Holiday weekend, so of course a DIY project! Unfortunately for you dear readers, by that I do not mean this lovely piece of fanfiction. However, here is the next chapter. I thank all for reading & enjoying, all new followers & Favorites! I am pleased to have so many of you along for the ride. This is quite eclipsing my previous efforts in terms of length, but I think after a few chapters more I will have a better sense of how many more chapters (don't worry, there will be many-but I need to get an idea in my own head!).

More ugliness approaches in further chapters. Just to let you know, the villains in this piece are giving me fits. They are hard to pin down, being so sly by nature, and I'm having trouble attributing which crimes to which individuals. A few accomplices remain in the shadows of my own mind, and that is stifling my attempts to continue a bit, but not to fear, I shall work through and I'm sure that each violent party will get his/her proper credit in due course as the nature of their crimes becomes more apparent. We shall begin to become more international from here on out, but rest assured that Hermione & Lucius shall remain at the center of all machinations.

As always, let me know what you think. And of course, I thank JKR for this marvelous universe in which my imagination romps-I own nothing except the plot and my own original characters. Thank you for your very kind and thoughtful reviews. I really appreciate them, and it encourages me greatly in my efforts. I do not want to disappoint you!


Lucius apparated just inside the foyer, careful to be silent. Twigs greeted him and took his robes, then waited patiently while Lucius divested himself of his outer coat as well.

"Not to be disturbed, Twigs," he reinforced, although the house elf wouldn't dream of disturbing him without permission or a requirement from Hermione. He made his way downstairs, not as deep as the dungeons but still a well-insulated and sturdy basement. It was practically required for a potions lab, as magical explosions were hard to contain by mere wards alone. Any wizard or witch who attempted brewing without a stone basement was akin to those Muggle fools who synthesized illicit drugs in their homes, in Lucius' opinion.

The lab was neat and orderly, as would only be expected of a Malfoy. Neatness bred clean brewing habits, as his father had said, and his grandfather before him. Lucius tied back his hair and began removing ingredients from the stockroom, checking their freshness carefully. Satisfied with each one, he returned to the bench and began dicing Jerusalem sunchokes, the smell pleasant. The gingerroot was definitely the main problem for his wife, but the gerslane had turned out to be more redolent in the 'remains', as it were, so that was out of the mix as well. Lucius had a different recipe in mind, one which was a proprietary blend that was quite secret, and rarely sold. They usually only sold this one to St. Mungo's in cases of severe nausea for pregnant witches, and thus it was custom brewed when it was required. Severus used to do it for them, but now it had fallen back to Lucius or Draco themselves. It suited both of them to do the occasional batch, and there was no better reason to exercise his potions proficiency than on behalf of his new wife.

As he worked, Lucius mused over what his co-workers had revealed this morning in the various meetings he had held. There was still a rat in his own department, of that he was quite sure. Brandefort was the unfortunate victim of that person, and it was possible the collusion spread beyond a corrupt Auror in the MLE. It seemed that Shacklebolt's caution on matters was prudent, not that he would do things differently himself. He sighed and grimaced as he realized that Potter would have to be told, at a minimum.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, taking out his vexation on the hapless sea urchin spines on the bench, mincing it finer than the recipe called for.

"Do you mind telling me what in the hell you are doing, brewing all those potions for me yourself?"

His hand slipped and he cut a slice from his finger, swearing. "Damn it, woman, have the decency to knock!"

It was swelling now, the blood loss slightly less annoying than the stinging from the mixture of the minced spines and diced axolotl. He withdrew his wand and cleaned the wound, then healed it before vanishing the mess. He would have to chop more, and time was short. "What do you want? And what are you doing out of bed?" he snarled. The last thing he needed was to explain himself to yet another being today, let alone his wife. Who Ought. To be. In. Bed!

The force with which he was rapidly chopping a fresh batch of sea urchin spines gave Hermione a bit of pause. Perhaps it was not a good idea to confront him like this…but no, she was not some timid creature, letting him handle everything!

"Let me do those," Hermione demanded, grabbing the jar of the axolotls in the viscous fluid and shaking four onto the bench after checking his recipe.

"Are you quite. Sure. you are capable of doing this?" Lucius snarled. "This potion takes six hours to set, and I hardly want to be up until midnight waiting for it."

"Well if I'm here, I must be feeling slightly better, mustn't I?" Hermione retorted, feeling her temper stir. "For the record, I've cast a small air purifying charm, so the smells won't bother me for a half hour at least. Where did you get this recipe anyway? I've never read an anti-nausea potion quite like this one."

Lucius tamped down his irritation at her innate curiosity as she perused the recipe. He flicked his hand and the pages flipped over. "Family fortune. Potions. Proprietary," he ground out. It was one thing to share it with Draco, his offspring; but Narcissa had never shown the slightest interest or beyond middling ability in the subject. He was testy, and it was not a good time to push him about it. He forcibly ignored the hurt expression on her face as she finished dicing the axolotl, capably enough, he noted. "That will be sufficient, thank you."

Hermione took the hint and put the knife down, sitting down on the stool he hardly ever used. "Why, Lucius?"

"Because it was necessary," he said with a note of finality, as if that were all that needed to be said on the subject.

"WHY was it 'necessary', Lucius?" Hermione asked, her temper clearly showing in her own tone of voice.

"Damn it, Hermione, let me finish this and then you may needle me. I do not need another sliced body part!" Lucius was pleased to note that that shut her up, and he finished mincing the spines again, then mixed them carefully with the axolotl before he added it to the cauldron, stirring precisely eight times counter-clockwise. Removing the silver stirring rod, he then turned to fully look at his wife.

Her cheeks had a hint of color, which was certainly an improvement over the past few weeks. "What have you had to eat today?" he grilled, prepared to insist she go have something immediately.

"I ate three digestive biscuits forty minutes ago, and three quarters of a cup of tea," she said proudly, and Lucius was surprised.

"Digestive biscuits?" he queried, his nostrils flaring when she informed him that it was a Muggle foodstuff.

"Don't you dare give me that look, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, when you've been forced to brew my own potions because somehow someone contaminated whatever one you bought for me, and you didn't want to WORRY ME with the pesky details of yet another attempt to injure me! And because you haven't said anything, I had the most AWFUL moment where I actually, I actually wondered briefly if you were poisoning me, because you. Wouldn't. Talk. To. Me." She had marched over and poked him in the chest with her finger, tears threatening. "And I felt horridly after that, I really did. Because after feeling so damn miserable for so long, I just…I couldn't stop thinking about how things happened, the first time…"

Lucius had been shocked into silence by her admission that she had suspected him, and it had stung, however bitterly he deserved such thoughts. He knew she was referring to the first war, when Lord Voldemort assassinated some with poisons that were subtle and slow.

"He did his own brewing back then," Lucius informed her, then turned back to check the potion because it was easier than hearing such cruelty fall from her lips. He refused to consider why her suspicion bothered him as much as it did.

"I know you better than that, Lucius. It was a moment of weakness, when my petty psyche was looking for some rational cause other than the normal course of events for most pregnancies. And I am so very, very sorry. I know you would never harm me."

Hermione had moved closer, gently touching, then clasping his upper arm. "Please, Lucius. I wanted you to know how damaging it is not to tell me what is happening. I really can't bear it. I have to know everything, or the missing pieces drive me mad."

Lucius turned around to look at her. She was sincere, he knew, but the problem was her persistent habit of thrusting herself in the middle of danger when she had a plan for defeating it. He decided the best approach was to tell her just that.

"Hermione, have you not noticed that you cannot stop at knowing? You always proceed to doing, witch, and now it is not just your own life that must be considered. I know this pregnancy is hardly welcome or enjoyable, but, and you'll pardon me for saying this, you are hardly over the moon at the prospect of a baby to cuddle and love. I wonder if it factors in your thought processes at all, as something you must protect."

Hermione flinched from his accurate assessment, and sat back down hard on the stool. Oh, it stung, and she couldn't hide it. "It's just…that it's so sudden." Her voice was quiet, and part of him rejoiced in the fact that it had hurt her, if only because it showed his petty side that she did care about him more than a little. "I never pictured becoming a mother this way, that's all. I know you will love the baby, adore it, as will I—but I always pictured…the missing piece."

Her eyes had drifted off at the last, and she didn't need to explain what she meant.

"Are you implying that I care less for you than you care for me?" Lucius could not help the stiff tone. Even the two decades he had on this witch did not immure him from the entanglements of the heart in all its twisted and tortured vagaries. He waved to the potions lab. "Exactly how else do you think I can show you? Besides, we have already discussed this. I wasn't aware that keeping you alive didn't count as 'trying'."

"But I didn't even know that you were doing that!" Hermione shouted, waving her arms around the lab in a wilder manner than he had done. "You let me think you were feeding me standard stock from an apothecary's shelves, not that you were down here making them all yourself, you even let Draco and Astoria think that! Nor have you denied my supposition that you did so because yet another attempt was made on my life! I am not a pet or child to be cosseted and protected, Lucius! I fought the bloody Dark Lord, destroyed his Horcruxes! Do you really think me incapable of wielding a wand or assisting in tracking down those responsible because I'm bloody pregnant?"

Lucius grasped her arms and shoved her back against the bench, stilling the impulse at the last second so she jolted against it instead of bumping forcefully. "Don't you dare put me on a fucking pedestal of nobility. You haven't the foggiest notion of what I've done, of what I had to do, whose arses I had to kiss and what deals I had to make to regain even a hint of my former status." His voice was lashing, his face more tightly controlled than she had seen in a long time from him. "You have no idea what masters I exchanged for the last one, Hermione. Don't you dare to inflict your expectations on me with everything else I'm juggling. I beg you."

Hermione knew the last was raw truth, if nothing else. She studied the depths of his swirling, stormy eyes for a second, then tilted her head to the side minutely. "What could they possibly hold over you, Lucius? Your every raw nerve was exposed, every dark dealing and worse supposed, imagined, and dissected. No one has power over you now, Lucius, except yourself."

The color from her temper was still flaring magnificently in her cheeks, and Lucius drank in the sight of his fiery wife. She was still pale, too wan, too depleted. But she was a glorious creature.

"Always straight to the heart and truth of a matter," Lucius said, then folded her into his arms. It was a warm feeling, holding her this way. He ignored the indurated and pragmatic side of his brain for a few minutes.

"Well? Are you going to tell me more of what's going on, or is this a secret plan to drive me insane, if the hormones don't do it for you first?"

Her attempt at humor fell flat, but Lucius wouldn't put it past her to badger Kingsley personally, and Harry as well. He could not afford for her to take a trip to the Ministry now. He drew back and met her gaze steadily. "Your office was booby trapped with a very nasty curse. I had to let the DMM handle it."

He knew that was sufficient to register the true level of danger for her. She knew enough of him to know that if he could deal with something himself, he would. He hated owing anyone anything. "The potions were a precaution. I have good reason to suspect everyone, Hermione, save Kingsley, Harry, and my family. In such times, it is best to err on the side of extreme caution."

"Why do you trust Harry?" The question spilled from her lips before she could stop it. "And Kingsley, for that matter."

"Please do not insult your own intelligence," Lucius sniffed, drawing back and letting her go. "I obviously cannot tell you the particulars."

"So Yaxley, Thicknesse, Underwood…is there anyone in our division that is not under suspicion?"

"Well I'd like to hope that Yasmin's drawling about her Pekingese is not some sort of code for nefarious activities," Lucius quipped, and Hermione chuckled.

"I suspect she is too old to retain any malicious tendencies. It's not as though she's carefully nurtured them the way your Aunt Thèrése has done."

"Tsk tsk, so uncharitable! All because of your muddy blood. Doubtless she would have found you highly amusing otherwise."

"I want to go back to work, Lucius. I can't work effectively from home." Hermione's statement was strong, but she rather ruined it moments later when her stomach made its presence loudly felt. Lucius dragged her out of the lab and conjured a bucket just in time. He watched her dispassionately as she lost the contents of her stomach again, although he did note that she did not have much in it. He made a mental note to have the elves fetch more of the Muggle foodstuffs—at least it had stayed down long enough to do some good.

"I will discuss it further with you when you are back in our bedroom," Lucius said, helping her up the stairs since she didn't prefer to use apparition. He left the bucket for a house elf to deal with. He helped her rinse her mouth in their bathroom and charmed her hair into a soft chignon at the nape of her neck, then watched her settle herself on the chaise by the fireplace instead of the bed. She indicated the chair opposite and he quirked an eyebrow in amusement, his silent reflection on her impudence in ordering him about. Nonetheless, he took the indicated chair and waited for her to begin again. He did not have to wait long.

"I need to deal with some of the inconsistencies in results that are cropping up, and I can't do that by owl post or Floo calls. Some of the team don't respond well to in absentia directions, as you are well aware." Hermione knew this was a difficult point to win, but she couldn't see how she could make any real progress on the project without being at the office, surrounded by all the data, all the tools. She knew Lucius knew it too, and that it was hurting her to not be contributing somehow.

"Hermione, please listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. If you go into the Ministry, someone will be successful with one of these curses. There are too many unknown persons involved. The fact that they had enough time to set a complex curse on your desk with teams of Aurors and Unspeakables running around does not speak well to the efficacy of those protective measures."

"So what you're saying is that you don't think I'm capable of defending myself." Hermione's eyes flashed, and Lucius' temper got the better of him as he slammed a hand down on the low table between them, causing the lacquer to crack.

"Damn it, that is NOT what I'm saying! Don't put words in my mouth!"

"So you want me to cower and hide? For how long, Lucius? For how long will I remain caged because of this? I won't have it, I won't live my life in fear!" Hermione's face was determined.

"But you'll LIVE, damn it!" Lucius roared. "I can't bear that again, Hermione. I WON'T bear it again."

Hermione's breath whooshed out, her eyes locked with her husband's. Her heart clenched and dropped at the flash of emotions on his face, and she couldn't look away. There was a scratching on the windowsill, and Lucius broke eye contact, his cool mask firmly back in place as he retrieved and read the communication from the owl.

"I have to go to my club. I will be home late. Do not wait up. I will bring the potion up when I get home—probably before midnight."

"Lucius—" Hermione's tone was inscrutable, but her outstretched hand was not. Lucius turned her hand over and pressed a small kiss to her palm, allowed her fingers to trace his mouth. He pulled back, assuming his hauteur like a cloak. Before he left, he gave her a last piece of advice.

"They are counting on you being a Gryffindor. Please, for once in your life, behave as a Slytherin."


"Calvin," Lucius remarked calmly as he slid into the dark corner booth at the club that was still favored by purebloods and wizarding traditionalists. While never an official destination for Death Eaters, the club remained a haven of pureblood gossip, the sorts of things that would never be remarked on in public or at the Ministry. Those who were very discreet would not even discuss such things at a dinner party, preferring to keep the social, social. Naturally, Lucius was firmly among that number, a tradition that he had curved a time or two but which had served to keep him out of some nasty inter-family vendettas over the years.

"Friend." Calvin was already glamoured, and Lucius' own glamour was firmly in place. It would not do to be recognized this eve.

"What shall we eat?" Yaxley was nothing if not predictable, and a meal would serve as sufficient cover.

Lucius summoned a waiter, ordering a rather bland meal with some inoffensive but uninspired wine pairings. It was certainly not his style, but that was rather the point. He snapped the menu closed and Yaxley dismissed it for him with his wand. Lucius subtly cast Muffliato and the same Confundus variation that Hermione had used in the Ministry café. Severus had been a very useful friend. Lucius sighed mentally. Now was not the time to be maudlin.

"Where are they?" Lucius asked calmly, and Yaxley nodded his head imperceptibly toward the opposite corner. Lucius removed his cloak—a cheaper fabric from Malkin's robe shop, but all to the better. If there was anything less likely than Lucius Malfoy wearing a readymade robe, it was probably that anyone here would suspect him of caring for his new wife. He stood to fold the robe and handed it to the cloakroom attendant, who wordlessly glided over to receive it. His head turned just to get a glimpse of their quarry. Oh yes. He would recognize that dark hair anywhere. His cousin was dining with an inoffensive little man. He fixed the face in his brain, unable to look at them for longer, and started thinking as he sat back down, unobserved by the objects of his perusal. They were overly reliant on their notice-me-not spell, it appeared. It merely meant that someone could not watch them intently, not that glances could not be stolen. It was impossible to eavesdrop here, under normal circumstances…

"Well?" Calvin was grumpy, doubtless after speaking to Alan Parkinson.

Lucius pondered the face, flipping through his mental roster of Ministry employees. "Department of Magical Transportation. An inconsequential family. Reports to Cornelia Dextrose."

"Apparently she's more than a meddlesome bitch, eh?" Yaxley's voice was bitter, and Lucius wondered exactly what the history was between the two of them.

"Anything you'd care to tell me?" he asked pointedly, and Calvin shook his head wordlessly. Hmmm.

"How long has he been in the country?"

"Arrived this morning, according to my Aurors. I couldn't keep him under continual surveillance without Underwood being involved, but thus far he has been moving around Knockturn Alley and nowhere else."

"That's hardly unusual for him," Lucius observed, then tucked into the cream soup. "Delicious."

"Mmm."

Neither said anything as they finished the starter, each lost in thought.

"Calvin?" Lucius asked, an idea turned over in his mind. "I don't suppose you would be interested in reviving a little party trick?"

Yaxley was many things, but slow was not one of them. "What did you have in mind?"

Lucius held out two brightly colored pastilles. "Recognize these?"

"I believe I need to visit the loo," Calvin said, pocketing the sweets as he left the table. Satisfied, Lucius sat back and waited for his dinner companion.

"Sorted."

"Very good. Now, what did Alan have to say about your suggestion regarding their marriage records?" Lucius asked, more pleased with the fish course than he had been with the soup.

"He told me to fuck off, of course. However, his blathering revealed exactly where he keeps them."

"Naturally. And I trust you relieved him of them in short order?"

"Copied them. He'll never realize they are gone."

"Excellent."

Lucius sat back to wait for their main course, and for the desserts that had just arrived at his cousin's table. "Ah, right on time."

Both men pulled papers from their pockets and exchanged them wordlessly. "They've both taken a bite."

"Ah, petit fours. So predictable, Bertrand," Lucius murmured, and both started reading as every word each man was saying began to scroll forth on the papers in front of them.

There is not much more I can offer you. It's not as if I have any sway.

Nonsense. I am sure that a man as keenly placed as yourself must hear certain things during the normal course of your day. All I am asking for is that you keep an ear to the ground, as they say.

I doubt that Dextrose would be pleased to know you are talking to me at all.

What she does not know cannot hurt her, hmm? Come now, we both know that my cousin's new wife is hardly appropriate for our class. I am merely…making the appropriate enquiries, as any concerned family member would do.

Are you sure you haven't had anything to do with that business in the DMR? Because I can tell you right now that I want nothing to do with any of that. I hear rumors, of course, but I'm not getting myself involved in anything like that. No promotion is worth that sort of risk.

My dear man, if you thought I had anything to do with that, would I be dealing with—and I assure you I mean no offense—a lowly clerk such as yourself?

And all you want is for me to tell you if anyone from Magical Research comes sniffing around?

Exactly, my good man. I just need the name, that is all.

And nothing will happen to them?

I don't think you need concern your conscience at all, Ambrose.

The scrolling stopped, and Calvin confirmed with a nod toward his main course that the two were departing.

Lucius took one bite of the perfectly cooked venison and declared himself done. He had too much on his mind to think of food. "Well. I believe someone is going to have to pay another visit to France."

"And it won't be you," Calvin said flatly. "I believe it is time to use your favorite Auror, Lucius."

"In-deed," Lucius said, annoyed by the petty delight Calvin took in his predicament. "I won't forget this, Calvin."

"Lucius, a man has to find his enjoyment where he can. Not all of us have been given pretty wives."