A/N: So it has been a very long time since I updated this fic, in fact I posted the first chapter and then kinda forgot about it whilst working on some of my other fics, and I had a sudden inspiration to work on it some more tonight, so here you go. Hope everyone likes it. I'm writing this is fairly short chapters right now, but hopefully they will get longer as the story developes.
Waving Harry away with a weak smile and a nod, saying that yes should would Owl him if she needed anything, and that yes they would meet later in the week Hermione watched as he finally turned at the gate and walked away, soon disappearing with a loud pop leaving her once more alone. Solemnly she walked up the narrow gravel path to the red front door of the small and quaint cottage that she and Ron had shared for the past two years, its dark and empty windows seeming to mock her and remind her all too sharply that she was indeed utterly alone now. With a heavy sigh she crossed the threshold, stepping into the dark and cold entryway, looking briefly at the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor, the shadows seeming darker and thicker than ever before as she let the door quietly swing shut behind her, instantly plunging the small area into complete darkness. Numbly she moved further into the house, ignoring the stack of letters on the small table in the hallway, her fingers absently gliding over the polished wood as she walked past and into the kitchen.
Bright shafts of moonlight felt through the window above the little and cluttered sink, spilling across the black and white tiled floor and the small oak table where they had eaten breakfast and dinner together every day, the plates from their last meal still sitting on the tabletop. Like a zombie she moved to stand in front of the sink, staring out into the small garden at the back of the house, watching numbly as the first few flakes of snow began to fall as she filled the sink and in a mindless daze began cleaning the dishes the Muggle way. The thoughtless and automatic act somehow easing the tension in her shoulders, creating some kind of barrier between her and the overwhelming sorrow she felt.
"Oh Ron" she whispered softly into the darkness as her hands sank into the hot soapy water. "Ron" she whimpered as she bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that stung her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Why did you leave me?" she said to the empty house, the tears beginning to fall over her pale skin as she crumpled to the floor, her soapy hands gripping her hair as she curled into herself sobbing loudly, her throat hoarse and her cheeks scalding as the tears dripped from her delicate chin.
Meanwhile not so far away another was reveling in pure delight at the events that had taken place that day. Enclosed in one of the many sprawling and spacious rooms of Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy reclined fluidly in one of the great wingback chairs, relaxing in the warmth that emanated from the hearth in his study, the firelight sending wildly dancing shadows skittering about the room like frolicking nymphs at play. With a snifter of brandy resting upon his knee he gazed into the flickering fire, one foot extended to rest idly upon the hearth while the warm light reflected in his diamond eyes. As far as he was concerned, it had all in all been a good and productive day, that is if one did not take into account the fact that he had to suffer through the dismal company of the remainder of the Weasley clan, though he was indeed profusely glad to see that they had not yet begun to rekindle their numbers since the final battle had managed to wipe out half of their motley crew. And of course that ever present thorn in his side, The-Boy-Who-Proved-To-Be-Damn-Near-Indestructible was present, offering his meager support to the newly widowed Miss Granger. Now there is an intriguing woman he thought smugly to himself as he swirled the brandy in its glass before taking a long sip, feeling its delicious heat burning its way down his throat before spreading out as a relaxing warmth in his chest.
Indeed, he had been mildly amused to see the way in which that damn Potter boy had attempted and failed miserably to comfort Miss Granger, his futile ministrations only succeeding into pushing the woman further into misery and despair, leaving her ripe and succulent for Lucius' skilled touch. Ah yes my dear woman, do not fret, you shall not be alone for long. Soon you shall know the company of a real man, a man who can reveal to you all the earthly delights that come from utter surrender of the body and soul. Soon my dear you shall know the exquisite torture of my touch, I will push you to the threshold of sanity and pull you back until you are begging me for release, soon you shall be mine and mine alone he mused as he studied the firelight reflected in the dark amber liquid as it swirled in the glass. Downing the last of the brandy he exhaled in a whistling hiss as it burnt its way down his throat and settled warmly in the pit of his stomach. Setting the now empty glass down on a near by table he gave one last stretch of his long legs before rising to his feet, wavering for a moment as the alcohol buzzed through his veins making him feel deliciously lightheaded. Pausing before the fireplace he looked up into the large portrait that hung above the white marble mantle, sneering coolly at the woman that glared down at him.
"Come now, don't look at me that way Narcissa" he drawled silkily as he flipped his snow white hair back over his shoulders. "You cannot expect me to stay alone forever my dear now that you are dead and gone. You know as well as I that you would not have even waited for the sheets cool if you were in my place" he continued smoothly in response to the woman's expression of superiority that quickly dissolved into one of scorn. "Good night my love" he crooned with a chuckle as he turned on his heel and slipped out of the room with the grace and fluidity of a great cat leaving the woman in the painting glaring at his retreating back.