You are all going to get a surprise here! And not a too nice one either! I can already see from here the smoke of angry Hermione fans's flames. Heehehhe…
So many people reviewed! So many thanks to give out! I LOVE YOU ALL! Keep on the good work! I'm sorry I haven't updated. School's hectic and stuff. I'll try to update more tho. I'm sorry. So Sorry.
Seghen: Yes, she should indeed escape. I agree very deeply with you. Keep on tuned to read and see what happens.
Artemis: Ye Heavens all mighty! Even divinities read my story! I have to update!I might get cursed!
Ami Mizuno1: Oh, update! Finally!
Magical Flame: You love it? Thank you! That's so very nice!
Random Person: Ok, so are you one of the 'Kompassi' chicks? Or the cool Power punk Girl?
Learwynn: I … cannot… resist…. Your… hypntoical…. Orders…. Tooo… charismatic… font…
A Rater: We live in a sick world; kids have to get used to it.
Peachness: I know what you mean. Some things make you addicted to them; like litchis. Ugly looking fruits, taste like heaven. Come to think about it, they do look quite cute.
JerseySaint19: Yeah, Lucius and tampons don't really go together, huh?
Bianca: Thank you. Thank you so much. I dedicate this chapter for you. I feel that is only when people say their opinion about a chapter that I can be satisfied with it. Besides, double dedication, since you were the first reviewer.
Otherdruid's wifey: I thank thee. Your review really flattered me; it's very pleasant to see how people hold me in high-esteem.
Grey Mercury (Yes, teasing you): I love causerie! It's just so much fun to write a whole deal of poop. Thanks again for your work.
CareBearErin: Hum… Fear the worst… well… I don't know, but Hermione kinda went all in a psychosis. It'll make more sense
WhoGirl: Finally an update. So you think it's deeper now. That's flattering. Usually people tell me I'm deep as a puddle.
Victory 175: Oh, that's special, isn't it? You just so expect to hate something you're surprised it's good. Well thank you for all your compliments and I'm happy that you like my story. Or is at least obsessed with it.
Hotskittles: Hum… have you ever tried spitting on the end of the tampon before putting it in? Just shove it gently and don't put it straight in. (Gosh, what am I typing? Advice for tampons?). Thank you for your comment; It made me smile.
Enchantedlight: Update! Joy!
The Sexy Flower: What! You cannot sink into memories? It's like daydreaming, only stronger. I do it heaps. In maths. When not thinking about porn.
My Dirty Little Secret.
November was passed in an odd silence, where Hermione kept on zoning out, scaring Lucius. He tried to see what happened if he left her alone. As a test, he had taken her and placed her in the room they took dinner and hid himself from her and spied on Hermione.
She didn't do anything more than when he was there, just sitting and staring into nothing, smiling and sometimes humming. Lucius was truly scared that his Hermione was going crazy. After a while, he started to leave her alone in her room, going to the library and check big tomes over human psychology, trying to understand what was going on in her head.
Meanwhile, Hermione was victorious. Her plan had worked. He left her alone. Hermione had figured out that if she showed marks of some odd mental disease he would leave her alone. Maybe even let her go!
But for now, what she needed was to face and grasp the reality of the situation. Her legs were maimed, so she had to find a replacement for them. The best thing of course would be a wheelchair, but where to get one? (Lucius had forgotten the whole thing as he had seen Hermione's abysmal state of mind.)
She also needed a wand. There was the true problem: Lucius didn't carry one around him. She knew he hid at least one wand in his walking cane, but Hermione hadn't seen as much as a shadow of it. Therefore, she needed to move around the house.
There was another point: she needed in fact to move. She hated to be so dependent of Lucius.
But a new plan slowly formed in her head. She just hoped it wasn't an all too stupid one. She couldn't even think of the consequences if everything backfired. Hermione shook her head and took a lock between her hands, and for the first time in a very long time, six years, a bit less, she enjoyed her hair. They just might be her ticket to her liberty. She was going to become Hermione again.
But she didn't know what was going on in other parts of the Manor at the same time. Lucius had had the bad idea of checking Hermione's past. A thing he could have never thought the consequences of. There were just some things that had to be left unsaid. But Lucius didn't know any of this.
Both were way more similar than they could have ever thought. Dark secrets bind people. There was a thread, a rope that bound them together tightly. This element would assure them mutual understanding and would imprison Hermione more than ever. Because what she had done was so pure, so wild, so incredible that Lucius would never let her go again.
But Lucius didn't know exactly what she had done yet. But she had done something bad, that was for sure. She betrayed herself, or maybe she gave him a hint on purpose. She had given him a key to understand her past: All Saint's Day.
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" - Lucius, I'd love to go out today."
It was December now, and snow outside was falling in white waves. Lucius was surprised to hear her say something so concrete. She wanted something. It was something nice as well, nothing abnormal. Lucius himself wanted out from the Manor, feeling queasy in its walls. He was beginning to feel like a prisoner in his own house.
Lucius quickly nodded, and after she had finished her breakfast, Lucius carried her to her bedroom and started to take out warm clothes for her to wear. He prepared for her typical old fashioned wizarding childrens clothes, with knitted underwear and two layers of robes and woollen tights. He helped her to put them all on, securely attaching a pair of white boots to her feet. He passed a little white cap on her head as well and assured two times that she had gloves on.
Hermione felt like a doll, being dressed up so delicately. He talked to her about the wind and the grounds they were going to go on, and asked her where she wanted to go. She answered that she wanted to see something beautiful, that she wanted to see the sky and the snow and feel the wind bite into her cheeks until they would be red.
Lucius nodded, and after he prepared himself as well, he took Hermione carefully and deposited her on the wheelchair he had placed near the door, in the corridor that would bring them to the winter garden.
Hermione clapped her hands, excited. Maybe she didn't have to carry out with her plan after all. But then, she felt the uncomfortable scratching of the wool on her legs. It was too late now; she had to do what she had to do.
He pushed carefully the wheelchair, listening to Hermione's breathing and to the wind that blew outside. Arriving to the metal door, he blocked the wheelchair before walking to the door and opening it. It was made out of copper, and it had turned green with the time. The door was very cold and Lucius remembered the stupid dares he used to put on his school friends. He often tricked people into licking the door, thus freezing their tongues on the cool metal surface.
He opened the door carefully, but the wind was very strong and it swept open the heavy door, almost throwing Lucius against the wall with the driving force.
An icy wind swept through the corridor, making Hermione's eyes cry and lips tremble. Lucius took the handles of the chair and pushed it forwards to the wind. Hermione's hair curled around his leather covered hands and even flew into his sleeves, tickling his wrists. Pretty girl. The thought had a parrot's brassy voice in his head.
They were on an open veranda, bare trees rattling in the wind, snow whisking in waves on the stone floor. The garden was dead, yet still very particular because of its sculptures. Lucius pushed them through the veranda and on in the garden.
It was very big, and very white. It looked like someone had decided to make dunes out of sugar and it gleamed in the dull winter light. Hermione was reminded of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale 'The Ice Queen'. She might as well think of herself as a queen, being pushed around by a man who was all of her servant, dependant on her every wish and whim.
Lucius kept pushing her forwards and forwards, up and down the dunes he never recalled to have seen so white. Pushing Hermione was a tedious job, always worrying if she didn't get shaken too badly.
He finally managed to push her where he wanted her. They were just near the pond, where you could see the sky and the lake and the trees of the forest. It was usually a very peaceful place, but today it was very windy and calamitous. But Hermione smiled merrily, eyes shining and hands clapping like a little child's as she laughed.
"- It's beautiful here!"
There was a glass bench somewhere under the snow, and Lucius took away some of the snow before putting a warming cushion carefully on the bench before placing Hermione on it. She groaned happily and wiggled before resting her back against the back of the bench and sighed happily.
She missed the cold crisp air of nature. She hummed to herself an old German poem on an opera melody and she felt content and glad, completely sure about how to carry out her plan. She just needed Lucius to go away.
It seemed that some divinity had heard her pleas and sent an extra strong wind burst towards them. The wheelchair, which wasn't blocked, started to wheel away, going backwards in a very quick pace.
Lucius started running after it, and Hermione laughed then. She shook her head, and let the white cap fall from her head. She took off her cloak, and opened the first of her two robes. She opened her arms widely, and the wind took it from her. Finally, she took the rest of her gloves and tights off, leaving her in one robe only, feet bare and body shuddering from cold. As Lucius was far away and obviously completely immersed in his chase, Hermione slowly shifted away from the bench, and laid down as well as she could on the soft, cold, white ground.
She closed her eyes and whispered very, very silently to herself a name. She let the soft snowflakes brush her face. It reminded her of him again, of how he let his lips glide over her face, soft and discreet as a butterfly. Hermione saw the snow building a face around hers, she saw the hazy lines of eyebrows. She felt his nose poking hers, brushing it lightly. Nature was reconstructing his face on hers.
It was very cold, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from shaking. She looked like a dying fish or someone under electro-shocks, body racking from the cold. Her teeth clenched from the cold and she tried to force herself to hold still. But her body refused to cooperate with her mind.
Finally, Hermione shook briskly her head and closed her eyes. She tried to stop concentrating on things. She felt the snow again on her face, and suddenly she calmed down, letting her heart react on instinct.
She finally relaxed and the wind blew up her remaining robe, closing down snow and fabric on Hermione's face.
Lucius rushed back, after almost an hour of searching for the dreaded wheeled throne, dragging the annoying thing with one hand but stopped walking as he saw Hermione lying on the ground. He strolled towards her slowly, afraid, watching her hair around her head. It reminded him of the crown of blood that had appeared when he had pushed his mother down the stairs so many years ago. Hermione's hair was spluttered around her just like his mother's blood had been.
He didn't go and shake her up from the ground, but kicked away the fabric of the robe covering her face.
Her face was covered in cold snow, but he still saw her blink and her lips tremble. He saw her face turn pink, then red, then white. The snow made a veil for her and the iced earth around her was the wedding dress. She looked like a dead bride. Perhaps she really was dead…no, not her, not his beautiful, perfect Hermione. She couldn't be, she mustn't be!
Suddenly, Lucius was scared and he bent down, ripping her off from her snow world. She opened slowly her eyes and muttered again the name she had said before.
"-Max. Max. Max. Max. Max…. Max." The first repetitions were groans, a mantra of the holiest sort to save her from the cold. But the last…the last seemed like a prayer, a song…the cry of a lover's name.
Lucius's mind registered the name, but for now, he ran up to the dungeons with Hermione, shaking her once in a while to keep her from falling into the deepest, last sleep of her life. Her face was very white, a sure sign of hypothermia. How could he have left her alone?
Post Author's Note: I LOVE YOU ALL! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU! IM GOING TO THE PRODIGY GIG!