Those tender moments in front of that roaring fire in Lucius' office haunted Olivia every night thereafter. Her sleep was occupied with wild lovemaking on that bearskin rug. With images of a silver-haired god surrounding her with his warmth, love and strength.

Dream

She could feel the softness of the bear-skin rug beneath her, and felt the bronzed skin of her lover as he moved over her, his thickness filling her and driving her wild with need as she met his thrusts and laved his nipples until they pebbled enough for her to give them a nip, causing him to groan in delight. Then he rolled over taking her with him, holding firmly to her hips to stay connected. As she settled atop his firmness he sunk in to the hilt and she moaned in delight. She began to move, tentatively at first, then with more abandon as the truth dawned on her that he was letting her be in control. Wanting to stretch this time out, she rose until just the head of his sex was inside her sleek channel, then she lowered herself…slowly, taking only half of him in and whimpering as his shaft slid along her sensitive tissue. She continued sliding slowly up and down, slowing when she felt her orgasm looming, wanting to make this unfamiliar, yet glorious sensation last.

He was writhing beneath her, begging her "more…Oh gods above…please, take more of me..." and she smiled a siren's smile.

"The gods, or me?" she teased, before riding him until they both shattered, and she collapsed onto his muscular chest, surrounded by his loving arms, still intimately connected as they drifted off to sleep.

Lucius was sporting a very large headache. He'd been missing sleep on a regular basis since he'd met Ms. Woodhouse. His dreams lately were incredibly...graphic. His sheets had to be washed daily because of his sweaty thrashing as well as...other rather embarrassing reasons.

In addition to all of this, somehow a very dangerous vial filled with a dark tonic that would turn the unexpectant user into a ruthless flesh-eating shape-shifter, had gone missing. It was supposed to be among a shipment from Ireland, and he'd no idea where it could've gone between there and The Ministry of Magic. He expected a Howler from Minister Weasley any moment now, knowing she'd deliver in spades. Indeed, not a half hour later, there wasn't any pretense of a civilized conversation between Minister Weasley and the head of Dark Objects. Shouting erupted behind the door to Lucius' office that was loud enough to be heard word for word.

"I do care about what has happened, I have already begun an investigation! And I've informed you, as Minister. Do not tell me that I can't do my job, I am not fucking incompetent!" Lucius hissed, enraged to the point of wishing like shit he still had the freedom to use the Avada Kedavra curse.

The Minister gave back as good as she got. "Lucius Malfoy, there is one problem…this vial disappeared under your watch! Perhaps I do need to find a, how did you so charmingly put it, Nanny?

Lucius snarled, "I'm sure you would have already hired one by now if you thought I need a jailor."

Molly Weasley felt her temper rise, "How do you know I haven't? I've always thought Azkaban should have been where your family…" her voice trailed off as she saw his face visibly pale, and a flash of pain in his pale blue eyes before he artfully disguised it with a look of fury.

"So, your admitting to hiring a lackey. Who is it? The darling little red-haired wench of a secretary?" he snarled.

Suddenly, she knew that she just may have put that sweet girl's livelihood into jeopardy because of her temper. "Humph" she harrumphed to him, then got the strangest look on her face. "No, Lucius, I did not hire that sweet child." He narrowed his gaze. Her voice was low, and she wouldn't look him in the eye and that triggered his suspicion. Then her mood at once brightened and she said, "Well, must dash; lots to do today, lots to do." And she was gone

Faced once again with the possibility, make that probability, that a traitor was among his staff, and that the Minister had indeed played a part to sabotage his team, Lucius peeked out into Olivia's office with the intent of getting rid of the girl as soon as possible.

Making the request as charmingly as he possibly could with the doubts now racing through his mind, he asked, "Ms. Woodhouse, might I have the honor of taking you to dinner this evening?"

Olivia's heart stopped beating; she'd swear upon her life it had, for a few impossibly long seconds, before she could answer. "Why … why, yes. I mean, of course … that is…" 'For god's sake pull yourself together you idiot, before he changes his mind!' "I'd love it."

"How marvelous." He glanced at the clock with casual ease. "Why don't you leave a bit early so that you can put your face on, pretty yourself up … and all that rot. I shall call for you around, hmmm, say eight o'clock?"

Agreeing, she threw on her jacket and sauntered off happily. He's wonderful, and under that sarcastic, hard image, he was a closet romantic. This time things are finally turning out right, the erotic dreams may just be coming true. 'I…I think I'm falling in love with Lucius', she blushed at the thought of the kiss they'd shared in his office. If only she hadn't stopped him just then, would their passions have overflowed like in her dreams?

Lucius summoned his house-elf. "Polly, I would like you to get me the information you gathered on our dear Ms. Woodhouse. I fear the time has come for some extracurricular sleuthing on my part … Minister Weasley is up to something and I need to know how it pertains to me. Bring it here as quickly as possible." Seconds later the audible *pop* of the disapparating elf was heard.

At eight thirty, Lucius fire-called with his abject apologies and begged for a rain check on the dinner date, using a headache and work he'd brought home as his excuses, ahem, reasons for this inexcusable breach of the good manners that the Malfoy men were usually known for. With a carefully blank face, she smiled, assuring him that it was perfectly alright … that would be fine, and only when his handsome visage disappeared from her fireplace, did she allow herself to slump in her chair, disappointment flooding her entire being.

'Ah well, Livvie … I think it's better this way. He has made it clear I mean nothing to him romantically, I just don't fit in his world…it's all been your imagination.'

How embarrassed he'd feel if he knew what she was thinking about, dreaming about, since they'd first met.

Miserably, she used her wand to vanish the very expensive hair extensions that she had splurged on at the Magic Me Beautiful Salon and ran her hairbrush through her titan curls savagely. He hadn't even commented on her appearance at all. There was a sudden constriction in her throat that made it hard to swallow, and a quiet despair settled over her. She drew in a deep breath and straightened her back.

She could not … would not … cry over him.

Lucius dropped back into his leather chair, dazed. She was stunning. Since getting the job she had food to eat, and her once nearly emaciated form had filled out her figure to mouth-watering proportions. Beautiful, sexy … breathtaking … alluring … sensual. He had felt as though he'd been hit with some variety of Confundus spell. Her hair had been done up in a complicated braid at the back of her head with a cascade of red-gold curls tumbling over one shoulder. His hands clenched even now with the desire to run through them to see how soft they would be. She was wearing a lavender dress in a gauzy material that would've floated about her if they'd danced; it was crisscrossed over her generous bosom and caught up into Grecian style sleeves over her creamy shoulders. Nipped in at her narrow waist, it showed off her womanly curves to luscious perfection and his mouth watered at the memory.

The length of the skirt was ideal for showcasing her extraordinary legs … smooth and slim in their strappy heels. He could see them, wrapped around his waist as she surged upward to meet his strong thrusts, sensual cries echoing forth from her lush mouth as his silver-blonde hair mixed with her warm red curls, their hands seeking and finding each other's … fingers locking, as they both screamed their release.

'I want her...I need her to complete me, she is my soul mate.'

'No…NO! She's lied to me, she's spying on me…she and that busybody Minister Weasley.'

'Are you sure?'

Groaning aloud, he put his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and pinched. Suddenly, the headache he'd used as an excuse to blow her off became a frightening reality.

The rest of the evening was spent in his study perusing the information that was hastily gathered on one Ms. Olivia Woodhouse. The details of her life were sketchy, at best; and this, as Lucius knew from personal experience, was best for hiding facts that one wished to hide from others.

'The question is what or whom are you being so secretive, my sweet? My guess is that the Minister had this resume fixed for you, eh? Well, we shall see what she has to say when her little 'protégé' is revealed in public?'

He sat back and smirked, an altogether vile look on his face as he contemplated how he would take down his little 'virgin' secretary, all because she had the gall to make him fall half-way in love with her.

Olivia took a long hot bath to soak away the pain in her mind and soul. After casting a basic cleaning and drying spell on the tub, she wrapped up in a towel and traipsed into the bedroom to rummage for her favorite pj's. Climbing into bed, she snuggled down, and within moments, was drifting into sleep…and into the nightmare.

Nightmare

This time she knew it wouldn't be a welcome dream, Lucius would not be here … not here in this place of bare walls, urine soaked hallways, screaming voices, and pain … so much pain. She was back in that tiny, roach-infested apartment with her parents and baby sister on the outskirts of the worst part of Muggle London. It was an ordinary thing to step over bodies lying in the hallways, passed out in puddles of their own vomit, feces, or urine because they were either drunk, or drugged out of their minds. Occasionally, it was because they were dead, and they were easier to pick out due to the flashing lights of the police, the cacophony of the sirens from the ambulances, and the blood...(oh gods above, the blood) spattered on walls, floors, occasionally mixed with brain matter.

Blood spatter was something she was very familiar with; it was in her own home often. Her own father had a habit that her mother worked three jobs to support. His vice was coke, the expensive stuff, and if mama was too ill to go to work, he would beat her, viciously … brutally, and force her to go. Because of these beatings, she lost more than one infant while it was still in her belly … and she nearly lost Olivia's younger sister. Maria was born with Down's Syndrome and was blind as well, but she was a gentle and sweet child. When Mama was at her job, Olivia bore the brunt of Da's anger, and he was always angry. She had many injuries as a child, passed off as her inherent clumsiness, when it was so much more. Her father was filled with rage, from his head down to his smallest toe. It was a casual cruelty, if she walked to close to him as he watched the telly, she would often get grabbed and get a beating, if she didn't bring him a beer in time she'd get a beating, if she was caught hiding with her sister when his druggie friends wanted some sport, she'd get a beating. Her childhood was spent in emergency rooms getting bones reset.

When Olivia reached ten years old, she began to do…odd, unnatural things, like making pancake syrup suddenly appear at the table when her sister was asking for some. Her mama told her she was never, ever to reveal them to Da.

A year later, came the owl.

Had Liv only known then what would happen, had she but had a glimpse into the future … but no, she was a mere child of eleven, a virtual babe in the ways of the world. At dinner that night, it was for once a family affair, Olivia told her papa about the letter in an excited voice. 'Finally, something to make him proud of me.' To this day, she still could not expel the expression on his face from her thoughts … it would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

Mama had looked at her with horror, as he said, eyes glaring at her mama, "Was there something you shoulda told me Maggie?"

With terror filling her eyes, Liv's mama said "Olivia, go to your room." "But mama…" "GO!"

Hearing the fright in Mama's voice, she stood so abruptly that her chair fell with a clatter behind her and she didn't stop to pick it up; instead, she fled.

Curled as tightly as she could be into the corner of her closet, she strained to hear something … anything from the dining room. Nothing. She waited, and waited … and waited. A small cry, shut off quickly was the only sound...then his voice calling her name.

"Olivia, come 'ere darlin girl, I am sorry. Come 'ere girl, I want to talk about your schoolin' with ya." His voice was … strangely excited. She stood and walked a couple of steps before stopping, unease trickling through her. Predators will sometimes do that, pretend to be something else until their prey gets close enough … then, POW! The prey is a goner. He kept up the pretense for a few more moments before he lost it and went on a rampage through the apartment. It wasn't big, but it was an old one, with a floor-plan that flowed easily from room to room, so she was able to remain a hairs breath in front of him as she tried to reach the front door.

The door was nearly within reach when her gaze fell into the dining room and she froze … Mama and Maria sat at the table, their throats cut from ear to ear, where the blood still dripped, pooled and ran down walls, onto floors, into food…

Blood splatter … blood splat … blood spla… blood…

She screamed and he reached for her, caught her, turned her… "Your turn, witch…"

She woke, screaming, launching herself out of bed only to barely making it to the bathroom before the desperate retching began. It was hours before she calmed down and she knew that insomnia was in store for her once again. Why she had dreamt about that horrific night once again, she didn't know. Was it her subconscious way of telling herself that things could be worse? If so, it could've picked a less psychologically intrusive way to go about it.

The following day had her starting at every sound. The uneasiness … no, the terror of the night before refused to pass and she attempted, once again, to remind herself of the many walls she had built between herself and her past. It didn't help that there seemed to be a tension in the air. She noticed that Lucius would often look at her with a calculating expression. She couldn't seem to stop shaking, dropping things, looking at him and, in his mind, looking decidedly guilty about something.

Finally, Lucius couldn't take it anymore. She'd played him for a fool long enough. Sighing loudly, he stretched like a sleek panther and asked if she'd like to meet him at a popular jazz club (very cozy) in Muggle London, not far from the Leaky Cauldron. She gratefully agreed, believing that this was the distraction she needed. When she went home, she dressed in her favorite pair of jeans, an emerald shirt with a wide shallow neck lined with Swarovski Crystals that glittered in the ever-changing light, her boots were both sexy and practical, and were the most comfortable pair she had. He'd told her he would meet her around eight, just order whatever she wanted and mention his name, everything would be taken care of.

She was hanging around the bar, nursing a long island iced tea, when she saw Lucius come through the door. Standing up she waved to get his attention, with a smile that radiated with joy at the sight of him. Her smile faded when, giving her his nastiest smirk, he escorted a gorgeous blond-haired blue eyed model to another table, purposefully placing them within her sightline. She had no idea of what was going on. Did she hear him right, he made no mention of an extra person, did he? And his odd behavior…he never looked at her like that after she'd been hired. What had she done now to get a look like that? She went over everything the past few days and found nothing out of the ordinary, maybe…maybe the woman was a client, he was the Director of Dark Objects, but he also dabbled in antiquities on the side, and had an incredible eye for discovering a gem under layers of dirt, dust and paint. Yes, that must be it, she's just a client. Ordering drinks for the three of them, she made her way over to their table.

"Lucius, hello. I brought you drinks, I'm sorry miss, I didn't know what you'd like so I got you a Bees Knees." Her face was shining and innocent, smiling at Lucius as though everything was just fine. He abruptly stood and crowded her against the wall with his big frame, and bruising fingers kept her there. She stared in shock as his nose lifted into the air as though he smelled a foul odor. "Lucius?" her voice was small, and trembled slightly.

"Do not speak to me so informally, Miss Woodhouse. Did you and the Minister really think you could pull the wool over my eyes?" He was spitting the words and shaking her roughly, an unpleasant reminder of the former Death Eater to those who sat around them. "I know why she put you into my office, you can run back to her like a good gel and tell her I don't need a spying, lying, ugly little babysitter." He thrust her angrily away from him, as though exposure to her skin would render his own flesh diseased in some way. She fell over a chair, trying to get back to her feet, only to have him grab her arm and begin to drag her toward the door.

Horror filled her as his behavior dredged up memories of physical abuse she'd work so hard to forget.

"But, sir…I don't understand…what?" He moved suddenly and she flung her arm up as though to block a strike. He paused then…was he making a monumental mistake? No, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's are never wrong.

His sneer once again in its place, in his nastiest voice he loudly ordered, "You're fired, go and get your things, then get out of my sight."

She stumbled and fell to the floor in her haste to get away from him, falling again as she tried to find a solid handhold to help her get up. All around her were figures who were laughing, jeering and shoving her, and finding it all a great jest. There was another in the crowd whose crimson lips curled in venomous amusement. It was already going as planned. Just a few more…tweaks, and the stupid chit would pay for humiliating her in front of a Malfoy.