Trusting You: Chapter Two

Summary/ See prev.

A/N: Firstly, I would like to thank those who reviewed, and offer apologies as to the lateness of this update.

Second, I would like to explain that this story is going to stay on the track I have set it, despite what has happened in the Harry Potter Books.

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Chapter two: History

The smirk faded from Lucius' mouth in an instant, his lips hanging slightly open. His eyes stared blankly at her; not angry, not shocked, just blank.

Hermione waited, not impatiently. She knew this would be a lot of any man to take it, especially since the act of this was committed eight years previously. But she was also conscious of the time she was wasting, she needed to find Sarah. The only thing that was keeping her from losing her head was the knowledge that if she did, she would never get her beautiful child back.

Finally, Lucius moved, his eyes gaining personality. Disbelief.

"Sorry, what?" he finally said, shaking his head as if clouded.

"You heard me, Lucius. Now, I want to know, do you know where she is?"

Lucius seemed to come back to himself. He spread his arms wide, turning his head to indicate the room around him. "Look where we are, Granger. Do you think I have endless communication out of here?"

Hermione sagged slightly, he was right. He was in Azkaban, and if Draco was angry at his father, he wasn't about to come inform him of the kidnap of his half-sister.

Lucius watched the most beautiful woman in the world crumble before him on the table, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. His heart skipped a beat.

It was near-on impossible to stand. If she cried, he would not be able to contain himself. But how could be containing himself now? He had a daughter… and Draco knew.

His mind whizzed, thinking, fearing, knowing. Draco would kill her, surely, he would. After the death of Narcissa five years passed, Draco was not the same person; it was as if he had lost everything. You could see it in his eyes.

And he hadn't Lucius for it. Hated him for the treatment of Narcissa, for the way his eyes did not reflect his son's sadness. And now he wanted revenge.

He couldn't let it happen. He didn't care so much about himself, but what Hermione. She didn't deserve this. Why should she be involved in the chaotic insanity of Malfoy ascendency?

'Because she had your daughter,' said a voice at the back of his mind. 'Yours. That little girl is a Malfoy now.'

This shocked him more now. He had tried hard to not let Hermione see his reaction before. His pleasure; and his pain. Or his desire.

His memories of that night were so vivid, the greatest night of his life. And to think of the result. He should have been more careful, look what he had dragged her into. Both of them, Hermione and his abandoned child.

Guilt riddled him. Filled every inch of him. How could have done? He did not think of the consequences. He just didn't think.

Hermione was staring at him now, her face distraught.

Unconsciously, his hand moved across the table to touch her. He wrenched it back, violently. He could not touch her; he could not do another thing to her. But he would help her.

He would find the child he helped create, and he would hide them, away from Draco forever, for as long as he could.

Hermione jumped slightly as Lucius' hand shot out towards her, then back again. She watched him suspiciously. He seemed to be battling inwardly, inside his mind. What could he be wondering? Would he do anything for her? Could be do anything, trapped her in this hellhole?

She didn't know, she didn't have a clue. Now, staring across the flimsy piece of wood that separated him from her, he waited again.

It wasn't a long wait, soon Lucius spoke.

"I have… ways," he said, his voice a tiny whisper.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. What did he mean? Her expression must have reflected this thought, because Lucius elaborated.

"Communication… People, outside. They may help. I could get some information. Anything I can."

Hermione saw it then, for an instant. His eyes conveyed his longing, desperation, despair, loneliness, and one thing she found it hard to place… Was it regret? Guilt…? Not for the first time in her life she wondered what he was feeling.

Hermione nodded, slowly, her mind still racing. "Please, anything. I just want her back."

Lucius hesitated a moment, then spoke once more.

"I'll…" He paused. "I'll need to know her name."

His voice was hesitant, and she saw it again, for a second. And then she knew how much this meant to him; to know.

"Sarah. Her name is Sarah… Granger."

Lucius' eyes pierced her, the hurt hidden, but the intensity all the same. She knew what was wrong. Her name, Sarah had her name.

It had cut deep. But what had he expected? How could Hermione have given her his name? Everyone would have known. Everyone. And Draco would have found them quicker.

But now he had it, the thing he needed. A small hope to keep the darkness and deterioration of Azkaban at bay.

Sarah… his light of hope.

He let him hand go this time, it leant across the table, flitting briefly on Hermione hand; the touch causing a spasm in his heart which he fought desperately to control.

"I will do what I can…"

"Promise?" Hermione asked, her voice laced delicately with pain.

Lucius nodded, "I promise."

Then she said it, her voice breath once more, the one thing that brought it all back.

"I'm trusting you."

Lucius stood formidably before a young girl, her tears staining her cheeks. She was only sixteen, but she was glorious.

But at this moment, the only way he saw her was broken. He could trace the way to her heart; he could see its cracks. And he knew, he had put them there. It was him.

Her scream filled the atmosphere, sucking the air from his lungs. Everything was heavy.

"How could you?" She screamed, her pain and anguish bullets to him. Then she breathed it, scaring him forever.

"I trusted you."

And Lucius saw this; he saw it all in the picture of the woman in front of him. No longer a girl, but a fully grown woman. More glorious than ever before. And broken, still just as broken as ever, perhaps more.

And this, his second beacon of light. A trust, a trust so deep he could destroy her with it.

He could say nothing to her, how could he reply to that? He couldn't even nod, acknowledge it at all. He captured her eyes with his own, and he saw it.

He saw the whole history played in her eyes, as she did in his. An endless play that would repeat over and over again.

Their history.

-Elle.