March 10th

Lucius sat up slowly and groaend, clutching his chest to ease the uncomfortable strain his movements caused. Having caught his breath, he carefully looked around him to try to find out where he was. The setting seemed familiar, but he couldn't immediately recognize the room.

He was in a bed. His own bed, in fact, but not at the Tower. Upon closer inspection, he realised everything in this room came from the Tower. He was dressed in his own pajamas, recognized his own stand for gentlemen's clothes, the paintings and even noticed things belonging to Hermione scattered around the room. Strange. it was just like the Tower, as if they'd been living here for quite a while, but it wasn't.

An open window let in the bright sunlight of spring, and he slowly stood up to make his way over to it. A whisper of a breeze met him, together with the sound of birds chirping. His memory was not completely clear, but he remembered enough to know why his chest hurt and to realize that he probably shouldn't be walking around without the approval of a healer. But he also remembered enough for him to disregard all such restrictions.

He'd soon noticed that the sheets on Hermione's side of the bed were ruffled, and that a half-empty glass of water stood on the night stand. And the crib at the foot of the bed had Mira's stuffed animals in it. It must mean that they were all right, because surely, no one would be so cruel as to trick him like this?

But where was he? The view from the window soon gave him the answer; it was a view he was all too familiar with. It had greeted him every morning since the day he married Narcissa. He was in the master bedroom at Malfoy Manor. The change in decorations and furniture had confused him, but now it was clear.

The gardens were still far from the bloom of summer, but Longbottom had managed to get a few bushes to bloom before their time. Lucius fancied he could even smell their sweet fragrance from the third floor. Across the lawn stood the eastern wall and its newly built gate. It was open, like an invitation to something beyond his imagination. Like a pathway to some heaven waiting for him just outside.

The sight had a strange effect on him. For once, Lucius wasn't worried. He wasn't frightened. He wasn't angry. Perhaps those feelings would soon return, but right now he felt hopeful. No, better yet: he felt expectant! He didn't know what he was expecting, exactly, but felt certain that good things were coming his way.

A few minutes later, he opened the door that would admit him into the gardens. The air outside was chillier than he'd thought, and for a moment, he hesitated. But he felt better than expected, and the day was so lovely he could scarcely resist. Soon, he heard a sound that made him leave behind all his reservations behind: laughter. Her laughter.

He followed the different pathways randomly, changing his direction now and then when he heard her. When he finally found her, she was sitting on a bench with Mira in her arms. She was dressed in white and behind her was a white Camelia in full bloom. He stopped for a moment to simply look at her, losing himself for a moment in memories of the short, but eventful, time they had spent together.

He remembered the night he'd watched her at that pub. That was the night when he'd first seen her as a prize worth winning. He could vividly remember the way his heart had beat when she'd actually put her hand in his, his frustration at her escape, and his glee at finding a means to pursue her. Amazingly, she was his now. Not to own, but to win again and again as long as she would endure his love and as long as his touch could still set her skin ablaze.

He remembered the night when she'd taken the verodicto potion and they'd been completely honest with each other. When he'd bared part of his soul to her. They had danced that night, and every touch of hers had made it difficult for him to breathe. It was probably also the night when he'd first began to truly want both her body and her soul.

He remembered the first night they'd made love, the day Mira had been born, their solemn vows to each other in this very garden, after so many mistakes and hardships and so much longing. He recalled the way her trust had changed him, and was amazed that she'd chosen him again and again.

And now, he greedily watched every nuance in her face as she laughed and made exaggerated expressions and cooed at Mira. Their daughter was dressed in a silly little overall with bear ears on it and appeared to be busy trying to grab everything within her reach while she made those nonsensical little noises infants do. Now and then, however, Lucius concluded that she was responding to her mother's antics because he could cleearly see Hermione's eyes brighten and her smile widen.

"Hermione", Lucius said quietly.

She quickly looked up, as if she'd been expecting him and yet was surprised he'd come. The smile on her transformed into a sweet mixture of astonishment, worry and joy. He could see traces of suffering on her face, but also evidence of returning bloom. On the tip of her tongue was either a rebuke or an endearment - he could never tell with her. But when their eyes locked, she simply deadpanned:

"It took you long enough." Then, as she looked him over, she smiled and added: "And you're wearing your nightsuit."

Lucius looked down and realised with a grimace that she was right. "At least I'm here now", he answered as he began to cross the small patch of lawn that separated them. Standing in front of her, he reached his hand out and touched her cheek. "Are you all right, my love?"

She smiled and answered as she had once before: "I will be."

The sun shone, the birds chirped, and the fragrance of the flowers sweetened the air. Lucius reached out and gently took Mira into his arms and kissed her forehead. He chuckled at the smile he received in response, feeling his heart swell with emotion.

With his free hand, he pulled Hermione up and clasped her tightly to his chest. He breathed in the scent of her hair, felt her warm breath against his neck and whispered: "My love."

And when she looked up, he could no longer refrain from kissing her.

Hermione had woken up in a hospital bed at S:t Mungo's two days after Eloise had tried to kill them. The last thing she remembered was Lucius using the killing curse, but she'd scarcely had time to panic before she realised that Mira was not only still alive, but throwing a tantrum. Apparently, the many hours when Hermione hadn't been able to feed the infant had resulted in milk congestion. And that, she quickly learned, wasn't only painful to her, but also frustrating to Mira, who had regularly been put to her mother's breast but couldn't get as much food as she wanted.

A mediwitch had informed her that Lucius was in a different ward. He had lost a lot of blood and was still in a critical condition, even if there was reason to hope for a speedy recovery. Later, Draco and Harry had filled her in on everything that had happened: the way Crookshanks's death had allowed Lucius to save them, the wards that wouldn't allow the Aurors in, the way both Draco and Lucius had been taken down, but how Astoria in spite of her sickness had not only saved Mira's life but also gotten through to Lucius at the very last moment...

It was a lot to take in, and Hermione was torn between relief, grief, pride and anguish. Crookshanks's death tormented her, especially since Lucius was the only one who would be able to tell her how it had happened. Astoria's fate, too, pained her: the young woman had been incredibly brave, but was left with a heavy burden of grief and guilt.

Hermione was certain of one thing, however, and that was that they couldn't return to the manor. She was discharged after only another day, and by then it had all been arranged. She hoped Lucius would be okay with it. If she had known when she was being tortured by Bellatrix that she'd one day voluntarily make the Manor her home, she would scarcely have believed it herself. But the truth was that the Manor, once bothing but a scene of torment, had now become a symbol of change and recovery. It had many more pleasant memories than distressing, and besides, it had battlements. Perhaps her feelings about the Tower would change, too, one day. But not now.

All their possessions had been moved to the Manor, and soon, Lucius had been too. At first, it had been odd living there. It felt like Lucius's house, and he was still unconscious. But he'd looked better every day, and she'd soon made herself at home. It helped that The board and staff of the Lyra foundation treated them as something between clients (they had, after all, suffered from trauma) and guests of a luxury hotel. When Lucius was awake and they began to make some sense of everything, Hermione realised that they had everything they could ask for: food, cleaning, baby sitters, therapists, a peaceful secluded environment and - above all - time.

They had time for those days when dark musings took over, as well as days when everything was blissfully perfect. There was time for hours of silence, hours of talking, hours of crying, hours of walking in the garden, hours of love making. They had time for nightmares and setbacks and for dreaming about the future.

They had time for friends. For Harry and Ginny, who came to see them frequently. With them, Hermione could revert to her teenage know-it-all personality and reminesce about their many adventures, while Lucius could tease and argue them to no end.

They had time for Draco and Astoria, who had taken Hermione's advice of prepareing a room for themselves at the Manor too. The two couples had the pleasure of slowly seeing each other heal. Astoria seemed to be doing good, all things considered, even though Dapnhe was giving her a hard time and was intent on taking over Greengrass house.

They had time for Hermiones parents, who stopped by every once in a while to gush over their grandchild and fuss over both their daughter and son-in-law. They had time even for the Weasleys. Lucius, however. claimed it was only because Molly never failed to bring a home-baked cake and Arthur's presence spurred him to overcome any obstacles he might face simply so that he would be able to put the older wizard in his place.

The Daily Prophet's headlines, a one might have expected, all spoke of the events at the Tower for weeks after the event. What surprised Hermione, however, was that Lucius was painted out as a hero. Apart from some rather distasteful speculations about whether or not he'd die from his injuries or not, the article was decently written and strangely accurate. It was based, she soon found out, on an interview with a "close friend" of the family.

At first, Hermione had been completely unable to account for who it could be. Soon, however, she had recalled that Draco had once let slip that Rita Skeeter was an old friend of his mother's. It must be her, then, informed as she was through Draco of everything that had happened. But why would she give such a favourable account of Lucius? The only reasonable explanation was that her opinion of Lucius had improved enough for her not to want to hurt him, and that she thought highly enough of Hermione to want to spare her the overflow of lies that might otherwise be spewed out by the so-called journalism of the newspaper in question. When they'd met Narcissa some time later, Hermione's conclusions appeared to be confirmed by the way Narcissa warmly greeted Hermione and even spoke almost amicably with Lucius.

With time, life found a new pace. Mira grew. Hermione went back to work, and eventually did find not a more efficient treatment of the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Within a few years, she headed her own research department at the Lyra foundation. Lucius had won the respect of more than one former skeptic, and they soon worked closely together in fulfilling Lucius's vision of making the Manor a center for healing for muggles and magicians alike. For Hermione and him, it had truly become a home and a oasis. And with time, Mira wouldn't be the only child running across its lawns and hiding in its bushes.

As for Crookshanks, they had buried him close to the new gate in the eastern wall in plain sight of their bedroom window. In the following summer, Lucius had brought Hermione there. He'd left to get something, and when he came back, she'd been puzzled to find him carrying a basket covered by a towel. A picnic? That was odd. The day was chilly, and the heavy clouds above threatened rain.

When Lucius put the basked in her lap, Hermione found it much too light to contain food. Instead, there seemed to be something moving inside it. Started at the realization, she looked up at Lucius.

"What have you -?" she began, but was cut short by a tiny little meow from within.

She peeked under the towel and found not one, but three beautiful auburn kittens tumbling about inside. They had the most amazing green eyes, and when Hermione carefully lifted one of them up, it immediately put its paws around her fingers and bit her.

"They're for me?" she asked eagerly, gently but hurriedly removed her finger from its sharp teeth.

Lucius shrugged uncomfortable. "If you want them."

"All three?" she clarified.

"I thought you might choose one, but I suppose the Manor is big enough if you want hem all", Lucius answered. "One of the maids' cat had a large litter, and she wasn't able to get rid of these."

Hermione squealed with delight, and quickly caught one kitten just as it was about to escape the basket.

Lucius's eyes had been wary, but now lit up. "You're not angry with me?" he asked.

"Why would I be? They're adorable!"

"They can't replace Crookshanks", Lucius said carefully. "They're bound to be complete idiots compared to him..."

"Probably", Hermione chuckled. "But I love them already!"

Lucius seemed to relax. For a few minutes, he watched her bestow her affections on the three kittens in silence. She was already pondering what to name them, and trying to distinguish them by some mark or quirk of personality.

"Well?" Lucius finally asked. Hermione looked up, only to find that his gaze had turned calculating. "I got you a gift", he continued. "Don't I get a reward?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She put the kittens back in the basket and stood up, only to find herself enclosed by his arms.

"A gift is for free, remember?" she pointed out.

Lucius pretended to think for a while, but the look in his eyes made her skin tingle pleasantly. "True", he conceded, as his lips slowly approached hers. "Then would you care for another one?"

"What might that be?"

But the truth was that she already had a fairly good idea. And after all, she was happy to feel his lips on hers, his hands sneaking in under her shirt, his whispered nothings in her ear. Yes, Lucius, she thought, I want everything you can give me.