I didn't want to wait longer to post this since I've been receiving so many messages about this sequel, so here it is! All from Hermione's first person POV. All rights and characters, as usual, belong to JK Rowling.

Thank you everyone who read Valentine Surprise and its shorter one-shots and encouraged me with this story, especially FoxLittleRedFox and ellabelle12 - this one's for you :)

Let me know what you think. Hugs,

Lana

My attraction to Lucius Malfoy was never purely emotional. It was a function of physics; a torturing trick of his magnetic field. It was visceral - almost like toxic metal. I felt the first tincture of this insidious venom the day I Disapparated from his home after our first sexual encounter. Since that day, thoughts of him invade me at random. It never matters what I'm doing or what my surroundings are, Lucius Malfoy always finds a way in. It's not at all fair. But then... it was never meant to be that. Perhaps it was the same for him. Or perhaps not. He, at least, was at liberty to control his thoughts; I had no such luxury. Over time, missing him evolved into a linear function; the longer he stayed away, the more acutely I felt his absence. Missing him became its own subtle and stinging torture. But that's what made his homecomings so special. When he was with me, the loneliness was numbed away. Mr. Malfoy was my whole world that year; my life revolved around his schedule, and it was how I preferred it. Our Italian adventure was full of sunshine and storms, but I loved every moment of it. My only regret was that... no, no, no. I refuse to have regrets. The whole of the experience was what made me who I am today, and I would not wish it to be anything other than what it was. And it was ... magnificent, just like Lucius himself.

I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Casa Valentina. It was almost like a relic from the past, and so opulent as to drop jaws of even the most jaded Roman emperors. White crimean granite in Neo-Renaissance style greeted me in all its glory as we arrived at the top of the Hill of Parioli.

Lucius glanced wryly in my direction. "Breathe, Miss Granger."

A petite, pregnant witch waved at us from the patio. I recognized her from Draco's wedding announcement as Astoria Greengrass.

"Welcome to Rome," she called out to us, resting her hand on her full belly.

Lucius turned to me again. His voice, dark and dulcet, spoke in my ear, "Astoria will give you a tour and help get you settled in," he announced abruptly. "I have some urgent business at the Embassy that cannot be postponed."

I tried to hide my shock. By no means did I expect this to be a romantic getaway; I knew what our arrangement entailed. He explained it so succinctly the night of our Valentine's Day dinner, and yet half of me felt abandoned ... dismissed ... demoted to the periphery of his world.

The other half of me was relieved. After our flight, I knew I needed a little time to recover, and to at least begin to get my bearings in the house and in the city. The whole whirlwind ordeal with Lucius had come over me like an unremitting fever dream.

Astoria entrusted our trunks to a house-elf, then turned to me with a friendly smile. "Would you prefer to have your lunch in the parlor or in the dinning salon?"

"I'm not really hungry. I thought I'd just settle in and look around." I groped in my pocket for a wand, but instead found a piece of paper.

You're under strict orders to relax.

LM

"No skipping meals on my watch." Her serious expression broke into another easy smile. "It makes me look like a glutton, despite that I'm actually eating for two and all. Mr. Malfoy wants me to make sure that your first day here is as relaxing as possible."

"Oh. Then in the salon is fine, I suppose," I answered aloud.

It surprised me how easily I acquiesced at the mere mentioning of him. His name alone, apparently, was enough to overthrow men as if its invocation were linked to that same imperious spell he always seemed to cast over me in his presence.

I followed Astoria through the double doors to the dining room. From the ceiling hung a grand chandelier that surely would blind me if it were lit up. The table was dressed with blue linen, and set with silver and white china for just one. Though by my cursory count, it might have sat twenty with elbow room to spare.

A rumble in my stomach interrupted my present thoughts. I'm not sure I knew how hungry I was until the house-elf set the food in front of me. I was ravenous, even in spite of our elaborate dinner the night before. Refraining from acting like Ron, I selected a croissant with raspberry jam.

The tea was perfect, the croissant buttery and soft. I took another nibble. Through three arched windows on the far wall, I watched the sunlight waltz erratically in the bubbling waters of the fountain in the courtyard. And for just a moment, I caught myself seduced by the quiet opulence of my captivity. I imagined Lucius's first wife — seated in her fancy dress robes on the far side of the table, languidly lifting a grape to her painted lips. I suppose she probably thought quite little of luxuries afforded her at Casa Valentina.

Aware of Astoria's curious gaze upon me, I blushed and finished up as quickly as I could. I was neither Lucius's wife, nor his maîtresse-en-titre. Clearing my throat, I attempted to make polite conversation with Astoria. I answered her questions and asked about her life in Rome in return. I learned that she studied art history here before she started dating Draco. She glowed in her pregnancy - the classic embodiment of Renaissance beauty. A twinge of envy shot through me. I could never aspire to have that with Lucius. This Malfoy wasn't going to fall in love with me among the ancient ruins and start a family with me.

"Why is the villa called Casa Valentina?" I inquired after Astoria have related all she could about her life.

"It used to belong to Countess Isabella Valentina two hundred years ago," the younger witch said with a sly smile, her eyes alight. "She was the most gifted witch of her time, but she was really more famous for her marriage to the Italian Minister of Finance. Now her ghost is famous for haunting the upstairs gallery."

"Haunting it?"

"Her marriage had a tragic end, not too different from that of my in-laws." She paused, then added in afterthought, "Except for the obvious."

I leaned in, eager for more information. Lucius had never discussed anything but barest of details of why his marriage ended. I hardly knew anything about his personal life before me. That didn't stop me from following him to a foreign country.

"Which is?" I prompted Astoria for elaboration.

"Isabella caught her husband in bed with two courtesans. She stabbed him through the throat with the only weapon she had on her - her Chinese hairpin."

A chill ran through me. "She killed him?"

"Oh, yes." Astoria's head bopped with approval. "If you ask me, the cheating bastard deserved it. Like I told Draco before we married, infidelity is the most unforgivable sin in a marriage for me. Everything else can be worked out, but not the ultimate betrayal."

"That's a grim story," I said.

Her big emerald eyes danced in amusement. "I can see you're skeptical. That's okay. Mr. Malfoy doesn't believe it either, no matter how many incidents I've witnessed that point to the contrary. She's invisible, so the visual proof cannot easily exist. We live in the house across the courtyard and I've been looking after this one long enough to know a haunting when I experience it."

Astoria must have sensed my uneasiness with her tale, for she changed the subject abruptly and asked if I'd like a tour of the house. I did my best to decline without offending her. I needed some time to myself — to be alone, to think. Have I utterly lost my mind by agreeing to come here?

She nodded politely, giving me a quick verbal floor plan and told me how to summon her if I needed anything. She informed me she'd serve tea at five in the salon as well and that in the evening, she reminded me solemnly, I would be dining with Lucius.

I thanked her politely and walked off to the library. At last, I was alone again. I sat for a while on the window pane, staring out.

It didn't seem fair to me. There I was, right where Lucius Malfoy wanted me, a willing captive in his house, and yet I'd have to wait until the evening to see him. At that very moment, he was out there somewhere in the city, probably in the midst of some important meeting. I closed my eyes, picturing us as Ingres' Jupiter and Thetis; the high Olympian impervious to the little nymph's pathetic supplications. Perhaps he'd think of me throughout the day. Perhaps he wouldn't.

In the weeks that were to follow, I would spend much of the time he was gone simply wondering when he would return. At its worst, I would ruminate and pine … and pace the floor. I couldn't help it. My surroundings, my work, my entire daily existence hinged upon him. I never once dreaded his homecomings. I looked forward to them, because no matter what new and ingenious torments might await me in his arms, he was home. He was with me. And he was mine.

That first day I was too emotional. I sat by the window and cried a little, then got myself lost for a while. I wandered wraith-like amid the 116 rooms and various corridors, taking in the obscene array of paintings that comprised Lucius's collection. His possessions were far more precious than I'd realized at first glance. I was stunned. What I found on his walls rivaled most museums, and half a dozen times at least, I stopped cold before something that I would have sworn on my soul he'd stolen from the Hermitage, the Louvre, Uffizi, or the Vatican.

At the far end of the gallery, I found lacquered double doors. I grasped the twin handles, but paused before turning them. A shuffling noise came from inside. It sounded like footsteps.

It had to be wrong. It was probably nothing but my imagination. Better off worrying about devils I knew than the ones Lucius kept locked away. Whether it was in my head or not, I needed to get away from this room. Fast.

As my feet carried me all the way back to the foyer, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder. More than likely, I had it all wrong. Be that as it may, I still wanted nothing more at that moment than to put a healthy distance between myself, and whatever the hell was hidden behind that door.

Downstairs, I promptly bumped into Astoria, who returned to fetch me to tea.

"You know so much about this house, Astoria," I complimented her, unsure of how to begin asking what

She nodded proudly. "All there is."

"Then maybe you could answer some questions for me. For instance, why only one of the rooms is locked, while other doors have anti-locking charms on them?" It was an observation I've made through my solitary tour, but one that paled in comparison to the artwork that surrounded me.

Astoria didn't respond right away. I watched her face darken slightly.

"It's a sad story," she lifted the tea pot and poured another cup. "Mr. Malfoy did that years ago."

"But why?"

"How much do you know about Mr. Malfoy's ex-wife and their divorce?" she asked me with slight apprehension in her voice.

"Other than being divorced, he didn't tell me much," I admitted. "He didn't tell me anything about his marriage at all."

"So you don't know that she was prone to fits."

I felt my eyebrows raise up. "Like seizures?"

She wrinkled her nose. "If only. No. It was manias. She had fits of jealousy and paranoia. It was terrible Poor lady couldn't help it; she was very unwell by the time Mr. Malfoy was first appointed here after the war." She paused for dramatic effect. Astoria Malfoy was clearly a well-practiced raconteuse. "One night she had a horrid row with Mr. Malfoy. Furniture was destroyed. Venetian crystal smashed to bits. Mr. Malfoy finally announced that he wanted to file for divorce. When he left the house the next day, she locked herself in her room tried to commit suicide. Draco would never tell me how, but apparently his father discovered her just in time. Now no one will be able to lock themselves in, even by magical means, ever again."

A chill much colder and ominous than the last shook my body. "She tried to kill herself?" I lamely croaked out.

Astoria enthusiastically continued on, "I don't know if it was intentional. Draco said she told him it was an accident, but not even the Healers believed her. Shortly after she returned she had another episode and ... she had to be institutionalized. She's still in an asylum to this day. So yes, the only room that lacks anti-locking charm is his."

Silence settled between us. I didn't know what to say. My insides twisted and withered away. Only a shadow of my former self stayed behind, sipping my cool tea and nibbling on tasteless biscuits.

Astoria sighed. "It didn't help that his previous relationship also ended when his ex tried to jump to her death from the roof." She clapped a hand over her mouth and paused. "I hope you'll forgive my indiscretion. If he didn't tell you any of this, I'm not sure I was supposed to."

"There's nothing to forgive, Astoria," I quickly reassured her. "I'm glad you told me. I'll think I'll go rest and shower."

My mind was a swirling mess by now. Somehow I made it to my bedroom, falling face-first onto the plush bed.

Was I wise to trust a former Death Eater over whom women were going into suicidal madness?

I blinked. My eyes were stinging and wet. I couldn't help but wonder what made them that way. Was I looking into my own future? In what little I had witnessed, being close to Lucius was both toxic and addictive. And I couldn't deceive myself into believing it was healthy. Like all addictions, in the long term it was undoubtedly dangerous. Overtime, it could even be deadly.

After my shower, I received a package from Lucius.. Inside was an outfit for dinner complete with shoes. There were no tags, but the quality of the fabric hinted that the clothes were more costly than my entire wardrobe put together. Inside the dress was a lingerie set of bra and knickers. That was oddly strange for me. I never had a man give me underwear before. It felt ... off. Slipping into the black dress, I examined myself in the mirror. It was chick and sexy, but the hemline was much shorter than I'd choose on my own. For a private dinner at home, I supposed it didn't matter. I did wonder how many witches stood here before me. Lucius seemed to have the system down pat. How many more would come after me?

Many, many, many more.

I continued to wait for Lucius, but time seemed to stand still. Already he circumscribed what I wore, what I did, what I ate, and when. I didn't mind it. After all, I had agreed to this last month. However, if he intended to be so domineering of my minutia, I'd rather he'd do it from one of Casa Valentina's many rooms.

My heart nearly stopped beating when I heard his voice, "Miss me, Miss Granger?"

He stood in the doorway of my bedroom, leaning loosely against the frame. my lips parted, but no sound came out. There was something about the look of him; he seemed at once brighter and darker than physics should permit, as if the contrast was cranked up in my retinas. He stepped closer.

"Or perhaps you're not the sort to pine?"

Feigning cool indifference, I cocked my head coyly in his direction. "Honestly, I hardly noticed your absence, sir."

He smirked. "As cruel as you are clever."

He walked to the edge of my bed and smoothed out the duvet before sitting down. He stared so hard at me, I shuddered. Whenever he looked at me like that, I had the distinct feeling he was performing Legilimency on me. However, I had no desires to conceal my thoughts from him.

"You're tense. Did something upset you today?" he asked.

I burned beneath his gaze. "No," I lied. "I'm just getting used to all this."

"Me too. You are a distraction. I was close to leaving early." He stood up and went to the drinks cabinet in the corner. He took out two snifters and filled them with some noxious spirit. "You're a deadly temptation, Hermione." He handed me one glass and clinked his own against it. "First day is done. We both survived."

I took a small sip. The moment the liquid touched my tongue, it burned. Lucius smiled, as he watched my face as I struggled to swallow the vile concoction.

He sat down on the edge of my bed once more. "Why don't you tell me about your day?"

"There's not much to tell. I stayed here, exploring, talking to Astoria. I rested; I was sore from the airplane ride."

He ran his hand up my leg. "Are you still?"

I quivered when he leaned closer. "A little," I managed to say. A lot, more like it.

Lucius licked his lips as he gave me a once over. "Liar," he snarled before placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. He moved to rest against the footboard and drew my legs into his lap. "Keep going. Tell me the rest." His touch provoked a scintillating agony inside me. He traced his hand along my calf then back down to my foot, stroking the arch with his thumb. It tickled but I didn't laugh. The drink he made me was a strong intoxicant, but it paled in comparison to his touch and scent.

I obeyed him and recounted my day, purposely leaving out the part about Astoria's story. I felt strange lying by omission to him. I wanted to ask him so many questions about his life, but I couldn't bring myself to ask even the least intrusive of them. I was half-hypnotized, only answering his questions and not asking any of my own - a perfect picture of feminine submission of the kind I typically despised. When dinner was announced, we went down and suffered it in silence. I hardly noticed that we finished eating until Lucius folded his napkin and went to the gramophone. He didn't ask me to dance; he simply offered me his hand, and I took it.

He wrapped his arm around my waist, and I became self-conscious of my dancing and any missteps I might make. Unlike me he was at ease and pleased to be with me. Soon I gave in. I laid my cheek against his chest and let him turn me in smooth spirals around the dinning salon.

Despite the soreness from our Mile High adventure, I felt arousal stirring between my thighs. My cheeks heated. Somehow he always had this effect on me. It was easier to deal with it when I didn't have to talk to him or look him in the eye. Lucius spun me half-way around until our arms crossed and my back pressed against him. He spun me to face him again. Our eyes locked. His gaze pierced a clear path through the core of my brain, leaving me paralyzed. Soreness be damned! I was burning for him!

In the twinkling lights of the chandelier, we continued to dance in silence, watching each other. We stood close as the song ended. The record crackled and hissed beneath the needle. Then he abruptly let go of me. My knees nearly buckled. I hated when he did that.

Warning, Mr. Malfoy. A warning, please.

"It's time," he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him, a perfect imitation of his signature gesture. "Time for what?"

"I want to show you something upstairs. Don't be frightened. I'd rather hate for you to leave before you even had a chance to get settled in."

My stomach sank lower. I was trying to keep an open mind, but my imagination ran away with me. I picture a dreadful dungeon behind those locked doors. Still, I obediently followed him up. He halted in the middle and I nearly walked smack into him.

"Understand, Hermione," he said, turning back to me. His face was somber. "Whatever it may look like, you'll always be safe inside this house." Lucius took my hand and drew me onto the step he stood on. "No one will harm you."

I didn't know what to say to that. I wanted him to clarify, to elaborate on his cryptic statements. But my mind was elsewhere. All I did was nod solemnly in understanding and let him lead me to his room.