Hungry Thirsty Crazy

He had never pegged Hermione as the fainting type, but that was what she did.  As soon as the proposal left his mouth, her eyes rolled back and she started to fall.  Lucius lunged forward, as did 47, and together they prevented her from hitting the floor.

"I've got her," Lucius said once he had Hermione securely in his arms.  He felt oddly breathless.  "Is there somewhere I can lay her down?"

"Of course.  There are some couches in the library."

He followed the other man into the small library where they'd first met, when he waited to see whether his father's Time Turner request was a fabrication or not.  Once there, he laid Hermione on a purple velvet sofa and checked her color; it was coming back.  Still, it would probably be a few minutes before she regained consciousness.

"Congratulations," 47 said quietly.

Lucius looked up and wiped sweat from his brow.  "She hasn't given me an answer yet."

The Unspeakable tilted his head.  "She'll say yes."

"How do you know?"

"Mr. Malfoy, if you could have seen her while you were gone, you would know, too."

"And you don't find it the slightest bit odd?" he couldn't resist asking.  All of the Unspeakables seemed to be handling the revelation of a relationship between a Muggleborn war heroine and a Pureblood ex-Death Eater quite well, though they did have the advantage of having their facial expressions hidden.  Even so, it felt too easy.

"My feelings on the matter are irrelevant, and besides, this is the Department of Mysteries.  I see an awful lot of strange things every day." 

Lucius got the sense that 47 was smiling.  "I suppose you do," he conceded.

"In light of it all, I wish you every happiness, Mr. Malfoy.  But--"

Just then, a paper airplane memo zoomed into the room and crashed into the Unspeakable's chest.  Instead of falling to the floor, it stuck there, its tip crumpled between the man's pectorals.  He sighed and took the paper, unfolding it with the ease of a man who did it several dozen times a day.

"I need to speak to you, but this requires my attention right now.  Stay here until I return," 47 ordered.  "Sixty is nearby if you need anything."

Lucius nodded.  It was no great mystery what 47 wanted to talk about.  He had deviated from the course of his Time Turner request.  He was certain that he wouldn't be thrown in Azkaban for it, but he had broken the rules.  The Malfoy vault might take a hit.

Even if it was worse than that, he found that he didn't care.  In his gut he felt that he had done the right thing.  Time told him he had done the right thing.  But most of all, Hermione's face, so angelic in unconsciousness, told him that he had done the right thing.

 

 

 

Ron was in a panic.  Now more than ever Harry knew his friend's true feelings for Hermione.  Though he pretended to be angry with her, even to hate her, a part of him still loved her as his girlfriend, and a greater part treasured her as a friend.  It warmed Harry's heart, but he was just as panicked as Ron.

Dawlish had hinted that there had been indications of unrest.  However, they had been only hints; he had never expected that something so big would happen, or so soon.  The students of Florence's school of magic and medicine were just as shell-shocked as everyone else.

So far, it seemed that no one had been killed.  A few were injured, but no matter how they searched or who they asked, there was no sign of Hermione.  They both knew that it wasn't like her to miss class.  She must have been here...and now she wasn't.

Finally, when they had spoken to every professor and student in the small campus and found nothing, Harry and Ron regrouped.  Harry felt like hell.  Ron looked like he had been gutted.  With heavy hearts, the two friends returned to the Ministry of Magic to report Hermione missing.

 

 

 

 

 

"I can't believe this," Ron said, staring at the table.  "If she's gone..."

"We'll find her, Ron."

"But what if--"

"We'll find her," Harry responded sharply, refusing to accept the thought of a world without Hermione.  It was difficult for him to believe that only a few months ago, he had been angry enough to consider cutting her out of his life.  It all seemed so silly now.

The Ministry cafeteria was a mess.  It teemed all around them, full of people who were in a similar state - people who had been taken by surprise by the swift series of attacks.  Many had been wounded, but it seemed that so far no one had died.  It was the best case scenario...except that they could not find Hermione.

 

 

 

Draco sat in the cafeteria, head buzzing.  Like everyone else, the attacks had caught him off guard, but that was just another layer of his shock.  He had just seen something so impossible that he wasn't quite sure what to do.

But for now, the very least he could do was assuage someone else's grief.  Draco stood from the table and walked toward the pair of men he'd overheard.

 

 

 

Harry looked up when a hand fell on his shoulder.  He found himself looking into Draco Malfoy's pale face.  Ron, who was already pushed to his limit, instantly snapped.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?  To brag?" he snarled, rising to his feet.

"No," the blond said softly.

"Then what?" Ron demanded, only slightly wrong-footed by Malfoy's quiet reaction.

Harry turned to face Draco, equally curious though not nearly as hostile.  Draco's face was as shell-shocked as his own and that told him that the other wizard's intention wasn't to harm.  "Yeah," he said, "what is it that you want?"

"To tell you that you can stop worrying.  Granger is down in the Department of Mysteries."

"What?" Ron nearly shouted.  "Why would she be there?"

Draco winced at the sheer volume of Ron's voice.  "How the hell should I know?"

This time it was Harry who stood and latched onto Draco.  "She's there?  You're not jerking us around?"

"Potter, I may have been a shitty human being once, but is it so inconceivable that I might actually be decent now?"

Harry took a step back.  Ron had already turned and left, intent on chasing any lead on Hermione, even if it came from Malfoy.  Harry was frozen in place, staring at his one-time nemesis.  There was only one other time he recalled seeing this look on Draco's face.

"Harry!"  Ron's sharp voice reached him.

Shaking his head once, Harry turned from Draco to catch up.

 

 

 

47 had returned quickly and ushered him to one of the nearby tables.  There he sat and indicated that Lucius should do the same.  Lucius eased into the chair, nervous to be away from Hermione, but aware that this was also important.  She wasn't far away so they would hear if she woke.

47 fished a piece of paper from his pocket and laid it on the table.  With a glance, Lucius recognized it as the arithmancy equations that had stymied him - the ones that determined whether he was allowed to use the Time Turner or not.

"I lied to you, Mr. Malfoy."

His eyes flew to the featureless mask that covered 47's face.  "What?"

"I do know what all this means.  I'm the only one in the country who can understand it, besides the arithmancer herself."

The sting of betrayal rose quickly in his chest, but Lucius controlled himself.  47 was not finished.  He needed to hold off on his judgment until he heard all that the other man had to say.

"This here," the Unspeakable said, circling an area in the middle of the paper with his finger, "says that the only way this," here he pointed to the top, "will work is if you do not do what you initially went back for.  The equations on that led only to failure.  For that I am truly sorry, Mr. Malfoy.  But you must understand...when it comes to time travel, if it has not come to pass, it won't.  What I mean to say is if nothing prevented you from harm that night, nothing will.  The flow of time is continuous."

"Of course it didn't change.  I did nothing to stop it," he replied, logic running circles in his brain.

"Now is not the part that matters.  I know it's difficult to understand, but if you were meant to go back in time to prevent your rape, you would never have been raped in the first place."

"Then how would I know I was meant to go back?"

"Exactly.  It becomes a paradox."

Lucius looked at his hands for a long moment.  "I am an intelligent man, but this seems to be beyond me."

"It is beyond many.  I am deeply sorry for what happened to you, Mr. Malfoy, and I do wish I could have done more.  It is so tempting, sometimesÉ" 47 trailed off.  "But that is why time travel is so heavily regulated.  We simply cannot give in to that temptation."

"But you let me go back," Lucius protested.  "If you knew this, why did you let me go?"

"Because of the numbers.  You were meant to go back, Mr. Malfoy, just not for what you thought.  Unfortunately, all of this was contingent on you not knowing that."

"But what if..."

"If you had gone through with it?"

"Yes.  I was right there.  The spell was on my lips.  It was...a split second.  I could have done it."

"Then it would have been ours to deal with.  We could have gone back to undo it easily enough.  Besides, there was only a 9% chance of you actually going through with it.  The Favorable Outcome Percentile told us that it was 91% certain that you'd deviate from the original request and do exactly what you were meant to - exactly what you already did."

Lucius sat there trying to process it all.  He frowned, conflict roiling in his stomach.  "You used me."

"Yes, I did.  I apologize.  I would have been content to let you ignore the request until it expired, but when the prophecies emerged and were linked to you, the game changed."

"The game," Lucius said softly.  "That's all it is?  A game?"

"Mr. Malfoy, do you know what that memo was?  It was from the Auror office.  The attack happened while you were completing your time travel."

He shot to his feet, stunned.  "Already?  Was anyone hurt?  My son?  My ex-wife?"

"That's the beauty of it all.  You being here, doing this, shifted everything.  All the people who would have been killed were not where they were supposed to be.  Ms. Granger, for instance, and your son.  Your ex-wife is safe, too.  As of right now, it seems that everyone has survived."

"And the perpetrators?"

"At least half have been captured.  The Aurors are on the trail of the rest."

Lucius breathed, trying to still his racing thoughts.  They were safe.  They were all safe.  If he had accomplished nothing else, he had kept those he loved out of harm's way.  He found that he couldn't muster much resentment for the Unspeakable's manipulation.

"I assume, then, that I will not be fined or imprisoned for deviating from the course of my request, since it was never what I was supposed to do anyway," Lucius said drily.

"Certainly not.  Frankly, we should give you an Order of Merlin.  I will speak to the Minister about it."

The mention of Shacklebolt made Lucius sneer.  "No.  Don't bother."

"You deserve recognition for what you've done."

"I don't want any."

The Unspeakable was quiet for a long moment.  Then he said, "Lucius, I asked you to do an incredibly difficult thing, both by forcing you to believe you were leaving the one you love, and by deceiving you.  You put your emotions and your quality of life aside to save others.  That isn't something that many people are capable of.  I'm not sure I could have done it."

"And I'll be perfectly content if the only ones who know it are you and the rest of the Unspeakables."

47 chuckled softly.  "My, how times have changed."

Lucius stared at the ebony-robed wizard.  He felt, quite suddenly, that he knew this man.  It was only a sensation in his gut, and yet...it was so potent.

"Who are you?"

"You know I can't tell you that.  Let's just say, Lucius, that we've crossed paths before and you were a very different man back then."  47 picked up the parchment with the equations and tucked it into his pocket.  "But then again, so was I."  He stood up and smoothed his robes.

"So that's it?" Lucius said.  "We just...walk away?"

"Yes."  47 started to turn, then stopped.  "Although...should you desire a quick and discreet marriage ceremony, I suppose I should tell you that 31 has the proper certifications to make it happen.  It would be legal in the magical world, yet only documented here, away from prying eyes.  It's what I did and I have never regretted it.  Nor has my wife."

"I don't even have an answer yet.  I've learned not to get ahead of myself."

47 nodded.  "Fair enough.  The offer stands, though.  Owl me any time."

 

 

 

Harry was hot on Ron's heels as they tore through the Department of Mysteries.  He did not have time to think on how bizarrely familiar it felt.  He cringed as Ron grabbed the nearest Unspeakable by his or her arm and shouted, "Where's Hermione Granger?  Tell me where she is!"

Subtlety had never been Ron's strong suit.  The Unspeakable performed a quick movement to escape Ron's grasp and then turned the tables, twisting Ron until his arm was behind his back.  "Are you authorized to be down here?" she barked, pulling until Ron let out of muffled curse.

"Please, he's just worried about our friend.  I'm sorry he grabbed you," Harry said diplomatically.  He dug in his robes for his badge.  "We're Auror trainees, Level 4.  A friend of ours was thought to be missing in the attacks, but we just received a tip that she might be down here.  Can you tell us if you've seen Hermione Granger?"

The Unspeakable eased her hold on Ron, but not without giving him a dirty look.  "For future reference, rookie, that is how you ask an Unspeakable a question," she said to Ron.  "Get it right next time."  She adjusted her robes, which had been pulled by Ron's overzealous approach.  "Now, to answer your question, yes, Hermione Granger is down here.  I believe she's in the library."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Harry said, feeling all the fear drain out of him.

"I have never been so glad to know anyone played hooky in my life!" Ron declared, leaning over to rest his hands on his knees.  At that moment, the adrenaline and fatigue of the last few hours was catching up to both of them.  Relief made them feel boneless. 

"And in a library, that's a shocker," Harry agreed, grinning.

"I didn't even know there was a library down here," Ron said.  "Can you show us where it is?"

"Since you asked so nicely," the Unspeakable replied, more than a little sarcastic.  "Follow me."

 

 

 

Hermione opened her eyes.  It was dark, though not completely.  Soft candlelight illuminated just enough for her to see that she was laid out on a couch.  She squinted, willing the dizziness in her head to go away.  Was she at the villa?

No.  What had she been doing today?  Gingerly, she sat up, squeezing her eyes shut until the head rush passed.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?"

Her head jerked towards the voice, which wasn't one she recognized.  A black-robed witch stood there, identifiable as such only by the shape of her body, for all else was covered.  An Unspeakable.  Of course...she had come here with Lucius so he could use the Time Turner.  She must have passed out somewhere along the way, though the details were fuzzy.

"Yes, I think so," she answered.  Did people pass out when their lives changed due to time travel?  Had her life changed?  She still remembered Lucius.  She remembered everything.

Tears stung her eyes.  She had dreamed something wonderful, for that was all it could be - a dream.  There was no way Lucius had proposed to her.  How could he?  If he changed his past, he would be married to someone else, wouldn't he?

That didn't explain how she recalled every agonizing little detail of their relationship.  Shouldn't that have disappeared when he prevented his rape?  Why was it still there to haunt her?

"Where's--" she began, but she was interrupted.  At that moment, two unexpected people burst into the small lounge area.  She blinked at them, now even more confused.  "Harry?  Ron?"

Ron enveloped her in a bear hug before anyone could do or say anything else.  She was lifted off the couch into a crushing Weasley embrace, the kind that did not allow breath to stay in the body.  He was laughing.

"You scared the hell out of us, 'Mione!" he said, setting her back down on her feet.

"You just scared the hell out of me!" she responded, willing her heart to slow down.  "What's all this about?"

"There was an attack at your school.  When we couldn't find you there, we thought the worst, but you were right here all along," Harry explained quickly.  "Thank goodness."

"What?  An attack?  What do you mean?  Was anyone hurt?"  She shook her head.  "Why would anyone attack my school?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. 

"Well, 'Mione, it wasn't just your school.  They hit a lot of targets, but so far it seems that no one was killed," Ron said.

"Who is 'they'?" she demanded.

"Cells of Death Eaters...or Preservationists, as they call themselves now," Harry replied, a tinge of disgust in his voice.

She sat back down on the couch.  "They were after me.  That's why they attacked my school."

"Most likely."

"It's my fault that people were hurt, and the damage..."

"No, Hermione, please don't feel badly about it.  There was nothing you or I or anybody could have done.  We should just be grateful that everyone's all right and that most of those nutters have been caught," Harry comforted.

"And everyone at your school was just as worried as we were," Ron added.  "They'll be glad to know you're all right."  He pushed his ginger hair off his forehead.  "What on earth are you doing down here, anyway?"

She glanced around.  The Unspeakable was still there, silent, but no doubt watching with great interest.  Two people would know if she lied.  And while Harry would perhaps think it was for the best, Hermione found that she simply didn't have the patience to lie.  There were more important things she needed to do right now.

She stood up and took a few steps away from the couch, beyond Ron and Harry.  Into the dim, heavy quietude of the library, she called, "Lucius?"

It echoed slightly.  Only a few seconds passed before she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps.  He emerged from behind a bookcase and offered a small smile.

Relief struck her hard.  She put her hand over her chest and sighed, incredibly glad that she was not alone.

"You didn't do it."

He shook his head.  "No."

"And that thing you asked me...did I imagine it?"

His smile grew broader.  "No, you didn't imagine it.  Though I will be happy to ask again if you want me to."

Hermione was only just able to contain the tears that wanted to spill onto her cheeks.  She swallowed, battling elation and hysteria.  "We'll talk about it later."

He nodded.  Then he declined his head slightly, addressing the others who were watching - one with an expression of concern, and the other with a face full of pure, unadulterated shock.  "Mr. Potter.  Mr. Weasley."

"What is he doing here?  What's going on, Hermione?" Ron asked, stepping up beside her as if to protect her.  She turned to him, meeting his worried eyes.  His bear hug earlier had told her everything she needed to know.  Though he might be angry, no, furious, there was nothing in the world she could to do make him hate her completely.  There would always be a piece of Ron's heart reserved for her.  And, truthfully, there would always be a piece of her own heart reserved for him, no matter how sour things became.  Perhaps it would take decades to heal the rift she was about to create, but the very possibility that it could be healed gave her the strength she needed.

With composure that came from the certainty in her heart, she said, "Ron, Lucius and I are in a relationship.  There is nothing you can do to change that.  It's by my own will, and I am the happiest I have ever been.  So if that means anything to you, please, just accept it so that we can all be happy."  With that said, she turned to Lucius.  "Let's go home, please.  I have had enough excitement for one day."

"That makes two of us," he agreed.  Lucius strode over and held out his hand.  Hermione took it and walked toward the exit with him.

 

 

 

He loved Hermione, but Harry could have killed her for leaving him alone with Ron at a time like this.  After a long moment frozen in shock, Ron turned.  He met Harry's eyes, and if it was humanly possible, his face grew even more stunned.

"You knew about this."  His chest began to rise and fall rapidly.  "You knew about this!"

"Yes, I did," Harry said as evenly as he could.  "I thought it would be best if you heard it from Hermione, not me."

"Well, you thought wrong!  I can't believe...how did you...I don't...how could you have known about this and not said anything?!"

Ron's fist flashed out.  Harry knew him very well, and so he knew when to duck.  If Harry had not expected it, he probably would have been spitting out his own front teeth right about now.

Ron looked as though he would swing again.  But then, suddenly, inexplicably, the anger drained out of him.  He dropped his fist.  Jerkily, he pulled his Auror robes from his body and then he turned to leave.

"Ron!" Harry called, unsure what to do when Ron was not shouting or trying to murder him.

"Just leave me the hell alone!" Ron shot back.  A door slammed, and Harry was left alone in the library.  Though he was not really alone; two Unspeakables stood in silence on either side of the lounge area.

Harry bent to gather Ron's robes and then he sat on the couch.  As he sat numbly, one of the Unspeakables turned and left.  The other stayed, leaning against a bookshelf.

"Quite a temper on that one," he commented.

"Yes, well, he did just find out that his ex-girlfriend and first love is dating a man who made his family's life miserable for years, and was a Death Eater to boot, so cut him a break, will you?" Harry bit back.

"Death Eater or not, he loves that Granger girl."

Harry sighed.  "Don't we all."

The Unspeakable chuckled.  "Do you know your way out?"

"Yes."  Harry stood and slung the robe over his shoulder.  "And I sure hope Ron does, too."

 

 

 

Harry very much understood Hermione's earlier sentiment about having enough excitement for one day.  Yet, as he headed for the floo to go home and see Ginny, something stopped him.  Something he should have put together well before now.

He detoured to the cafeteria.  He needed water after all the running around he and Ron had done.  But aside from that, he needed to speak to Draco Malfoy.  Harry hoped he was still here; if he wasn't, he would have to wait until the next time they crossed paths and Merlin only knew when that would be.

Thankfully, when he entered the cafeteria, he was able to pick him out right away.  The space had emptied in the half hour that had passed and Draco's pale blond hair was easily identified.  So, too, were Marietta Edgecombe's fiery red locks; she sat next to Draco.  As Harry drew closer he could see that her eyes were wide with concern.  He had never seen that expression on her face before.  It made her a little less of a villain in his mind, though it would be a long time before he wished to exchange any pleasantries with her.

She understood without him having to say so.  As he approached, she gave Draco's hand a squeeze and then pushed her chair back.  Draco glanced up at her, then at Harry, and nodded.  Marietta melted away into the thinning crowd, presumably headed back to the forensics lab.

"Did you find her?" Draco said, his voice exhausted.

Harry sat down across from him.  It was not just his voice that was tired.  All of him seemed pulled down by some incredible weight, and if Harry was right, he knew exactly what it was.

"Yes, she was down there safe and sound.  Thank you for telling us."

"No problem."  Draco fidgeted with the salt shaker, turning it in circles.  A long moment passed.

Harry licked his lips.  "You're an Unspeakable."

One grey eye gave him a sideways glance.  "How do you figure?"

"If you knew she was down there, you had to be down there yourself.  And you're always dressed in black every time I see you here.  I thought it was just the way you dress, but it's not.  It's your required uniform."

"So everyone who walks around in black is an Unspeakable?" Draco asked.

"Not necessarily, but--"

"And how do you know I didn't just see her in the elevator and know which floor she was going to?"

"I don't, but--"

"So in short, Potter, you don't know anything."

Harry reached out and pulled the salt shaker from Draco's hands; his fidgeting was driving him insane.  "I know why you're like this.  I know why you're upset, and that's how I know you're an Unspeakable."

Draco snorted.  "Enlighten me, wise one."

"You saw them together."

"Saw who together?" Draco demanded.

Harry glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot.  "Your father and Hermione.  You saw them.  You know they're involved."

Draco had played the game well up to this point, fully in control of his aloof charade, but when Harry spelled it out he could no longer pretend.  His lips pressed together and his nostrils flared.

"And what the hell do you know about it?" he spat.

"Your girlfriend was the first to know.  The knickers Ron found at your father's villa during the Netherwood investigation were Hermione's.  Marietta told me to try to blackmail Hermione.  You see, back in school she and Hermione didn't get along, and Marietta saw an opening.  Charming girl, isn't she?"

Draco's eyes narrowed.  "Don't you dare talk about her that way, Potter."

Harry recognized the blaze of an angry lover in Draco's eyes and backed off.  He had not come here to speak his mind about Marietta, anyway.  "Marietta told me and I had to see it for myself.  I confronted Hermione a few months ago."

"Months," Draco repeated.  "It's been going on for months?"

"Nearly a year now, I think," Harry replied.

Draco put his hands over his face.  He was silent for a long time.  Harry began to worry, for it simply wasn't like Draco to have nothing to say.  He knew him at least that well.

"Malfoy?"

"I have to go."  Draco pushed back from the table quickly, but not quickly enough that Harry didn't see his eyes glazed with angry tears.  Harry reached out to grab his arm, realizing that this was the worst possible thing for Lucius and Hermione.  Not only had Ron found out, but so had Draco...and they only knew about the former.

"Draco, wait!"

"Let go of me, Potter."

"What were they doing down there?"

Draco pulled his arm away.  "I can't tell you that, you twit!"

"I'm right, then.  About what you do.  You are an--"

"Bugger off, Potter!"  Draco began to storm away.

"They're good together, Malfoy!" Harry called after him.  "I don't know how it works, but it does, and they're happy!"

"Oh, I know exactly how happy they are!" Draco shouted. 

Before Harry could say anything else, Draco was gone.  A few people were staring at him.  However, it was not as many as it might have been, for he and Draco were not exactly known to be best mates.

He needed a plan.  It would not be good if Hermione and Lucius were blindsided.  At this point, Draco was as unpredictable as Ron, though Harry very much wanted to believe that Draco was decent now, as he had claimed earlier.  Nonetheless, Hermione and Lucius needed to be warned, and fast.

He could try to floo, but it was unlikely that the villa would have an open connection.  Malfoy Manor was out of the question, and there was a very slim chance that Hermione would be at her flat.  He would have to send an owl.  Two owls, one to each of them so that there was no possible way they would miss his message.  That was the only way.

Or...or he could go there himself.  He knew where it was.  Yes, that might be the better option.  Harry thumped his fist on the table, sure that he could relay the news that way.  And if they weren't there, well, the owl would be his backup.

 

 

 

"I never want to leave this place," Lucius said after they emerged from the floo into the warmth of the villa.

Hermione turned and burrowed against his chest.  "I never want to leave you."

"Likewise," he agreed, embracing her.

"About your question..."

"We'll go ring shopping tomorrow and I'll ask you properly."

"You know I don't need that," she chastised, smiling.

"No, but you deserve it."

"I don't care."  She looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest.  "The answer is yes."

The smile that broke his face was incredible.  It was fragile, relieved, excited, and so, so happy.  She felt as though she had waited a lifetime to see that kind of look on his face.  It was the look of man who had forgotten everything, small and large, that complicated his life.

He leaned forward to kiss her, his large hands cupping her jaw.  It was a gentle kiss, just the barest meeting of lips, and yet it conveyed so much that tears peaked in her eyes.  Lucius noticed them and pulled back slightly.  He shook his head.

"If you start," he said in a low voice, "I'll start."

Hermione laughed, and in doing so, the deceptive tears slid down her cheeks.  She hugged him tightly.

"Well, it's high time you knew what it's like to be so happy you cry, anyway!" she replied, offering a watery grin.

"I thought only women were prone to such madness," he said gruffly.

"I promise I won't tell."

"I shall have to punish you severely if you do."  He sniffled to punctuate his point.

Hermione remained snuggled against his chest, listening to his quickened heart beat.  Slowly, they both regained their composure, though a wellspring of emotion was never far from the surface.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she whispered a few moments later.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been married once before, and I would understand if it's not something you want to jump into again.  I don't need it, Lucius.  I'd be happy to stay with you forever, married or not."

"And that, Hermione, is precisely why I know I am making the right choice."  He stroked a clump of her curls behind her ear.  "Besides, as much as you may disbelieve it, I enjoyed being married."

At one time that might have surprised her.  Now, after almost a year of living with Lucius, she understood that the image he projected to the world was very different from his true nature.  He was perfectly content to sit at home, to read, to talk, to politely carouse with close friends, drink wine, write, even just stare at the fireplace.  Though he did occasionally feel the itch to get out, it wasn't with the frequency or opulence she had expected.  She suspected that years of publicity, good or bad, had made going out a chore rather than a source of enjoyment.

To him, married life had probably been a source of great comfort.  It was consistent.  He knew there was someone at home upon whom he could rely, someone that he could trust enough to reveal his true self.  Though she gathered that his marriage to Narcissa had been more about friendship, there was still something beautiful about it.  That little piece of quiet predictability had probably given him shelter from an otherwise stressful life - even if some of that stress was self-created.

That, too, was likely why the dissolution of the marriage was so hard on him.  Without it, there was no one to come home to but himself, and no mundane little problems to distract him.  His last line of defense, the stronghold of his family, was lost.  He was truly alone.

There was only solitude.  Solitude and time.  He needed to replace those other distractions, the ones he had used to deflect his inner turmoil, lest he go mad.  The only place he could look was inward. 

And so he wrote.

As near as she could tell, he didn't write for simple sanity anymore.  He wrote because he wanted to.  He enjoyed it.  It had become a hobby, perhaps even a passion.  Lucius had found the one thing, besides Hermione, that could quiet his mind.

"Have I shocked you into silence?"

His question propelled her back to reality.  She looked up into his face.  He wore a small, crooked smile and was clearly expecting a bit of humor at his expense.

"No, I...have you ever had a moment in your life where you just...wonder how you got to be where you're standing?"

Lucius's brows drew together in a grimly amused expression.  "Hermione, I have had many, and few were as positive as this."

She had to chuckle at his tone.  "It feels a bit surreal, is all."

He tilted his head to place a kiss on her ear.  "Go and put on your lingerie and I will see to it that the next few hours are very, very real," he purred.

A warm flush moved through her, swirling into a heavy ache in her core.  There had been so many emotions in the last few hours, so much stress.  She feared that she would lose him and all that he made her feel.  But he was still here, and he was hers, at least for the finite slice of eternity they inhabited, and that knowledge only compounded her body's natural response.

"You'll have to let me go if I'm going to do that," she breathed.

"I find that quite impossible.  You shall have to fight me off."

"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you."

It was Lucius's turn to chuckle.  His tongue gathered her earlobe and pulled it between his lips.  Teeth nipped carefully at the soft cartilage, sending a sharp thrill racing across her skin.

"Guilty," he murmured.

"Maybe by the end of the night you'll be fighting me off," Hermione teased playfully.

"I sincerely hope so."

She grinned as he reached for a healthy handful of her bottom and squeezed.  Only Lucius could be so vulgar and so polite at the same time.  Hermione squirmed in his arms, ready to move from flirtation to the next course.  Sensing this, he let her go, but not without a light swat to her backside.

As she retreated to the bedroom, flushed with excitement, she heard him call out, "Wear the stockings!"

 

 

 

He forgot about the wards.  Hermione had mentioned that Lucius strengthened them after the ordeal with Aloysius Pound.  After today's attacks, he might have strengthened them even more.  Only the stupid or the insane would attempt to dismantle them.  Add that to the fact that they extended at least a hundred yards from the villa and Harry knew he would have to resort to Plan B.  He wasn't even close enough to throw a rock.  Maybe if he shouted for Hermione...?

 

 

 

Hermione could hear nothing but the pound of blood in her ears and the sharp pants that spilled from her own lips as well as Lucius's.  Harry was the furthest thing from her mind, and there he would remain for the rest of the evening.  Lucius turned her, settling over her and quickly remedying the brief emptiness he'd left.  Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and looked at him.

She loved his hands.  Loved how broad and strong they were as they grasped her knees, pale against the black silk stockings.  And his arms, deceptively muscled though he didn't do much of anything to keep them that way.  His torso, which had filled out a bit since he began eating better, and that masculine neck which she so loved to kiss.

And his face, of course, which she loved most when it was unguarded.  His eyes caught hers and he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that was not quite rough and not quite gentle.  She couldn't prevent her arms from winding around his shoulders.  She loved him, all of him, and wanted every little bit of him at once.

He was so distracted by the deepening kisses that he forgot to move, remaining still deep inside her.  She could feel him throb as their tongues dueled with increasing fervor.  There was no need to hurry things along.  They didn't have to rush anymore.  For tonight, they had made up their minds; they would be together forever, or as long as forever granted.

 

 

 

Harry gave up.  Perhaps they were sleeping, or doing something else that he didn't want to think about.  He shuddered.  An owl would have to do.  He really ought to see if Ron was okay, anyway.

He Apparated home, sent two identical letters (one to Hermione and one to Lucius), and went in search of his best friend.  The dormitory at the Auror training grounds yielded nothing; nor did the Burrow, save for an enthusiastic reception by Molly and Arthur and an obscenely large piece of carrot cake.  George hadn't seen him.  Harry was at a loss for where else to look.

Lavender Brown?  No, Ron had made it quite clear that she was not for him.  'Too much crazy' had been the exact phrase.

Bill and Fleur?  No, Bill was so happy in marriage that he had become the type that hounded his other brothers about their continued single status.  Mostly, they tolerated him for their niece's sake.  Ron would not go to Bill's.

Percy?  No, Percy irritated Ron beyond measure at times.  He always had a lecture ready.  Percy's attitude had vastly improved since the war, but some things were just part of his nature and couldn't be changed.

He'd already checked in with Ginny; she hadn't seen Ron.  Charlie was too far away.  Who else was there?  Ron was still friendly with Dean and Seamus, and Neville as well, but would he go to them?

No.

With a sigh, Harry returned home.  Though Ginny did her best to distract him, to draw him away from whatever bothered him without prying too much, he couldn't sleep.  He loved Hermione.  He couldn't blame her for pursuing her own happiness.  It was just very unfortunate that Ron's emotions were being steamrolled in the process.

At times Harry wished Ron and Hermione had never dated.  It had ruined the most beautiful part of their relationship.  They were meant to be friends - quarrelsome, silly, turbulent friends.  There was enough cushion in friendship for those moments.  It became too personal when they were more.

As friends, they could walk away, ignore one another for a while, soothe their egos, and regroup.  As lovers, words and conflicts cut too deep.  Habits and quirks were no longer things that could be escaped.  They had to be accepted.  In the end, they couldn't accept one another enough to stay together.

Hermione was a force, that was for certain.  Ron had probably felt as though he'd been chewed up by a tornado and then spit out when they broke up.  Harry knew he had not always been a perfect boyfriend, and sometimes he was really very thick, but he had tried so hard to be the right man for her.

It always hurt when one's best was not good enough.  Add to that the fact that someone Ron despised seemed to be good enough and it was a recipe for serious torment.  Harry sighed.  At least it wasn't Draco.  Thank the Lord it wasn't Draco.

But was Lucius really any better?  Harry had seen with his own eyes how Lucius had once mocked Ron's family.  Yet that had been less personal, easy to brush off and mutter to oneself about how he was an arsehole.  Draco had been someone they had to deal with five days a week for nearly seven years.  For Ron, the worst part about Lucius was likely that he was Draco's father.  Among other things...

Harry sighed.  He was going to have to talk to Hermione.  She had been so blunt down in the Department of Mysteries.  She would bristle at the insinuation that she owed Ron anything more than the simple explanation, but in the end Harry was sure she would understand how deeply Ron had been wounded.  Though, whether Ron wanted any attempt at reconciliation remained to be seen.

What a mess.  What a bloody fucking mess.