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Chapter 23

I woke up with a start, a cold sweat covering my body and the sheet tangled around my legs. I gasped in a sharp breath of air, then exhaled a tight groan at the searing pain that speared through my neck. Hermione startled beside me, bolting upright and reaching immediately for me.

"Lucius? What is it? Are you in pain?"

I held my hand over my eyes, taking several deep breaths and trying to ignore the near-crippling burn along my neck.

"I'm going to turn the lamp on," Hermione said. "Keep your eyes closed."

Three weeks had passed since Charlie punched me, and while my headaches had begun to lessen and the pain in my cheek was almost gone, the tension in my neck was still excruciating. And for the last week my dreams had been filled with various re-enactments of the attack.

The punch in my dreams had become harder as he hit me, his voice a wolf-like snarl. And the images I would glimpse weren't always Charlie. They were hulking shadows or vampiric entities, or — as in tonight's version — a cloaked figure with glowing red eyes.

I had never been prone to nightmares. These dreams, however, shook me awake and left me mortified at how weak I felt. My anxieties regarding Hermione had all but disappeared. I knew she loved me, knew she accepted me as I was. But, Charlie's punch had brought them all back. The punch I'd landed on James Potter all those years ago was nothing compared to what Charlie had landed on me. I hadn't broken James's bones or knocked him out cold. I had only managed several deep gashes, and James had retaliated. We'd both been stitched up and that was the end of it.

This was different.

I still felt terrible, despite my insistence to Hermione and Draco that I was fine. My neck ached almost constantly, and I wasn't able to start therapy until the whiplash was cleared by the neurologist my GP had referred me to. I was frustrated and my temper had become hair-trigger. Tiny things I would usually ignore angered me.

Hermione's patience was that of a saint and I was trying my best to be grateful. I was also trying to not take my anger out on her. She wasn't at fault, and I didn't want to trigger her with sudden outbursts. However, every day it was becoming more difficult.

She and Draco were still insisting I wasn't to be on my own despite my insistence I would be fine. I craved the quiet, the solitude. I needed to get back to my routine. Having a roster of babysitters was the exact opposite of what I needed.

"Lucius?"

"I'm fine, Hermione."

"You're not. You've been restless every night for a week. What's going on?"

I sighed and slowly removed my hand from my face. I turned my neck gingerly, wincing at another shot of pain.

"I'm frustrated. I feel like shit and hate it. Everything is bright and loud, and I need things to be quiet. Especially my mind."

She shifted to face me, sitting with her legs crossed lotus style. "Your mind? Are you having bad dreams?"

I didn't want to admit it. She'd assured me more times than I could count that Charlie wasn't my competition. My subconscious didn't agree.

Hermione gently reached for my hand and linked our fingers. "Lucius, please talk to me. I hate that you're struggling and I know you're holding your anger in, but I want to help, so please tell me if I'm making things worse."

I freed my hand from hers and pulled myself to sit up, leaning against the headboard and closing my eyes for several seconds until the pain my movement caused passed. I groped blindly for her knee, feeling the sleep warmth of her skin against my palm.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful."

"You won't. We're obviously crowding you, but unless you tell us, we'll keep doing it."

I opened my eyes and found her smiling at me, and my guilt doubled. But she wanted honesty.

"I appreciate everything you're all doing, however I do feel crowded. I'm accustomed to being home alone all day, and I know the doctors said I wasn't to be left alone for a few days, but that was three weeks ago. There's been someone here every day since." I scrubbed my hand across my face. "I sound like a petulant child."

"No, you don't," she assured me. "You sound like someone who is too polite, and too terrified of upsetting us to say how you're really feeling."

"I know you worry. You and Draco." I sighed, rubbing my hand along her thigh. "I just need some space. Some quiet. My headaches have lessened, but oftentimes by the end of the day I feel completely drained from having someone here. And I feel so incredibly ungrateful for feeling this way."

"The doctors all said this was normal. Feeling angry and frustrated, I mean. Is this why you've been so restless? Because you've been trying not to upset me?"

"In part," I said, holding my arm out, wanting her closer beside me despite my explanation of not wanting to be crowded. "The last few nights I've been having… I guess nightmares would be the best description."

She kissed my shoulder and curled herself against my side, her arm curling around my middle.

"I get that you need some quiet and space," she said. "But you don't have to struggle through this. If you're angry or in pain or need me to disappear for a bit, you have to tell me. It's not good for you to hold everything in."

"I know." I pressed my nose to the top of her head and inhaled deeply. "I can't take my frustration out on you, though. You've been through enough."

"This is completely different. You're not directly angry at me, and you're not deliberately trying to upset me. And you need to stop worrying about those things anyway. Being stressed about my feelings isn't helping you to recover."

She reached down and pulled the covers higher over us. It was two-fifteen in the morning and the room was considerably cool.

"Tell me about your dreams."

"Just reliving the punch. But Charlie isn't Charlie. He's more of a haunting, dark figure, and the punch seems harder. More brutal and violent. Like he intends to kill me, not just knock me out."

"I'm so sorry, Lucius. I don't even know what he was thinking."

"I have an idea what it was."

In the first week after he'd hit me, I'd been concentrating on not tumbling over due to the dizziness and not hurling my stomach contents because the lights and noise made my head pound. Once the dizziness and headaches had begun to subside, my thoughts had turned to Charlie and why.

He'd explained that he thought I'd hurt her, that I'd pushed her down the stairs. I would have to be insane to think he was telling the whole truth. Charlie knew her routines — most of them anyway — and he would have known she would be headed out for lunch with Pansy and Ginny that day. For the first time in months, he was coming to see her. And it just happened to be after we'd celebrated our commitment to each other. I'd drawn the conclusion he wasn't happy about it and most likely held some serious feelings for her.

I'd seen those feelings in his expression the night I first met him and had played them off as protectiveness. I hadn't felt jealous that night, nor had I felt nervous that she'd return to him. And with her tucked against me and her hand on my thigh, I assumed he knew how serious our relationship had become.

I now saw exactly what his expression said. He was jealous. He did want her back with him. He acted upon what he saw — I understood that much — however that didn't excuse what he did. Or what he was coming to do. I wascertain he was coming to admit his feelings and hoping she reciprocated.

And that thought angered me more than anything.

"He was coming to win you back."

Hermione sat up and looked at me, her eyes wide in disbelief. "He was…. excuse me?"

"I believe that was his intention." I ran my hand along her thigh again, watching the puzzled expression on her face as she tried to decipher what I was saying. "How long has it been since you saw him? Before he hit me, I mean."

She frowned. "A month. Maybe a bit longer."

"And is that normal?"

"Actually, no. If I didn't see him each week he would ring to check in with me." She winced then offered me a small smile. "Sorry. I should have told you that."

"I did assume you still had some contact with him. You were friends first."

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed glumly. "We thought Narcissa was going to be a problem, not Charlie."

I curled my fingers around her knee. "Charlie might at least listen to reason. I'm certain he's sorry and embarrassed for what he did, and if we talk with him, we can try to sort this mess out. Narcissa just wants me to be miserable."

"Charlie knew the rules when we started. I wasn't interested in him for anything more than sex. And even when we were sleeping together, I felt nothing for him other than being a warm body and a good friend." Her fingers rubbed nervously on her thigh. "I know that sounds shallow and maybe even a little callous, but I wasn't in a great place when we started and the comfort of someone safe was the only thing I wanted. And now I don't ever want to see him again."

"I would prefer that too. I do think we need to speak with him though. To clear the air, as it were, because I believe you will want to be friends with him again."

"If he can't accept that I've chosen you, I don't want to have anything to do with him."

"Hermione—"

"No." Her expression was so severe I held my hand up. "He hit you. For no reason."

"He thought I pushed you. And with your history, I understand his reaction."

"Well, I don't. He knows me and he knows if I had even a tiny suspicion that you were gaslighting me, I wouldn't be with you. I know you, Lucius, and I trust you. He should do the same."

"It's hard to let go when you're in love with someone," I countered gently.

"I don't care because I don't love him. And if he continues to cause issues for me, I'll be sure to let him know he's no better than Thomas was."

Thomas. I had to assume he was her abuser; I'd not yet been privy to his name. He'd only ever been referred to as him or a series of varying expletives, and her use of his name at two-thirty in the morning was proof of just how angry she was with Charlie.

Initially I'd been equally as angry but as the weeks passed and I had begun to figure out why he'd hit me. I understood it was only in part because he assumed the worse with the evidence he had, but I also came to the conclusion he was in love with her.

"We still need to talk with him," I reiterated. "We can't just ignore this. He needs to know for certain his feelings aren't reciprocated."

She twisted the ring on her finger and shrugged. "I'm not sure what part of 'I'm seeing someone else and our arrangement is over' he didn't understand. I don't love him. I love you. And this"—she held up her left hand—"screams 'I'm taken so leave me the fuck alone'."

"You and I know this," I agreed, running my hand along her thigh. "But, I think Charlie might need to hear it from you."

"Fine," she huffed, shifting to lay back down. "But there might be some other things he'll hear as well. And don't think you're hiding anything, Lucius Malfoy. You're in constant pain, and he did that to you. And because of him, we haven't had sex in three weeks. I hope he's happy."

"We can, you know."

"No, we can't. I want to ride you until you don't remember your own name, but I'll hurt you even more if I do that. I'm too scared to even hug you too tightly, Lucius."

"You won't hurt me," I promised, reaching for her and ignoring the pain it caused when I pulled her to me.

I'd not been blind to the fact she was being overly cautious in touching me. My pain in the first few days at home had been immense. Light and sound, and the slightest neck movements were all enough to drop me on my arse. But, I'd missed the small things I'd become accustomed to.

Her hand on my back as she stood beside me in the kitchen.

Her feet in my lap on the sofa in the evenings.

Her head on my shoulder as she dozed on the weekends after an exhausting week.

But, she was right. If we did anything more than just lay together like we were, I would be hurt. The smallest jolt would cause my neck to spasm and the guilt she would feel would be unbearable.

I ran my palm along her spine and she relaxed into me. Her breathing had evened and I knew she was close to sleep.

And as much as I would love to have her ride me until I couldn't remember my name, for the moment, this was enough.

When I woke again, the warm body was gone and my flat was silent. I slowly turned my head to see the time and was surprised to find it was almost 10AM. I was also surprised to see a handwritten note.

Good morning!

You were out cold when I left and I didn't want to wake you. Enjoy your peaceful day, but ring Draco or Regina if you need ANYTHING!

I'll be home around 6.

I love you

H xx

P.S. Regina is not pleased you don't want to spend the day with her :D

The note made me smile. She'd done as I'd asked and called off my 'babysitter,' but had clearly told Regina to be on call if I needed anything since Hermione would be unreachable. I reached for my phone, knowing exactly what I would find, and I wasn't disappointed.

Three texts from Regina. Two from Draco.

Draco's first text was him checking in with me as he had done every morning since the incident. His second was an apology, which told me my son and Hermione had been in constant communication. My reply was to assuage his concerns and to assure him I appreciated his heart being in the right place.

Regina's first two texts were of mock indignation.

Is my company dull, Lucius Malfoy?

And ten minutes later:

I'm actually glad to not have to spend my day with you.
You're a terrible bore.

An hour later — just before I woke:

I am at home all day.
And I don't care if you think we're all crowding you.
You will ring me for the slightest reason.
Do not think I won't find out if you don't.

I quickly typed my reply.

I wouldn't dare do otherwise.

Three dots appeared and her response made me laugh.

I'm the least of your concerns.
Your wife is adorable but terrifying.
Enjoy your quiet day.

I placed my phone back on the nightstand then ran my hand over my face.

Wife.

We'd not put any such labels on each other. We hadn't needed to. Everyone around us was aware of how we'd chosen to commit, so there hadn't been any reason for introductions and therefore wife and husband didn't seem necessary. Regina clearly thought differently.

I had vague recollections of referring to Hermione as my neighbour while I was in the hospital, and to the best of my memory, she'd not objected at the time, nor had she mentioned it since. Perhaps that meant she wasn't ready to use such set terms either.

I rolled the word around inside my head.

Wife.

Unfortunately the word wasn't new to me, and the previous incumbent gave it a sour taste. But I couldn't continue to refer to Hermione as my friend or neighbour. My Girlfriend made me feel like a teenager, and Partner made me sound pretentious and fake. I hated them both.

Other half.

Better half.

Companion.

That made me sound like I was in a aged care home.

Consort.

I winced. That made her sound like a prostitute.

I sighed a long exhale and slowly sat up, reaching for the painkillers on my nightstand. I'd slept well for the first time in three weeks and I placed the fact entirely on my wife's warm body pressed against me. She'd been the comfort and surety I needed — my own personal security blanket — and while the pain and discomfort in my neck persisted, I at least felt rested.

Wife.

I liked the idea. However, I wasn't sure she would. It was a discussion we would have to have later. The discussion with Charlie would have to come first.

Shaking two pills from the bottle, I swallowed them down and made my way into the bathroom. I turned the water on in the shower as hot as I could bear and stood under it, easing my head forward so the heat and steam could soothe my neck and shoulders. The medication was fine, but the heat permeating my skin and warming the muscle beneath was the only real relief I got.

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. I didn't want to spend my day thinking about Charlie and what I knew was the truth. He held some serious feelings for Hermione that went way beyond big brotherly protection.

And while I knew my position with her was safe, I hated that another man held the same feelings for her.

I paused in the middle of cooking dinner when the key sounded in the lock. Hermione had messaged me earlier in the day to say she would be later than expected — her need to ensure I knew her whereabouts was still a hard habit to break. And her concern for me had only heightened that need.

My own relief at the sound of the key had become a similar habit. My concerns regarding Narcissa, and now Charlie, left me to nervously speculate each day if Hermione would walk safely through the door. Pansy had assured me that Charlie had been told in no uncertain terms he was to stay away from Hermione. Harry had apparently been furious, and Pansy's a-little-too-delighted retelling of his encounter with Charlie did lessen some of my concerns.

But, until she walked through the door each night, I still anxiously waited.

"You're cooking?" she asked as she dropped her bag by the counter.

"I thought I should," I answered, breathing easier now she was home.

"Lemon and thyme chicken with green beans and roasted artichoke hearts."

"Lucius, I could have made dinner—"

I pressed my finger to her lips, and tutted. "I've had all my little elves waiting on me like a Lord for the last three weeks. I need to get back to some normalcy. And I'm guessing you've had an exhausting day, so I'm cooking."

She kissed my fingertip then inhaled deeply. "Well, it smells delicious, but you should have waited. What if you reached for something and hurt yourself, and your pretty face fell in the fry pan?"

"For better or worse. I believe that's what we agreed to."

"Maybe, but I didn't agree to fry pan face."

I laughed and poked her ribs. "As you can see, my face is as pretty as ever."

She rolled her eyes but leaned in and kissed my cheek. "So pretty. And you look rested. Can I assume you had a good day?"

"While I still feel ungrateful, I did." I returned my attention to the meal I was preparing. "I managed to get through some of the final edits on my manuscript. I read a little, and napped in the armchair by the window. The quiet was good."

She slid her hand across my lower back. "You should have told us sooner that we were bothering you."

"You weren't bothering me," I said, tossing the green beans and artichoke hearts into the pan. "Not really."

"You're such a bad liar," she teased, then snagged a bean as I tossed the pan over the heat. "But you're a decent chef."

I paused, raising an eyebrow in question. "I make this amazing meal in my fragile state and all I am offered is decent chef?"

"Your sense of humour has returned as well." She bit into the stolen bean and pointed the remainder at me. "You definitely had a good day."

She wasn't wrong. My day had been a blessing. The absence of constant chatter from my babysitters left my flat quiet and my head at ease. And while I'd not achieved a great deal, I felt better for what I had managed.

"What about you?" I asked. "How was your day?"

"Crazy." She watched with a small frown as I plated our dinner. "The Paris Opera Ballet has requested me for their Christmas season." She paused, looking nervously at me. "Right when your book comes out."

I followed her to the table, quashing down my disappointment. She had planned to take holidays and accompany me on my planned book tour. And while it was still a few months away, I'd been looking forward to having her with me. But I didn't want her to feel obliged.

"Christmas in Paris would be very romantic," I said. "I could easily join you there after I'm done."

"It would be romantic, but I was really looking forward to seeing you in the limelight."

"Signing books and taking a million pictures isn't nearly as exciting as one would assume." I watched her pick at her food, her frown still creasing her brow. "And this is an important part of your career. Did you tell the London company you would go?"

She shook her head. "No. I told them I needed to discuss it with you first. And before you start arguing the point, I do need to talk to you about it since we're an us now."

I nodded in realisation; this wasn't her usual routine of needing to keep me informed. This was a decision we needed to make together.

"Hermione, darling, if you want to return to Paris for the winter, I am only too happy to encourage you."

"I'll be there at Christmas, Lucius. And you have Draco and Katie and Scorp. It's not fair to ask you to give up Christmas with them."

I reached across the table and took her hand. "First of all, we have Draco, Katie, and Scorpius. And we don't have to give up anything. We can fly home on Christmas Eve, and fly back again on Christmas night."

"There's a performance scheduled on Christmas Day," she explained glumly. "A matinee. Apparently Parisians get bored on Christmas and go to the ballet."

"Surely you can request one day off?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"What do you want to do?" I asked. "My book tour is scheduled to end on the twelfth, so I can be in Paris with you after that. We can rent a flat and perhaps even extend our stay once you're finished."

"I would have to leave at the start of November. I'll have five weeks of rehearsals — it's Swan Lake and I could dance it with no feet, but they want me there anyway."

I laughed. "I think both companies would be most displeased if you had no feet."

She giggled and agreed. "Yeah, but I'm a genius. I'd still be able to dance."

"It sounds like you've made up your mind."

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I am," I assured her.

"I'll tell them I want Christmas off, otherwise I'm not going."

"And, perhaps you could ask for holidays in October," I added as an idea formed inside my head. "You were going to have some time off, so make that a part of the deal as well."

"Why?"

"So I can take you away for a bit before we both fall victim to our chosen professions."

"You won't have a lot of time to organise much."

I held my palm to my chest. "You doubted my ability to lie, and now you're doubting my organisational skills? I'm insulted."

"I'm not doubting anything," she answered, faking indignation. "But, I know you and you'll want to do something grandiose and insane. And those things take time."

"I have plenty of time for grandiose plans," I winked at her. "I assume your passport is current?"

"Lucius, don't—"

"I've yet to have the chance to properly spoil you. And you will allow me this."

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll tell them tomorrow. Also, Charlie will be here tomorrow night."

I pressed my fist to my mouth, coughing as I choked on the food I'd just put in my mouth. When I managed to swallow, I cleared my throat and looked at her through watery eyes.

"You should have led with that."

"Sorry," she apologised, grimacing as I coughed again. "I told him he had to be here since his Tuesdays are now free."

I laughed at her smirk, coughing once more at the scratch in my throat. "I'm sure he took that well."

"He just said he'd be here." She got up and went to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and placing it in front of me when she returned. "And I meant what I said this morning. If he can't accept that you and I are together forever, I won't speak to him ever again."