Chapter 8

It was a rare day of sunshine and Hermione spent a few minutes outside, sitting on a log. It was still freezing cold, but as she sat still in a shaded spot, the sun actually warmed her skin a bit. She even pulled up her dark woolen dress up to expose her legs. A bit of sun could only do her good, she'd seen so little of it.

She wished she was somewhere warm, but she would have to get past the wall cutting the North from the South. Maybe she'd never see proper sun again. The world was carrying on outside the wall and she'd had the back luck of being stuck behind it when it went up. She didn't mind at the time, they were going to fight and win-foolishly believing that good always won over evil. But it hadn't turned out that way, they'd lost and now all was gone and she was stuck here.

Lucius had turned out to be a surprise. He was kind and she hadn't expected that. He was alienated by the others, well, that was strictly not true. He was marginalised by Voldemort, but he still had sway with others, except the die hard Voldy suck ups. Draco-she wasn't sure whether he was all there, or he'd just released his all together nastiness. She'd used to think there was hope for him, and that it was his father that was the detrimental influence. She'd felt sorry for him.

"Hermione!" Mary yelled. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to ignore it. She was having such a rare lovely moment, she didn't want to ruin it. "You have to set his fire."

Mary was speaking of Draco, because God forbid he had to actually raise his hand to charm a fire in the fireplace. Most other purebloods could manage that, at least. But she knew with Draco, he was doing it for some power reason-like he didn't feel he had enough already.

She trudged up the stairs and snuck into his room as quietly as she could. The usual sight confronted her. Him, some girl, typical stuff. She cleaned the grate and placed kindling and paper in the fireplace and pulled out the barbeque lighter she'd stumbled across. Finding it had felt like a little victory, the modern world still existed. She ignored the matches she normally used and clicked the flame as she moved it to light the paper. It was a small thing, but it felt subversive. She needed to feel that.

"Where'd you get those?" she heard a sharp voice behind him.

She hid the lighter in her skirt. He couldn't have seen it. Maybe he heard the click.

"Who told you, you could wear that?"

Understanding dawned, he wasn't talking about her light, but her new clothes. He hadn't see it.

"My others got ripped."

"Doesn't mean you can go and grab some others." He was angry. She could hear it in his voice. He jumped out of bed and charged toward her. She couldn't help but feel fear. He didn't have his wand, but she wasn't sure it was a good or a bad thing. He was on her in a second, pushing her painfully against the wall, tearing at her collar.

"I didn't take it, it was given to me."

"Liar," he shouted and tore at the material, making it rip along the seams and along the back.

Hermione noted the girl from the bed slipped out of the room, woken by the confrontation and smart enough to know that it wasn't a good idea to be around Draco when he was like this.

He tore at the material, ripping it down the seam, while Hermione hunched over and held onto the front of the material. She was not going to show him her chest. That was not for him to see, and ridicule she didn't need, because he would ridicule her, on principle if nothing else.

He stopped. He was standing over her and she was hunched with her side to his completely naked body. She did not want to be this close to him when he was naked, or any other time.

He stilled, but Hermione remained where she was. "Who healed your wounds?" he demanded but in a quiet, steady voice.

She didn't answer.

"Who!" he roared, making her jump.

"Your father."

"Liar!"

He pushed her away, hard into the wall. Her whole back was exposed and it got stung by the cold wall behind her, but her front was still covered, only because her arms was holding the material up.

"Why would my father help you?"

"Maybe because he's a more decent person than you give him credit for," she said. She knew she shouldn't have, because he back-handed her. The whole world run as the hit reverberated through her head. God she hated him. His father looked like a saint compared to him. Who would have thoughts?

"If you lie to me again, I will whip you myself and I'll make sure the wounds don't heal," he warmed. In a quieter but deadly voice he continued, "If I find you're doing magic, I'm going to make you hurt in ways you didn't think possible." He was completely serious; she could see it in his eyes.

"I'm not," she challenged.

He stared at her for a while and she refused to cower. His whole face was drawn and his eyes were arctic. They kept staring at each other and she knew she had to back down, look away, but she didn't want to. But it was him that was into the whole power trip thing and he seemed to have no limits in how far he would go. She looked away.

"Get out," he ordered and Hermione didn't dawdle one second.

"Now what happened to your dress?" Lucius said when she delivered his mid afternoon tea service.

Hermione didn't want to say. Lucius was nice to her and she didn't want to ruin that by engaging his loyalty to his mental son.

She'd tried to repair it, by tying a sting at the top, holding the front and the back together. But Draco had done a good job tearing it.

"Tell me," he said gently but firmly. She didn't want to lie to him; she wasn't a good liar, something she'd learn back in Hogwarts. The truth was always best, no matter how the chips fell.

"Your son."

"Did he now?" Lucius said. "Such a brute." Lucius said this gently, without the indignation that she felt. No matter how nice Lucius was, she couldn't lose sight that he was Draco's father and that when it came down to it, his loyalty would always fall with Draco.

"Come here," he said urging her toward the floor in front of where he was sitting. Hermione complied, feeling a bit nervous in case her understanding of Lucius was wrong. He brought out his wand and funnily Hermione didn't feel any concern as he did.

He mended her dress, which she knew would anger Draco. Maybe she was in the middle of some kind of pissing contest between father and son, she wondered.

In essence, she didn't mind if that was the case. It might end badly for her, but she was already in bad, a change in bad probably wouldn't make that much difference. But on the other hand, it could be very useful to have an ally. It might prove very useful indeed.

She stayed where she was, at his feet. "What do you know of the wall?"

"Are you seeking to escape, Miss Granger?"

"Can you blame me?"

"No, but I'm afraid the wall is unbreakable. Believe me, I have tried and suffered greatly as a consequence. There are some powerful hexes on the wall that befall anyone who tamper with it, strong enough to kill. "

Hermione felt disheartened. She knew Lucius was a powerful wizard, much more powerful than her, and if he couldn't break through, there was no chance for her. She knew it ran all along the coastline as well, stretching out along important spots like Azkaban, which Voldemort used as a threat to control the population.

This discussion only made her feel a little more comfortable that Lucius was an ally. Anyone else and she would be in trouble just for broaching the subject.

"I should go," she said. She was neglecting her duties and it would spell trouble for her before long.

"Why don't you take some of the books you've been eyeing so longingly?" he suggested. She had been eyeing the stack of books that sat in almost every corner of the room.

"I can't, I'll get into trouble and you would likely lose some of your collection. And I would likely lose some more of the skin on my back."

"Well then, perhaps, you will have to read to me. In the afternoons, I think. And if anyone argues, you will have to send them my way."

Hermione bit her lip. I would be fun to read again; it had been so very long since-even before she was brought here. They'd lived with the slimmest of means and books were not a part of the essentials. She was also curious about the knowledge that Lucius had. He was a great wizard and he could tell her things that there were likely no other way of knowing. The idea was tempting.

Hermione spent the afternoons in Lucius' room. For some reason the fat man who'd whipped her didn't argue. She suspected that Lucius'd had words with him because he ignored her completely and focused his ire on Mary. Unfortunate for the harried Mary, but Hermione wasn't in the position to challenge him.

She lay on the sofa and read from a book on obscure charms. It was a fascinating book and she learnt many interesting things.

"Did you know Draco could do wandless magic?" she asked one day.

"Yes, I've trained him since he was a young boy."

Hermione reiterated to herself that she couldn't underestimate the bond between them, no matter how much she felt that Lucius supported her.

She continued reading, lying on the day bed, which he sat in his chair and sipped a glass of hungarian fire whiskey, which seemed to be his favourite in the afternoons. It had a peppery

flavour. He'd let her try some of the different flavours. She had very little experience with whiskey and he informed her of what the important things were that made a good whiskey from a bad. She was actually starting to like the taste of it.

Right now she was reading about the use of vegetation growth charms. "The success of the germination process when introducing vegetation on inhospitable environments," she read as Lucius sat back in his chair, "is dependant on a number of factors-"

The door burst open and Draco entered. Hermione stopped reading and there was a moment of silence as they all considered each other. Hermione lay on the day bed, with her dress slightly pulled up to take advantage of the sun coming in through the windows. Lucius had seen her naked, so she wasn't that worried about showing a bit of leg. Lucius was still in his dressing gown and Draco's eyes travelled from one to the other.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Nothing," Lucius said in his lazy drawl. "The girl is reading to me."

"You can find someone better to read to you."

"And why would I do that, when I have such a lovely creature at my disposal?"

"She's not lovely, she's a mudblood." Draco almost bit the words. "And you have no right giving her clothes, you'll give her ideas and then you'll give the other ideas."

Lucius shrugged. "She needed clothes. We could of course have her running around naked, but it would do detrimental things to my concentration." Hermione blushed slightly at the words. "She is my reader."

"Get someone else."

"I like her voice."

Hermione watched the exchange, wondering if she should take her leave.

"I like her," Lucius continued. There was definite challenge there.

Draco strode over to Hermione and pulled her up from the bed by her upper arm. He pulled her to the door and pushed her out, shutting the door behind firmly behind her.

She waited for a few seconds and went downstairs. They were going to have words and there was a possibility that she would lose her ally. Then again, perhaps she shouldn't underestimate Lucius.