lowered. "Is that so bad to be cherished? No one will touch you or hurt you."

"Except you," she countered.

"Until you choose to walk away from me. Although it may not seem so, the power is solely in your hands. Stay or go, the choice is always yours to make first."

"So how many witches you've made this offer? How many came before me? Was it all atonement in some way?"

Lucius took a sip of his champagne. "No. Different people, different feelings, different motivations. And not many. Two since my divorce. It is not quantity that matters, but quality. Now, have I fulfilled your condition enough for us to proceed further?"

Hermione nodded. Her attraction to him wasn't based on emotions. It was this visceral toxin that seeped into her blood and tied her to him. For reasons she could scarcely begin to fathom, it turned her on to obey him, to have him tell her what to do.

She nodded again.

"Good girl." His hand dove into her hair, playing gently with her strands. "There are few logistics. In Italy, you will have your own bank account. You should move your savings there as soon as you get the chance."

Frowning, Hermione felt very ill at ease at the mention of money. "Why?"

He removed his hand. "You won't need it while you're with me, but it'll be better for you in the long-term. Should you walk away, you're the only one with access to your assets, old or newly accumulated. Everything else will be taken care of."

She blushed. It all seemed so formal. Shifting her hips, she squirmed in her seat, wanting to be near him. Lucius wrapped his arm over her shoulders. The electricity of his touch went deep into her chest.

"Do I sign a contract or … a waiver?" she breathed out.

His answer was quick, "No." It was as though he'd considered the possibility of her asking him that. "There is no need. I only need your consent. I told you, you are free to walk away and you are free to halt anything with one word. Why would we need a contract for that?"

She stared into the bottomless gray pools of his eyes. His lips moved closer and Hermione closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. But he didn't. When she opened her eyes again, he was simply watching her. The hand around her shoulders swept downward, gently and deliberately, grazing down her back. He must have noticed how its low back had forbidden a bra, how his touch had affected her through the thin fabric.

He kissed her neck, so lightly Hermione wasn't certain it happened, then he released her. She stared at the flames of the candlesticks on the table, unable to face him. She crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table, not wanting to be deprived of his touches. It frustrated her that he should leave her wanting more. Feeling bold, she let one hand wander under the table to his lap, running it idly along his thigh. He tensed and Hermione smiled, wanting to provoke him more. When she dared to look at him, she saw the incinerating fire in his perpetually frozen eyes. Then she felt him. He was already hard and heavy under her hand. She splayed her fingers over him, shuddering when she felt him swell more.

Her mind took flight of its own and she childishly wondered if it hurt to become aroused. It appeared phenomenal that some soft part of him should increase so much in its natural size. Her fingers trailed higher on his clothed erection. The length of him was longer than the whole of her hand.

The waiter reappeared and she snatched her hand back, holding back a gasp. She hadn't even seen him coming. He sat down a dish of pale steaks in some sort of whipped custard. He left once more and instead of focusing on her food, Hermione's hand returned back to his inseam. She ought to have left him alone, but every sensible thought in her mind abandoned her. He was no longer still. He grasped her roughly against his flank and didn't let go.

His cheek rasped against hers as he spoke, "You are headstrong. Be careful what you start lest you don't intend to finish."

He fed her a bite of their meal from his fork, the creamy custard melting away in her mouth as she chewed. His other hand moved to her knee and Hermione swallowed in alarm.

Oh, no! What had she done with her provocations?

His hand went higher. He held her still, lifting another bite for her to eat, but she tasted nothing. The only sensation she was aware of was the dreadful ascent of his hand. His palm traveled under the soft silk. She wanted him, but still had her limit of public behavior. She wasn't going to let him, her feelings of propriety forbade it. Hermione drew her crossed legs even tighter, but he pried them apart without much effort. She wanted to move away, but he held her lower half still.

"Not here. Please," she whispered. Her heart battered against her chest.

His eyes flashed. "Didn't I tell you to be careful what you start?"

Her protestations immediately froze on her lips. His hand moved higher with each word he spoke, stopping just short of revealing her completely.

"Please, it's not that I object … it's that I'm not …" She shook her head, ashamed to admit. "I'm not…" Her voice trailed off again.

"Not wearing any knickers, Miss Granger?" Lucius supplied, winking at her.

Hermione gaped at him. "How did you guess?"

Leaning to her again, he whispered in her ear, "It wasn't a guess. Do you think it wasn't the first thing I noticed when you removed your coat?"

His fingers softly grazed along her swollen folds. Whatever words Hermione had had evaporated on her tongue as his fingers climbed higher to stroke her clit. Her eyes fell shut as she clenched her teeth to silence her moans. His hand moved in a rhythmic ellipse, giving her no mercy … no reprieve.

"I wanted to touch you then. To feel those perfect curves under my hand. To punish you for arousing such an obsession in me," he continued. His words chaotically echoed in her head, then vaporized in a sweet, heavy haze.

Lucius's hand pressed deeper and Hermione's hips rose reflexively to meet him.

"I saw you waiting for me. You probably thought I had changed my mind, didn't you? Probably hoped that I would make it easier for you to walk away … just like I did that first day you came to me. But I won't do it again. If you wish to be rid of me, you'll have to be the one to decide … and I intend to make it difficult."

Hermione's breaths were too shallow for her to respond. With a delicate touch, Lucius slid the length of his ring finger along her clit. Every fibre in her body tensed, then relaxed when he stopped. He replicated the sensation again. And again. Each time bringing Hermione closer and closer to her orgasm. Her vision fluctuated. The world swirled all around her, but Lucius was relentless in his ministrations.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Patience," he growled and slowed his rhythm before drawing away entirely.

She glowered at him, unable to believe his gall. She wanted to curse him.

So much for finishing what you start. The hypocrite!

The waiter came by again. He cleared the plates and left small gold-foiled box on the table, revealing a pair of spherical, chocolate confections.

"Mr. Malfoy," he simpered, "the manager would like to thank you for visiting us again by sending you the chocolates with the most intriguing history. Would you care to hear about them?"

Hermione looked at the chocolates, resenting them for interrupting them. She fervently prayed that Lucius would send the overzealous waiter away.

"Of course," Lucius said. "We'd love to hear about them."

Without further ado, he resumed his covert caresses beneath the table. Hermione was not prepared for the surprise, and had to feign a cough to disguise her gasp.

"Excuse me," she mumbled and kicked his foot surreptitiously under the table.

Lucius's only response was to tighten the arm around her shoulders.

Pointing at the chocolates, the waiter continued, "These were first produced in Eliseev Imporium in St. Petersburg in 1865 to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Tsar Alexander II's coronation. However, it was rumored that he had them especially made to tempt his mistress, Katia Dolgorukova, to finally relinquish her maidenhead to him. She resisted his attentions for a long time, you see, and the tsar was single-mindedly determined to have her. The official story stands, of course, as their affair caused a great scandal at the time."

"Really? Why?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth, fighting the warm throb that was rapidly building within her.

"She was more than a mistress. The tsar fell madly in love with her and morganatically married her only a month after his wife's death. It broke the customs of the Orthodox Church. And of course, the tsar's grown children disapproved of him moving his mistress and their children into the palace when his wife was on her deathbed."

Throughout the waiter's tale, Lucius kept his head cocked in mock interest, all the while intensifying his attentions between her legs. Hermione struggled not to come apart at the seams. Hermione stared at him with pleading eyes, begging him to stop, but he ignored her.

"She was very young when she met the tsar, is that not so?" Lucius asked, his fingers insistently strumming at her clit.

"Oh, yes. she was only twelve when he first saw her," the waiter enthusiastically answered. "She hardly made an impression then. But their paths crossed again when she was sixteen on an official visit to her school, and well … the tsar went mad for her."

"Some women take a while to capture your attention, but when they do, madness ensues," Lucius remarked, looking at Hermione as he pressed his fingers right against her g-spot.

"Oh, yes," Hermione gasped as a monstrous wave of pleasure overtook her and rolled through her body. Her head fell against Lucius's shoulder until the throbbing ceased.

"Is madame unwell?" the waiter asked.

"No," Lucius said, tucking wayward strands of her behind her ear. "She is very well. Thank you."

Finally, he dismissed the man and allowed Hermione to relax. Her heart continued to gallop in her chest.

"You. So bad," was all she managed to say.

"Judging by your response, I'd say I was so good."

It was mortifying to have to climax in public, in front of a stranger! It was downright blasphemous.

Lucius caught her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. Hermione fought the urge to kiss him back, but let him take his fill. His lips were by far the most enticing, decadent thing she'd tasted all night. He kissed her again and she kissed him back this time, savoring the taste of him, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Kissing Lucius Malfoy was quickly becoming an addiction itself.

He smiled insidiously when they pulled apart. "Dessert, Miss Granger?" Picking up one of the chocolates from the box, he held it up to her before returning his mouth to her throat with a vampiric vigor. When his hand moved back to her pussy. She welcomed him, feeling no panic or embarrassment this time.

"You have been very good today. You've earned your reward." Lucius rolled the round chocolate over her lips. She opened her mouth and he slipped in the chocolate at the same moment he slipped two of his fingers deep inside her. He moved them smoothly and tirelessly along that special spot that caused the blood to bubble within her veins, applying just the right amount of pressure. The pad of his thumb moved to massage her clit, igniting Hermione's entire network of nerves. She swallowed her moans along with the candy, as series of swelling waves struck her again.

The little death again. Lucius Malfoy managed to kill another part of her. How long can she last with him in Rome if he keeps on this homicidal rampage? Except she was addicted and wanted more. So much more.

He didn't say a word, just watched her as she caught her breath. Then he kissed her temple and pulled his fingers away.

"How was your dessert?" he smugly asked licking the chocolate from his fingertip.

"It wasn't as good as the rest of the meal," she tartly replied, suppressing a giggle.

"Oh, and why is that?" he asked, signing a slip of paper under the box.

Hermione tugged down the hem of her dress, smiling slyly. "It wasn't very filling. I am still craving more."

He smirked. "I disagree. I think it was very filling."

Her brows furrowed in confusion and she looked down at the box. It was empty. What happened to the other chocolate?

"So you ate yours too?" she asked.

He smacked his lips, looking at the hand that touched her, and shook his head. "I'm saving mine for later. If you don't object."

Hermione looked down at her lap, flushing furiously at the realization. Her knees nearly knocked together.

"You didn't …"

Lucius winked at her, before rising and offering her his hand.

She took his hand.

"What next, Miss Granger?" he asked, quizzically raising an eyebrow at her.

"It'll be a shame for you not to have you dessert," Hermione teased him.

"And?"

"And I need to start learning Italian."

"Dammi un bacio," he said in Italian.

"What does that mean?" she asked,

Lucius kissed her greedily in response. His scent … it was so familiar now … so crisp and intoxicating that she didn't want to pull away from him even for a split second. He slowly pulled back, running his thumb over her lower lip.

"And that's all the Italian you're getting for tonight," Lucius declared. "I need my dessert before it melts."

She laughed, but quickly covered up her mouth. He took her hand away and held it in his.

"Don't do that," he gently commanded. "You have a beautiful laugh. You shouldn't hide it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." She paused. "I still have a lot of questions, but I suppose they can wait."

He wrapped his arm around her as they began to slowly make their way towards the entrance. As they collected their coats, Hermione pulled him back to her.

"Thank you for this. It's been the best Valentine's Day I ever had," she said, brimming with gratitude.

He stared deep into her eyes before speaking, "No, thank you."

Thus, with another kiss, Hermione's own private renaissance began.