A/N: Hope you're all still with me. Thank you to everyone reviewing and following along.

o.o.O.o.o

She'd spent most of the day in bed, feeling completely sorry for herself. Not even the gentle urgings of Petal had gotten her up to eat anything. If Harry was dead, there was no hope left…everything was over. As the sunlight began to dim, she'd forced herself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Deciding against a shower, she put the plug into the tub and started filling it. While the water ran, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her fingers grazed the slightly purple bite mark on her neck from last night. Looking down she could see more bruises from their rough encounter. She didn't mind them, even though she probably should. The little bit of pain helped her feel alive and stuck here…it would be too easy to stop feeling anything at all.

Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks; the waiting was killing her. She needed to know who had died last night. Had it been Harry? Ron? Ginny? One of the Twins? The possibilities just made her sick with worry. Worst of all, there was absolutely nothing she could do. She'd tried a hundred times to get out of these rooms. The windows were unbreakable, the floorboards wouldn't pry up, and only Lucius could come and go at will. It was almost worse than being locked in that dark cell. The view from the windows and the access to books made it feel all too normal, something that this situation just wasn't.

She shook her head and wiped the tears away. Enough. She couldn't keep wallowing; it didn't solve anything. She turned off the water and slipped into the bathtub, the heat sinking into her skin. She tipped her head back and just tried to quiet her mind for a little while. She was drifting in the warmth, blissfully empty of thought, when there was a tap at the door.

"Miss Granger?"

"Come in, it's not locked," she said. It seemed silly to worry about modesty when he was shagging her every night. The door opened and he came in. She knew with a single look at him that the news wasn't good, he looked apprehensive.

"How are you feeling?" He crouched by the side of the tub and reached out, tucking a damp curl behind her ear.

"Not great and I'm guessing that I'm about to feel a lot worse." She leaned into the touch. Mentally, she tried to steel herself for the news.

"It wasn't Harry who was killed, but it was a friend of yours." He took a moment. "Ronald Weasley died in the battle last night."

Hermione just closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and she just couldn't breathe. Like clips from a movie, memories of Ron flashed through her mind, a hundred thoughts and feelings that she'd never get to have again, because he was dead.

"No." She wanted to be angry, to scream and beat at Lucius like a woman gone mad, but all she did was move forward and wrap her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. Everything was going away, fading into the abyss of pain that had opened up inside her on the night of her parents' murders. Ron's loss was nearly as devastating. "Was it quick?" she finally managed to ask.

"Bellatrix hit him with a killing curse, there wouldn't have been any pain." Lucius stroked her naked back, not protesting as she soaked his clothes with her bath water.

"How many more people do I have to lose? When does it stop?" She knew there were no answers, but she needed to say it.

"It stops when he's finally dead," Lucius whispered quietly, vanishing the water from the bath and summoning a towel. "Let's get you dried off. Petal says you haven't eaten anything all day. Can you try and eat something small for me?" He tipped her chin up, looking into her eyes.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. He seemed to accept that as the only answer he was likely to get, and picked her up. He carried her into the bedroom and efficiently dried her off, before finding a clean nightgown for her. He sat her down at the vanity and carefully combed through her wet hair. He apologized for catching on some snarls, and used a little magic to untangle the mess he'd made.

"I probably would have married him one day," she said softly, breaking the long silence. "He loved me, and for a long time…he was all I wanted."

"Did you love him?" Lucius asked, setting the comb back on the vanity and gently massaging her shoulders.

"I thought I did, maybe I did for a while, but when he finally kissed me…I didn't feel anything." She frowned, remembering that moment so clearly. It had been on the Hogwart's Express home, he'd pulled her close and kissed her. He'd told her to be careful and that he'd see her soon. Ron had finally kissed her and she'd felt absolutely nothing. She'd told herself at the time that it had just been because of Dumbledore's death or that she'd been in shock. Now though, she wondered if she'd ever really loved Ron at all.

"Sometimes we love an idea much more than the reality," he said. "It doesn't change the fact that he was your friend, and that you cared about him in that way. Mourn him as your friend and try not to let yourself feel guilty about not caring for him more."

Hermione nodded. That was the real problem, she did feel guilty. The boy she'd claimed to love had died and she was here…relatively safe and fucking a man that probably would have happily killed him. What did that make her? Did she really want to even go down that road? No, of course she didn't. That particular road let to madness and even more self-loathing. Some Gryffindor she was, terrified of looking too closely at herself because she knew what she'd see there.

Lucius helped her to bed. He coaxed her to eat a little bit of toast and drink some tea. She just surrendered to the attention. Fighting took too much energy, and she just didn't have anything left. The losses were like deep gaping wounds and she was bleeding to death. No bandage in the world could staunch the flow.

"Why are you being so nice? I know you hate the Weasleys." She looked over at him.

"Whoever he was, he was important to you and now he's gone. I know what it feels like to lose a friend, Miss Granger. There's no pain quite like it," he said. "Now, get some sleep. I'll stay as long as I can."

"But, don't we have to…" Hermione frowned. It was the last thing she wanted right now, but there was still that looming fear that Voldemort would give her to Greyback if they didn't.

"Not tonight. If he corners me, I'll tell him you were ill. It's hardly even a lie." He stroked her face.

"Thank you." Hermione felt a swell of warmth spread through her. It was just a lie, but the fact that he was willing to risk the Dark Lord's ire for her meant something. She curled up on her side and as he curled an arm around her protectively, she felt the wild spinning of the world stop. For just a little while, she was safe.

o.o.O.o.o

Lucius paid for his small act of gallantry, bleeding onto the rough-hewn stones of the meeting room. Everyone's face was impassive, but as he lay there gasping for breath, he could see the tightness around some people's eyes. Not everyone was as enthusiastic as their Lord about this little experiment. Before the Dark Lord's return, Lucius had been the greatest of all of them. Now they watched as he was stripped of his power, dignity, and even free will. He knew it was only a matter of time before the others stopped revelling in his failures, and started worrying about their own fates under this madman. He kept those thoughts under lock and key, buried deep in his mind.

"I don't care if the little bitch is bleeding out of every orifice. Until she is pregnant or dead, you will fuck her every single night." The Dark Lord hissed at him. "Or I will find someone else that can. Crucio," he cursed the prone wizard again. He continued until he managed to draw ragged screams from Lucius' throat. "Do you understand, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said through clenched teeth as he forced himself back up onto his feet. The room was spinning wildly under his feet, but staying on the ground was not advisable. Laying there like a victim invited others to cause him harm. Survival first. Healing later. Revenge, even later still.

"Yaxley, where are we on locating the remaining members of the Order?" The Dark Lord turned away, dismissing Lucius as though he were completely insignificant.

Severus moved up and carefully slipped Lucius a potion for the pain. Lucius took it, while the Dark Lord was occupied with Yaxley's report. His muscles twinge painfully in the aftermath of the cruciatis, but more than anything it was his pride that stung hardest. Ordered to fornicate on some mad-man's orders like a beast. It was not to be borne. He was grateful when they were all finally released, and he stormed away from the meeting, heading back toward Hermione's rooms.

"Lucius, a moment." A voice called after him.

"Yes, Rodolphus?" Lucius paused and turned to look at the elder Lestange brother. Azkaban had changed the other man, more profoundly than the others that had come out. It would be hard for most to notice it, but Rodolphus had been in his year at Hogwarts and they knew each other well. Too well, at times.

"There are ways around that monitoring spell," he said quietly, coming to stand near the man.

"Oh?"

"My parents placed it on Bellatrix and me after our wedding, when it was clear that things were not…going as planned," he admitted. "I'll find the volume the curse was detailed in, and you should be able to find ways around it, here and there. It can't be fooled all the time, but you can…stretch it a little."

"Why so helpful all of a sudden?" Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"Because he goes too far," he said simply. "I'll have the book for you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Rod." He let out a breath. "I appreciate it."

"Avery is coming to my home tomorrow for dinner, you should join us," Rodolphus said. "I can give you the book then."

"I'll look forward to it," he said. There was something Rod was dancing around. It was clear that he'd never discuss it anywhere the Dark Lord might have eyes and ears. He watched the other Deatheater walk away and resolved to speak to Hermione about what the Dark Lord had taken from her mind. He needed information, and quickly.

He climbed the spiral staircase and entered her rooms, just as dark and silent as he'd left them. He'd been forcing himself to return to his own rooms here each night once she was asleep, but perhaps it wouldn't be so horrible to just spend the night in her bed. He entered her bedroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, taking in the sight awaiting him. The bed was bathed in moonlight, the nearly full moon casting its silvery glow on the witch as she slept.

Even a year ago, he'd have scoffed at anyone calling the young woman beautiful, but now he'd dare anyone to say that she wasn't. It wasn't the cold untouchable beauty that witches like his wife could claim, but hers was something softer and warmer. Her curls were riotous, completely resistant to any attempts to tame them and he wondered how they would look if she grew them out longer. She was petite, almost fragile looking as she laid there in the bed. Awake, the force of her personality kept people from seeing just how delicate she was; how easy it would be to break her beyond repair. That she was still standing at all was something of a miracle. Of course, everything that she had lost in the last two months had damaged her. Possibly to the point that she'd never completely recover.

He started to undress, tossing his clothes over the dressing table bench. He slipped into the bed beside her, smiling as she turned into him and nestled against his side. He supposed that after losing as much as she had, it was only natural that she'd hold on tightly to any offered kindness. This closeness would never survive outside these forced and artificial conditions, but for now he would just enjoy it. He breathed in the scent of her hair, the vanilla of her shampoo only masking the warmer scent that was purely her. It was a strange mixture of cinnamon and cloves, and another smell that reminded him of his mother's garden when he'd been a child. He couldn't name the flower, but it reminded him of sun soaked afternoons and laughter.

He didn't have the heart to wake her, not when she was sleeping so soundly, so he just wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes. They could talk in the morning.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione opened her eyes, surprised to not find herself alone. She was curled against Lucius' chest, his heart beating steadily under her cheek. Usually, by the time the sun was peeking above the horizon, Lucius would be long gone. The smile slipped off her lips as she saw the pink, healing lines across his chest. Those had not been there when she'd fallen asleep. Her fingers reached out to ghost over one of the marks, a frown starting to furrow her brow. Lucius' hand came up and covered hers, guiding it to rest on an unmarked part of his chest.

"They're still a little tender," he said, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Were they because of me?" she asked.

"No. They were because I gave him an excuse. You needed to rest and I was more than willing to pay the consequences for my choice. He was hardly going to kill me for it, at least not this time," he said, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand.

"But why is he singling you out? It's never made any sense to me," Hermione shifted a little so she could see his face.

"There are a lot of reasons, but the easiest to understand is that I'm the perfect example for the others. A kind of cautionary tale. Socially, I'm the highest ranking of all of them. If I can be forced to kneel, to cower, and bleed on his command…what hope do the others have of standing against him?" He shrugged a little. "He also knows me well enough to understand that there will come a point where I won't just take it. He wants me dead, but I'm one of the highest ranking members of his Inner Circle. He'd need me to strike first, so he is trying to force my hand. He forgets that I am my father's son. Just as my father helped him rise, I'm just as capable of making certain he falls."

Hermione shivered a little at the cold fury in his voice.

"So, I pursuit of that end, I need to know what he saw in your mind that night, Hermione," Lucius said.

"Why?"

"Whatever he saw spurred him into action, something you knew spooked him. You need to tell me everything." Lucius looked deadly serious.

"On one condition," Hermione said, trying not to balk at that look on his face.

"Name it."

"Give me the names of the men that murdered my parents. If I help you, then I want you to help me make them pay." She wanted them dead, and more than that…she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted them to scream the way her father had screamed as he'd been dismembered alive. She wanted to see the light in their eyes go out.

"If you want their deaths, Hermione. I'll make sure you get them," Lucius promised. "There was no one there that I'd lament losing."

"Their names," she pressed.

"Amycus Carrow, Fenrir Greyback, Augustus Rookwood, Walden McNair, and Evan Rosier." Lucius didn't hesitate. "Before this is over, I will help you put them all in the ground. I swear that to you."

"Ok." She sat up, moving to sit up against the headboard. "Harry told me everything that Dumbledore shared with him last year. I know the whole Prophecy, I know that your 'Dark Lord' is actually the son of a muggle and a witch with so little magic that she never even warranted a Hogwarts letter." She started off. "His name is Tom Riddle Jr. and his mother's name was Merope Gaunt. She used love potions to ensnare his father, but after she was pregnant she confessed to him what she had done. He cast her aside and she died soon after giving birth to him."

Lucius' eyebrows rose as he sat up in the bed, utterly gobsmacked.

"He grew up in a muggle orphanage and used his accidental magic to torture and torment the other children. Dumbledore was the one who brought him his letter, but Tom was forced to return to that orphanage each summer. No wonder he was obsessed with finding a way to become immortal. Those summers, when he had to return to London, were during the Blitz in World War II." She shuddered, unable to even imagine how that might have twisted even her. "He was the one that opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time, and he used Myrtle's death to make his very first Horcrux."

"First? He made more than one?" Lucius paled a little.

"The Headmaster believed that he intended to split his soul into seven pieces. That would mean six horcruxes and then the piece of soul still in his physical form. The Diary you gave Ginny was that first horcrux and Harry destroyed it with Basilisk venom. The Headmaster destroyed a second the summer after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, though he paid dearly for it. Harry said there was a curse, that his hand was blackened. Right before Snape killed him, the Headmaster had taken Harry to a cave where a third was hidden. It was on an island surrounded by Inferi. Getting it nearly killed Harry and the Headmaster, only for them to discover that it was a fake. It was a replica of Slytherin's locket and inside was a note from someone with the initials RAB. It said they had taken the locket and would find a way to destroy it, or die trying. The plan was for me, Harry, and Ron to go looking for the locket and try to figure out what the other three Horcruxes were so that we could destroy them," Hermione said, feeling better saying it out loud.

"That was Dumbledore's plan, to send three teenagers on some sort of deranged scavenger hunt, with no real information or support?" He blinked.

"Needs must, I guess." She sighed. "Before I left the school, I scoured it for any Dark Arts texts I could find. They'd all been hidden in the Headmaster's quarters, so I took them. I'd hoped to find some clues, I guess. The prophecy was pretty clear that Harry and Voldemort are destined to do battle, and that only one of them will survive. But it's your typical woolly prophecy, big on drama and short on details."

"Well, I can solve one mystery for you. RAB stands for Regulus Arcturus Black. If he took that locket, there's only one creature on this earth that will know where he hid it."

"Kreacher," Hermione said, eyes widening. "It was there, under our noses the whole time."

"Given how carefully the Dark Lord guards Nagini these days, it's likely that she is one as well. I also know that Bellatrix often crows about something the Dark Lord entrusted her with. One of these objects could well be hidden either in her vault at Gringotts or somewhere in Lestrange Manor." Lucius tapped a finger against his lips, thinking about something. "So that just leaves one unaccounted for."

"It's a start at least," Hermione said, shocked at how quickly everything had been revealed.

"Now, the Black home in London must be under Fidelius, or we'd have found it by now. With Dumbledore dead, anyone that knows the secret can share it, if they choose to. It's the one thing the Dark Lord wouldn't have been able to steal from your mind, since the secret can only be shared willingly. I need to make contact with your friends, so I need you tell me where the Headquarters of the Order is, Hermione. I need you to trust me," Lucius said.

Hermione felt her head shaking. If he was playing her and she told him, she could be signing everyone's death warrants. She squeezed her eyes shut and swore. What Lucius had just shared with her was too damned important to ignore. Harry needed this information, desperately. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Promise me this isn't just a trick. Promise me you won't betray them."

"I give you my word. I swear on my magic and the blood of my ancestors that I will not betray your trust, Hermione Granger." Lucius held her gaze unwaveringly. "We need to rely on one another, or there's no way to put an end to this nightmare."

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place," she said after a long, trembling silence.

"It's going to be alright, my brave little witch." Lucius reached over and pulled her back to his side, wrapping an arm around her to try and still her trembling. He dropped a kiss against her temple.

"Wait, why didn't Snape just tell you?" Hermione frowned, a thought turning over and over in her head. "He knows where Headquarters is, just as well as I do."

"He claimed Dumbledore never took him there." Lucius looked down at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"He's definitely been there. He's lying," Hermione said. "So what else is he lying about…" She pulled back from Lucius and slipped out of the bed, starting to pace and trying to fit all the pieces together.

"It could be nothing, Hermione. An additional oath that Dumbledore bound him to, or some other angle he's playing," Lucius said.

"No. Handing the Order's Headquarters over to you would have been worth too much. There's no point in him hiding that and anything short of an unbreakable vow would have just expired with Dumbledore's Death." She could feel it, something just beyond her grasp. It was there, but she just couldn't see it all yet. He had killed Dumbledore, there was no explaining that away, or was there? She stopped dead. "Merlin's hairy ballsack…"

"Such language." Lucius chuckled, looking rather amused as she sorted out the problem.

"We were all so bloody stupid! Don't you see? Dumbledore was dying." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "The cursed hand, the poison he drank to get the fake horcrux…he wasn't even going to make it until morning."

"He wanted Severus to kill him?" Lucius frowned.

"That was why he ordered Harry to go and get Snape, not to help him…but to end it." She flopped back on the bed, her head resting on Lucius' bare thigh. "He didn't say stop or don't, he said please." She put her hand over her mouth and felt instantly ill. How quickly had they all leapt off the ledge Dumbledore had stood them up on. No one in the infirmary that night had defended Severus, or even thought to question what had happened. It had been too easy for Remus and the others to fall back into old prejudices and not look any further than Harry's emotional testimony.

"You can't know that for sure," Lucius stroked her hair.

"Harry chased after them, alone. Snape could have easily stunned him and taken him right to your Dark Lord." She had to admit saying 'Dark Lord' sounded far less ridiculous than You-Know-Who. "You can't tell me that it wouldn't have gotten him even more favour and prestige?"

"You're not wrong about that," he frowned. "You might not be wrong about any of it, but approaching Severus will have to be done carefully." He absently wound one of her curls around his finger.

"No kidding," she said and shook her head a little. "Just trying to approach the Order will be dangerous enough. They could just kill you on sight and even if they don't…they'd never believe that I'd really help you." She closed her eyes. It was pointless. They had all this information, but no actual way to get it to them.

"Not unless you told them the truth," Lucius said.

"No," she said instantly, tone cold as ice. "No one needs to know about this."

"Hermione…" he said gently.

"No. I don't need my friends to know about this…" She closed her eyes tight. "It's bad enough if they think I'm just a prisoner, they don't need the details."

"It's the only way they'll believe us. Do you know what a pensieve is?" he asked.

"Yes. I've never used one, but I know what they do. You cannot honestly be suggesting we share memories of what's happened?" She felt ill at the thought of anyone she knew seeing the weak, pathetic creature she'd become.

"Just a few carefully selected ones, so that they understand the duress we're both under and can believe that my defection is genuine," Lucius said. "I wouldn't ask if I thought there was any other way to make them truly understand."

Hermione shivered as she tried to think about who she could trust in the Order to not tell anyone about this. Someone that would understand the importance of Lucius' assistance enough to be willing to accept it. Harry was completely out of the question. She loved her friend like a brother, but he had a tendancy to go off half-cocked. The Weasleys just weren't feasible given that it was a Malfoy involved, and she didn't know a lot of the others.

"Remus. He'd probably smell me all over you anyway, and he's good at keeping secrets." It was really the only choice.

"Write your letter to him, and I'll bring a penseive tonight to start selecting memories. Hopefully, I can stay alive long enough to convince them I mean them no harm." He looked less than enthusiastic about that prospect.

"Can you get me to an owl?" Hermione asked after a moment.

"Perhaps. What did you have in mind?"

"There's a charm to get mail to the Order. I can make contact and hopefully that will keep them from just killing you on sight," Hermione said.

"Such a clever witch," Lucius said, still absently stroking her hair. "We might actually survive this little endeavour."

A rumble of thunder and dimming of the light in the bedroom heralded the approach of a storm. Hermione just hoped that it wasn't an omen for their plans. Hermione turned her head and brushed a kiss against the tattoo on his thigh, deciding that she didn't want to keep thinking about things right now.

"Mmmm," Lucius rumbled in approval, his fingers still playing lazily with her hair.

As the soft patter of raindrops started hitting the windows, Hermione slowly kissed her way up his body. She paid attention to how his skin jumped when she scraped her teeth over his stomach, and watched as his eyes darkened when she wrapped her hand around his hardening cock. He remained mostly passive under her this time, letting her set the pace and explore however she wanted. She held his gaze as her tongue darted out to flick across his nipple. A little thrill of excitement passed through her as she heard the sharp intake of his breath.

Watching his reactions was a heady thing, knowing that she was the one in control. No matter how briefly it might last. She nipped at the skin of his throat, feeling the slight roughness of his morning stubble there. Her lips teased against his ear.

"Get rid of my pajamas, would you?" She grinned as she felt the now familiar whisper of his magic against her skin, divesting her of her clothing. Boldly, she straddled his hips and caught him in a languid kiss. She rocked back and could feel him there, so very hard and ready, but he made no effort to hurry her along.

His hands weren't completely idle though. One was maddeningly trailing up and down her spine, and the other had slipped between her legs to tease her with feather-light strokes. She moaned into his lips, caught in an exquisite place between pleasure and need. Her hand reached back and she lifted up to carefully slide down into him. She braced herself against his chest, getting used to the new angle. She'd never done this before, but watching him under her was fucking brilliant. His hands settled against her hips, fingers brushing her ass as she settled fully against him.

She started a tentative rhythm, his hands guiding her as she gained her confidence.

"Just like that," Lucius gasped under her, hips thrusting up to meet her now.

The storm was getting louder, and Hermione let go. She rode him harder, crying out as he tilted her hips just a little and he was suddenly hitting her in just the right spot. She leaned down and kissed him, nearly melting as he buried a hand in her hair, gripping tight as their lips warred with one another. She wanted it to go on forever, even as she wanted to chase the inevitable crash of release. Her entire world narrowed down to the feel of their bodies moving together, the sting as he caught her lip between his teeth, and even the sweat slicking their skin.

Her own pleasure took her by surprise, and his hand on her hip tightened, holding her now as he thrust up into her. He finished with a final cry and Hermione collapsed down onto him, completely and utterly spent. Her muscles ached, her sex throbbed, and they were both shaking a little, but right now she felt at peace.

The rain was pounding against the window now, and when she started to shiver from the cool air settling against their sweat-soaked skin, Lucius tugged the blankets up over them.

"Maybe I should spend the night more often," Lucius said, lazily stroking his thumb just along her spine.

"Mmmm," Hermione couldn't quite manage words yet, but the idea of him being here when she woke up felt frighteningly good. She nuzzled her face against his neck, just soaking up the feel of him. "Can you stay a while?" she asked.

"Yes, I can stay," he responded. "I have to be somewhere later on, but for now I'm all yours. Merlin save you." He chuckled.

"Somehow I don't think anyone is going to save me, but just right now…I don't really mind." Frightening as it sounded, being here in his arms was exactly where she wanted to be.