Chapter 36

Hermione felt distressed after her tea with Narcissa, which ended up with not having much tea at all. Plus the 'have my husband or he'll die' ultimatum. Which was the ultimate unfairness.

She wasn't responsible for him. He was a nasty piece of work and that wasn't her doing. He was like that well before she came on the scene, even if it was a round about way. She didn't turn him into a pureblood supremist, or a Death Eater, or even the Lord Protector, whatever. And not only that, it was him that insisted on a relationship, one that was obviously doomed from the very beginning. She had just faced up to the facts.

She had to go outside to pace, the brisk coldness outside seemed to calm her. And now, they were all holding up their hands and saying, 'Please deal with the mess we've made', and 'give up your life in the process'.

Mother effin, bastard...cunt. Hermione thought of the worst word she could think of. She probably couldn't say it out loud, but she could say it in her head. The occasion called for it.

If the wards would let her, she would literally run from here and it didn't matter that she really didn't have any idea where she was. There seemed to be acres of forest in every direction. There were probably wolves in those forests. Probably magical ones that only ate mudbloods.

She stomped around for a while, until she got too cold and had to concede that she either had to go inside or retrieve a coat.

The house was quiet when she got inside, Narcissa had obviously gone wherever she kept herself these days. Hermione walked up the stairs and down the hall that led to her bedroom.

A photo caught her eye as she walked past a side table in the hall. It wasn't very large and she hadn't noticed it before. She wasn't entirely sure it had been there before. It was a photo of Lucius, when he was younger. He was holding up his letter from Hogwarts, it must have been his entrance letter, making him around eleven. He was smiling, obviously proud, but there was still that little hint of uncertainty.

He looked adorable with the blond hair cut short, neatly brushed, even then. He looked so young, his face still a little rounded with childhood puppy fat. It made her smile how cute he was. Why was he uncertain? Everyone she knew had been over the moon, she certainly had. She didn't like seeing that uncertainty, the niggle of fear in a face so young.

Narcissa had hinted something about his childhood. His childhood, here in this house, where he was taught the twisted values he holds. There was something innocent about him when she'd known him back at Hogwarts, something that made her fall in love with him, but there had also been something jaded even then. Something he was trying to escape, some burden weighing him down.

But it was more than obvious that it had caught up with him in the end, whatever it was he was trying to get away from. When she looked at the young face in the photo, she got the feeling that he'd been screwed over by everybody. What parents raise a boy who looks fearful in what should be one of the happiest childhood moments?

She placed the photo back with disgust. She hated this house. She tried to block it all out as she returned to her room.

She tried, but Narcissa's words kept on haunting her. She'd said he was happy when he was with her. That she tempered him, pulled his attention away. That he loved her. Perhaps she provided the escape he seemed to seek.

But that's not fair. A man like him is not capable of love, she reasoned. She had never asked him to fall in love, well she had, but that was a long time ago, with someone less damaged. She was only a girl at the time, too young to be responsible for the consequences.

She melted a bit when she thought of the young him, the lighter, funnier and unduly restrained boy. He'd deserved so much better than he got in life.

And now, he was this damaged man who for all intents and purposes was unlovable. Narcissa was right though, eventually it will all catch up if he continues, they will give him the kiss, Hermione admitted. She could see him fighting his restraints as the dementor approached him, fight to the very end.

If he loved her, he'd want her there when it happened. She would not be able to bear not being there, but she would not be able to bear being there either. It would break her either way.

It was beyond unfair, but she was tied into him whether she liked it or not. She would have to give up all possible futures if she went ahead and tried to save him. Or she could walk away and leave him to his fate, which would probably destroy her, or a good deal of her.

Then she would be another in the line of people who screwed him over from start to finish. And that didn't sit well, you didn't walk away from a wounded animal just because it was growling at you.

Hermione wished she could just clear her mind. Wished she could walk around Diagon Alley for a while until everything in her head just settled down. Because the truth she didn't want to confront was that she didn't really have an option. It just wasn't in her to walk away now. But it was nice to ignore that and believe that she had a choice, that this was not her responsibility and therefore she could just walk away.

The only course of action that seemed reasonable at the moment was to get something to eat. So she walked down to the kitchen. A place in the Malfoy Mansion she was pretty sure had never been seen by any Malfoy.

She heard some rustling in one of the rooms on the way.

"Granger." Draco said, looking through a stack of papers. "Been crying? Although you look remarkably well otherwise."

"He is holding me here." She said.

"I know." He said. "Glad to see you're not in the dungeon."

"Thanks, I guess." She said. She watched him for a while.

"I can't help you." He said. "I tried to get you out of sight before he knew you were back, but I can't help you now. It would be a direct defiance and I don't like you that much."

He found what he was looking for and walked past her.

"He..." Draco started but couldn't finish. "I don't know Granger. Mother seems to think you mean something to him. I guess that is the only thing you've got. Use it well. I would say that he means well, but that would be a lie. I have to go. Good luck."

Hermione watched Draco flooed away. She wasn't sure how to take that conversation with Draco. Draco had been trying to keep her away from Lucius, but she was positive it was for Lucius' benefit and not hers. He didn't give a stuff about her, nothing personal. Maybe Draco believed that she was one of the things that might come to light and be one of the charges against him in the end. One of the things Draco was trying to run around and fix before objections. She had the feeling that Draco was losing the battle.

Lucius returned that evening. Dinner with the girl was a quiet affair, as per usual. She asked how his day had been. He'd said it had been fine, he didn't want to mention the renegotiation with some of the goblin population. He was not in the mood for one of her lectures on equity. He knew her well enough to know how she felt about relations with the lesser classes.

Although he did consider bringing it up just to see the fire in her eyes. There seemed to be less of it tonight. Or more of it. She wasn't ignoring him during dinner, which made him suspicious. She also didn't rush off after a few bites.

Lucius excused himself after finishing his dinner and retreated back to his study where he would nurse the first of a few whiskeys, after a port perhaps. Alcohol was a tried and true pleasure in life. Small in comparison to some, but it could always be depended upon.

He was surprised when the girl showed up at the door to his study. He both wanted and didn't want her there. Part of his relished at her seeking him out, part of him hated it. He wasn't sure what he hated, but there was potential for vexation. For pain if he was completely honest.

"Would you like a drink?" He said and watched her as she sat down on the side table, the one where she had sat a few days ago, the one where they had discussed a bit of intimacy. The point of her choice of location did not escape him.

"Perhaps a small one." She said.

He watched her for a second, the grabbed one of the glasses on his side table and poured her a whiskey. He stood up and brought the glass to her. Their fingers touched when he handed the glass to her and he felt electricity run up his arm. He savoured the sensation as he returned to his chair.

She sipped on her glass, but she didn't love the whiskey, she tolerated it.

"And what brings you here this evening?" He asked. He was both excited and suspicious. Something had changed. She had made a decision of some sort. He would just have to wait until she revealed her intentions.

"I thought perhaps it was time we talked."

"And what do you wish to talk about?

"I don't know. The situation."

"Which situation?"

"This situation." She pointed between them. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it, the situation had been something he had ignored for some time now. She was a prisoner, but he treated her like a guest. One from which he wanted benefits, but wasn't sure he wanted to go there. It was dangerous territory. But thoughts of her body tortured him every night.

She continued when he didn't say anything. "I want to bargain."

"Bargain?" He said. "I think we have been down this route before and pleasurable as it was, it didn't suit you."

"You know it did." She said. "I was worried that I would become addicted. There was definitely that potential."

"And you had to leave before that eventuated?" He asked. He liked the sound of that. Her being addicted to him, it sat well with him. Addiction is good, it is loyalty without return. "And you are not so worried about addiction now?" He said annunciating each word.

"I am older now, stronger and more experienced." She said. He smiled.

He wasn't sure he believed her, she was a year older. A year rarely made anyone wiser in light of addiction. But he didn't feel the need to challenge her, her craving him was only in his benefit. He could feel the potential vibrate through him. Feel his body tensing in anticipation, both to clench the deal and the activities that were to come. The sweet rewards.

"And the bargain?" He said.

"Same as before." She said. She was looking a bit flushed, which only riled him on. He felt like he was watching a wounded animal and he was going in for the kill. But then the terms settled into his brain.

"Mudblood children allowed back at Hogwarts." He said. That would be a big step backwards. It had been the first in many steps and a big gesture that would be noticed by everyone.

"I think we are a bit beyond such things." He said in a serious tone. The girl was asking too much. "I can't do that."

Hermione leaned back on the wall and looked at him from her higher vantage point. She sighed loudly and rubbed her hands down her thighs towards her knees. She slowly pulled them up again on the slightly parted inner thighs.

"That's a shame." She said and hopped down from the side table. "Well, I guess I will head off to bed then. Good night."

He watched as she walked out of the study. He watched the empty space she left behind for a while. He hadn't quite expected that, the deal to fall through without a negotiation. Blood was coursing through his body with every part of him swimming in tension. He'd known nothing good would come out of her walking through that door tonight. He was definitely worse off, knowing she was ready to have him tonight. He could have had her right now, here on the floor. Working his way to bliss in her tight, pert body.

He slammed his glass down hard enough to put a dent on the wood. The terms were too high, it would mean undoing things, plans. He couldn't do that. And he was much stronger than any unsatisfying dreams he would invariably have that night. Bitch.