'Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.' - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

Lucius reaches down and takes the hand of the unconscious body on the floor.

Nothing about this seems real. It seems separate from the here and now – like I'm watching a film, or reading a book.

I don't even feel relief. I feel sick and exhausted.

He turns to me, holding out his free hand.

'Come on,' he whispers. 'We need to get out of here as swiftly as possible.'

I reach out and slide my fingers into his own, and he takes the small silver key out of his robes and all in one moment we're squeezing into a tiny airless void, the three of us linked by our hands…

We come to land in my bedroom.

Lucius drops my hand, keeping hold of his son's.

'I'll put him back in his own bed. If he regains consciousness anywhere else his suspicions will be raised.' He locks his gaze onto mine. 'I shall return here shortly, and then I'll speak with you.'

He disappears, taking his son with him.

I take a deep breath, then slowly make my way over to my bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

I don't know what to think.

Brave, intelligent, and strong…

What do those words mean for… for us?

What name can I put to this, after that? How can I still just use the word 'fucking' for this?

'Fucking' implies sordid alleyways and seedy hotels. Pure and simple sex, that's what 'fucking' is.

And I can't only use that word for this any more.

I don't know whether I ever could.

He pops into the air in front of me.

I stand up quickly. 'Is he… safe?'

He nods. 'Safe as he can be. When he wakes, he will be in his own bed. It will be as if all of yesterday never happened for him. It's not an ideal solution, but it will have to do.'

It'll have to do. The removal of his son's memory will have to do. That horrible violation will have to do.

I shake my head. 'You didn't have to obliviate him.'

He arches an eyebrow. 'And what else do you think I could have done? Are we to just go on and on with more and more people finding out about us, one by one?'

A dark glint is gathering in his eyes. I've seen him like this before.

'I was prepared to let Weasley's discovery go,' he says quietly. 'His Gryffindor ideas of nobility and his absurd notion that he might love you would see to his silence. But my son… he's never been able to keep his mouth shut. If I'd allowed him to remember what he had discovered, then half the world would know by tomorrow lunchtime.'

'He loves you. He would have kept it a secret to keep you safe.'

His mouth twists as he considers my words. 'Perhaps,' he says eventually. 'But his loose tongue would give us away in the end. Think about it - he couldn't even keep his quest to kill Dumbledore a secret.'

I draw in a breath. That's true, I suppose.

'And now it's a certainty that the Dark Lord himself suspects us to such an extent that he's sent someone to spy on us,' he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

He turns his head, looking at the floor. 'I knew he thought there was something going on. How could he not, with Antonin whispering poison in his ear every other moment? And when I spared your life, and went after you at the Weasleys'…'

He trails off, bringing his hand to his forehead.

'I've been such a fool...'

He lowers his hand and looks directly at me.

'What did you say to him when he asked to dine with you?'

'What?' I ask stupidly.

He doesn't roll his eyes, or make a scathing comment. The situation is far too serious for that.

'When he asked to dine with you, shortly after Antonin died,' he says, taking steps towards me, 'did you say anything to give him reason to suspect-'

'No!' I say hotly. 'I didn't say anything. I told you so, didn't I?'

He looks into my face for a moment, but he doesn't perform legimilency on me.

'And what reason would you have to lie?' he murmurs, before he turns away from me, taking rapid steps up and down the room.

'What are we going to do?' I whisper.

He looks at me. His eyes are almost… wild. He doesn't look like the man I know.

I've seen him like this once before. Just after we killed Dolohov together.

'I don't know,' he says with a voice that's hard and harsh. 'Do you have any suggestions?'

My mouth opens and closes as I try to work out what the hell we're going to do…

He shakes his head.

'No, of course you don't,' he mutters, 'because there's nothing we can do.'

He starts to walk towards me, and I find myself backing away from him because he's got a dangerous glint in his eye – one that tells me there's no guessing what he might do in his fear.

'My son and sister-in-law's suspicions were already enough to worry us. But if Avery suspects, then there is nothing to keep us safe. No family ties, no dark secrets – nothing. Duty is all that matters to Avery, and his duty is to discover what is going on between us.'

My back bumps into the cold stone behind me.

'It might be alright!' I say desperately. 'He doesn't know yet-'

His hand suddenly pins itself on my throat, pinning me to the wall.

'Yet!' he says violently. 'That's the crucial word, isn't it? Yet! For god's sake, he probably knows more than half of it already. You've seen him as I have – collecting little scraps of information here and there. Every look we've exchanged he'll have seen, every word, every little interaction-'

'Then why didn't you do anything about it?' I hiss. 'If you've known all this time, then why haven't you done something to stop it?'

His hand tightens on my throat. 'What could I have done? If I confronted him or the Dark Lord about it, I would have as good as admitted my guilt. To dispose of Avery would only lead to trouble after the suspicious circumstances of Dolohov's disappearance. We were lucky enough to escape that little scenario with our lives intact, but if Avery were to go missing too...' He trails off and his hand tightens even more, until I'm almost choking. 'So what, exactly, am I supposed to have done?'

I look up desperately into his face, feeling my throat contract and swell as I choke, and oh god, we're ruined, both of us, we're lost.

His harsh breathing slows, gradually, and he eventually releases my throat. His lips settle into a thin line as he watches me massage my neck.

'I thought I could keep it a secret – that I could protect us both,' he says, shaking his head. 'But this evening it's been proved just how easy it would be for him to discover what's going on. If someone as inept as my son can do it, then so can a highly experienced Death Eater.'

I take a few deep breaths to steady myself. 'He doesn't know-'

'No, not yet, but he will. And as soon as he does he'll go straight to the Dark Lord. And when he does that, then we'll both be summarily executed.'

I start to shake. 'Are you certain?'

He smiles without any mirth whatsoever. 'Absolutely. I myself have disposed of many Blood Traitors. It's how they are dealt with. As soon as a Death Eater betrays their blood, then both they and the Muggle they betrayed it for die instantly. It's a matter of discipline, and also a matter of principle.'

Oh god. Why? Why do we have to live like this?

'It doesn't have to be this way!' I reach out, grazing my palm over his cheek. 'Why can't we just… leave? You and me, why don't we just go? We could escape this place now and we could go… anywhere. Somewhere where there's no-one to tell us that this is wrong. Somewhere there's no one to make us feel ashamed-'

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. 'You ask the impossible.'

He opens his eyes as his fingers close around my wrist and wrench my hand away-

No. I won't let him shut me out anymore.

My hand closes over his shoulder, pulling him back to face me. 'Why is it impossible? Because it would ruin our reputations? I don't care about what people think-'

'If you can live with people laughing at you and calling you a traitor to your cause, then that's admirable,' he snaps. 'But I could not endure the shame of it.'

'Oh, for god's sake! We could go somewhere where nobody's ever even heard of us. And me and you, we could-'

'Could what?' he sneers.

I press my lips together. 'I could make you happy, Lucius.'

He looks at me for a long time, his expression unfathomable, before he shakes his head. 'You're asking for something I can't possibly give. As you always do. Isn't it enough for you that I provided you with my care and protection? Why do you have to push for me to give up my very existence for you?'

'I'm not asking you to give up your life!' I say, shaking with emotion. 'I'm asking you to live it, don't you see?'

'Live?' he repeats incredulously. 'How do you imagine we should live? We'd be tracked down by my colleagues within weeks, and they'd kill us both, you know that they would. I wouldn't be able to protect you against the wrath of the Dark Lord himself.'

I swallow quickly. 'The Order will protect us-'

'The Order!' he says, his voice a low growl. 'Oh yes, your all-powerful friends. Tell me, where were the Order when Dumbledore died? Where were the Order when you were taken prisoner?'

'They're just as powerful as the Death Eaters!' I say heatedly. 'They'd be able to help us, I know it.'

He smiles joylessly. 'Somehow, I doubt very much they'd be willing to help me when I've dedicated my entire existence to bringing them down. Especially when they find out what's going on between us.'

And with that my words stop, because it's true. I know it is. If we ever get out of here and go to the Order for help, they'll say I've become attached to Lucius only because my mind's been addled by months of imprisonment, and Lucius what he's done to me.

We stare at each other, our breathing heavy, until I eventually say the only thing I can cling to.

'We could find a way.'

He shakes his head. 'Damn you and your insufferable ideals,' he murmurs, turning away from me. 'I though I'd cured you of them long ago.'

He leans against the stone wall, robbing me of the ability to see his face.

Why can't he just let me in?

'It's over, Mudblood.'

What?

Neither of us say anything. The silence is deafening and absolute.

A cold trickle makes its way down into my gut.

'W-what?' I stutter.

He takes a deep breath and turns back to face me, his face like rock.

'If Avery has been sent here to spy on the pair of us, then surely it will only be a matter of time before he discovers what's going on... unless we stop all of this now. That way, he will no longer have something to discover.'

I clench my hands into fists down by my sides, digging my nails into my palms. 'I… I don't understand.'

A muscle is going in his cheek. He's trying to keep control, I know it. But no matter what he does, he can never quite keep his eyes from showing me everything, these days.

'Yes, you do,' he says, his voice so low I can barely hear it. 'You understood before I did. We have to end it, Mudblood. It's the only solution.'

I close my eyes for a moment.

Isn't this what I've wanted all this time?

How could I possibly have wanted this?

There's too much space between us.

I take a step forward, and another, but he stays where he is.

'You're going to abandon me, after everything?' I ask. 'After everything we've been through? After you risked everything to come after me at the Burrow, and you killed Dolohov for me – has all of that been for nothing?'

I reach out with a shaking hand, but I falter, and I drop my hand before it can reach him.

'I've lost everything for you!' I can barely hear my own voice. 'You can't tell me that you can trash whole fucking lives just for your own sake, and then walk away without a fight!'

He shakes his head, and I can see the pain in his eyes. 'You've got to understand. If Avery finds out about us then he will tell the Dark Lord immediately. And when he finds out…' He pauses for a moment, before he collects himself. 'We'd both be dead in a moment. He himself might even do the honours.'

'But I don't understand! You told me so many times that you weren't afraid to die. If that's still the case, then what are you afraid of now?'

Suddenly, he reaches out and grips me by the hair, pulling me closer to him, and I whimper in pain, but I can feel our bodies touching through our robes, and I can't breathe-

His breathing skates over my cheek.

'This is the only way, don't you see?' he whispers.

And he hasn't answered my question, but he doesn't need to, not really. I know what he fears losing now.

He grits his teeth and pulls back from me. 'You'll die if I don't do this. And I won't witness that.'

'I'll die anyway!' Words roll out of my mouth in a long, tangled ribbon as I slide my hands up onto his shoulders. 'Avery said only today that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are rebelling against you, and that pretty soon you won't need me anymore.'

'Which means it's going to be harder than ever for me to keep you alive. God knows – the Dark Lord could easily ask me to kill you myself to test my loyalty. But if I distance myself from you, then perhaps he'll forget about you and leave you be.'

My heart throbs in my throat.

'Would you do it?' I ask, my fingernails digging into his shoulders. 'If he ordered you to kill me, would you?'

He winces. 'No, god help me, I wouldn't.'

'Coward,' I whisper.

He almost smirks. 'Isn't this what you wanted, Mudblood?' he murmurs. 'Time and time again you've tried to end what's going on. You haven't always been so eager to keep me close to you.'

'Yes, and I couldn't do it, could I? You knew as well as I did that I couldn't end it. I wanted to, though - and you wouldn't let me!'

I stand on my tiptoes and I press my lips to his, curling my hands over his shoulders, and for a moment his guard is lost as his stiff body relaxes against mine, and his mouth falls open and the kiss deepens and hardens as his hands grip hard at my waist, pulling me closer…

But he breaks away, suddenly.

'No,' he murmurs, refusing to look at me. 'Damn you, you must let me do this.'

He walks quickly to the door, turning to face me as he reaches it.

I'm shaking. When he leaves this room, it'll all be over, and then… oh god, what then? What is there for me when he's gone?

He's not dying. You'll still see him every day.

But how can that be the same?

His knuckles are pure white as they grip at the door handle.

There's no colour at all in his skin.

'I'm hurting you for your own good,' he says, his voice far from stable. 'You have to forget that any of this ever happened. We both do.'

But how can I promise that? He knows as well as I do that I couldn't forget all of this any sooner than I could forget my own name.

And from the look on his face, the same applies to him.

'For my own good, Lucius?' is all I say, and it comes out as the tiniest of whispers.

All he does for long, agonizing moments is stare at me.

'In time, you'll understand,' he says, before he turns quickly and leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him with such force it seems to shake the room.

I stare ahead of me, the closed door swimming before my eyes.

For perhaps half a minute, there is silence.

But then there are swift footsteps moving off down the corridor.

I sway where I stand, catching my breath in sharp gulps.

I feel dizzy.

I feel cold.

'I love you,' I whisper.

But the silence and the emptiness of the room swallow my words whole.

A sob bursts out of me, hot and dry and ragged, and without even thinking about what I'm doing I turn and I run into the bathroom, covering my hand with my mouth as I feel my stomach churn. My bare feet slap on the cold floor as I run, desperate to escape it all – the agony of my own emotions.

I can't breathe.

I can't think properly.

I stumble into the bathroom and I barely reach the toilet in time before I wrench the lid up and vomit into the clean white porcelain bowl.