They always meet on Tuesdays.


Tuesdays when Ron met up with his friends after work, going to the pub to drink, play a game or two of Wizarding Chess, and discuss Quidditch with his mates, arriving home in the wee hours drunk, always sleeping in the guest room so as not to disturb her.


Tuesdays when Narcissa met friends for dinner and drinks at various locations throughout England and Europe, committee meetings for various charities she was interested in or simply using the evening to relax with friends, never arriving home until Wednesday morning at the earliest.


Tuesdays when she and Lucius met at a discreet establishment outside Bath where they were known as Mr. And Mrs. Smith. They had been meeting on Tuesdays for the past three years, since a chance encounter at the Ministry had forced them to acknowledge a mutual attraction. Hermione would like to think she was loyal and too strong to give in to physical needs and desires, but it had only required a half dozen more ‘chance encounters’ from Lucius Malfoy to cause her to forget the logical voice in her head that was whispering how wrong this was, how horrible she was, what a terrible wife she was to her dear, sweet Ron. She loved her husband just as Lucius loved his wife, but there was something that Lucius gave her on Tuesdays that she could not get anywhere else.


The guilt, the shame, the disappointment in herself, those were emotions that never plagued her on Tuesdays. As the sun rose in the morning, that was when she would feel wretched and horrid. When Ron kissed her in the morning, unaware of her weekly betrayal, that’s when she would consider leaving, letting him find someone who truly deserved him, someone who would cherish his devotion and not cheat on him with a former Deatheater.


She remained with Ron, though, his touch gentle and loving but failing to excite her in the way that Lucius could with nothing more than a heated look. During the week, she told herself that this time she would not go, that she would end the affair and focus on being a good wife. Ron deserved so much more, being her best friend as well as her husband, and she was the most vile witch in the world for betraying him every week. But Tuesday would arrive and she’d feel the tingles in her stomach and the tremor of excitement from the moment she awoke in the morning and she‘d watch the clock until it was time for their meeting.


When she was here with him, she thought of nothing except his body against hers. The feel of his cock buried inside her. The scent of spice and sex and Lucius that always aroused her. The taste of him on her lips. His voice in her ear as they had conversations about a variety of topics that lasted hours. His arms around her as they slept off and on before they had to go back to their separate realities.


It was in those moments, when they were laying together sated and spent, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat and sex, that she felt complete, content, happy. That was when she would look out the window at the stars and wish that every day was Tuesday.