March 5th

Lucius stepped out of the fireplace, threw off his cloak and eagerly hurried into the living room. He had only been gone for two hours, having completed all his business in record speed - knowing Hermione anticipated his return. He was surprised to find the room empty. The spring sun shone in through the large windows, illuminating the sofa where he had expected to find Hermione cuddled up with Mira. Although nothing seemed amiss, he suddenly felt uneasy.

Lucius shook his head; he must not let his old paranoia get to him. Surely, they were just asleep! Mira had probably yelled at the top of her lungs to demand food, after which they'd both fallen asleep from pure exhaustion. A smile crept over Lucius's face as he envisioned the scene waiting for him in their bedroom. His tiny (ad loud) little girl - perhaps with a drop of milk still in the corner of her mouth - safely tucked under the arm of the fascinating woman that was his wife. The word still sent thrills throughout his body. My wife.

Lately, as Lucius had more or less predicted, she had been either sleepy, angry, sad or hungry. It pained him to see it, and he felt as if he had spent most of his time soothing either a crying baby or a crying witch. But even though Hermione was pretty much an emotional wreck at the moment, she made him happy - just by existing. Her wounds would heal in time - he was determined that they would - and as long as she existed, he could get through anything.

Lucius was about to pass by the library door when he noticed that it was closed. That was unusual, and that uneasy feeling from a few moments ago returned. Deciding to check if they were there, put his handle on the door. All was quiet. So quiet he fancied he could hear he clamour of tourists from down below as he sometimes did on days when the wind was still. Something compelled him to take out his wand as he opened the door. And that was the only thing that saved him from being hit square in the face by a stunning spell. Instinctively, he threw up a protective shield in the very last minute, and the next thing he knew, he was locked in battle with the door only half opened.

He couldn't see who or what was within the room, and was afraid to cast any hexes that might harm Hermione or Mira if they were in there. His opponent, on the other hand, knew exactly where he was and need not havey any concerns about hurting him. Soon, he realized that the only way to gain headway would be by opening the door fully. It would mean exposing himself to danger, but also give him the opportunity to expose the unknown intruder. With grim determination, he deflected a stunning hex, steeled himself mentally, flung the door open and threw up a shield.

"Nebulatus!" a voice cried out, and instantly, Lucius's vision was fogged. It was as if the room had suddenly filled with smoke, and he struggled to blink his eyes. Before he could get his bearings, a wordless hex knocked him off his feet.

Lucius's wand flew out of his grasp, strong ropes wound themselves around his arms and legs, and the next thing he knew, he was unable to move at all. Lying face down on the floor, Lucius found that the fog had lifted, but that his view of the room was obstructed by the furniture.

"Hermione?" he called, struggling to free himself from the ropes.

Only silence met him. It was a silence filled with foreboding, and yet, he allowed himself to hope. He hoped Hermione and Mira had - for whatever reason - gone out. That they weren't at home. That she had escaped, in short, and that he would be free to face the intruder himself. He would rather be killed right away than risk any harm to come to her.

After a moment, he heard steps approach him: the slow click-clack of heels moved across the oak floor in his direction. Soon, he heard the rustle of fabric, and smelt the floral scent of a vaguely familiar perfume. He tried to move his head from side to side, but the person seemed intentionally to stay just outside his field of vision.

"Oh, Lucius", a soft voice finally said. "Who would have thought it would come to this?"

Lucius stopped struggling. He recognized that voice. He closed his eyes and allowed his forehead to touch the floor, wondering frantically what he could do, what she wanted, what she had done. The steps came yet closer until, without warning, a hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him onto his back.

Now, he could see her face. A finely sculpted face, with lustrous dark curls and eyes that were filled with triumph. Lucius stared into her eyes. Even as a young man, he had wondered what the colour of her eyes reminded him of - and now it was clear. They weren't the colour of chestnut, or chocolate, or burnt coffee, or anything of the sort.

He could see it now: her eyes were the same colour as the bottom a newly dug grave.

Hermione was lost in a land of half-consciousness, unable to get a grasp of where she was, or why. Her thoughts were sluggish, and though she knew something was off, she wast quite sure what. She felt no pain, but found herself unable to move. She wasn't sure if it had to do with some outer force pinning her down or with the heavy feeling in her body, but though she wished to - her body remained immobile. All she knew was that the pieces of the puzzle had finally begun to come together. Every piece fit the other. She was sure of that - but couldn't quite explain to herself what the puzzle was.

From far away - and yet near, somehow, a familiar voice called her name. Lucius' voice. She tried to open her eyes and respond, happy that he was home and anxious for him to help her. Perhaps he could take her out onto the balcony so the cool air coul help her clear her head. But then she heard another voice. Her voice.

Oh no.

Hermione felt her body twitch with the sudden fear instilled by that voice, and some of the mist in her head eased. She was beginning to recognize that she was sitting up somehow, and her memories slowly began to return to her. She remembered now that she was unarmed. SHe had handed her wand to her. Why would she do that? Hermione struggled to make sense of the flashes of memory until she realised it had been for Mira's sake. She had taken Mira, and Hermione had feared what might happen if she refused. And then... then what?

After few moments, it came to her: she'd been tied to a chair. Yes, that was it. And she'd been forced to take some sort of potion as well. And then they had talked. The prisoner and the keeper. It had been a strangely calm conversation given the terror that coursed through Hermione with every beat of her heart. She recalled now that it wasn't until she had head the sound of approaching footsteps that she had been rendered unconscious.

I should have known it was her, she kept thinking. But... she had alibis! And there were things she couldn't possibly have known. How could it be her? It didn't make sense. And yet, it did.

From the depths of Hermione's memory, a few words resurfaced. Words that had been taken as a joke, but which gained a whole new significance now that she knew what she knew. She and Astoria had been talking about the attack at the ball and the fear for Lucius's life they had all shared. Astoria had tried to express her mother's concern, and said: When I saw her the day after… If I didn't know better, I'd say she'd grown a couple of gray hairs overnight.

How could she not have seen it? Gray hair - it had been almost the only thing Hermione remembered clearly about that mediwitch who had brought lilies to the hospital and stolen Lucius's blood. She knew well that some effects of polyjuice potion could linger for days. It had been Eloise Greengrass.

Hermione's heart rate increased as she finally started to feel more connected to her body. It felt heavy, though, and she as sure she wouldn't have been able to move even if she hadn't been tied down. She was tempted to sink back into slumber, but slowly, another thought struggled to make its way from the depths of her consciousness. Something important. Something she needed to worry about.

Hermione opened her eyes with a start. Where was Mira?!

Lucius had locked his body and face into an attitude of calm and polite disinterestedness. His eyebrows were slightly raised, as if the fact that he was bound by strong ropes was only mildly surprising - and not concerning at all. The only thing to suggest that he was at all affected by his situation was his intent gaze, which flickered between Hermione and Mira.

Neither was awake. He hoped Mira was simply asleep - she was wrapped in her blanket on a soft arm chair a few yards from him - but Hermione was certainly unconscious. She was slumped on a chair, and the only thing stopping her from falling off of it were the ropes that tightly restrained her arms, legs, and torso. Lucius watched her carefully, willing her to wake up so that he could be certain she was all right. Several minutes had passed, however, without her making any sign of waking up.

"You wound me, Lucius", a feminine voice mocked from the other side of the room. "I thought you'd be brimming with curiosity."

Lucius didn't answer, and heard an exaggerated sigh in response to his silence. He had not spoken a word to her yet. Not when he saw her face and had to accept the fact that Eloise Greengrass had overpowered him. Not when she'd moved him to this chair and tied him to it. And not when he'd seen Hermione and Mira and realised that the three of them were all unarmed and helpless.

His eyes drifted to the hourglass standing on a little table next to Hermione. He didn't need to ask what it was for. Not when he could see the thin shimmering thread of magic that connected it to Hermione's heart, and the sand that steadily trickle through its narrow waist. He would not ask - because he didn't want to have his suspicion confirmed.

"You know, Hermione was much more chatty than you are", Eloise said. "We had a lovely little heart-to-heart, she and I. She thought I was here because of jealousy." A tinkling laugh slithered through the room. "Such a sweet, naïve little girl. I wager you know me better than that."

Lucius could har the rustling of her robes as she once again moved closer to him. She moved slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, but Lucius refused to turn to look at her. She disgusted him. Now more than ever. From the beginning of their acqauintance, he had resisted her attempts at closeness. She was a beautiful woman, but he had always sensed there was something else underneath her facade. But this? Why was she here if not because of some misplaced sense of jealousy?

"Do you remember what you told me that day, after we'd made love in the storage room at Hogwarts?" Eloise asked in a soft voice, now standing right next to him. "When I was silly enough to believe you would pick me over Cissy, and that what we'd just done would change everything... You said –"

"Shut up, Eloise", Lucius hissed. "I do not wish to hear it."

"Oh, but Hermione was very interested", the witch rejoined. She took a few more steps, right into his field of vision. He could not now avoid looking at her without turning his eyes away. And he would not do that. He met her grave-brown eyes, and took in her tailored gray robes and the smirk on her lips, but said nothing. "You said", she continued, "that a Malfoy deserved the very best, and that the only way you'd choose me was if there were no other options but a mudblood."

Eloise laughed again - as if his words had not been intended to humiliate her, but rather the object of fond fond amusement on her part. She leaned toward Lucius with easy elegance and added: "Hermione asked if I was here to take my revenge on you for those words, and for what you did that day."

"And?" Lucius asked impatiently.

Eloise pouted. "Don't be silly, of course not." She put a finger under Lucius's chin. "I am here to make sure you honour those words."

Lucius stared at her for a few moments. His younger self would have been amazed to hear that the Lucius twenty hears hence would choose to marry a so-called mudblood. But now, he felt as if his rebuke had not been sharp enough back then. He should have said that he'd rather marry a mudblood - almost any mudblood - than Eloise Rosier.

"I am already married, if you recall", he said dismissively, turning his gaze back to Hermione. "You're too late."

Eloise smirked and let his chin go. "That's what Hermione said. How well you suit each other!", she said sarcastically. "But no. After what everything you've done, I wouldn't marry you even if you begged me." Eloise paused and let her eyes look Lucius over from head to toe. "Well", she amended, "perhaps if you begged very prettily." She shook her head, as if to disperse some irrelevant thought. "But that is beside the point. I am here on behalf of the Malfoy family. A family that was kept pure for hundreds of years has been sullied by you - and I am here to make sure it ends."

"Who are you to act on behalf of my family?" Lucius spat. "I am the head of the family."

"You have obviously lost your mind", Eloise sniffed. "You can deny it all you want, but your marriage and that little brat over there are a discrace to the name of Malfoy. And Malfoy is a name that has always been precious to me. More precious even, believe it or not, than you, Lucius."

"My actions have freed the Malfoys from their long-standing curse", Lucius said, wondering to himself why he was bothering to argue with her at all. It angered him, however, that she thought she had any right to interfere with his family. The Malfoys had always been superior to the Rosiers as well a the Greengrasses in every respect: in refinement, education, renown, wealth and power.

"Oh, I am well aware of the little tricks that child can pull", Eloise said with a contemptuous glance at Mira. "She did a good job protecting you, I must admit. But I have learned to be careful and to negate her talent. Both she and Hermione have taken a potion to stop any little outbursts of magic. Today, neither of them will be able to interfere."

Lucius suppressed the urge to squirm in his seat, and defiantly raised his chin. "Interfere with what?"

Eloise smiled. "You will have to make a choice, Lucius", she said simply. Something of the revulsion, anger and horror must have been showing on Lucius's face, because Eloise soon leaned closer and said in a comforting tone of voice: "Think of this as a purge. I am ridding your family and your life from all the filth, traitors and weakness you have so thoughtlessly invited."

Lucius wanted to say something more, but suddenly both their attention was turned to Hermione, who jerked in her chair. She looked around her frantically, and Lucius had to bite his tongue to keep a calm facade. He had been close to loosing his temper already, but knew he couldn't afford it. He had to outwit Eloise somehow, and the first step was to not show her any weakness.

"Ah, finally she's awake", Eloise said with satisfaction as she turned to Hemione, and smiled darkly. "And so the trials may begin."