AN: Hello Everyone! Lissa and I are beyond excited to post this long overdue update! Runaway is near and dear to our hearts but unfortunately held a back seat to the MM series and Bless the Broken Road for various reasons. 2020 brought so many obstacles to our writing, not only because of Covid, but also because of life changes, new jobs, and absent muses. Yet, we finally found ourselves wanting to write and needing to write but unable to get anything flowing. That was when we decided to step away from the pressures of MM and BtBR and rekindle our creativity toward Runaway. It was the right move. We jumped on what had been started on this chapter (over a year ago) and were able to finish it. It feels so good to post something on this story again. We have big plans for it and even if it takes us a while to get it finished, it WILL be completed. Lucius and Hermione are so delicious together and we have other fun pairings we hope you will enjoy.

Thank you for all the reviews, support and encouragement we have received. Whether through comments, messages, or facebook, your words were comforting and motivating.

To our MML readers, we are almost finished with chapter 22 and with any luck, we will have it posted in the very near future.

We want to take a minute to thank our BETA team. We are not complete without them. They help us so much, not only with edits and punctuation but with support and friendship. Helen, Bee, and Sabrina - we love you!

As always, we appreciate kudos, follows, favs, comments, and reviews.

We hope everyone has a 2021 filled with prosperity, happiness, and good health!

LOVE YOU!
Snow & Lissa

Runaway
Chapter Two

Beta Love: RaynePheonix2, thebeebeegun

May 31st

Lucius continued to stare at the small child in the chit's arms. There had been rumors, of course. Rumors of a pregnancy - however nothing was known. Yet, here he was. Harry Potter's bastard son.

Hermione held Jaime close as a vicious gleam sparkled in the steel, blue eyes of the enemy standing before her. A hint of a smile curled at his lips.

"So, the gossip was true, then? Harry Potter fathered a bastard before he died."

"He's not a bastard. Harry and I were wed long before he was born."

"Hmm, so you say. Doesn't mean it's true." He drew in a deep, lazy breath as though contemplating his options as he looked at the trembling and terrified woman before him. He had to admit it was invigorating, this power he held over her. This secret that he knew she would do anything to keep. Taking his thought further, in the world of Death Eaters, knowledge was power. Yes, he would have to think this through thoroughly before he acted.

Lucius glanced up and down the alley. "Where do you live?" he asked in an abrupt and no-nonsense voice.

"Two subway rides and a twenty minute bus journey away."

"Muggle transportation." His lips drew back in a smirk of disgust. "How common and positively revolting."

"I'm sure there is very little you wouldn't endure for your child, Mr. Malfoy. For Draco," Hermione snapped in a heated and angry voice.

Lucius' eyes grew even harder and colder as he snapped, "My son is dead, so lucky for me, that's a situation I will never find myself in."

Hermione drew in a breath. Dead? She had forgotten.

"Where is your wand?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Don't lie. I know you have it on you."

"I can't use it. There's a trace."

"Yes, I know. The question is, how do you?"

Hermione swallowed. She could not disclose the source of that intel. She could not put Severus in danger. "It's obvious, isn't it? Of course, a trace would be put on it. I'm a fugitive."

"That you are," Lucius growled. "A fugitive who is at my mercy. And if you have any sense of self preservation for you and your spawn, you will lead me to whatever hole you call home in as quick and comfortable a manner as possible." Looking down at her naked legs, Lucius pointed his wand at her and whispered a spell that caused the jacket she had pulled on to lengthen to her mid calves. Distracted by the odd act, Hermione stood frozen.

"I'm waiting," he groused.

"We could…we could take a cab. A taxi."

"By all means, Miss Granger, lead the way."

"It's Potter. Hermione Potter."Just like that, Hermione knew it was all over. When her wig had fallen off, she had thought nothing of it. Why, oh why hadn't she cut her signature hair?! It was surely what had given her away. She clutched Jaime closer as her stomach twisted uncomfortably and tears pooled in her eyes. No use in should haves, Hermione. All you can do now is hope he's a better man than what you suspect. Resignedly, she held her hand out to catch the attention of a cabbie.

When the taxi came to a stop and Hermione paid the driver, Lucius grumbled, "Here? You live here?"

"It's all I can afford," she answered, simply.

He slid out behind her and drew his coat tight around himself, as though to protect himself from the very air around them.

"It's through here," she said quietly as she led him up the couple concrete steps and pulled the door open. Bells chimed overhead, signifying an entering customer.

Violet, Larry's hard-looking wife, peeked up from filing her red nails behind the counter. She was thin, with a heavily lined face and dyed blonde hair. "Lorilei," she greeted with the raspy voice of too many cigarettes in her fifty-plus years. Her eyes softened as she gazed at Jaime, still sleeping in Hermione's arms. They hardened when she looked behind Hermione. "Who's Mr. Fancy pants?" she asked without humor.

"He's…he's…" She was too flustered to have a proper answer.

"An old friend," Lucius offered simply. He stepped toward the woman. "Sterling Marvin, at your service," he offered with a small nod of his head.

"Oh, he is fancy, isn't he?" Violet asked with a small grin. She looked back at Hermione. "Yeah, Lar and I figured you were from England, toots. That accent of yours bounces in and out with the breeze." Ignoring the surprised look on Hermione's face, the woman stepped around from behind the counter. "These are for Jaime."

Hermione looked down at the reached-out hand of her landlady; Three wrapped taffies and a Tootsie Pop.

"I'll take those, her hands are rather full, after all," Lucius said as he held out his hand. Violet dropped the treats into his palm, giving him an assessing look as he slipped them into his pocket where his hand remained.

"Thanks, Vi," Hermione said as she started to walk toward the door that led upstairs, Lucius close on her heels.

"Make sure he brushes his teeth after he eats those," Violet called out to their retreating forms. If Hermione hadn't been so panicked with her situation she would have laughed.

When they entered her one room apartment, Lucius froze as his gaze darted around the space. "This is disgusting."

Hermione carried Jaime over to the bed and lay him down. He was still out cold. The child could sleep through anything.

When Hermione turned around, she tossed her bag onto the small, dining table she had put between the two windows. "So, what now?" she asked.

Lucius studied her for a moment. "I find I am as yet undecided what to do with you." His eyes glanced down at her bare calves before darting about the room.

He pulled a handkerchief from his inner coat pocket and tossed it into the air before transfiguring it into a plush, clean, and white arm chair. He took a seat and offered her no more than a cocked eyebrow at her questioning look. It was obvious he had no intention of touching anything of hers, much less resting his entitled and formidable arse on one of her chairs.

Hermione shuffled her feet, as she grew impatient at his assessing stare. "Look, I…"

"Come here," he commanded simply.

"What?"

"Yes, I imagine such a complex demand can be quite confusing to someone like you."

"Fuck you. You know nothing about me. I'm standing less than five feet away from you, you arsehole. Why do you need me to come closer?" Her arms crossed tightly over her bust in her agitation.

"And you need to be closer. Come, kneel at my feet."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? The Mudblood, Hermione Granger, kneeling and groveling at your feet? You're a pig."

He was unperturbed by her snark. He lounged back in the chair with a nasty smirk before looking to his left at the slumbering boy. "They say the death curse is painless when asleep."

Hermione closed her eyes. It had been a false front of bravado. They both knew it. She was at this man's mercy and would do anything to protect her son. She took three steps closer and collapsed into a kneel at his feet. Her eyes were moist when they looked up at him. "Please. Please don't hurt him. I'll do anything."

His face was void of expression as he simply replied, "Yes, I think you might." His eyes gazed down at the cleavage on display as her coat remained unfastened. It was not lost on him that she was wearing nothing more than a string thong made of fake pearls underneath.

"Give me your hand."

Hermione swallowed as she tentatively held out her left hand.

"Your other hand. Your dominant hand."

She dropped her left to her lap and held out her right.

"Palm up," he commanded simply.

Hermione turned her trembling hand over, terrified at what he was going to do.

"You will willingly accept the tracking bond I am placing on your person."

It was not said as a question. Hermione knew it wasn't one. She also knew what would happen if she refused. She peeked back at Jaime. Lucius could not place the spell without her willing consent.

When she looked back at the blond sadist, she was distracted by the reflection of the flashing neon sign from across the street on his pale skin. She was mesmerized by how the letter N kept popping on his forehead. The accompanying P, A, and W were reflected on the wall behind him. Pawn. As in Pawn Shop. The S, H, O, and P had each burned out over the past couple nights. The irony was not lost on her. It's what she was to him after all, a pawn to be used to his advantage.

She let out a slow breath. "Fine. I accept." She closed her eyes in her last stand of defiance.

He touched the tip of his wand to the center of her hand and whispered, "Semita."

Hermione felt a fierce heat as though it were searing the skin of her palm. It dissipated to nothing more than a warm flush as it traveled throughout her body.

She opened her eyes when the feeling subsided to find his stare unwavering in its intensity.

"There's no getting away now, Devil's Snare," he said with a chuckle.

Hermione looked away, ashamed. Not only was she humiliated at being discovered stripping for a living, she was now at his mercy. He could find her anywhere and at any time.

She could have fought. She could have Apparated with Jaime. But Hermione didn't know what would rain upon their heads if she did. She didn't know if the American magical police would descend upon her instantly or if it would take a couple minutes. Or would Aurors with instant international port keys appear? In her limited time to think, she had realized her best bet was facing the known rather than the unknown. For now, only one enemy knew of her existence and where to find her. The question was, how to keep it that way.

Hermione was tired of kneeling and pushed herself to stand.

"I didn't say you could move."

"I wasn't aware I needed your permission."

Lucius grinned. "I had thought it was rather obvious. The fact that you are mine. I essentially own you, now, do I not?"

Hermione looked away. "Just because you can find me doesn't mean I belong to you or have to do your bidding."

"Why must you challenge me, Mudblood? It's such an unattractive…dare I say... Gryffindor trait."

Hermione scoffed and walked toward the window.

"Get back here… now."

"No," she snapped, not looking at him. "You know how to find me. I can't get away from you. Isn't that enough?" She laughed without humor as she stared without seeing the aforenoted pawn shop. "Go and figure out how to best use me, why don't you? Figure out how you will go about presenting me to your sadistic lord in a way that grants you the greatest advantage." She looked back at him to his expression amused.

"Ah, the kitty cat knows the way of the snake."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her false bravado threatening to break. "Just leave."

"No."

"Why not? You are obviously repulsed by your surroundings. Surely you have a portkey that will carry you home to the comforts of your Manor and your equally sadistic wife."

"A room at The Four Seasons," he offered nonchalantly. "And my sadistic wife is now my estranged wife, for I am married in name only."

"I find I couldn't care less. Please leave."

"I already told you, no."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice now shaky with emotion.

"Because you still refuse to acknowledge the fact that I own you. I would have left by now had you merely obeyed me. Instead, you challenged me." He stared at her for a pause. "And I never back down from a challenge, Mrs…Potter."

She turned back to him, a passionate desperation glinting in her that both interested and intrigued him. "I dare you, Lucius Malfoy. I dare you to walk away and keep my existence to yourself. I dare you to be a good man. I dare you to leave a young witch and her innocent son, who mean nothing to you and could in no way harm you, alone. I dare you to have a soul and a conscience."

Lucius was mesmerized despite himself. She was quite the little spitfire when she got her nerve. Her eyes were bright, and her face flushed. It was simply irresistible how naïve she was. How ridiculously…optimistic...to even think her words would have any impact on him.

"You are very amusing. I find myself quite distracted by it actually. It gets you nowhere, however. Take off your coat."

Her eyes flew to his and grew wide when she found his grin to be malicious and his stare lecherous as it was focused on her chest. "What?" she asked breathlessly, hoping she was mistaken.

His focus moved to her eyes. "You really are slow. I said take…off…your…coat."

She ignored his attempt to make her feel stupid. "Why?"

"Because I said so, because you belong to me. And because you know that if you don't do as I say, very bad things will happen." His voice was getting louder and his expression more angered. "Take off your coat, now!"

His loud command made Jaime stir a bit restlessly and both sets of adult eyes moved to the boy as he rolled over and fell back into a comfortable slumber. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat as her heart began to pound beneath her ribs as she returned her stare to Malfoy and found him watching her closely. On top of everything, was she to be raped? She looked at the ground as she shrugged her shoulders causing the garment to fall to the floor.

"There, was that so hard? After all, it's simply a matter of doing what I say. It really isn't complicated."

Hermione was surprised when she looked up to find his focus on her face and not her body. Perhaps this really was just an exercise in control.

"And the thong."

She looked at her son again. "He's right there. He'll wake up. He'll see."

"Somehow, I doubt he has escaped seeing you naked, Mrs. Potter."

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not? You matter-of-factly corrected me earlier when I called you Miss Granger."

"Call me Lorelei. It's the name I associate with…this."

"With what exactly?"

"Standing naked to be ogled by men, Mr. Malfoy."

"You seemed to enjoy it when you were on stage," he observed with a smirk of disgust.

"That was…that was for money. I have to earn a living."

He reached into his pocket and tossed some coins at her feet. "There, that should feel more…at home." He relished the ashamed expression that crossed her face.

"Fuck you," she spat as an angry tear escaped her right bottom lash.

"Well, I am considering it," he replied teasingly. "I'm just curious how many men have been there before me," he continued with a disappointed look.

"Many!" she insisted hotly as she wiped away the second tear. "Many. At least twenty. No…more! Fifty…at least. Who knows how many diseases I have since I am not allowed to use magic."

Lucius roared with laughter. "You are so amusing. However, I won't be distracted. Take off the thong, Mudblood."

She slumped her shoulders and took a small breath before sliding the last bit of clothing from her body.

Lucius tilted his head. "I don't understand why women feel the need to shave. You look like a schoolgirl - and not in a good way. You will allow the hair to grow back. You may keep it trimmed if you like."

"My Job. I have to keep it shaved."

"I'll think about it," he responded. The room lapsed into silence and Lucius watched covertly as she fidgeted under his lazy perusal of her body. He noted some light stretch marks across her midsection. They were most likely from her pregnancy, as she was slender. Not skinny, but slender. Her hips flared deliciously to thighs he'd love to sink his teeth into, but every time his gaze landed on her mound, he moved it quickly to a more appealing place.

He was never interested in girls - and with no pubic hair, that's what she looked like, despite the flared hips and heavy breasts. He realized the moment his gaze became overwhelmingly uncomfortable, when her fear had hit sky levels. More tears trickled down her face and she drew a breath to speak again.

"Please," she begged. "Don't…touch me." Her eyes were soft with their conviction. "I…I've only ever been with…Harry."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "First you said twenty, then you said fifty…now you're trying to tell me that Harry Potter was the only male touch you have ever known?"

"Yes." Her words were soft, a touch of desperation in them that made Lucius sneer. "It's the truth. Please. It's the only thing I haven't sold or traded or compromised on."

He drew his shoulders back even further and tilted his chin up a little higher so that he was truly looking down his nose when he said, "As if I would touch someone like you. I hope I've made my point. Do as I say, and we will get along just fine."

Hermione shrank just a bit into herself at his obvious revulsion of her. Not that she minded. She would be happy if he remained repulsed by her for eternity.

He looked toward Jaime and reached into his pocket, pulling out the sweets. He tossed them on the table as he stood and gave her one last disapproving glare before turning and walking toward the door. Just as he was about to pass through it, a backward flick of his wand caused the chair to change back into a handkerchief. Another subtle spell caused the cloth to disintegrate entirely.

Lucius couldn't leave fast enough. With a cursory good evening directed at Violet the Muggle, he was out of the store and around the corner to a dark alley with quick and purposeful strides. A spin of his heel and he Apparated to his suite in the hotel.

He loosened his collar and walked to the fully stocked bar where he poured himself a single malt scotch. It wasn't a beverage Lucius typically consumed, but every now and then he had a taste for it.

Curious, he walked to the desk and pulled his wand and whispered an incantation. A large globe of the Earth appeared, with a view as though looking down from space. Another whispered incantation and the globe began to spin rapidly. When it suddenly stopped, a small light was glowing over Wilshire, England. When he magnified the view, the glow was more precise and showed the soft red glow now over an estate in Wiltshire. Malfoy Manor to be precise.

He smiled to himself. He could picture exactly where Jupiter was at this moment - laying at the foot of Lucius' chair in his study. Waiting for his Master to return. The dog was taken from him once after a spiteful argument with Narcissa. She had stolen the dog to hurt him. The minute he had gotten his beloved pet back, he cast the tracker spell on him. He didn't know if it would work because the dog had not actually consented, but it did. He was relieved he would always be able to find the beast if needed.

With another incantation the globe spun again, this time stopping over the Northeastern United States. As the globe magnified, the light became a soft red glow and illuminated the exact location of Miss Granger's flat. He had half expected her to run. He was almost disappointed she hadn't. He did love a chase.

Swallowing down the last of his drink, he proceeded to undress and start the shower. As he stepped under the warm stream, he recounted the evening and his extreme luck at having found one of the most wanted fugitives on the Dark Lord's list. In truth, everyone knew the Dark Lord didn't really care about finding the Mudblood. She meant nothing now that Potter was long dead.

No, the Mudblood was wanted for her. Lucius rolled his eyes. The Dark Lord would stop at nothing to make the obsession of his life happy. That meant Hermione Granger delivered to the Dark Lord's feet so that the sadistic woman could have her fun. Merlin, Lucius hated her.

The question was, now that Lucius had this delightful conquest, what did he want for his boon? He would have to milk this for all it was worth. Dangle the juicy rabbit and whet their appetite first. Make sure they were truly hungry for the prize.

Rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he thought back on her little routine. She was quite enticing on the stage and very animated. So very unlike the off-stage version of herself. She had a nice body, he would give her that, but he would never stoop so low as to touch the chit.

As his memory focused on her standing naked before him in her disgusting excuse for a flat, he pictured her breasts and their lovely shape. They were a nice, full size with dusky-pink nipples. He imagined her skin was soft and that they would feel heavy in his palms. When he felt the stirrings of a building erection, he scolded himself. What is wrong with you? Since when does Lucius Malfoy think of a Mudblood's tits?

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, decidedly ignoring the growing issue between his legs. Sure, he guessed she was a little bit attractive. It was hard to tell with all the paint on her face. But an attractive face on an adequate body was nothing to get excited over. She was certainly no Narcissa.

Lucius sighed as he pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms. Narcissa. She was a contemplation for another night. Lucius found he just didn't have the energy to go there.

He climbed into the plush king-sized bed and turned off the light. What possibly could have happened to cause the young Miss Granger to stoop low enough to take her clothes off for a living? He didn't think she was a prostitute as well, but perhaps she had lied? It wasn't a far leap, after all. He was surprised she had such questionable morals. He found himself growing more and more irked. She had been a smart girl. It couldn't be denied that she was why Potter lived as long as he had. So why didn't she find respectable work? There had to be something she could do to support herself in a more acceptable fashion!

Lucius huffed heavily as he found himself growing irritated - and harder.

June 7th

It had been a week since Lucius Malfoy had left her naked in her flat with her sleeping son on the double bed behind her and Hermione still trembled every night before going in to work. Whether she was to take the stage or simply don her skimpy waitressing uniform, she was on high alert constantly. Needless to say, she was exhausted. She had no idea what to expect from the man. He could show up anywhere at any time - next week or two years from now. It was nerve-wracking.

Sighing, Hermione scooped up the sleeping Jaime and bid her co-workers farewell. It was the end of another long night, and she had not been lying to Malfoy when she had told him it took two trains and a bus ride to get back to her flat.

Though she had been less than excited about the apartment when she first agreed to rent it a few months back, Larry and his wife Violet had been very kind to her. They were two people who had worked hard their whole lives for their meager lot and, yes, they were rough around the edges, but they looked out for her and doted on Jaime to the best of their ability.

About forty minutes after leaving work, she entered the store beneath her flat and smiled at Larry. He gave her a gruff nod and scooped a plastic shopping bag up before holding it out to her. "Vi made that noodle stuff you like, so there's a container in there. And your mail."

"Thanks, Larry," she whispered, adjusting Jaime so she could slip the bag over her wrist. "See you tomorrow."

"'Night, Lori."

She ascended the stairs and let the bag fall to the small table before crossing to lay Jaime on the inside of the bed. After building a pillow barrier, she crossed back - grabbing the bag and moving into the makeshift kitchen where she popped the container of Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper into the microwave while flipping through the mail. Mostly, it was junk, but she paused and her heart leapt when a familiar looking envelope came into view.

Snape disguised his handwriting, never one to leave things to chance. She hadn't seen him in person since she'd had to flee England almost three years ago. Every three or four months, she'd hear from him via Muggle post. He had a PO Box in London that he used, and the number on the box changed twice a year. They always made sure to share addresses as soon as either her location or his number changed. It was simple though, a quick note stating: Address Change - with the update and their pseudonym.

This, however, was not one of those. Hermione had gotten the last change less than two weeks after she had sent the new address for the flat over Larry's. That meant he had written her a letter! Instantly, she started shaking violently. What would she find? Had Malfoy claimed he knew where she was? Were they going to come for her? Logically, she knew that they would have already come if Malfoy had gone straight to Voldemort, but fear could easily make one irrational.

Ignoring the beeping from the microwave, she quickly tore open the envelope. As always, there were a few hundred dollars wrapped in the parchment. She always felt guilty for keeping it, but the one time she had attempted to send it back, he had been offended and his reply had been offensive in turn. She would tuck it away in case she fell on hard times again. Setting the money on top of the microwave, Hermione quickly turned her attention to the written words.

"Hermione and Jaime,

I hope my missive finds you well. I have some puzzling news to share. There is a new rumour going around that you have been spotted … in New Orleans of all places. Did you travel recently? Was this a legitimate sighting? As I highly doubt that, I can only assume you have a doppelganger that was in Louisiana of all places.

Not much else has changed since I wrote to you last. Any resistance in the country continues to be stomped down by the Dark Lord and his Princess. There were executions this week after two Muggle-born control officers were caught trying to sneak a four-year-old Muggle-born witch out of the country. The child and her parents were also killed.

I still have not been able to get close enough to Her Heiness to gain her trust. I do, however, continue to have many theories as to her staggering personality change since the beginning of the war. The day she appeared with her elder brother and his pregnant wife as captives for being Blood Traitors will continue to haunt me until the day I die.

Enough depressing news. I'm very relieved to hear that you have found a flat with better accommodations than your last place. Sounds like your job is also leaving you with sufficient funds. Just in case you have had any unforeseen expenses since your last letter, I sent money along. I wish I could send more, it's just too risky to pull a vast number of galleons to be exchanged into pounds, which then needs to be exchanged into dollars. Withdrawals of large sums of money are constantly being questioned.

I wish you the best. Until next time.

Sincerely,
Tobias Prince"

Hermione had had no idea how heavy the thought of Malfoy bringing her whereabouts to Voldemort's attention was weighing on her until the stress on her body lifted. New Orleans. She wondered where that story had come from. Did Malfoy start it? Or had someone else "spotted" her. Just how desperately did Ginny Weasley want to get her hands on her?

Not for the first time, she wished she and Snape had faked her death somehow. There had been no time, though, which he had explained in his first letter to her, almost six months after her flight. He had been tortured and questioned vigorously after he'd helped her escape because he had been out of sight for too long and Voldemort had been more than paranoid in the days following the Fall of Hogwarts.

As always, Hermione pulled a lighter out of a drawer in the kitchenette and lit the parchment on fire. She would return his letter soon.

July 19th

No matter how many witches he fucked (whether the whores were cheap or expensive) none of them seemed to turn his thoughts away from the Mudblood hiding in America and her lovely curves and soft-looking skin. The disgust of his lust wasn't even enough to deter him - it appeared to be a lost cause. If he closed his eyes, he could still bring to mind the exact shade of her dusty-rose nipples.

Lucius Malfoy had always been a carnal being, however. Ever since puberty, he had chased pretty witches with one purpose - to bed them. Whether it was to fuck them into a wall, make them ride him in his favorite wingback chair, or simply bury his hands in their hair and make them gag on his cock - it didn't matter.

He loved sex and that curly-haired minx of a Mudblood whore was made to be used - he hated that he couldn't get her out of his head. Sighing, he sank onto a davanport that faced the roaring fire in his den. With a flick of his wand, he had a tumbler of firewiskey in his hand and took a fortifying sip.

It had been six weeks since he'd found her in the Muggle-strip-dive she called her place of employment. He had started the rumour of her being spotted in New Orleans with great success. After two or three weeks, the crazed redhead Lord Voldemort called his Princess had demanded a team be sent to scour the city. They had come back empty handed, as he had known they would.

He needed to give it a few more weeks in order to make sure that there would be no suspicion on him for returning to New York too soon. It would be different if the trip hadn't been for pleasure - but it had been. He'd needed out of England. Since returning, however, he had slowly been setting up a business deal through Malfoy Enterprises that would have him visiting the city frequently, making the trips less suspicious to his psychotic Lord.

"Just a few more weeks," he muttered to himself. "Then you can have her."