A/N: I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. The characters and settings belong to JKR and those who helped bring it all to life (publishing companies and movie studios, etc.), while the song on which I've loosely based the story belongs to Christina Perri and her recording company (Jar of Hearts).

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. If you see one, please let me know.

Eight months later, he missed their Thursday night rendezvous. They'd set aside three nights for each other every week, and when he didn't show up and didn't send a message, she felt lost. She pulled down the silk robe he left at her house, and curled up in her empty bed with it, his scent filling her airways so she could sleep without the use of Dreamless Sleep.

She was still recovering from the aftermath of the war, even over a year later, and still fighting the nightmares that had plagued her since before it had ended. The only nights she'd slept well without the use of Dreamless Sleep had been those where Lucius was present, and she knew it wasn't healthy, but she'd take whatever was necessary to avoid the nightmares.

Hermione got up early the next morning, arriving at work half an hour before she was supposed to, wanting to see if he was there; he usually showed up an hour before she did to help keep suspicions down. He rose from his desk to greet her with a lingering kiss on the cheek when she came into his office.

"Hermione! What can I do for you this morning?"

"I was worried. You didn't show up last night."

"Damn, I'm sorry. I forgot to send you a message. I was otherwise occupied, my sweet, but I'll try to remember to let you know next time when I tell Cissy."

Otherwise occupied? What was he playing at? She was caught, standing stock-still in the middle of his office, unable to make herself move. Otherwise occupied.

"Did you need something else, Hermione?" He looked up at her quizzically from his desk.

"I… will I see you tonight?"

"Of course."

"Oh, okay. Tonight, then."

Her heart was sinking as she made her way down to her office, and though she performed her duties as well as she ever did, she found herself distracted all morning by that phrase. Otherwise occupied. What the hell had that meant? Would he actually show up that night? Did she even want him to? Merlin help her, but she did.

Friday was her half-day, and when her work day was complete, she stopped and ate a quick lunch that she supposed tasted fine, but if asked later, she wouldn't be able to remember where she stopped, what she ate, or anything about the meal at all.

Back at her house, with her brain swirling the phrase around and around, she could find no way to take her mind away from it, and so she embarked on her favorite mindless pastime: cleaning. She sorted through her dirty clothes, stripped the sheets from all the beds, and got the laundry started, then scrubbed every inch of the kitchen and bathrooms until they gleamed and the smell of bleach was pervasive and making her light-headed, so she took a long shower to replace the fumes in her nose with the floral scents she used in the bath. She put the clean laundry away, and was in the middle of making the last bed while dressed in the same thick terrycloth robe she'd been wearing the first time he'd come over when she felt the wards shimmer with his arrival.

"Hermione?" He called from downstairs. "What in Merlin's name is this smell down here? This is noxious!" She could hear as he cast an air-freshening charm on his way up, and she put the final touches on the freshly made bed when he stepped through the bedroom door.

"I'm surprised you haven't made yourself ill with that smell downstairs." He laid his cloak and robe across the foot of the bed and leaned down to kiss her cheek, surprised at her lack of response. "Are you okay, sweet?"

"It's just bleach from cleaning. I'm fine." She took a step back, searching his face. "What exactly does 'otherwise occupied' mean? I've been losing my mind all day."

His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed in annoyance and anger. "I am accustomed to explaining myself and my whereabouts to my wife, Hermione, but you are not she to whom I am held accountable."

"No, I suppose not. I'm just your bit of fluff on the side, aren't I? Who is she? May I at least know to whom I am losing you?" She felt her legs growing weak, so she quickly crossed to the chair in front of her dressing table, sinking into it.

"Who says you're losing me? Merlin's balls, Hermione! Why does this have to be so dramatic?" He took the steps necessary to kneel in front of her, hands framing her face. "I never said you were losing me, and I certainly have no intention of letting you go."

"But…"

"Yes, alright, I spent the night with Matilda Edgecombe, and I may choose to do so again in the future. It has nothing to do with what you and I have. I'm not a monogamous man, Hermione. I never have been. I thought you understood that." He pleaded with her, wanting desperately for her to realize what he was saying was the truth.

"I understand being trapped in a loveless marriage, Lucius, and in finding companionship outside of that, but I never expected to have to watch you go off to another woman. I don't know if I can."

"You're being a hypocrite again, darling. It's okay for me to step out on my wife with you, but not with someone else? Is that it?"

Her hands reached over to grip his bent elbows, and she leaned her head down, resting her forehead against his, eyes closed. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough, Lucius, to share you with more than Narcissa. At least I know when you leave me to go home, you aren't going to her bed. The thought of you with anyone else makes me ill, and I don't know if I can change that." Her voice, already quiet, lowered to a whisper. "I don't know if I want to."

He tilted his head up, brushing his nose against hers softly. "Let me know when you decide. I'll be at home." He kissed her tenderly, then stood and collected his things on the way out.

Somewhere deep inside her soul, a tiny light clicked off, joining several others in darkness in a room that had once been filled with such brilliant light. This room in her soul was still bright, but the darkness was gaining a foothold, and it was dimmer than it once had been.

Unaware of the flipping switches within, tears were streaming down Hermione's face as she ran down the stairs behind him. Just as he was about to disapparate, her frantic voice stopped him. "Stay! Stay. Stay with me." She barreled into his body, wrapping herself tightly around him.

"Are you sure? I won't change."

"I can't be happy about that, but I need you, so I'll just have to live with it."

With that, their mouths met hungrily, and with a swift motion, she was back in his arms, legs tightly wrapped around his waist, and he was almost jogging back inside and up the stairs to the bedroom. There was an extra element of desperation and passion to their lovemaking that night, neither wanting their association to end, but both feeling that things were definitely changing.

Months passed, and he only met with Ms. Edgecombe once more before ending things. There was a certain amount of chemistry, and she was nice enough in bed, but she wasn't Hermione, and that was made that much clearer with every visit he made to her home.

Friday nights often began leading to Saturday mornings and brunches, and they became closer, he and Hermione, but there was something missing. She still kissed him with as much passion, still moved against him with the same fervor as before, still relished in the feel of his long hair between her fingers as she tugged and pulled while he pounded into her. Nothing had really changed except for everything felt different.

Early in February, a new employee caught his eye, and all of a sudden, the plans she'd carefully made to surprise him on Valentine's Day were ruined and wasted because he spent it with her. Odette Durand was tall and waspy with short red hair, and she looked, from Hermione's perspective, like someone who would eat you alive.

In a depressive funk, she went to visit her parents, who were making progress in the expensive home Lucius was paying for. They had come to the point of being roughly equal to three-year old toddlers, and they loved seeing her when she came. She would never really be their Hermione again, but she took what she could get, and if that was "Aunt Mynee," then that was who she'd be to them.

Nurse Nadia, with her long inky black hair and blazing violet eyes and short, soft body, had been flirting with Hermione since that first visit, and didn't let Lucius' harsh glares and possessiveness deter her from continuing. When Hermione left her parents' suite that evening and collapsed into a short sofa down the hall in tears, Nadia rushed to her side with a cup of water and a box of tissues.

She was surprised when Hermione leaned into her and buried her face in her soft scrub-covered bosom, but she adapted and began running her hands through Hermione's mass of hair soothingly, crooning in a soft voice.

Finally the tears ran out, and Hermione finally made use of the tissues and water.

"So where's mister tall, blonde, and beautiful tonight?"

"Some French bimbo from work. Ruined all my plans for Valentine's, the bastard."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You could do better, you know, um, if you wanted to."

"I know."

The silence stretched between them as Hermione continued dabbing at her moist eyes and nose.

"Are you as serious with your constant flirting as you seem?"

"I… How do you mean?"

Hermione inhaled deeply. "You know I'm with Lucius. Gods help me," her eyes rolled upward, "but I belong to him, even though I know he's out fucking that bitch right now, and I can't say anything, because he's married, and not to me. He doesn't fully belong to me, but I am his. A relationship with me is out of the question for anyone else, but it's Valentine's Day and I have a full spread set up at my house, and I don't want to be alone. It would – could – only be the one night, but if you've been at all serious and are interested…"

"I never flirt if I don't mean it, but I'm not sure I want to get in the middle of your situation with him. I'm also hoping it hasn't escaped your notice that I'm a woman, and you seem to be very into the masculine type."

Hermione shrugged and tossed the last of her used tissues into the small bin set beside the sofa. "Gender never has figured in for me much in terms of attractiveness. I'm more into experience and power, and you," she leaned over and sniffed deeply at Nadia's neck, inhaling the subtle aromas of soap and alcohol disinfectant gel and that unnamable aura that pulled her to people, "seem to have both in vast abundance." She leaned back again, noticing the wide pupils and shallower breathing that showed the impact her action had had on the nurse. "But it's up to you. I admit that while I've been attracted to different women in the past, I have no practical experience with anyone but men. You just have to decide if you're willing to teach me."

She watched as Nadia gulped in a quick breath and swallowed heavily. "One night with Hermione Granger, no holds barred? It's every woman's dream come true." She reached up, tentatively tucking a loose strand of hair behind Hermione's ear. "How could I possibly say no?"

"Good. When are you off work?" Hermione began gathering her things. Nadia checked her watch and said she could leave in half an hour. "I'll be back for you in half an hour then." She reached up to caress Nadia's cheek. "If you decide you don't want to, all you have to do, at any point, is just say no."

"I won't change my mind."

Hermione winked at her and left to get the last few details fixed. Thirty-five minutes later, she returned, and Nadia met her at the apparation point. "Are you ready, or do you need to pop home for anything first?"

She motioned at the street clothes she was wearing in place of the salmon-colored scrubs she'd had on earlier. "I had some clothes to change into, and I took a quick shower. My only complaint is that I'm starving, and," she cast an appreciative glance at the tight jeans and low-cut jumper Hermione had changed into, "as delicious as you look, I will require actual sustenance at some point."

Hermione laughed, a deep, loud, sound of happiness coming from the depths of her dimming but still bright soul. "I can promise food as well, Nurse Nadia, but you should know," she leaned in to whisper huskily into her ear, "I taste better than I look."

She pulled back and Nadia was staring at her, eyes glazed over with lips parted slightly. "Mercy…"

With that, Hermione took Nadia's arm in her own and took her home. They had some good fun that night, and Nadia gave her an excellent introduction in the art of loving a woman. They did eventually also sate their other hunger as well, with pancakes topped with fruit and whipped cream and powdered sugar, which then devolved into lessons on the art of having another meal on the dinner table by combining food and sex.

They parted on good terms the next morning, both agreeing that while they'd enjoyed their time together, it would likely not happen again. It had been fun, but neither woman was who the other really wanted.

The following week, Hermione, in a snit at another missed visit, told Lucius how she'd passed Valentine's Day without him. His silver eyes grew cold and hard when she spit the words at him, and in retaliation, he locked down his office and took her violently up against the wall. As she whimpered in pleasure at the hard thrusts, he growled out, each word in time with the motions of his hips, "I. DO. NOT. SHARE."

After they cried out in shared completion and she sagged limply against his body, she whispered into his ear, "Hypocrite." He stepped back, stunned, and she found her feet. Straightening her clothes until she was pristine, she left him there to think about the consequences of his actions.

That night, though he wasn't scheduled to be there, he showed up at her house and apologized for ruining Valentine's Day for her. "I can't promise I'll never hurt you again, Hermione, because I seem to do it without trying, but I am sorry."

"I know you are, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm supposed to just put up with the fact that you occasionally miss coming to see me so you can go out and fuck another woman," his nostrils flared at her use of the profane word, "but when you blow me off, I'm supposed to be prevented from finding my own release with whomever I wish? Don't you dare ever accuse me of hypocrisy again, Lucius. Ever."

He left, and another little light flickered out in the slowly dimming room.

It took only a couple weeks before they were back together, neither able to stay away from the other, and with a clenched jaw, he reluctantly gave her permission to seek out others, as he would never be able to promise fidelity to her and it was unfair to expect it from her.

Slowly, they moved past the incident, and when her Mastery was completed that June, they were both riding that high, and things were good. They always were… for a while.

A/N: One more chapter to go of what's written. The story is still incomplete. Reviews are always welcome.