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Chapter 4: A Place to Remember

Lucius eyed her suspiciously, then said, "Don't say things you don't mean. If I take you to bed, I might not ever let you go."

Hermione swallowed hard and tried not to think about the fact that she was pressed up against his chiseled chest, her nipples tingling from a long forgotten want. She tried hard to forget that this man was once her enemy, or that she had once feared him. Most of all, she tried not to think about the fact that he was Draco's father, because so help her, she wanted him. Also, she tried to forget about the implications of his words: "I might not ever let you go."

His hand went to her face, down her neck, to her shoulder, and then to the outside of her blouse, round to her breast. His thumb went across the outline of her nipple, and even through her blouse and bra the action radiated pleasure and made her body sing with a satisfaction that she had long forgotten.

"Why – Why would you want me, Lucius?" she asked.

He looked up from his ministrations and smiled. "What an asinine question. Why wouldn't I want you, Hermione?"

She pushed at his hands, held them in hers, and said, "Because I've lost fifteen pounds. I know I don't look very good. I'm haggard and worn out. I'm a Mudblood and I was once engaged to your son."

"Ah, guilt. It rears its ugly head already and so now we must talk to death a subject that I have never felt a desire to speak of. All simply to allay your feelings of guilt." He moved his hands easily from hers and said, "Go on to bed, Hermione Granger. I'm not in the mood for you any longer." He started to walk toward the door.

"Well I'm sorry if I want to know the reason why!" she harped.

"NO!" he snapped back, once more in front of her. "I told you why! I want you! It's as simple as that, yet you still want to beat it to death! You still love my son, I understand, and if you can't give yourself to me because of that reason, I understand! Do you think I don't still love him? Do you think this doesn't cause me a certain degree of guilt? I know you still love him, Hermione!"

Lucius had taken her shoulders and had begun to shake her. When he was through yelling, he stopped. She pushed him away, as hard as she could, and pointed her finger at him and said, "Yes, I feel guilt, but that shows you how much you know, Malfoy! I don't feel guilt because I still love your son! I haven't loved you son for years! I didn't even still love him when I agreed to marry him! I stopped loving him long before that! That's my guilt!" She began to cry. She hit him hard on the chest, with first one fist and then the other. "That's my guilt! I loved him as a human being, as a friend, but not as a woman should love the man she was going to marry, and that's what I have to live with for the rest of my life! If only I had had the courage to tell him the wedding was off, maybe he wouldn't have been in that room, getting ready for the stupid farce, and maybe he wouldn't have been killed!

"That's my guilt! I will pay for it, for the rest of my life!" She ran down the hall, up the stairs, found the room he had made up for her, slammed the door, and went to bed.

He stayed behind and sighed. Now he felt guilty and he didn't know why.

Sleep continued to elude her, even as the sun began to streak in the windows. She turned over in the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She couldn't believe that she had admitted to Lucius that she had fallen out of love with Draco! How could she have told his father that? She hadn't admitted that to anyone. The only person who knew that was Draco, and he was dead. Lucius must hate her now. No doubt, he was planning on getting rid of her today. Where would she go? Who would want her now?

If only Lucius knew that Draco hadn't really wanted to marry her either. Draco had been such an unhappy, tortured soul for so long. That was the main reason she was at first attracted to him, because she felt that she could fix him. She thought he needed her, and she had always needed to be needed. That was part of his appeal in the beginning, but he was too broken, too hurt, too sad and depressed. They thought they loved each other, but really, besides deep affection, and a loving friendship, and a shared guilt at a shared, tortured childhood, they didn't have much else.

They didn't have much of a love life. They had sex very rarely in the years that they were together. Again, that was something she blamed herself for, even though it wasn't anyone's fault. When he offhandedly suggested one day that perhaps if they got married he would finally be happy, and he would be able to keep her safe, she agreed. She felt she 'owed' it to him. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to make him happy and keep him safe as well.

Really, Lucius must have known that Draco and Hermione had more of a friendship than a passionate love for each other. Surely Draco had told him. She knew he was close to his father, and she knew that Harry knew. She even felt that perhaps Draco wanted to marry her to protect her, because they had both begun to get threatening letters and disturbing packages from someone called, 'The Messenger'.

The Aurors couldn't tell who they were from, only that they seemed to be from either a Death Eater sympathizer or a fanatic of some type. The theory was that perhaps these posts were from someone who had an ax to grind with either Hermione or Draco or both.

Draco's letters always called him a coward and a traitor. They said that he didn't have the nerve to kill Dumbledore, that he was a stain to all purebloods because of his association with Hermione, and that he should have served a longer sentence in jail. The sentiments in the letters were full of irony. Some said he wasn't a good enough Death Eater, others said he was no good because he was once a Death Eater.

The warped beliefs in the letters to Hermione were much the same. Some said she was nothing but a Mudblood whore, who sullied all purebloods, and some criticized her for going against the light-side. The person was a sanctimonious sycophant, and downright schizophrenic. The letters both disturbed and overwhelmed Draco and he felt he was incompetent in his ability to protect Hermione. He was equally frustrated at the ineptitude on the part of the Aurors to protect either of them.

Hermione tried to ignore the threats for the most part. She even told Draco that if he wanted, they could stop seeing each other, and perhaps the letters would stop. She felt that was one of the reasons he wanted to KEEP seeing her…because of the letters. Draco Malfoy never liked someone to tell him what to do.

His father hired men to try to find out who was behind the letters, especially when the threats began to get ugly. Hermione and Draco would come home to their house destroyed, and with obscene messages written on the wall. They would find disturbing gifts, or things that were important to them damaged beyond repair. No mattered how many times they changed their wards, the person always managed to get past them and into their house.

Hermione's mother's cat was killed and a note was pinned to the collar saying it was a gift for Hermione from The Messenger.

One day Draco was late for work, (Hermione had already left) and when he went outside their house he saw what he assumed was a dead 'Hermione' hanging from a tree. It was merely an effigy, but the note on it said next time it would really be her, and it would be Draco's fault. Again, it was signed, The Messenger.

Hermione knew that Draco's solution to make it all stop was to marry her, and move her to the Manor. He said he had talked it over with his father. Hermione didn't agree, but Draco seemed so desperate. When she assured him that she would be alright by herself if he wanted to go back home, he said he couldn't stand the thought of her being alone. He said he would kill himself if something bad happened to her because of him.

He used to cry at night, from the guilt he felt from things that happened to all of them when they were young. Hermione knew his mental health was fragile. What might he really do if something should happen to her, and he perceived it to be his fault? So she agreed to his plan: she said she would marry him and move to the Manor. What else could she do?

He wanted to marry her to protect her. Little did he know that marrying her would be the death of him, and that now, it might also be the death of her?

Hermione continued to mull these things over in her mind that morning, until her thoughts became confused and muddled. She was tired, in many ways. She was angry. She had a rage, deep inside, and no way to express it. Plus, she had sincerely wanted Lucius earlier, but she had acted otherwise.

Nevermind. Everything would be okay.

It was something she used to tell herself over and over and over again when Draco was depressed, and when they were being threatened, and again when she was in prison. She often thought if she said it enough, it would come true. She repeated it to herself now.

"It will be okay, it will be okay."

She turned to her side. Her body thrummed with unwashed desire for Lucius. It was something she had felt long before Draco had died. In her mind, it was merely another reason for her to feel culpability.

He was still such an attractive man. He emitted power and sensuality. The thought of being here with him when Draco was still alive scared her a bit, though she knew Draco would have acted as a buffer. Now, the thought of being here with him scared her to death. The desire she felt for him both frightened and thrilled her. THAT was the reason she pushed him away earlier.

It wasn't so much because of guilt. It was because of fear; fear that if she gave in to her want, he would control her forever and she would be just as trapped by him as she had been trapped by Draco. He even said it himself. He said he might never let her go, and she would never be able to leave him, just as she could never have left Draco if he hadn't died.

Poor Draco. She started to cry. She didn't understand anything anymore.

She couldn't switch off her mind, and the morning continued to stretch out before her. She stayed in bed, though her muscles screamed at her to stretch them, her eyelids felt like they had sand behind them, and she ached with a desire that was never to be fully nourished.

Finally, she must have fallen asleep. When she woke it was dark outside, and there was a tray with food by her bed. She ate quickly and then went to draw a bath. There was a huge green marble tub in the middle of the bathroom, sunken into the floor. It looked unbelievably inviting. She brushed her teeth, used the toilet, lit every candle she could find in her suite, placed them all around the tub, and after the tub filled almost to the rim, she allowed herself to sink into the water.

Ah, bliss.

The only light in the room was from a few candles she left burning around the room. The light flickered and danced along the wall, and after she washed she spent many long moments fascinated by the dancing shadows. She had to warm the water twice, but she didn't want to get out of the tub, even though the candles had practically burned themselves out.

Her eyes ached. She willed herself not to cry again. She felt sleepy once more, although how she could sleep again was a surprise even to her. She didn't know what time it was. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and decided to rest them just until the last candle went out. When the last candle guttered, then would she get out of the water and dress herself.

That was how Lucius found her.

He knew she hadn't slept last night. He barely slept. He figured she finally went to sleep about noon. It was now after six-thirty in the evening. He was pleased that she had eaten the food on the tray. She was much too thin in his opinion.

Potter had arrived earlier. There was no news from anyone about anything. That was a blessing and a curse. He failed to tell Potter about what had occurred, (almost occurred?) last night. Harry had just left when Lucius let himself into her suite.

She looked so young and peaceful floating in the water. Her hair was wet and curled around her shoulders. Her breasts were full, and floated high on top of the water. He sat on the edge of the tub and felt the water. It was cold. He warmed it with his wand.

Then, he did something he shouldn't have, but frankly, he had never had the aspiration to do the things that he should. He placed his wand next to her forehead and said a silent spell. He needed to see into her thoughts. If she was awake, she would be too strong, and would repel him. Asleep, she was no match for him.

He saw all her worries. All her fears. Every worry and fear she had thought of over the last night and day. Poor thing. She was full of remorse, unnecessarily so. He placed his wand on the side of the tub and stroked her forehead, the wet hair clinging to her skin as he did.

Didn't she know that Draco was always an open book to him? He knew that his son was tortured, sad, depressed, and perhaps even mentally ill. He knew that Draco thought of Hermione more as an anchor, a lifeline, and a best friend, than a lover or a wife. He knew that Draco felt extreme remorse and responsibility for the pain he had put her through for most of her life. He had even taken it upon himself to shoulder the blame for things that had happened to her that were beyond Draco's control, such as the torture she endure by Bellatrix. Draco even felt responsible for the deprivations and trauma that had happened the year she had searched for Horcruxes with Potter and Weasley.

Didn't she know that Lucius knew that she too felt guilty, and sad, and that she stayed with Draco out of a sense of obligation, more than out of love? Didn't she know that it was time to put away those thoughts, those feelings, that guilt, and live her life for herself?

She was still young. She was beautiful. She was desirable, and Lucius wanted her very much, and had, for so very long. He wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt her. The bastard had already taken his son, but he would allow no one would take her, too.

Hermione opened her eyes. She felt him sitting next to her before she saw him. She looked up at him and tried to smile.

"I know," was all he said.

"What do you know?"

"I know you're in pain, and you feel guilty, but it's not necessary. Let it wash away." He moved his hand back and forth in the tub. Hermione knew she should feel some degree of embarrassment since she was naked, but instead, she felt anger. How dare he presume to know what she felt?

She sat upright and said, "You don't know what I feel!"

"Ah, there's where you're wrong, my love. I used Legilimency on you while you were sleeping, so I could see what you were thinking of during the night and most of the morning. Although really, it showed me nothing I didn't already know. My son and I were very close, Hermione. He told me everything, and what he didn't tell me, I found out the same way I just found out things from you. You have no reason to feel any responsibility for the pain Draco felt during life, or for his death. You know that, don't you?"

She wanted to say something like, 'How dare you?'

She should feel outraged and indignant, or at least highly annoyed. Instead, she felt relieved. Did he mean that he saw, 'everything?' Did he see how much she wanted him? She swallowed hard and said, "Did you see everything?"

"Well, everything that worried you last night and this morning," he replied. "Your worries, your fears, your wants, and yes, I saw your desire." He looked deeply into her eyes and his hand went from the water, found one bare breast, and he rubbed her nipple with his thumb, the water making it slick and smooth, and soon, erect.

"What about you, Lucius. What do you want? What are your desires?" Her head lolled back and forth against the side of the tub and she let out a moan as his hand continued to play idly with her nipple.

"Do you really seek to know my wants and desires? Why not live for yourself for a change, Hermione?" he asked. "However, if it's reassurance that you need, or a promise, I can do that. I can safely say that I'm going to keep you here with me, and you'll be safe, and no one will ever take you away from me."

He turned slightly on the side of the tub and his hands went to her waist. He pulled her out of the water. She trembled, and didn't understand what any of this meant, but she no longer cared to analyze it. She merely wanted to live, for herself. She was no longer afraid of living.

He picked up her nude body, carried her out of the tub, and stood over the bed, still holding her in his arms. "Nothing is going to stop us this time, Hermione Granger, do you understand. Nothing."

She understood completely.