Now- now. I had a difficult time writing this chapter, mainly because it explained the background of Lucius research too much. So I decided to pull out the whole thing in a bunch. Here's the subplot in all its beauty. It's a total Out of character thing for me to do! Just see Angelic Layer.

You people will never guess what I went through for you! My keyboards space button is broken. And Iam writing this to you all! By using the stupid autocorrector! It fixes most of the stuff, but it takes bloody hours!

I'll thank all of you later for your precious support. If you have questions and/or want answers, mail me!

My Dirty Little Secret.

Beauty lies within the eye. This was a maxim that had always made Lucius perplex. Because the 'lies' could be two things: lay or lie. Did beauty rest in your eye? Or did it deform your conception of things?

Until Hermione was brought to his life, Lucius understood the proverb in the way that beauty rested in your eye. Now, he understood it the other way: beauty deformed things. Hermione deformed them. Made him grotesque to himself, made things creepy and double. Lucius saw the things two times: through his eyes and those of Hermione. Or he tried to.

"- I know about Max, Hermione"

Lucius was sitting on the bed. One week had passed since she had fallen into the snow. She had been ill for almost the whole week, but now she was better, and if possible, more beautiful than before.

Hermione had just bathed. She smelled like grapefruit and knowledge. Strange combination, but a good one. Knowledge didn't smell of books, ink and dust. No, knowledge, true knowledge, the one that hurts, smelled of metal and cotton with the stagnant scent of rotting fruits. The smell that makes your nosehair shrivel in disgust, yet make your mind scream in delight.

Her skin was always glowing due to the fever and her eyes were shining too much; her body wasn't tense, but soft instead. Hermione had for the most slept during her sickness, which had left Lucius spare time to research about Max.

The details about the boy's murder were very thin. The only thing they knew was that he had been strangled in a park early in the morning. Nothing more. No suspects had been found; in other words, it had been a perfect crime.

Knowing Hermione's perfectionism, she was the only one that could have done it. No concrete evidence pointed out the crime towards Hermione, which made it clearer to Lucius that she had committed the crime. She had given him plenty of hints: his name and the circumstances she had said it. She had been dying herself and had muttered his name and survived.

And also something else assured Lucius that she had done it. It was a hazy instinct that told him she had done it.

Hermione stopped drying her hair. She watched Lucius through the mirror before shaking her head in mock innocence. Her eyes betrayed anger and surprise. Hermione knew what he was talking about but wanted to know exactly what he knew.

"- What are you talking about?"

"- Your muggle friend Max, the boy who died, remember?'

She turned away from the mirror and faced him, her hair towel dry, the towel itself on the floor. Hermione wasn't wearing anything since Lucius wanted her as vulnerable as possible for this confrontation. But obviously Hermione didn't need protection; she had her hair after all.

The thing that surprised Lucius was that she didn't fight against him; he was about to touch something very sore to her heart and she took it like a comment about the weather. What did she really confess? Maybe she was winning time. He hadn't told her his suspicions yet.

" - You killed him. I… could tell your parents. Or the Muggle authorities. Or the Order; they'll never take you back if they knew. No one likes murderers."

Hermione's reaction couldn't have been stronger. Her head snapped back and her eyes widened. She turned her body, lifting her own weight and spinning around. She sat down so she faced him as closely as she could and she placed her both hands between her legs so her arms covered her breasts.

Her eyes planted themselves into his and she talked slowly, articulating with her jaw tight.

"- It's odd how one second I'm Hermione and then suddenly, I am a murderer. Is it as if I lost a part of humanity. I'm a murderer, not Hermione. What gives you that right?"

Lucius couldn't help but to sweat slightly and he shivered as he saw her blink. She looked very strong and at that moment he knew what was going on: there was a real fight about to begin.

Now was the time for him to show her who ruled here; too long had she manipulated him. Lucius bent closer to her and pulled her hair with his left hand. The yank made her grimace in pain and her head fell on the side.

She brushed away a curl from her bare chest and Lucius seized the opportunity to take a grip on her. He flung her lightly on the bed, just as if she was a burning piece of toast. She fell softly on the bed, slightly bouncing. She looked surprised, but sat up as quickly she managed and took a pillow she covered her chest with.

"- You murdered him."

Her eyes seemed to burn now; she hadn't been this angry since she had been kidnapped. This made Lucius's blood boil and he moved closer to her, tempted to strip off the pillow from her. She finally presented him with a challenge.

Their eyes met again and they just knew anything could happen.

"- You will tell no one, because then, everyone will know I'll be here."

"- What makes you believe I want to keep you now?"

Hermione showed now open surprise: why wouldn't he want to keep her? If he didn't like her beauty anymore, he still could use her as a weapon against the Order. Why get rid of her? (Here of course, Hermione thought Lucius suggested to kill her. She couldn't imagine Lucius would just let her go, which he actually might have done, if stupid enough.)

She leaned closer to him, trying to get the upper hand in their staring contest. Lucius knew that if he lost this battle, Hermione would despise him. So he did what any other man would have done: used a diversion.

"- You …. Murderer"

That just did the trick: Hermione used all the power she had and pushed Lucius so hard off the bed that he fell off, hitting the floor ungently. A crack was heard and Lucius felt the same ache Hermione found so calming.

Her eyes were black again and burning, her head held up high in a superior demeanour. Her smile was a soft curve, forming a perfect Cupid's bow. Her arms were still outstretched, a pose parodying a Jesus icon.

Lucius felt the urge of laughing, how ridiculous they were: she, truly believing she could beat and control him with her lovely looks and angry face. He laughed a low rumbling sound, tossing his head back and watching Hermione on the bed, pulling up his robes in a childish perverse way.

She was so childish, it even affected him.

"- That's exactly what I am: a murderer. You have always called me that. Hermione was a beautiful murderer, just like me. It's not a coincidence my parents named me by this name. It defines me: Nomen est Omen."

Lucius sat up and opened his eyes. Really opened them this time. What he saw astounded him: Hermione was still sitting on the bed, but she seemed somehow… different.

Her hair was sloppy, half dry and bushy, hanging limply and sadly around her head. Her skin was too pale, a birthmark very apparent underneath her left breast and tiny moles spread all over her. Her breasts looked awkward, somehow clumsy on her otherwise slim and lanky chest, her legs thin like sticks, dangling on the floor. She was… ugly.

As soon as he was about to stand up and shoo her away, her eyes narrowed, her back straightened, her breasts moulded themselves to her chest. SHE CHANGED; she was beautiful again. Lucius realized suddenly why he was so attracted to her: she was like him. She lied to everyone, just like he had done so many years ago.

"- Why do you confess it to me? Why not keeping it a secret? Why not denying it like you did so many years ago? You're smart enough to cover it up."

"- You didn't guess the truth, you knew it. You felt the crime in me. There would have been no point in lying to you. You know it because you committed the same crime as well."

"- But why now? Why… me?"

It was strange how shocked he was. And how right she was. Even if she would have denied it, even if he would have convinced himself she wouldn't have done it, he still would have always felt it. But still, it was shocking to hear it said aloud.

She confessed without saying anything.

Hermione crawled out from the bed and let herself fall on Lucius. She landed softly but Lucius smacked his head on the wooden floor, grasping for air. She had knocked out the breath from his lungs.

"- I told you because you called out the murderer in me. You called it! You lured it out by mentioning Max. I could have denied all accusation if I had been with a human. But you're the only person who I see, and you too, are a murderer. You are even more stripped of humanity than me."

She bent down, letting her hair fall down like a curtain, assuring thus that Lucius would watch her, and her only. At that moment, he was hers and nothing could change it. He might have got rid of her before this and stay scarred. But not anymore. She had hit him deep down; they were in a symbiosis state now. But Lucius couldn't muster who was dependent on who.

He tried to keep some dignity and turned his head. He was confronted with her dark hair. It was hard to decided what her hair bought him: comfort or confrontation.

She had rubbed her hair in magnolia oil! The scent hit his nose much harder then he could have ever suspected.

Her face was now so close he tasted her breath and almost cried due to the strong and stubborn perfume that was around him.

"- You, Lucius, are worse than me. You killed with a wand; you never touched or loved your victims. I, on the other hand, killed him with myself."

"- But…. Why?"

Hermione didn't answer. She slowly lowered her head and touched his lips with hers. The caress was slow and surprising. Lucius saw how she bent her head slowly to the side and kissed him once more, sweeping his mouth gently, sending her monoxide carbon in him. Lucius suddenly wished time could stop and let her breath in him, poison him slowly with her breath.

"- Why not?"