Lucius Malfoy lay curled on his tiny bed. The cell was damp, and filled with the stench of urine and the sickly sweet musk of mildew. Daily rain poured through the glassless slit of the window, soaking his pillow and hair, but he never moved. The only times he moved was to relieve himself, or to consume the twice daily ration of water, stew, and stale bread. A chipped enamel bowl sat on the stone floor beneath the narrow bed, and his fingers reached down to brush across it.

"Cissa," he whispered into the empty cell. "Hermione. Draco." He blinked, and swallowed. "Cissa. Hermione. Draco." A wet cough bubbled up from his chest, and he sputtered and choked until it stopped. Drawing in deep breaths, he ignored the burn in his nose from the mildew and other spores residing in the cell. He shifted the too-small blanket so that it covered his shoulders better, and tried not to notice how cold his feet were.

"Cissa. Hermione. Draco."

The happiness that came from their memories had faded long ago, when he learned that happiness only brought the freezing agony of the dementors. It had been a long time- how long he could not guess, for it felt like years- since he had felt the warmth of happiness.

But it kept him from slipping into complete madness. When he spoke to them, he knew they were not really there. He could see them sometimes- his darling, beautiful wife. So clean and pressed, and laughing her radiant laugh. Or his boy, with his mussed hair and his slow smile.

Or his girl. His wonderful girl with her passionate love of politics and her bright eyes. The same eyes that had been clouded in pain when he held her in the Ministry.

He let out a low groan and squeezed his eyes shut. "Cissa. Hermione. Draco." The words were softer now, more a plea than a chant. "Cissa. Hermione. Draco."

She had visited him in his cell at the Ministry. His wonderful girl. Could she have forgiven him? Could she truly?

You do not deserve to be forgiven, a scabby voice growled in the back of his mind.

"I know," he said out loud. "I know!"

Where were they now? Had the Dark Lord punished them after his failures? Narcissa would survive, he told himself. She would make it. Hermione too. Draco-

The last time he had spoken to his son the boy had barely said two words to him. He knew Draco hated him, he hated himself for what he had done to his family.

His family. What had happened to them? They were better off without him, he had convinced himself of that months earlier, but would they be able to survive..?

Yes. The answer was yes. It had to be. If nothing else, Dumbledore would keep them safe. He had sworn it. Dumbledore would protect his family.

The rain trickled harder down the window, and he blinked as it splattered across his face, but made no motion to wipe it away. Another wet cough seized him, making him shake and shudder for a long minute, until his throat burned and he tasted blood in the back of his throat.

"Papa!"

She was not there. How could she be? But when her smooth hand wrapped around his, a strange hope seized him.

Worried brown eyes swam in his vision- which was suddenly obscured by his tears. "Papa? I've come to take you home."

She smelled like mint toothpaste and floo powder. Nothing had ever smelled so wonderful to him, and he brought his hand up to scrape against her soft cheek. "My girl…"

"Let's get you home, hmm?" Her voice was too soft, as if he were an invalid. He opened his mouth to tell her not to worry, and lost himself in another coughing fit.

A male voice sounded. "Hermione, I've arranged for the others to be led to the boats. Do you need help in here?"

Her hand on his tightened, "No thank you, Terence. I can manage." To him, she said, "Come on, Papa, we don't have much time before the new guards come."

Perhaps it wasn't a dream after all. Could she really be there?

And then she conjured a blanket, "We won't let them see you like this," she whispered, throwing it over his shoulders. He must have looked a fright for her to be so tender with him.

His stiff muscles cried out in pain as he heaved himself to his feet, but her arm was steady around him, bracing him throughout the long walk through the prison. The last time he had seen these corridors his stride had been proud, confident. Now he shuffled through them, a broken old man.

"Hurry, Hermione!" the male voice cried out when they finally reached the docks. He blinked in surprise as he recognized the speaker. So, young Higgs had grown up. Behind the boy, the battered, feeble forms of his fellow Death Eaters waited. And it hit him.

He was going home.

Warmth spread through his chest, unchecked and pure. He didn't even care when he stumbled in front of them all. Hermione's arms flew out to catch him, and he beamed up at her. His girl.

The sleeve of her robes had ridden up, and something dark caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and the warmth rushed out of him as quickly as if he had been doused in ice water. The twisted skull-and-snake glared back at him from what should have been unmarred skin.

He let out a low moan and realized that he was not in a dream at all.

He was in a nightmare.

XX

Malfoy Manor had seen better days. In the chaos that surrounded the days following Dumbledore's death, Hermione had stayed at Bellatrix's lodge. With Lucius' return, the Dark Lord decided that it was time for the Malfoy's to go home. In addition, the Dark Lord himself began holding court at the Manor. Malfoy Manor was closer to the woods where Greyback's werewolf clan presided, and was far grander than Riddle Manor.

Hermione slipped down the darkened corridor to her parent's room. Below her, the raucous laughter of the Dark Lord's guests sounded, and she rolled her eyes. They were not Death Eaters, she knew that, and so she had not been forced to greet them. Instead, she stepped through her mother's empty sitting room, and knocked on the door that led to the bedroom.

"Come in," came the soft reply.

The door squeaked open, and Hermione blinked for a few moments as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. "Is he awake?"

Her mother sat in a chair by the bed, and she nodded. "He is." She closed the book she had been reading, and called out in a softer voice, "Hermione is here, darling."

There was no answer except for a low groan. Her father had burned with fever for the first week that he'd been home, and he still seemed to be in a state of delirium. Uncle Severus had been by twice a day to check on him, and had decided that they would try wit-sharpening potions once his cough went away.

"Has he been coughing?" Hermione whispered.

Narcissa bent to smooth the blankets around him, and shook her head, "Not once. I think Severus will be administering the first restorative draught today."

Relief flooded her. She did not like seeing her father in such a state. She sat down on the edge of the bed and forced a cheery smile. "Hello Papa!"

He shook his head, "It's not real, It can't be."

She shared a look with her mother, and kept her voice light, "What's not real?"

There was a noise like a sob, and she felt her heart sink.

"He's not getting any better, is he?" she asked her mother.

Her mother sighed, "Yes, he is. The infection is gone, and his lungs are finally clear, I think. It's a massive improvement over two weeks ago."

She shook her head, "Not his sickness, his mind. He doesn't know he's home."

"It takes time to recover from Azkaban. We knew it would take time. He'll know where he is soon enough."

"Maybe if Draco were here-"

Her mother cut in sharply, "You know perfectly well that Draco cannot be here."

Hermione sat back immediately. Her mother had returned the same night that Hermione brought her father home, but had passed on her regrets to the Dark Lord that Draco's condition had worsened, and he had been sent to the alps to recuperate.

"Maybe we can take Papa to see him," pleaded Hermione. "Just for a little bit."

Her mother did not meet her eyes, "You know perfectly well that your father isn't fit to travel. He barely survived the trip home, let alone a visit to the continent-"

"I know Draco's not in the alps!" Hermione snapped.

Silence. Her mother's cold stare made her blush in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she began again, "But I deserve to know where he is. I can keep him safe."

Her mother's eyes flickered, and for a moment they looked incredibly sad. "He's perfectly safe in the alps," she said finally.

That stung more than her father's delirium. She sat there for a moment, her cheeks hotter than ever, and then forced herself to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said in a heavy voice, "I've just remembered that I've got a- I need to-"

"I'll let you know when Severus arrives," said her mother gently.

Hermione nodded, and fled.

She ran blindly down the corridor to the wing where her and Draco's rooms were housed. Again, the laughter from the drawing room floated obnoxiously upwards, but she ignored it.

"Winky!" She cried out when her bedroom door was safely closed. It had been redecorated shortly before her father's arrest, and it did not quite feel the same. It was the room of a grown witch, not the child who had schemed and daydreamed. The only thing that was the same was the four poster bed that still looked as if it belonged to a princess. A Slytherin princess.

The house elf appeared with a loud pop, "Mistress called Winky?"

Hermione went to her new vanity and sat, "Is he still at the Weasley's?"

Winky nodded so emphatically that her ears flopped against her head. "Mistress' brother is still with the Weasleys," she said in a worried tone. "He has dyed his hair red, Mistress! And they are planning to call him Dan when the relatives is coming."

She looked up at that, "Relatives?"

"Oh yes! There is to be a great wedding, Mistress! And Mistress' brother will be hidden with his red hair. Old Weasley says they are going to do the same thing to Mr. Harry Potter too."

She thought about that as she touched up her makeup. Winky happily pulled out a fresh summer robe-light pink with sleeves short enough to reveal her mark. In a few hours the Dark Lord would invite the inner circle to the Manor, and she would be expected to play the part of hostess.

"Really it should be mother," she told Winky, who was giving a last polish to her soft leather shoes. "But Bellatrix says that since she's not marked she can't come to our inner circle meetings."

Unlike Dobby, who was always very fidgety whenever Hermione spoke about personal matters, Winky proved to be a good listener. She made sympathetic noises as she helped Hermione dress, and proved to have a fiery temper when it came to things that upset Hermione.

"Mistress' mother should know that Mistress can be trusted," Winky said, scowling as she watched Hermione pin her hair up. "Mistress should tell her that we know where young Malfoy is, and that we would never harm him!"

Hermione smiled at her in the mirror, and turned around, "We can't let mother know that we know," she said as lightly as she could, "or anyone else for that matter."

A horrified look crossed Winky's face. "Winky would never tell! Winky is a good elf!" She scowled at the hem of her towel, and added in an undertone, "But Mistress' mother should know better than to think that Mistress would ever put young Malfoy in danger."

Warmth crept into Hermione's chest, and she grinned fondly at the little creature. "I'm glad you're my elf, Winky."

"And Winky is glad to be Mistress' elf!" cried the little elf. Tears welled in her eyes, and she hastily turned away.

Nothing exciting happened during the first part of the meeting. She flitted about, filling goblets of wine and passing out canapes. Neither Bellatrix nor Uncle Severus were there, and even Terence was busy on another assignment.

Instead, she listened to Lord Crabbe regale her with stories of how the Crabbe fortune (which was less than a quarter of the Malfoy fortune) had bought copious amounts of land that belonged to older Muggleborns. He was one of the few who had wormed his way out of an Azkaban sentence at the end of the Department of Mysteries fiasco, and she deeply resented how breezy his tone was.

"They'll have to leave," he said with a boorish snicker. "And they won't have anywhere to go but the Muggle world soon! Our Lord will soon be overturning the ministry, and the retirement communities will be strictly regulated, I expect!"

Her stomach roiled at the thought of turning older witches and wizards away from the magical retirement communities. Surely they couldn't be safe in the muggle world? Her father used to tell tales of his great-great-grandfather Mortimer, who had spouts of accidental magic several times a day. He had been kept safe by the house elves.

She smiled prettily, and excused herself to refresh the drinks.

"Hermione!" A warm voice called out.

She grinned at the sight of her friend. "Hello Terence," she tapped her wand to an empty goblet, "Wine?"

He accepted the glass, and looked around. "He hasn't had much luck with the younger generation, has he?"

Hermione looked around. Aside from her and Terence, the only other "new" Death Eater was Silas Furge, and he was twice their age. "I would have expected Vincent and Greg to join by now," she said under her breath.

He snorted, "Don't be silly, they're both too soft for this line of work. They'd never make it past their first task, and their father's know it!" His hand drifted over to his left sleeve and scratched irritably.

"Hermione, dear!" A sudden hush fell over the room as the Dark Lord cried out her name. "Won't you join me? Let a house elf take over that!"

She smiled gratefully at him, and called for one of Mardie's kitchen elves.

"I think we'll have an elf play hostess from now on," he said as she took the vacated seat by his side. "I hate to see you toil."

It was hardly a 'toil', but she detested it anyway, and she hoped her smile relayed her gratitude. "I can't thank you enough, my lord."

"Nonsense, the woman who slayed Albus Dumbledore should serve no one," he said with a grin of his own. "I noticed your two nannies are out," she knew he meant Uncle Severus and Bellatrix, "and I wanted to take this opportunity to discuss your next assignment with you."

Finally! Something to distract her from her family. She sat a bit closer to him, "I'm ready, my Lord."

This earned her a laugh, and he patted her hand with his chilly fingers, "I'm sure you are. I recognize that eager spark in your eyes, I looked the same when I was your age."

She couldn't help but warm at the comparison. She had learned not to allow guilt to sink in during his presence. Instead, she allowed herself to be the Hermione Malfoy who was completely devoted to the cause and the Dark Lord. Sometimes she wondered if that was how Severus survived as well.

He continued, "You visited the Ministry Housing systems last summer, did you not?"

The shudder was barely repressed. "Yes, my lord. I did." She and Samar had visited the squalid buildings that housed the less fortunate families many times. And each time she wondered at how the Ministry had not reformed their systems before.

"We will be taking over the Ministry at the beginning of August," he said, his red eyes intent on hers. "Half the Auror department will be away at a conference, and once we are in control they will either fall in line or disappear." He smiled, revealing slightly greyed teeth. "When we invade the Ministry I want to have a strong force behind us. A secret army, if you will. One that they will not see coming."

She put the pieces together. "You want to convince the witches and wizards in Ministry Housing to join the cause."

"No, my dear, I want you to convince the witches and wizards in Ministry Housing to join the cause."

A mix of excitement and anxiety settled in her stomach, "But the muggleborns, my lord. Surely they won't want to join?"

His grin stretched, "Even the greatest Empire must have some riff raff," he sat back and gestured widely, "They will be forgiven for their unpleasing heritage, and will enter society on the same footing as any other witch or wizard of their status." his expression grew serious, "As long as they pledge their allegiance to me." His cold hands wrapped around hers, "Imagine the look on their faces when you crash down in the middle of their courtyards on Vercingetorix! The Dark Lord's right hand, come to offer sanctuary and progress."

She did shiver then, "We don't have much time," she pointed out. There was barely four weeks before the beginning of August.

He released her, "Then you had better start soon. Ah yes, Severus! What is it?"

She had not noticed her uncle come up beside them. He gave a short bow, "I wanted greet you, my lord, and ask if you'd permit me to examine Lucius?"

"Ah yes, see to Lucius, Severus. We don't want him to take too long in recovery, do we?" He looked at her, "I suppose you'd like to accompany him?"

"If you're agreeable, my lord?"

He nodded, "I am. Go to your father."

She stood up and followed Uncle Severus to her father's rooms.

"How is he?" Severus asked in low tones.

Hermione sighed, "The same. Mother says that he's physically healed, but he's still delirious."

The room was cooler than before, and the smell of menthol and rosemary filled the air. Her mother smiled a genuine smile when Severus walked in, and Hermione could not help but feel a little hurt by it. Hadn't she helped tend to him every day since she brought him back?

"Hello Narcissa, Lucius," Severus pulled his shrunken leather potion's kit from his pocket and enlarged it. "I want to run my own diagnostics, and then we'll proceed with the wit sharpening potion."

Hermione sank down on the edge of the bed and watched the healing blue light spout from Severus' wand and envelop her father. It pulsed around him like a cocoon for a moment, and then shot up and gave a great flash. When her eyes cleared, there was a slip of parchment hanging in the air over her father. Severus snatched it and looked over it critically.

"Hmm… Well, the infection is clear, which is what we wanted. He's still severely malnourished- Narcissa, I expect you're taking care of that?"

"I am," confirmed her mother.

He made a note with his quill, and looked over it again, "We need to strengthen his bones as well. It appears… but that's not something we can't fix. And a few good restorative potions for his organs. His heart has taken a beating too, from the stress. But I can owl the draught for that in the morning. I'll make a list of what he needs to take and when."

"Thank you," whispered her mother.

Hermione looked between them, "But what about the wit sharpening potion?" she asked. "Can he take that tonight?"

Her uncle thought it over, "I see no reason to delay it," he said. He rummaged through his bag and thrust a fiery red potion into her hands. "This is my own improvement on the Pepper Up potion, give that to him first."

She carefully moved to the head of the bed and tipped it down her father's throat.

"And this next," he gave her the silver wit sharpening potion, and she poured it down.

"It may take a few minutes."

No few minutes ever dragged on as long as those did. Her mother's hand came down upon her shoulder and squeezed, and she felt a moment of hope. They had not discussed Dumbledore yet, but perhaps her mother wouldn't hate her for what she did…

And then her thoughts vanished as her father coughed and stirred.

"Cissa?"

Her mother leaned over and reached for his face, "I'm here, darling."

"Cissa, it's not true. It can't be true!"

Her mother stroked his face, "What's not true, Lucius? What's troubling you?"

"Hermione. Where is Hermione?"

She inched closer, "I'm here, Papa."

In a violent jerk, he sat up and seized her left arm. Then let out a howl that raised every hair on the back of her neck and arms.

"Not my daughter! Not my daughter!"

"Lucius," her mother soothed, gently prying Hermione's arm from his grasp, "Calm down, you'll hurt yourself."

Severus walked closer and waved his wand. The sound of glass clinking together came, and a round bottle with blue contents shot into his hand. "Drink this, Lucius."

But her father was struggling to rise from the bed. "I have to fix this. Where's Dumbledore! We have to take her to Dumbledore! He can remove it!"

A new voice cut across the room. "Shut up you fool! Do you want your family to be crucioed into oblivion?" Bellatrix slammed the door behind her and stalked over to Hermione.

Hermione could not look away from the horrified snarl on her father's face as he watched Bellatrix wrap an arm around her.

"What are you- Get away from her, Black!"

"Technically it's still Lestrange," said Bellatrix coolly, "But I expect it will be Black again soon enough, so I forgive you."

Her mother was now crouched on the bed beside her father, her arms wrapped around his chest as she tried to pull him back down on the bed. "Bellatrix, you're not helping!"

Severus sighed, "Maybe we should clear the room. Narcissa, I'll need you, but-" a meaningful look passed between them.

Her father gave another jerk, "Hermione! Get away from her! We have to get her to Dumbledore! We have to-"

"Hermione!" Her mother looked pleadingly at her, "It would be best if you two left for a bit. Let us get him used to the idea after he's fully come to his senses."

"I am fully in my senses!" barked her father, "Where's my wand!?"

"Hermione! Please!"

In the end, Hermione was half carried out by Bellatrix, and the door slammed tight behind them.

"I can't believe he… he just…" Hermione was so angry that her throat felt heavy and swollen. Hot tears began to pour from her lids, and she swiped at them irritably.

"Don't say anything out here," thought Bellatrix to her, "It's too exposed. Let's go to your room."

Hermione led her down the corridor and stalked angrily to her room. Bellatrix murmured a locking and silencing charm to her door, and turned slowly to look at her.

"Oh, Dove."

"Don't," said Hermione angrily. "I don't want pity right now, Bella. I can't- not even from you."

Bellatrix sat beside her on the bed and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"She hates me," said Hermione in a heavy voice.

Bellatrix made a tsk-ing sound. "Your mother? Why would she hate you?"

The tears flowed faster. "Because I killed Dumbledore? Because I ran away and hid from her for a week, and only returned when I had Papa with me? Because Papa is devastated-"

"He knew it was coming," said Bellatrix soothingly. "He's only upset because he's out of his element. He knew the moment he took you to your first meeting that this was where it was going." She held open her arms and this time Hermione sank into them. "And your mother doesn't hate you. She could never hate you."

"She won't tell me the truth about Draco!" Came Hermione's slightly muffled voice.

Bellatrix hummed in amusement, "Don't you already know the truth about Draco? No- don't tell me. If our lord gets suspicious I want to tell him that you have no idea."

Hermione sighed, and snuggled closer to Bellatrix. The comforting smell of forest and spices enveloped her. "You smell like winter," she said.

Bellatrix let out a surprised laugh. "Well, I'm taking that as a compliment." She hugged her tighter for a moment, and then slid back. "Come now. We don't want him to get suspicious of our absence. Call your elf to clean you up, and meet me downstairs."

Hermione missed her as soon as she was out of the room. Obediently, she called for Winky and let the elf fix her makeup and mussed hair.

"Winky, when I go downstairs will you pop over to the lodge and ask Rab to prepare Vercingetorix's things?"

Winky nodded, "Should Winky bring over Mistress' pegasus?"

Hermione nodded. "I think it's time for him to come home. We've got some work to do."

"Of course, Mistress."

Hermione squared her shoulders and rose from the bed. She wasn't entirely sure how it was going to be accomplished, but she knew that she was going to win over the magical beings in the Ministry Housing program. If she couldn't make her parents proud, she would do everything in her power to make the Dark Lord proud.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you are having a marvelous day! Please let me know what you think!