A/N: Definite warning for Major Character Death in this chapter guys. Going to be a rough frew chapters to get through.

o.o.O.o.o

The first few times were the hardest, but not quite two weeks in, Hermione found herself falling into a strange kind of routine with Lucius. Every morning, she'd wake up alone in bed and there would be fresh flowers, a new book, and breakfast waiting for her. He'd vary the nature of the books between History, Alchemy, Arithmancy, and Charms rounding out the selection. She appreciated the effort to help distract her from the reality of their situation. After three days, a small writing table had appeared, stocked with ink, parchment and a generous supply of quills.

She'd have her breakfast and shower, before spending the day reading and making notes on things that caught her interest. She hadn't pushed him about helping the Order again, somehow sensing that hounding him would result in a hard no. Betraying Voldemort was something that had the potential to get his entire family killed, and he deserved time to make that decision on his own. She was learning a lot about the man, small hints appearing in their rather limited interactions.

He had a dragon tattoo on his left thigh, a fearsome Hebridean Black. She hadn't asked, but she assumed it was for his son. There were old spell-damage scars on his left side, a raised spiderweb of white skin and from her own experiences with spell injuries, it must have been horrific when it happened. He was much fitter than she'd imagined he would be. Her impressions of him when she'd been younger had been of an entitled aristocrat, more used to paperwork than any physical endeavors. His body told a much different tale. It was the body of a warrior.

Then there were the things he did to her with that body. Alone in her small set of rooms, Hermione felt her face grow hot just thinking about it. He'd been right that first night; they had to give themselves permission to find whatever pleasure they could. He seemed to have taken her reluctance the first night as a challenge to make her fall to pieces as many times as he could during their forced trysts. She'd never admit it to him, but he was very talented at making her forget her own name. There was a strange kind of freedom in this bizarre situation. Somehow, she knew he'd never share anything that happened between them, and it gave her permission to respond honestly, even to things that she would have been ashamed to under other circumstances.

Hermione liked when he was rough with her, like last night when he'd taken her hard from behind. This morning she had shadows of finger-shaped bruises on her hips where he'd dragged her back into his punishing thrusts. She begged shamelessly for it, and Lucius had been more than happy to oblige. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, biting down just thinking about it. She'd never really been one to fantasize all that much, but remembering last night made her rub her thighs together, wondering if they could ever top that.

It was getting dark, and she headed over to the windows to watch the sun set over the moor. It really was beautiful, in a desolate kind of way. It was an alien landscape to her, completely removed from the part of England she'd grown up in. Considering her current situation, locked away and isolated, it was fitting. Something about the castle and its surroundings putting her in mind of Jane Eyre, or some other tragic gothic romance. A hard shudder passed through her as she realized that her own ending was very likely to be just as tragic as those books.

She blinked as she realized just how dark it had gotten while she was lost in her thoughts. The sky was inky black now, not even the faintest blush remained on the horizon. This had been happening a lot lately, losing bits of time while staring aimlessly into the distance. A strange feeling was twisting in the pit of her stomach, the sense that something was wrong.

There was a loud bang as the door was opened forcefully, crashing into the wall. Lucius stormed in wearing his Death Eater robes and threw the white mask aside onto the table. It was covered in blood. Hermione's eyes went to it, both wanting to know who's blood it was, and not. The air around him seemed to tremble like the edge of a thunderstorm, something dangerous and wild.

"What…," she started, but he was crossing the floor in determined strides.

She found herself stepping backwards, instinctively not wanting to be near him like this, but he was just too quick. As he reached her, he tangled a hand in her hair, and his lips crashed down against hers, hard. Hermione had no choice but to return the furious kiss, her back hitting the wall beside the window. He tasted like magic, the electric feel of it seeping into her skin everywhere he touched her. She felt the top of her dress tear under his desperate hands and rather than frighten her, it sent a thrill racing down her spine. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her effortlessly, lips searching out her breasts.

She buried her hands in his hair, holding on as the wildness of the moment caught her in its grip. She could feel him hard and insistent against her core, separated by only a few flimsy layers of cloth. The sharpness of teeth scraping over her nipple startled a gasp out of her. Fuck, she needed him.

"Lucius," she gasped, begging without words.

He wrapped his arms around her and carried her the short distance to the couch. She felt a whisper of magic wrap around them both and suddenly there was only skin, their clothes vanished with a well-placed spell. She only had a moment to linger on that, as he caught her in another blistering kiss. His fingers dipped between her thighs, slipping inside and his thumb brushed against her clit. She moaned and pressed against his touch, only to have him withdraw his hand after a few teasing strokes.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered against her ear. "I need to hear you say it."

"I need you, please Lucius." She didn't hold back, her body positively on fire.

"You have me, witch," he said then. He shifted back, watching her face as he pressed into her, torturously slow.

With him watching her that closely, Hermione felt incredibly exposed. He settled against her fully, and just stared down at her, bringing a hand up to trace her features with a feather light caress, so very much at odds with the roughness of just moments ago. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over her lips, a light press of skin, before his hips drew back and thrust deeply into her. She cried out as he moved over her, setting a demanding pace. Her nails dug into the lean muscles of his back as he moved, trying to ground herself in the feel of him over her.

He slipped a hand between them to stroke her in time to his thrusts. She cried out as he effortlessly tipped her over the edge, his teeth biting into her shoulder and raising her cry to a strangled scream. Her cries seem to spur him on, his body chasing the same ecstasy. Her hand slipped up his neck to bury in his hair, lost in the feel of him and the smell that was just Lucius in her mind. It was something intangible, but reminded her of the dark rush of the ocean somehow. He came with a harsh cry, his ragged breathing the only sound in the quiet of her rooms. She felt him try to pull away after a moment, but she just tightened her hold on him.

"Stay…" she whispered, something raw and open in her chest needing the weight of him for just a little longer. She felt him tense in her grip for a moment, and then with a long sigh it was gone. "What happened tonight?" she made herself ask, afraid of the answer, but needing to know.

"If not for my questioning your worth, you'd have been given to someone else. I find myself very grateful to have been so utterly wrong." He spoke against her neck. "Without you, Potter's grown reckless."

"What are you talking about?" She frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"You were given to me because I questioned the Dark Lord about wasting the element of surprise to take you. He claimed you were vital to Potter's success, and I said he was a fool, that he should have struck against Potter directly before tipping his hand. He…expressed his disappointment in my lack of faith by torturing me first and then ordering us together. Tonight, he was proven right." Lucius shook his head and came up on his elbow, looking down at her.

"Lucius, please. What happened tonight?" Hermione's throat tightened in fear.

"They moved your friend Potter from his family home in Surrey tonight. The Order chose to hold to a plan that Dumbledore had put in place long before his death. The plan was to use polyjuice potion to turn several people into decoys, and split the Order between them. The logic being, I suppose, that if the Death Eaters attacked, they wouldn't be able to discern which one was the real Harry Potter and give the Order enough distraction to escape," Lucius said.

"But if that plan was in place before Dumbledore died…wouldn't Professor Snape have known…" She felt a mounting flood of horror. "Is Harry…?"

"I don't know. One of the Potters was killed, as was Alastor Moody and Nymphradora Lupin. Others were injured. There's no way to be sure who it was that was killed," Lucius said. "I am very sorry, Hermione."

"No." Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes and she shook her head. She pushed at his chest, trying to get away, but he held her still. "No, it can't be…not Harry! Get off me! Let me go!" She beat at his chest, but he just pulled her closer and held her as she sobbed. It couldn't be Harry, it couldn't end like this. How could they have been so stupid and reckless?

"We won't know at least for a day who was really killed, if it was Potter or someone else. I will tell you, once we know." He shifted them, sitting up on the couch and pulling her into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione just turned her face against his chest and cried, clinging to the only source of comfort she had. She didn't ask who had fired the curse that had killed her friends, because deep down she just didn't want to know. If it was Lucius…there was no way she could forgive him and because of Voldemort, she had no choice but to trust him. He was all she had now.

"I'll stay the night, if you want me to," he offered.

"Please, I don't want to be alone," she asked, needing him more than she cared to examine right now.

o.o.O.o.o

It had been just after dawn, when Lucius finally untangled himself from Hermione's arms and slipped from her bed. He tucked her back in gently, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She grizzled a little in her sleep, nuzzling closer to the pillow that he'd been using. Her face was puffy from the tears she'd shed last night, and his heart ached for her loss. No matter who had fallen last night, it was likely one of her friends. He was just grateful that he hadn't been the one to fire the curse.

After dressing silently, he paused in the sitting room and vanished the cheerful flowers from their vase, replacing them with a dozen white roses and a few white lilies. Exiting her rooms, he headed downstairs and felt his familiar mask descend. Being with the young woman was liberating in a strange way, with her, in those secret moments, there was no need to pretend. There was no hiding with her and that kind of freedom was dangerous. It would be too easy to become attached.

'As if you aren't already,' a little voice in the back of his head chided him. He headed for the breakfast room, ignoring the others as he helped himself to some rather strong coffee. Only he and Severus ever drank the stuff and lately it had become a necessary part of his mornings. The bitterness helping to shake any remaining lassitude away so he could face the day with a clear head.

"How was your little whore? I bet it felt good to vent your frustrations on her, after you missed taking out that bastard Weasley." Evan Rosier spoke up, a lecherous grin on his face.

"Leave him be, Evan," Marcus Avery said evenly. "The girl might be a mudblood, but she's still a witch and even the lowest witch should never be degraded so. You know it could have easily been either of us that was saddled with her. Crow too loudly and the Dark Lord might choose to honour you with something worse."

"Thank you, Marcus." Lucius sat down in his usual place. "Has there been any word yet on who was actually killed last night?"

"None, but our spy on the inside is due to report in tonight. We should get a better idea after that." Avery said, as Rosier stormed out in a fit of pique after being told off.

"Hopefully our Lord will have reason to celebrate tonight," Lucius said. He really needed to follow Avery one night soon and discover just who he was using to spy on the Order. It could be valuable information.

"In all seriousness, how are things going? I can't imagine this has been easy on you or Narcissa," Avery asked after a quick look to be certain they were actually alone. "I can't believe he's forced such an indignity on you. Forced to breed with a mudblood…"

"Narcissa is protesting in her own way." He frowned. His wife had been very clear on the matter. He would not go from the mudblood's bed to hers, though really he hadn't actually shared a bed with his wife in nearly five years, other than perfunctory visits on their anniversary. The physical aspects of their relationship had cooled significantly as their son grew older. He still cared for Cissy, but it was not the harried passion of youth. He respected her, and this was too great an indignity to her for him to expect her to tolerate. "I can hardly expect her to be pleased about it. My son won't even look at me and I'm undecided if it's because of the girl's parentage, or the fact that she's his age."

"And the girl?" he pressed.

"She was always was exceedingly clever, so she understands the necessity of complying, at least for the moment. Thankfully, she's more of a Ravenclaw than a Gryffindor. A little logic will get her through this." He sighed. "But, it seems like the Dark Lord was correct, without her rational presence, Potter and the Order will continue to act in typical Gryffindor fashion."

"While I would never contradict our Lord,"

"Of course not," Lucius snorted.

"I admit I'm relieved that you angered him that night. I would not have wanted the 'honour', so to speak." He shuddered.

"Best to keep those thoughts to yourself, these days even careful questioning can be dangerous." Lucius cautioned him. He found the overture to be quite out of character for Avery, the man usually much more at ease with the status quo of the regime. Something was shifting and Lucius could feel an opportunity.

"True," Avery said and helped himself to some breakfast. "Many things have grown dangerous these days."

Lucius fell into contemplative silence, and was shortly left alone to ponder the odd encounter for the remainder of the day. The Dark Lord tended to lock himself in the North wing of the Castle, and that suited Lucius well enough. Hermione was tucked safely into a hidden chamber in the south end of the Castle, well away from unstable Dark Lords.

The situation with Narcissa was tense, to say the least. If they weren't in the middle of a war, he was quite certain she'd have dissolved their marriage contract and walk away from him. It would be hard to blame her if she did. Arguing that he'd done it to protect her and their son had fallen on deaf ears, his very proud wife not wanting to hear it. She'd basically evicted him from the Manor and he was living exclusively here at the Castle.

"Lucius," Severus appeared, falling into step with the blonde wizard as he walked down one of the long galleries.

"Severus, I trust you weren't injured last night?" he asked. His friend was perhaps one of the most dangerous men he'd ever known, but even the best duelist could have an accident.

"No." He shook his head.

"Did Moody know you'd been privy to Albus' plan?" Lucius asked, the entire situation sitting poorly with him.

"I find it unlikely. Albus told me about the convoluted plan shortly before his…death. I doubt Moody would have gone ahead if he had any idea that I'd been told. The man was dangerously paranoid," Severus said.

"I admit, I will not mourn his loss." Lucius allowed himself a small smile.

"And Miss Granger, is she aware that she is mourning a loss or two?" Severus asked.

"I told her the truth, that I didn't know who was killed yet." Lucius' demeanor didn't change, but he paid very close attention to Severus' body language now. The man never betrayed his true intentions with words, only through his actions.

"It was the youngest Weasley boy. I believe he was romantically involved with her, on some level," Severus said, tone suspiciously devoid of any inflection.

"How do you know?" Lucius stilled then.

"I went lower after the battle, I saw the body," he said quietly. "Bellatrix managed to take both him and Miss Tonks, well…I suppose it was Mrs. Lupin in the end."

"The Dark Lord will be disappointed that we didn't manage to take Potter," Lucius chose not to comment on his wife's niece who'd had the audacity to bond with a werewolf. Shameful, but at least she'd died before polluting the family tree with Lupin's spawn.

"I suppose he will be." Severus went over to the window and leaned against the wall, looking out over the wild moorland. "He's told me that he intends to install me at Hogwarts, as Headmaster in September."

Lucius's eyebrows rose in shock. "Surely not."

"He wants me to take the Carrows along," a pained expression broke through his mask them. "To start teaching the Dark Arts, and to begin indoctrinating them about the dangers of the Muggle world."

"Severus…you can't refuse." Lucius felt a similar crushing press of horror.

"I know. And I see no way to spare the children from what's coming, I admit that I feel…trapped."

"A feeling we share at the moment, I'm afraid." Lucius repressed a shudder. There had to be a way to end this madness. He stared out at the desolate stretch of wilderness, trying to piece things together. After Hermione had been taken, the Dark Lord had jumped into action, moving quickly. There had to be some reason for that, something he'd seen in Hermione's head that would have caused him to accelerate his plans.

Hermione. Tonight, he would need to break the news of her friend or perhaps lover's death. The thought of having shared the witch with that boy left him bristling, and he prayed she'd had better sense than to stoop quite that low. She was an intelligent and powerful young woman, far too good for the likes of a Weasley.