A/N Beta'd by the wonderful StoryWriter831. Everything belongs to JK Rowling.

...

We barely spoke over breakfast, but the silence was not awkward or laden—in fact, for the first time ever, I felt completely at ease in his company.

It was as if our exchange had catalysed a new freedom between us, as if we had both been released from the chafing chains that had fettered us so reluctantly and yet so completely to each other, as prisoner and jailer, victim and oppressor. In a matter of a moments, I had learned more about Lucius than whole months confined with him had taught me. I knew now that he had had a real reason to hate me, and that his cruelty to me, though not justifiable, was...at least explicable. I had also witnessed a side to him that I never seen before, never even imagined existed—a fallible, vulnerable, human side—a man capable of great love, who had suffered greatly for it...

Lucius did not partake of the food, instead resuming his tea and cigar, but the contrast between his quiet civility with his former contemptuous treatment of me at mealtimes could not have been more marked. Where before he had dictated, now he only offered, his voice neutral but retaining that subtle something which warmed me more than the rays of the spring sun which shone down upon us.

In reciprocation I conducted myself with careful decorum, wishing to demonstrate that, as long as he treated me with dignity and respect, I could behave with such.

I believe I would have happily stayed there all day with him, but exertion and trauma had taken a physical toll on me, and my hunger was placated only to be usurped by profound exhaustion. Noticing me wilting, Lucius bid me return to bed, and, somewhat reluctantly, I complied.

I dropped into oblivion almost the moment my cheek touched my pillow, and slept the remainder of the day away, a deep, secure, dreamless sleep.

When I finally woke the remnants of a golden sunset were trailing out of the room and dusk was setting in. I sat up in bed, disoriented but rested, and watched the light sinking away behind the shadowy line of conifers beyond the window. When the lamps on the walls flickered autonomously to life, I climbed out of bed and began to ready myself for dinner.

As I dressed I realised my heart was pattering ridiculously.

It was a strange sensation. I had become so used to the oppressive mix of dread and need I experienced, when preparing to face Lucius—the feeling of readying myself for a battle I could only ever lose—that this new state of nervous excitement seemed utterly foreign to me, and somewhat disturbing. I could feel my cheeks flushing unnaturally, and my fingers shook as I donned the same green robe I'd worn earlier and re-plaited my hair. The serenity of this morning had completely abandoned me; I was jittery and a little feverish.

What's the matter with you, Alice? I wondered, as I attempted to tie the sash of my robe for the third time. You're like a nervous schoolgirl.

Instantly the memory of The Woman's mocking voice rang in my head. "...We've been awaiting your arrival like two giggling schoolgirls..." I winced at the recollection. I felt as if I were somehow playing into her hands, playing out her words...

I told myself sternly to calm down. I was merely going to have dinner with Lucius, something I had done countless times before.

Ready at last, I made my way downstairs. I hesitated momentarily outside the dining room door, taking a breath, then I knocked softly and entered. I barely had time to register my disappointment that Lucius was not there, for the sight which met my eyes made me gasp aloud.

It was different...all different.

For a moment I stood in the doorway, staring like an owl, suddenly unsure whether I hadn't somehow stumbled into the wrong room. Where was the huge mahogany table? The oppressive dark-wood furniture?

The very atmosphere seemed changed—softer, the ambiance warmer and more welcoming. Where the table had stood was now a wide, empty space, save for a beautiful oriental rug covering the floorboards, intricately worked with vivid, mythical-looking depictions of fauna and flora. Also disappeared without trace was the row of looming, antique side-boards which had obstructed much of the outside view through the front windows. A pair of tall, ornately-branched candelabras now stood in their place, as if sprung up from the very floor, the radiance of their many small flames diffused by the muted sheen of the ormolu chandeliers above.

Between the candelabras, and framed by one high-arched window, there now stood a very different kind of table.

I gravitated towards it wonderingly. It was round, much smaller and...and intimate, was the word that came unbidden to my mind. A tremor ran through me when I saw that it was set for two people, laden with gleaming silver cutlery, a domed serving platter, and sparkling crystal glasses. A decanter of red wine stood next to a vase of flowers of the same deep-ruby hue, and I reached out to caress one of the velvety petals.

"Good evening, Alice."

I jumped, not quite stifling a cry of surprise. I had neither seen nor heard Lucius enter, and retreating hastily in shock away from the table, I managed to back straight into him. I registered his hands on my waist, steadying me, and it made me jump again, this time propelling myself forwards, then whirling to face him. As soon as our eyes connected my heartbeat resumed its absurd flittering.

"Hello L-Lucius," I stammered, feeling illogically guilty, and consequently even more flustered. It didn't help that, compared to this morning's understated elegance, he was dressed in an extravagantly imposing way, like some medieval duke; yards of voluminously gathered and richly embroidered fabrics emphasising rather than concealing his powerful frame, exaggerating his already-considerable size alarmingly. Had I really imagined him vulnerable and pitiable the last time I saw him? It seemed inconceivable now.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, my dear. I did not intend to frighten you."

"You didn't frighten me." I don't know why I said so, since he very obviously had.

Lucius did not reply, but a smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. "How are you feeling?" He took a step nearer, within touching distance, his eyes scanning my face, lingering on the marks my teeth had scored upon my own lips. "Better, I hope?"

Beneath the sudden and too-direct intimacy of his scrutiny, I was instantly tongue-tied. Wordlessly I nodded.

"I'm glad." He sounded perfectly sincere. Then, offering his arm to me in a graceful, old-fashioned gesture of gentility, he said, "Would you care join me for dinner?"

I...I was dazzled.

There he stood, resplendent and formidable in that princely attire, priceless jewels sparkling in the candlelight, addressing me as he might a woman of his own lofty standing...me. The insignificant, lost waif, who had come to him in 'pitiful rags', who had spent months barefoot and under-dressed; part charity-case, part prisoner, hardly better tolerated than a stray dog... Could it be real? Could he—that handsome, indomitable man before me—have changed so much? For me?

Unable to form a coherent reply, I hesitantly took his proffered arm and smiled my acceptance up at him. The smile felt odd on my mouth, for the first time untainted by any trace of bitterness.

Arm in arm we crossed the short distance to the table, steeped in the warm glow of the candles inside and the softer gleam of the starlight without. I wondered if I was actually still asleep, if this was some nebulous, fairy-tale dream...

But, as Lucius handed me to my chair and assumed his own, I could not help remembering how the last time we'd met here he had physically restrained and forced me to take the medicine for my broken fingers...for my unbroken fingers. My fingers twitched at the disturbing memory, and a small shiver ran down my spine.

Rightly interpreting my thoughts, Lucius said, "I was cruel to you before, Alice. For that I apologise." He slightly emphasised the "that" as if to imply he did not apologise for anything else. Yet it was more than I had ever expected to hear coming from his lips.

I nodded, still not trusting my voice. At breakfast I had felt so comfortable in his presence, but now I was almost paralysed with self-consciousness.

Lucius poured out two glasses of the red wine, while I watched on silently, wondering what on earth I was going to say to him over the course of the meal. I had never had the opportunity to practice the hollow niceties of polite conversation with him, and with everything that had gone before between us, it seemed pointless to attempt it. But to speak of—of real things seemed...wrong, unwise...impossible. Our fierce, fraught encounter on the terrace this morning was like a newly-healing wound, yet too raw to touch... What, then, was left to say?

Lucius regarded me with a quizzical tilt of his head. "Why so shy, my dear?"

I forced myself to make a reply, but it was an inadequate enough one, indeed. "I don't know."

"You were never short of words before."

His gently-mocking tone gave me courage to reply a little more spiritedly. "That's because I was always telling you what I thought of you."

Amused acknowledgement traced over his sharp features. "And now? You no longer wish to tell me?"

I stared into the deep ruby liquid of my wineglass, avoiding his gaze. "I no longer know what to think," I said.

He raised his glass and took a leisurely sip, and I took the opportunity to do the same. The wine was very dry, but I welcomed the instantly-calming warmth coiling through me, unwinding my jangled nerves. I cast about for something to say, and settled on the decidedly commonplace. "You've changed things in here," I commented at last, fixing my eyes on the space where the mahogany table had stood before. "It's...I...I like it."

"I'm glad you do. It would have been a wasted effort if you did not."

Did I hear right? Was he telling me he had wished to please me? ...I swallowed thickly, taken by surprise by the sudden, profound gladness that swelled within my breast. My affection-starved, desolated heart, my mutilated self-esteem greedily lapped up the sweet subtext of his words. ...But then my sensible 'other' voice began to admonish me. So he changed the furniture, Alice. So what?

I steeled myself and met his gaze coolly enough. At least I told myself that I did. "Since when did you start caring about what I like?"

Although I said it in a rather churlish way, it sounded exactly what it was: a poorly-concealed appeal to him to continue extending his leniency over me, to prove his ongoing magnanimity. I was like a recently-freed zoo-animal testing the boundaries of my new, expansive sanctuary, still expecting to be electrically-shocked into submission at every turn.

I could tell by his expression that he saw right through me. "A host should always anticipate the preferences of his guest," he replied smoothly.

It wasn't quite the answer I had hoped for—although I wasn't sure what was. 'Host; guest'...they were such impersonal, generic terms. Fit for mere strangers, I thought with a pang. But perhaps we were newly strangers. "You never cared to anticipate my preferences before."

"I don't deny it." He watched me take a third rather-large sip of wine, amusement clearly legible in his eyes.

The mixture of strong wine and my reckless reliance on him was going straight to my head. "I guess your sense of hospitality doesn't extend to your inmates."

A flicker of impatience passed across his features. But when he replied his tone remained resolutely mild. "It is fortunate, then, that I no longer have any of those." He settled his glass back on the table. "And so..." he murmured at length, "you made it all the way to Bucharest."

"Yes," I replied, uneasily reflecting that he must have been told so by Her. "All this time, I never once guessed we were in Romania."

"You could not have been expected to."

Not for the first time, I wondered what had brought him—and myself—into such remote exile. But, knowing I would be given no answers, I did not trouble to ask.

"You put yourself in a great deal of peril, Alice," Lucius added, a little sternly. "It was a foolhardy venture."

"Yes, well, it's funny how desperate people tend to do desperate things."

"Did you really think it would be safer for you, outside these walls?"

A bitter smile twisted my mouth. "Let me see—I was beaten up, very nearly raped and strangled, and I ended up in prison...so, I would say it was pretty even, wouldn't you?"

I held my breath, half-expecting him to take exception to my sarcastic tone. But he only looked more solemn, and seemed to be weighing his reply.

At last he squared his shoulders. "I have already apologised for my cruelty to you, Alice," he said. "Yet I should also like to clear myself of your implied charges. I am no rapist. Despite my brutal actions to which you indirectly refer—I can only say, it was an extremely barbaric attempt to intimidate you and subdue your defiance. I was angry—no, I was enraged. I was inexcusably violent. But, I hope you believe me, when I aver to you that I had no intention of...following through."

"I would believe your words, if I thought that you believed them."

A charge of energy rippled between us, and his eyes flickered lightly over my face again, and I felt my cheeks reddening, not, as in the past, with mortification or rebelliousness, but with a new, very pleasant feeling of being... indulged. Of relying on his indulgence.

"Come, Alice," he said softly, "let us not quarrel. As I told you this morning, you are no longer (as you put it) my inmate. At this moment, you are simply my dinner companion." He reached for the domed cover of the silver platter and removed it in a single, graceful movement. "Therefore I suggest we dine."

So we did.

The food was, I'm certain, exquisite, but I hardly tasted it, so utterly entranced I was by the fact that I was sharing it with him.

How many hundreds of times had I sat before him, like some performing animal, demolishing my food in a rebelliously messy fashion while Lucius looked on, disgust and loathing disfiguring the harmony of his angular features? And how many times had I fantasised about this very moment: him and me, no hostility, no rancour between us, just two people, face-to-face, dining together, finally, finally as equals—? ...It could almost seem worth it, everything I'd endured, for this moment...

And for a sweet, short while, perhaps it was worth it.

But gradually, as the meal continued, I felt a coldness creeping over me, a dark shadow moving across my jubilance like an eclipse, robbing all the warmth from my so-hard-won happiness... He might have changed, Alice, but it changes nothing. You still know next to nothing about yourself, about him. What about the third floor? What about The Woman? You're back to square one, aren't you? Except now you're indebted to him...now you owe him your life...

"What is it, Alice?"

Lucius's voice threaded through my thoughts, extricating me from their pooling darkness. I blinked and looked up at him, only now realising that I had lapsed into complete silence. I shook my head, seeking the right words. "I just. I don't understand...what does this all mean?"

"To what are you referring, my dear?"

"Everything. All of these...changes. Where does it leave me?"

"You are speaking nonsense, Alice."

"It isn't nonsense. It's a valid question. Because I'm not actually your guest, am I? I'm your gift. That's what she said, isn't it? That she gave me to you, to do with whatever you chose."

"And I chose to take you back," Lucius murmured, his fingertips lightly drumming on the stem of his wineglass. "At the time you seemed quite anxious for me to do so... Unless perhaps I was mistaken?"

"No." I felt my cheeks paling at the mere thought of how close I'd come to being left behind. Left with Her. "Of course not. I...I'm sorry. I'm just...confused. Everything is so different," I said. You are so different, I didn't say. Clumsily, I continued, "I don't know—understand—what my place is anymore."

"Your place is with me, here, now."

"And tomorrow? And the day after?" I unstoppered the words that had been so painfully gnawing at my heart. "What happens when you finally have "finished" with me, Lucius? When you're tired of playing nice with your gift? Will you throw it away? Return it to sender?" A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I knew that I had angered him, that I was indeed coming to the perimeter of his tolerance. But I couldn't stop yet. Not quite yet. "At least before," I pressed on, "I knew what I was, even if I didn't know who...at least I understood my role."

"Your role?"

"As your prisoner! I knew what was expected of me... To fight you, and t-to fear you—"

"Should you prefer to fear me again, Alice?" My breath caught at his tone, like the soft growl of a tiger gently reminding me of his teeth. There was an unmistakable glimmer in his silver eyes, belonging to the dangerous and cruel man I had known far too long, and far too well...

Instinctively I shrank from him, pulling my arms back so quickly that the back of my hand caught the crystal wine decanter and sent it skidding off the edge of the table. I flinched, expecting to hear the smash of crystal upon the floor—but Lucius made a swift, slight movement with one hand, and when I blinked, the decanter was back upon the table, as if I had never touched it. In almost the same moment he had caught my hand, his grip gently restraining, his expression no longer menacing, but serious and entreating. Don't be afraid of me, it said. ...Don't run away.

"How did you do that?" I whispered, though I hardly cared, for his thumb was tracing lightly over the vein of my pulse, and the warmth of his touch seemed to radiate through me, through to my very bloodstream. "You're like her, aren't you? You can...do...things..."

At first Lucius did not reply. His head bowed slightly, his eyes dropped to fix upon my upturned wrist, encircled by his large hand.

Then he spoke. "This morning I told you I would not prevent you from running away. Let me be more specific. If you choose to stay with me, I will do everything within my capabilities to protect you and to care for you, as I..." —he paused, gritting his teeth, then continued— "as I should have done, long since." His hand tightened around mine and he drew me forward, leaning urgently towards me, his eyes fixed intently on mine. "Do you—dare you—doubt me now?"

I was frightened by the wild, surging euphoria I felt at his solemnly-spoken words. How could I doubt him, when he looked at me that way? "No," I said. "I believe you."

He released my arm and drew back from me, and I felt the withdrawal of his touch like an actual loss.

"But—Lucius?"

"Yes, Alice."

My whirling thoughts translated to awkwardly stilted words. "I know that you s-said that you won't...can't...give me any answers, but—" I took a breath, and then the words tumbled out in a torrential rush: "l need to find them—a-and I'm going to go looking for them. I have to...I have to at least try. With or without your permission. Regardless of your consequences." My breathing was erratic, my heartbeat thudding heavily through me. I took a hurried gulp of wine, some of my inelegant defiance of former days resurfacing. Then I met his gaze.

His eyes were narrowed, but not hard. "There are always consequences to our actions, my dear," he murmured.

I began to ask him what he meant, but his hand raised to my face and his fingers lightly brushed my lips, hushing me. My entire body thrilled to his touch, tingling and alight. Not for the first time I thought he looked like some fallen angel, stripped of his wings and cast out of heaven, too beautiful, too strange and powerful to be of this earth...

...

I went to bed that night with a head awhirl with fantastical, careering thoughts.

I lay in the dim shadows, softly encased in the long, loose folds of a delicate night-dress I had discovered, among several other ethereal creations, in one of the newly-stocked dresser drawers. I touched its lacy décolletage, still incredulous that this was really me, that the unreal events of the evening truly had happened, and were not simply the conjuring of a fevered mind.

My body felt strangely light, and alight, and I could feel the rapid drumming of my heart beneath my fingertips.

Even exhaustion couldn't prevent my lying awake deep into the night, replaying the minutiae of the last few hours, dwelling on certain words, moments, looks... The places where Lucius had touched me seemed to tingle still: my wrist, my lips, the curve of my waist where he had steadied me, even the crook of my arm which had momentarily entwined in his. Before, his touch had always meant restraint, intimidation, pain. But now...now...

I hardly knew what to make of my thoughts, my feelings. I hardly knew what I ought to make of them. The only certainty I felt was that, when Lucius had looked into my eyes and told me he would keep me safe, I believed him.

How could everything have changed so quickly, so profoundly? And why did it feel so right? As if all the confusion and tumult of my existence had abruptly spun out and away from me, and there I was, standing in the achingly-beautiful eye of the storm, protected by the very precariousness of my position.

All the things that had mattered so much before now seemed to lose their immediacy, their importance, dwarfed by this new, incredible feeling of...being cared for. Cared about.

Briefly, reluctantly, my mind flitted to the strange powers that he seemed to share with...with Her. Who—what was he? What were they? And what would happen when I finally did understand?

I turned over, physically turning my back on that question, and let my mind wander back to pleasanter subjects...

The last image in my head before I finally slipped into sleep was Lucius in his light-grey morning suit, drawing from his slim cigarette, smiling as I heaped spoonfuls of sugar into my tea.