A/N: Phew, this chapter ended up being twice the length I intended, that's why it took a bit long to get done with. I was trying to find the best way to reintroduce a character you'll meet formally this chapter and decided it should coincide with this chapter and not the next. He is one who has been foreshadowed, lying in wait for his moment to appear. As always, thank you all for joining on the journey of writing this story. I never really thought it would coincide with such a dark time in my life when I first started writing it and it's honestly become so helpful for me in processing things. Thanks for your time and I hope you're all enjoying your start to the week!
Inspo songs while writing this one were Because The Night by Patti Smith and Opened Once by Jeff Buckley.

Chapter Nine / After This Night Passes

The silence between them weighed down upon him like a heavy stone. Pressing the stale air from his unbreathing lungs and encompassing every inch of his body from its core. He couldn't place the emotion as he'd never felt it before. A dash of panic but also relief, and fear. Of course he knew eventually she'd have to find out and he'd have to admit it'd been him all along there beside her. That's where the relief came from. No longer having to hide when he'd spent his whole life being so proud and commanding with his persona. It was something that he was unused to and that felt so foreign. It was a strange sort of peace while it lasted though. Like slipping into a costume before walking onto a stage in someone else's skin and speaking someone else's lines. His words were true and he'd meant everything he'd said to her but the him that was speaking to her was the real him that lay dormant inside, never gracing the real world with his presence. Speaking aloud words he'd never spoken outside of his mind, pantomiming the person he used to be. He'd not seen that part of himself in so long, choosing instead to hide it away like a painful memory. No one had ever seen this part of him besides his first love. The image of her in his mind was still raw at the edges and tender to touch. It was safer to tuck away himself and things such as that away where they couldn't leave him exposed to weakness.

"How…long have you known?"

His voice was strangled as he grit his teeth, feeling the razor sharp ends of his canine teeth bite hard into the inside of his bottom lip, nervous and unsure of how she'd react once the shock of everything that happened wore off. Acidic blood pooled under his tongue leaving a sour and bitter taste in his mouth. Having lost an internal counter for the passage of time made every second of silence drag on unbearably. He could hear her heart pounding steady but weakened as she breathed in with much struggle. He wasn't sure the exact extent of what Dolohov had been doing to her but he could hear the endless rushing of water over and over as she choked. It wasn't too hard to guess as he'd seen other death eaters use the same methods, but he couldn't bring himself to claw out enough of a gap in the hole they made to see. He wasn't sure if he could bear to see it and keep from betraying his alliance to her. Since his turning emotions were so heightened within him that he could barely remember how it felt as a human to switch them off.

"I didn't know for certain until I heard you talking to…him. The way you talk to me is so different. Personal almost. Like you're talking to an old friend and have left your shoes and coat at the door for a long stay. But the way you talked to him, commanded him, I've heard that voice so many times in passing. I was almost worried when I saw your hair the first time that you were Draco. But the way you speak, it gives away that you're someone with more experience in this so I knew it couldn't be."

Her worry sounded sincere, actual fear that Draco was captured as well. But worry for Draco? He'd known of their school year rivalry from the complaints his son lodged over the years. Whiny in lament that he could never breach the top place in his best classes because she was always one point ahead. He'd not known they would have any sort of friendly communications in the more recent years.

"Why would you be worried about that? I suppose he can be a bit of a nuisance if you wish for peace and quiet. He's always been very chatty since he was a boy, always wanting the last word."

She lapsed into silence once more, as though calculating just what exactly to say. Were there more secrets he was in the shadows of? He hadn't talked to Draco or Narcissa since the war's first full outbreak, three years prior. They'd seen him just once after his turning. Draco of course renounced him entirely upon seeing the depths that his loyalty had dragged him. In a way he was proud of him for it, he was becoming someone other than his father. The one thing Lucius could never bring himself to do at that age. Narcissa had lingered for longer, but in her eyes he could see it was over. It had long been over but their status had held them together like a glue that'd been left open too long. Tacky and working momentarily to get the job done, but eventually disintegrating. Lucius could not fault them, it was a foolish choice, but it was one he made to ensure the safety of those he cared about. But he would never tell them that, too stubborn, too proud, too used to being his own Sisyphus pushing the boulder of his sins uphill never to rest. Cracked soles and bleeding heels that never mended as he pushed on forward and forward to the never ending battle of his own creation. Perhaps, he wondered, he deserved it for never standing up for the things he knew in his heart. The body feeling the torment of the heart being chained.

"I suppose it's okay if I tell you. I mean it's not like you're on the side of the death eaters anymore. Are you?"

She whispered now much closer to the wall between them, propping her body against the wall for support. Her breathing was finally starting to level back out but he could tell she was in pain.

"I had never really thought about it until I came to be in these cellars. Hearing the terrible things that I hear. Hearing them with hearing so far beyond what humans can hear. I can never rest for all that I hear day in and day out is the screaming and suffering of them. I can hear each punch, each kick, each…violation. I can hear their stomachs turning on themselves trying to vomit when there is nothing to even vomit. It's different when you're above ground and you never have to see this so much in vivid detail. When you're in revels you can drink into oblivion and use illicit means to clear your mind and obscure your vision. It's different when you can't look away. I cannot look away now and I cannot ever remove this from my memory. No, I am not on their side anymore."

The saliva in his throat burned with venom as he swallowed harshly. He'd clenched his teeth into his gums deep enough to pierce clear through. Already though he could feel the skin trying to heal itself back, knitting the tender flesh back together, slowly and delicately.

"Draco's been working for the Order. He came to us a few years ago and told us he wanted in. Of course, plenty of the members had their doubts but he's been incredibly honest and done some amazing things. You'd be proud of him. I think he'll get quite a few medals if we ever win this blasted war. Does he know what happened to you?"

This time it was his turn to sit in silence just long enough to know what he could even say. For him it wasn't about tossing over the validity of secrets, but for being open about something that still bothered him.

"He does. I don't think he will ever talk to me again however. He was not nearly as comfortable with what I am as you seem to be. Who knows, you may once we get out of here finally snap back to rational thought and realize how dangerous something like me is."

It was said with jest, but his face stayed frowning and hollow, almost broken in a way. Pinpricks of blood trickled from the innermost corner of his eyes. In surprise his hand reached up to wipe away the trails from the tops of his cheeks, staining the backs of his hand a dark scarlet. His throat tightened as the smell of his own blood hit his nose. It was still metallic as all blood but as he'd learned with other blood, each person and each creature has its own scent beneath the copper tones. Drawing his hand under his nose he breathed in and felt his senses flooded with the fragrance of cloves and heady orris. His eyes darkened to a full black stretching across the entire iris and leaking into the whites of his eyes until nothing was left but a swirling black showing nothing but the reflection of the setting sun in his room. It was dangerous to play this game with his vampiric senses and he knew it.

"I've faced scarier men than you."

Her voice was guttural and strained but the way she spoke the words sent shivers down his spine. The small threads of humanity that stretched and bent inside of his undead heart sparked alive every time she spoke to him like that. He knew there was no way she could understand just how badly the true recesses of his being needed to be spoken to in this way. But each time she did it, it was as if she was throwing bones to the beast inside to keep it tucked away and happy. This was an even more precarious line to tread so he steered the conversation back to the nearly forgotten inquiry she'd made in the first place.

"Forgive me, I never answered your question about souls. I had not expected you to say my name like that, it took me off guard. It's been a very long time since I've heard it at all. I don't believe your soul would even need to be washed clean. Have you ever had to polish an antique? I've seen so many debates on if antiques look better polished or left as they were. It's in fact in many cases better to not polish certain kinds of relics. The age and the wear on them stands as a testament to the journey they have been through with time. Trying to clean them can even leave some with damage from the harsh treatment. I believe you're much like those relics. The things you have been through have not diminished your value, but perhaps only made you more valuable and important. You have stood as a witness to the evils of this war and while it's certainly not fair and not right, you've survived thus far. Underneath that pain your soul is still the same. It may certainly take time to be comfortable with your own self again, that I am sure of, but if anyone can reach that point it's you."

She hummed in reply a curious pondering tune as though she was weighing his response with great thought.. Every so often her tune would sputter as she bit back a cough until finally she stopped and assumedly, made her judgment. When her analytical thoughts flowed out loud between them it still left him astounded every time.

"You have made a valid point, thank you. I believe I can understand your point of view on the matter and it does make me feel slightly better. I suppose it does leave a more worrisome question then of what my actions from here on out means. If my experience does not change me at my core but I still make choices that are decidedly not rooted in goodness, perhaps I've always been capable of it. If the devil called out your name, do you think you would answer? If it gave you the one thing you really need?"

The weariness of a lifetime settled in his bones and he sunk his full weight against the wall feeling his eyes close. Sleep did little for him but if he tuned out the world hard enough he could enter a state similar that encompassed nothing but darkness. No dreams, no thoughts, no nightmares. A state that reached out just close enough to brush the death that desiccated his internal organs.

"I'm afraid I've already answered his call and sold out my own soul. I thought it was the right thing to do. I still do. But I have to admit that I regret it sometimes. I thought I would grow to like the inherent power that came with being what I am. Every single moment of this existence though it's been used against me. A torture I agreed to and signed away my life with. I'm still waiting for the day where I become comfortable with who I am, if that day ever comes."

Pressing his cheek against the cold stones the saccharine tears flowed silently down his face and soaked into the crumbling grout. It had been years since he'd last cried, let alone in the company of someone else. Allowing himself the forbidden moment he closed his eyes and let the tears weep from his weakened body with ease. It came so naturally he almost forgot that he'd been holding it back for so long. So wrapped up in the moment he didn't even notice that she'd begun digging back out their hole under the wall until he saw her small hand sticking out just enough to show her fingertips. They were ruddy with a mixture of the dirt and blood, her own, from the smell that was tickling against his nostrils. Bulgarian roses and lilacs.

"Can I see you?"

She spoke softly into the hole and then dug the sides of the hole wider without waiting for an answer. He nearly chuckled at her determination and then leaned forward to help dig out just enough to press his face against the hole in the ground. His nerves were tingling with unspoken anxiety. No one had seen his face like this since that day with Narcissa and Draco. Would this be the final thread to break and drop the other shoe? Would she seal away their connecting tunnel and isolate him? Before the fear could fully overwhelm him he settled onto his side, dropping his head down awkwardly into the space they'd dug. His tears had settled, but the streams of blood still trickled down his face, settling sideways into the hollows of his cheekbones as he lay down. Dark red streaked through the hairs near his pale white sideburns. He hadn't been expecting her to already be there, lying down, looking right at him, but she was. If she was afraid her face did not betray her. If anything, she looked sunken with sorrow. His eyes assessed her, putting to memory every detail of her face. Most of the bruises were older and had already turned light shades of purple. Some were still fresh, but Dolohov had not hit her face this time. Her mouth was scabbing and lips split open, the force of the rough salt water coming out had torn them apart. A perverse sense of care he thought, knowing that salt water would rinse out the wound like a Machiavellian sort of affection. He knew Dolohov was insane, but the things he'd heard him speak to her still reeled in his head with disgust. The man was truly twisted if he thought in any way that the things he did to her showed his 'love'. Looking back to her eyes he felt a punch in his stomach internally. Her warm caring eyes still shining just the tiniest bit at him despite what she'd already been through. Looking at him with nothing but empathy and yearning, as though he was not the monster children worried dwelled under their bed.

The tears had started once more before he'd been able to notice. Reaching out her hand she wiped them away and he felt a strangled cry escape his lips at her touch. Kindness for the sake of only kindness. Something he'd never known. No longer was his crying silent, now he howled out in agony as she wiped them away without complaint and stroked his cheek allowing him the consolation he so desperately needed. His cries were so forceful his whole body shook as he unfurled the anguish he'd been clutching between fists for so long. As his emotions finally reached an exhausted end and his cries came to a hushed lull he realized she'd been quietly cooing and giving him caring confirmations.

"How can you be so good to me still? I've done nothing to deserve it. I've been a person who has lived only to cause pain. I've incited hatred, I've spit on those beneath me, I've been callous and cruel. I cannot deserve this. Does it not grieve you to know who I am? "

Venom soaked his throat and he worried for a moment it may be in his tears, but she never withdrew when touching them.

"We've all done things we can't take back. Things that follow us around like ghosts. I've never told anyone this before…but I can tell you this. There was a time the first year after the war broke out. A brief just idiotic slip up. We'd been so clever in covering our tracks but we'd gotten so tired and we were starting to fight amongst ourselves. It was before we'd been able to reconnect with the order so we were just running endlessly. It was the second time I'd ever encountered Dolohov. He'd cornered us along with some other death eater. I can't even remember his name. Yaxley, maybe? He was part of the Ministry takeover. I do know that. He'd snuck up behind me and yanked on my waist to drag me into an alley while Dolohov went after the boys. I don't know what took over me but I didn't reach for my wand. There was something so mundane about being in an alley in London and having a street food dinner like normal people. When he dragged me away I didn't reach for my wand because I instinctively reached for a pocket knife. It was a gift from my father in my youth when he took me fishing. I didn't like it, but he loved it and it made me so happy to share something he loved. I'd never used the knife outside of fishing, but I carried it on me like a charm. Something to remind me of him when I felt scared. So I reached for it and when he slipped up just enough for me to twist around I stabbed him with it. I don't mean a little jab either. I pulled back my arm and I slammed it into him as hard and as fast as I could. Gods, it was so visceral. I could feel it going through him. I could feel the moment his blood started to seep out of his skin and onto my hand, still gripping it and pushing it into him. I don't think I've ever seen a man so surprised. I think they forget they're fighting people who don't all grow up knowing only magic. I ran after pulling out the blade and went to find Harry and Ron. I didn't even look back, I didn't want to know if he'd make it or not. I wasn't sure I could live with knowing if the answer was no. So I kept running and running until the boys found me. My hands were still slick with his blood. The knife my father gave me tucked away in my pants waist. The metal pressing into me so hard it left a little half moon shaped scar on my hip. I didn't sleep for a few days after that, I just couldn't. But the longer I thought about it the more I realized I wasn't sleeping not because of guilt, but because it just came so naturally for me to be able to do that to another person. I wasn't sure what I was becoming and I finally realized how truly damned hard war was going to be."

He let her speak without interruption devouring her words as he watched her eyes glaze over in reverie. Her hand never left its place idly stroking his cheek.

"No one would fault you for things you did to survive. If you hadn't done what you did he would have done worse to you. It's human nature to react in self protection. You did what you had to do, what your father would have wanted you to do it I'm sure. It sounds like he loves you deeply. Would he have wanted you to give up at that moment?"

This time it was her tears that came without hesitation and he reached to relax her hand from his face so that he could hold it between his own, pressing it lightly against his lips.

"No, you're right. He would have never let me live it down if I'd let myself get hurt. He always taught me to look out for myself. I miss him."

"If it is of any help to know, Yaxley is still alive last I heard. Long after that encounter at least. I had always wondered why he started favoring one of his sides more than the other randomly…I imagine your attack did quite a lot of damage. You're brilliant."

He ghosted his lips over her knuckles once more, feeling the still healing skin and realizing there were no longer scabs on them as there were previously. Puzzled, he withdrew from her hand and realized it was now quite healthy underneath the muck.

"Hermione…I think my tears may have healed your skin here when you touched them. Curious."

The way he spoke her name sent delighted shivers up her spine. His tongue curling ever so beautifully over the last syllable. She mentally wished he'd say it again just so that she could hear it in his voice once more. Pulling her hand back towards herself she rubbed away the spots of dirt that she could and realized that he was right, her bruises and scabs on her hand were completely gone.

"Your venom must have healing properties when used in certain ways. I've read before that it can heal a vampire's own bodies, but to know it could heal others is fascinating. I wonder what else you can do?"

Before he could reply a voice cut through the space between them shocking them both to their core.

"Oh there is plenty that we can do, darling. I don't mean to intrude, am I interrupting a moment between you two lovers? Lucius, you are thriving so well for a man imprisoned. It almost brings a tear to my eye to see you finally coming to your own. Who would have guessed it from a man that surrendered to death so quickly?"

Lucius's eyes widened and he mutely looked at Hermione trying to convey to her that she should not speak. She nodded in silent understanding and stayed still as a stone. Lucius reeled upwards and stood to face the man at his doorway. His veins hummed and called him to draw closer to the man. Their connection thrummed in his body and sang to him like a siren waiting along the rocks in the sea. Waiting for him to smash open his body for his sire if he so chose.

"Arcturus Black. Long time no see. I'd rather it have stayed that way, you foul cretin."

Arcturus's mouth grew into a wide predatory grin, filled with sharpened teeth that seemed to outnumber what they should. His eyes bottomless and menacing as he grinned at his protégé.

"Now, now, Lucius. Is that any way to speak in front of a lady? I had hoped my cousin's line would grow to be far more refined over time…but you do remind me so much of your elders. Do you need to be taught once more how you should act when I speak to you?"

It was a barely veiled threat and he grinned maniacally while wrapping his long clawed bony fingers around the bars in the door that separated them. He started to shake the bars while unleashing a hellish laughter that reverberated against every wall on the floor. Lucius could hear Hermione starting to slowly withdraw to the corner farthest from them in her room and knew he would have to do what he could to keep another beast from breaking down her door as well. It was a payment he could make without worrying about the price and so he prepared once more to roll that boulder up the hill as he always did, for the people that he cared about.