A/N: Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews!

I am so sorry that I fell off the earth. I had absolutely no motivation to write anything but I've been pulled back to this story now. On top of that, I have been preparing for the next school year and gathering all the curriculum I need.

Just a reminder that I keep update info in my profile and I update it frequently. In fact, I've been doing an almost daily Captain's log if you're interested.

So, technically, Vogon poetry is the third worst poetry in the universe. Only being thus ranked before Azgoths of Kria and Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex. I would like to think my poetry isn't at the bottom but close to it. More Vogon Poetry inside. You have been warned. The author will not be held responsible for spontaneous intestine eruption/ brain strangling because of said poetry.

14

Previously:

Draco smirked at the real Voldemort as McGonagall created a portkey behind him. The blue glow of the spell, illuminated Draco and the prisoners, allowing everyone to see that Draco also looked like Voldemort. The only difference between them was that Draco held the wand that each and every follower was intimately acquainted with, having been on the receiving end of its curses. Curses practiced and honed on his own followers. With a bright flash, the group was gone but this time, Voldemort screamed his rage and the Death Eaters looked at their Lord suspiciously, wondering if they were following the 'right' Dark Lord. Uninterested in the politics of Wizards, the Dementors disbursed back into the womb of their citadel to feed on the unfortunates that resided there.

**HGHG**

Hermione looked around the room in confusion. She had asked the elves to take her to Hogwarts, so why- why- was she standing in the center of her room at Malfoy Manor?

"I asked you to take me to Hogwarts." Hermione accused the elves. Sweet Emmy cringed away from the angry witch but Gilkey looked up at her defiantly.

"Did you? I is not knowing what Mistress means…" Gilkey said innocently as Hermione's jaw nearly hit the floor. The lights in the room flared as they came to life with a wave of Gilkey's hand. The small elf latched onto Emmy's hand and left, leaving Hermione in her room alone to seethe.

"What just happened?" Hermione muttered angrily to the door as she strode over to it, intending to rip it open and leave but the door was sealed. She turned her wand on it next, casting spell after spell as a sinking despair weighed in her stomach. Elf magic was not like her magic and the likelihood that she would be let through or even tear down those wards without Gilkey's consent was nil. It was two hours before she admitted defeat and sat on the floor in front of the door, staring vengeful holes through the wood.

Hermione sat, trying to summon up that power she felt swirling within her when Dolohov had held her captive. After a while a headache began to form behind her eyes and gave up, having not felt even a modicum of the power that had churned beneath her skin. She rolled her head and stretched her neck, trying to get some of the kinks out that had begun to form.

A soft knock filled the room and Hermione's lips flattened into a thin angry line.

"Well, come in if you can," She said grumpily.

Slowly the door opened and Sigurd poked his head inside.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked.

"The scary house elf. She reported to Abraxas the moment she left you I presume. I was still with him in Godric's Hallow after our prisoner escaped."

"Voldemort escaped? That slippery bastard." She muttered darkly, causing Sigurd's lips to turn up with amusement.

Hermione watched as the tall Viking walked further into her room. He was almost exactly how he looked in the memories. Powerfully muscular, long blond hair braided away from his face, a sword strapped to his back in between his shoulder blades, sharp piercing eyes- so expressive. The only difference was his clothing. No longer was he in the leather breeches and tunic but simple black robes that lay open over a white button up Oxford and black trousers.

Hermione drank him in, feeling that even though the modern clothes looked good on him, they detracted from the raw masculine power that he exuded. She couldn't help but think the new clothes were more like a prison than clothing to cover his body.

He was a good-looking man and by far the tallest Malfoy. Hermione only came up to his clavicle, him having over a foot on her. She had to crane her neck back to look at him, as he approached.

"Elskede," He whispered, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I have waited for this moment for as long as I can remember. I saw it- you and me together in this room- and I yearned to make it so." He lifted his hand and pushed a curl behind her ear.

"Sigurd, I think you are expecting something from me that I cannot give. I have committed myself to Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco. I would love to talk to you about your life though and learn what life was like for you a thousand years ago."

"I always knew that getting you for myself was impossible, but I had to try, no?"

"If you knew, why try so hard to get to this time?"

"Just because I don't get to have you all to myself, doesn't mean I didn't see being with you at all," He smirked, his silver eyes intense and full of hunger. He settled his hands on her hips and moved closer so that they were touching, nearly chest to chest. "You have committed yourself to them. Why can I not also be included? I promise that you will never find a man so devoted to you as I am. Have I not proved that I would reorder time for you? That I would defy the natural order of the world, just for the chance to feel you against me, just like this?"

Hermione's breath caught and she let it out slowly, her lips tingling with anticipation. If the look in his eyes were any indication of what he intended next, she wouldn't wait long. On an impulse, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, only tearing her eyes from his as her knuckles hit the hilt of his sword. She drew back, but he caught her arms with his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck again, this time holding them there so she couldn't escape. She wasn't trying that hard to get away if she was being honest.

A second passed as both stood frozen before he closed the gap. His lips were on hers- caressing and pliant, never taking more than she was willing to give. His tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth. She parted her lips, allowing him to invade but he didn't. His lips were on her jaw, her lips, her cheeks, her eye lids and his tongue tasted her skin in each place.

Hermione wrapped her hands in his long hair and dragged his mouth back to hers and taking control, she plunged her tongue into his mouth. He tasted divine, like mint and whiskey. His taste mixed with the smell of his skin, leather and man and power- if power even had a smell- was heady. His strong calloused hands ran up her arms, down her sides, and on her bum, pulling her into his body, on to her tiptoes, so that he fit snugly into the cradle of her thighs. She held onto him not only because she hungered for him and to be close to him like this but also because she needed to use his body as leverage so she wouldn't fall.

Still, she wasn't complaining. His tongue explored her mouth even as she caressed it with hers, moaning as he withdrew.

"Elskede, we need to slow down. As much as I want to carry you over to your bed and learn every inch of you, I want you to know me first. You are not just one of many for me. If I have any say, hopefully, the last one I know intimately. You must know I was married once and that it was not a love match but one of necessity. I needed an heir so that I had a safe place to keep my comatose body. It was the only way I could get to you. In the journal, I put a lot of my thoughts and feelings down so that we wouldn't meet as strangers but that is not all of me, and I want you to know me."

"There was no journal," Hermione said breathlessly, still reeling from his kiss and the heat burning in her body.

"I left it with the memories of how to wake me. They were on the table next to the chest holding precious gems."

"I don't know what happened to the journal but the memory to wake you was destroyed. The only one I saw was a message about a second memory in the memory room, which was destroyed not long after I resurrected the Malfoy's. Last I knew, the memories were still in the process of being replaced using the magic of the Manor."

"I guess we will have to start from the beginning. You scared me. When I woke and the first thing I saw was your bloody handprint and you weren't there. I woke alone, afraid that I couldn't protect you, that I was too late. I knew you were fighting in a war and I thought that it would be the cruelest joke of the universe to be awoken at your death."

"I'm fine. I didn't even know I was waking you up. I didn't know."

"Sometimes, fate just works in our favor."

"How did you find me in Godric's Hallow?"

"The same way you got there. I took the door."

"There is no way any building in Godric's Hallow is old enough that you have walked through the door before."

"Perceptive," He murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her back, pinning her body to his.

"How did you do it?" she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Hecate, the keeper of the room, requested something of me."

"What?"

"Not yet, Elskede. Not yet."

"Do you have a wand?"

"Yes, why?"

"Can I see it? Not very many wands from the eleventh century have been found." Excitement began showing through, the thought of learning about something that b\had been lost to wizarding kind was heady.

Sigurd pulled the long wand from a pocket of his robes and held it out to her, the buttery wood warm under his fingers.

"What kind of wood is this? And the core?"

"The door and this wand were created from the same walnut tree and was crafted by a master. The tree was ancient and dying because lightning kept striking it. It was hit over five thousand times from the time I owned the property to when it was cut down three years later. The Bowtruckles that guarded the tree were fierce and would only give up the wood if I agreed to plant a whole grove from the seeds. I planted them next to a stream where the unicorns liked to frolic and the Bowtruckles were appeased. The core was gifted from my mother. Five golden threads were interwoven and imbued with her power, a parting gift."

With a flick of her wrist, a shower of cherry blossoms rained from above. Hermione smiled and lifted her hand to catch the tiny pinkish white petals. Sigurd watched her, taking simple pleasure in her wonder.

"Thank you," She said as she handed it back. He pocketed it without taking his eyes off of her face. Her inquisitive nature called to him and when their eyes met, there was passion simmering just beneath the surface between them.

"I would be the happiest of men if you would grace me with some of your time tomorrow,"

"If my warden releases me from this imprisonment, I would be happy to."

He bowed, his hair falling forward over his shoulder. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. Hermione watched as he left her, turning around only when the door closed behind him and made her way out to the balcony, staring into the night.

**HGHG**

Abraxas's dragonhide boots rang on the stone in the silence of the torture chamber. It was impossibly dark except for stones that lit a path to Bellatrix Lestrange. The room had provided her with a small home- almost like a child's playhouse that had been decorated by Madame Puddifoot. Everything was an explosion of pink and lace, an overwhelmingly Victorian feel. Bellatrix sat in her small sitting room in a rocking chair, a tiny baby doll swaddled in her arms. She was murmuring to it, her eyes glassy as she stared into the fireplace. Abraxas shuddered from his place in the doorway. The torture room was truly terrifying and yet magnificent.

"Hello Bellatrix," He drawled in his deep timbre.

"Shhh! My darling Auriga is sleeping." Bellatrix smiled at the doll and caressed the tiny cheek lovingly with her finger. After a few minutes of silence, Bellatrix turned her deep brown eyes to his and asked, "Did you ever have a daughter?"

"No,"

"Pureblood families never want girls." She said turning back to her 'baby' as if she were just stating a fact that everyone already knew. "We are breeding stock; our only worth is allying with other powerful families. My father hated my mother for only giving him daughters. He beat her. Beat us. I won't let that happen to Auriga." Her eyes were fierce- a proper mama bear.

"Your father wasn't a good man."

"Is there such a thing as a good man? If there is, I don't know of one."

"I may not have experience as being the father of a daughter but I have a small amount of experience with Hermione when she was younger." He smiled tenderly and sat on the couch next to the rocking chair.

"Can I get you tea?" She asked pleasantly and the room provided, a tea service with hot steaming tea with two cups and a platter of scones appeared on the table between them. Oddly, he didn't want to be rude and accepted her offer with a nod and watched as she carried her 'baby' to the small cot next to the wall and lay it down tenderly.

Once she was again seated in the rocking chair and their tea cups were in hand, Bellatrix looked at Abraxas expectantly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Hermione always had a mind of her own. When she was really small, her parents had taken her to ballet classes. She was so keen on it, loved to go every week but she was terrible at it. After a full year of classes, it was obvious that she was unlikely to be a renowned dancer but she went back year after year. She took six years of ballet before giving up. I was almost certain that the only reason she loved ballet so much was because it eluded her. There was no amount of hard work that could give her the talent she needed.

Don't get me wrong, she tried really, really hard but sometimes wanting and trying are not enough, sometimes you need just a modicum of natural talent. I think she reasoned out that she just didn't have time for ballet after Hogwarts sent her an acceptance letter. Her parents and I, on the other hand, were immensely relieved. It's funny that Hermione doesn't remember me in her life since I was always there with her parents."

"What's ballet?"

"A formalized form of dance that originated in Muggle Italy. It's beautiful and unequaled if done well."

"Didn't her parents want her to do better?"

"We were raised that way. Everything we do, we have to be the best but her parents only wanted her to be happy."

Bellatrix smiled wistfully, staring off into space, probably dreaming of what her life would have been like had her parents only wanted her happiness.

"Once, about the time she was beginning to use spontaneous magic, she fell off the swings at the neighborhood park and broke her arm. Richard, her father, took her to the Muggle doctor where they put this ridiculous plaster on her arm. I remember stopping over, intending on healing her myself, but Richard had her wrapped in a blanket, snuggled on the couch under his arm as her mother, Eliza, was writing a message on it. I left them and snuck in later that night to heal her without anyone being the wiser.

She was tucked into bed, a bed filled with more stuffed animals than it could feasibly fit, and her broken arm was raised above her head. I ran a diagnostic but she had already been healed. I turned to leave but something caught my eye in the moonlight. It was a silver picture frame but what held my attention was the picture inside it. Richard and Eliza were standing in a garden with Hermione in between them. She was scowling but her parents were grinning at her. I have never seen anyone look at their child the way hers looked at her as if she were the single most important thing in their lives. Can you imagine how that shaped her? Hermione is fierce in defense of her loved ones. What would we have been if we had a love like that given to us as children?"

"I want that," Bellatrix whispered.

"We are damaged, Bellatrix. We couldn't ever give and receive the kind of love she grew up with but we can try. Is love something you need to learn? Is it something you need to have a natural talent for? These are things that I had asked myself over the course of my first natural life and only now, with Hermione in my life as my lover and hopefully, someday soon, my wife, do I understand what it is to be loved in such a way. It's incomparable, the way it makes you feel."

"Am I so damaged that I am undeserving of love?" She asked tears glittering on her eyelashes.

"Is anyone deserving of love? I think you must give it even with the fear of never getting loved in return. Loving someone is nonsensical but it does something for your soul, it gives you purpose and direction. Love is something of a gift for others and if and when it is finally directed at you, something not to be taken for granted. Especially for those of us who have never known how it feels to be the recipient of such a thing."

"There is no one left," Bellatrix began.

"Is there not? Narcissa still lives."

"She will never be able to forgive me for the things I have done."

Abraxas nodded. "Perhaps not, but like I said, it's not your job to love only to be loved in return."

"How could Hermione love Draco and Lucius after everything they did to her over the years?"

"She forgives the way only a person who knows unequivocally that she is cherished can forgive. Completely and without reserve."

"I tortured her once,"

"Yes, you did."

"She couldn't forgive that."

"Forgiving you would be madness, wouldn't it?" He said gently. "You are her tormentor, the devil in her dreams. You haunt her."

Bellatrix dropped her face into her hands and began weeping. Abraxas stood and slid his cup and saucer on the table between them and left her there crying without any comfort. There was nothing that he could say, that he could do that would comfort her. She was his prisoner and he had tortured her and broke her mind further than even Azkaban. Once he was outside the obsidian door, he leaned against it feeling sick.

He placed his hand on his chest and rubbed. Not that he would ever admit it, but that is the most he had ever opened up to a person about feelings. It was sick that out of everyone in the world, Bellatrix was the one who needed to hear it the most. Not because it would make her a better person but because it ensured that never again would Riddle be able to use her against Hermione and her safety mattered to him more than he could ever express.

**HGHG**

Harry apparated both of them out of the cave and landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld place when Narcissa went unconscious in his hands.

"Narcissa?" He said loudly. "Narcissa wake up!"

He wrapped his arms around her and struggled to get her inside. His wand was pinned to his side in his pocket and was unable to get to it, forcing him to try and carry Narcissa in without magic.

He looked up in panic when her weight was lifted out of his hands by a glaring Severus Snape. The man cradled her to his chest, staring resolutely at the door.

"Well Potter, are you going to let us in?" He drawled. Harry nodded and opened the door, letting Snape holding Narcissa take the lead. He strode through the halls and shouldered open the door to the sitting room where he laid Narcissa's unconscious form on the divan. "Why are we here?"

"I don't know why you are here or even how you found us." Harry snarked.

"I've been following you both since you left camp. You are terrible at hiding your magical signature. I suppose the entire world owes Miss Granger a debt of gratitude for keeping their savior alive for all these years." Snape sneered. Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn't untrue. "What is your purpose for coming here?" He repeated.

Harry handed Snape the paper they had found at the cave and walked back out into the hallway. He ran his hands lightly on the gilt frame of Mrs. Black, Sirius' mother. Behind the top left corner, he found another paper stuck to the back and gently pried it off.

Gringotts is weirdly on a different side,

Opening up vaults deep within to reside,

Winky leads the way refusing to be seen,

You can only find her in Aberdeen.

Harry felt Snape's looming presence behind his shoulder, clearly trying to read the clue. Harry frowned.

"This is hideous? Who wrote it?" Snape sneered.

"I'm not sure yet,"

"You don't know who is leaving these clues but you are following them anyway and dragging Narcissa with you? You are a complete and utter moron."

"We are searching for Teddy!" Harry said defensively.

"There is no way that boy is alive! I heard the accounts from the Death Eaters that were assigned to them. I know what happened. If that boy is alive, I would be shocked."

"We found his stuffy and he never leaves it and it wasn't there the last time."

"Did you ever consider that his murderer took it and is now using it to lure you into a trap?"

"No one knew about Snuffle's cave," Harry said stubbornly.

"The Dark Lord does. Or did you forget that I had to give him something seemingly of worth, while I was still his spy?"

"Do you really believe that Riddle is making up terrible poetry just to lure me into a trap?"

"He is capable of anything. You should never underestimate him the way he always did with you."

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, Teddy is alive and in hiding?"

"I think it is extremely unlikely."

"Regardless, once Narcissa wakes up, we are going to follow the clue."

"You think Winky is in Aberdeen?"

"Yes,"

"You truly are an idiot. She is a Hogwarts Elf and no matter that I am not at the school, I am still the headmaster."

Harry blinked. Of course. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Winky," Snape summoned.

Winky apparated in. Her ears were nearly to the ground as she bowed, her whole body trembling.

"This paper says that you lead people to Gringotts Vaults. Is this true?"

She nodded her head excitedly. "I was told to bring Harry Potter when he found the notes."

"By whom?"

"Winky cannot say,"

"I am your master, you will tell me."

"I can't," She squeaked and began looking for something to use in her punishment the same way Dobby did.

"Why not?" Harry asked kindly, preventing her from acting out her self-punishment.

"It's not safe, sir."

"But you will take me to them?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, Sir."

"Would you take all of us?" A weak and tired feminine voice asked from the doorway of the sitting room.

"Yes, Ms."

"Narcissa, why are you up? Go lay down before you fall down. Impossible woman!" Snape growled at her.

"No, Severus," She said, her voice gaining strength by degrees. "I need to find Teddy."

"He is dead, Narcissa."

"That is what you believe. I, on the other hand, believe he is alive."

Winky walked over to her and took her hand and reached her other out to the two wizards still standing motionless on the other side of the hall. Narcissa's eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint.

"I am going with or without you. Make your choice."

Harry's lips tilted up in the corners and he took Winky's out stretched hand. Narcissa rose both her eyebrows at Severus in question and he grumbled under his breath as he took Narcissa's other hand in his. There was no way in hell that he would ever take Potters hand. The moment they were all connected, Winky disapparated, pulling all of them into the uncomfortable tube that made your insides feel like they were being rearranged and squeezed uncomfortably.

It was dark where they landed but with a snap, the dark cavernous room was lit with thousands of soft floating lights.

"Oh God," Harry choked, shock freezing him in place, his eyes pinned on a man across the room.

"Hi Harry," Sirius Black said as he rose from the small bed on the stone floor. Mattresses lined the walls of the room filled with sleeping people, people who had been missing or assumed dead for months if not years. Teddy was curled- sleeping- blissfully unaware on the mattress pushed up next to Sirius'.

The two men walked towards each other, one unbelieving and the other overjoyed. Sirius grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tight hug.

"How?" Harry asked.

"The veil has a twin and I traveled between them. Because I was not dead when I went through it transported me here instead. When I got back to Hogwarts to tell Dumbledore, he insisted that I remain dead to everyone because he wanted me to slip into targeted homes and save the families, bringing them to safety. I was too late for Andromeda and Tonks but I got Teddy out. I thought Dumbledore would have told you." Sirius concluded with a frown.

"That old bastard knew exactly how to move and manipulate his soldiers. Never forget that." Snape drawled, smirking with satisfaction when Sirius stiffened. Their eyes locked with hostility.

"Hello, Snivellus." Sirius sneered. Snape's lip curled in response, baring his teeth at his arch nemesis.

**HGHG**

Draco woke on a small and uncomfortable camp bed, staring up at a canvas ceiling and groaned. His head throbbed. He lifted his hand to touch the injury but was stopped midway by the magical restraints attached to his wrists. Looking at them brought it all back, the entire reason he was here, trapped against his will.

Minerva had created a portkey and saved them all. He was surprised to feel her iron grip on the back of his robes when she pulled him back into whatever she had used as a portkey. Surprised but not unhappy. Once he saw Voldemort in front of him, surrounded by Death Eaters and Dementors, he thought for sure he was a dead man. Only fleeting and confused thoughts raced in his mind. The last he had seen of Voldemort, he had been in the very capable hands of Abraxas and Sigurd, not to mention Hermione. How was it that he escaped and followed Draco to Azkaban? He imagined the bastard drew from his mother's magic again and clenched his teeth in fury.

When they arrived at their destination which McGonagall set- a place he presumed was the camp de la résistance, Minerva had taken the wand he had given her and hit him upside the head with an unbelievable strength that knocked him out. Bloody Scottish women were terrifying.

To be fair, at the time, he had been polyjuiced as Voldemort but looking at his normal, healthy skin now, he knew the potion must have worn off. He stopped moving around and pulled against his restraints and laid back on the camp bed. He was startled moments later when a severe voice cut through the silence of the tent.

"Mister Malfoy, please explain to me how you are here, alive?" Minerva's lips were thin, thinner than he had ever seen them before.

"Hermione Granger brought Abraxas, Lucius, and I back from the dead using the Constituendum dynastia spell."

Her eyes narrowed. "And why would she do that?"

"From what I gathered she wasn't trying to bring us back but Potter and Weasley."

"Mr. Potter is not dead."

"I know. He came here with my mother and Snape. Bring him here, he will tell you."

"He is not here."

"Then where the hell is he?" Draco asked irritably. The one time he needed Potter to come through and he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Fucking figured.

Her eyes narrowed and he recognized the signs of impending trouble, having been on this side of his former professor, many times. He immediately stopped talking, wondering if she still held the horrible things he did against him. His heart sank in his stomach. It wasn't like he didn't deserve her anger. Before Hermione, he was a little bastard. Committing more than his fair share of heinous crimes- The Imperius, cursed objects, poison, prejudice, lying, bigotry, entitlement. Guilty of it all, he closed his eyes and waited for the guillotine to drop.

"Someone has spoken for you, claiming that you are not what you were in your boyhood. He claims that you are a changed man after you died and were brought back. That you love our Miss Granger."

"Who?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Why? Why would he vouch for me?"

"He has his reasons, I am sure." She looked away looking displeased as if someone vouching for him was the epitome of bad taste. He swallowed loudly, internally thanking the boy that he spent countless hours bullying over the course of their boyhoods.

"What do you want from me?" He asked softly. An apology now would only seem contrived and empty. She flicked her wand and the restraints disappeared. Draco rubbed the chafed skin absently.

"I need you to do something for me. I need to get this package to Hermione Granger. It is spelled so only she can open it. If you try, you will be infected with the same curse that blackened Headmaster Dumbledore's arm the year he died." She handed him a small package, no bigger than a ring box.

"What is in here?"

"She will recognize it when she sees it."

Draco nodded. Trust only went so far unless you have earned the kind of devotion that Potter continually inspired in the populace. He pocketed the small box and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He reached for his wand and cringed back, remembering the wand he was using was Voldemorts. He quickly grabbed it and shoved it into an inner pocket, drawing out his own from the depths of his robes.

"How did you get You-Know-Who's wand?" She asked curiously.

"For a minute, we had him and then he drew from a stolen well of power. It won't be long until we can make our move. Severus is making a potion to sever that unholy bond and once they are no longer tethered, we will truly have our chance to destroy him once and for all." Draco said emphatically, finally standing. With a nod, he strode from the tent and angry witch, nodding at Longbottom as he passed to enter into the darkened wood so that he could apparate home.

**HGHG**

Abraxas sat on the hill facing the unicorn glade in the moonlight, pulling out blades of grass one by one and ripping them to shreds. He was angry, upset, and hurt. Hermione didn't trust him and went half-cocked into a situation in which she could have been killed. To him, it was immaterial that he intended to block her every attempt at leaving to go to that meeting. He had good reason to prevent her. He knew she was strong and capable but he wanted to protect her. Not just because he would cease to live if she died but because he couldn't stand the thought of her death.

It bothered him that she felt she couldn't come to him but realized bitterly that she had good reason not to. She was determined to go and he was determined to stop her and that put them at odds. Never again, he swore to himself. He would make sure that next time she knew she could go to him and he vowed he would work harder to understand her need to act. Instead of trying to stop her, he would stand with her and meet whatever fate came their way. Having decided on this course, he still loitered on the lush hill. He needed to apologize and he had never been the best at it, his pride disallowing the practice even if he was in the wrong. But for her, he would. He just needed a few moments more.

Bellatrix and his visit with her had shaken him. Never had he intended to bare so much of himself to the broken witch. And broken she was. The woman had been abused, discounted, and manipulated her whole entire life. She was this way because the people in her life molded her into this pitiful creature who didn't even know what love was. How was he any different from her father and Riddle? She was completely at his mercy, completely broken and he kept her in the torture chamber anyway. If the room was providing her with a play house and a baby doll, it was only for nefarious purposes. The room was designed to utterly break a person- mind body and soul, not to be kind and give the occupants what they want.

Still, he couldn't release her. The fear that she might not actually be broken stayed his hand. He couldn't take the chance that Bellatrix wouldn't immediately target Hermione and as long as she was a threat, there she would stay in the chamber- playhouse, doll, and all.

He took a deep fortifying breath and stood, brushing the grass off of his robes and walked back to the Manor, feeling as though he was facing a firing squad. The walk up to Hermione's rooms didn't take very long and before he knew it, he was staring at her closed door. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to lift his hand and knock, fearing that she would refuse him in her anger. He could recognize that it would not be entirely unjustified.

He stubbornly held on to the fact that he wasn't the only one who should be apologizing. She had run from him, put herself in danger, and had he not followed her, she could have been captured again. This time, he wasn't sure he would have been able to save her from Riddle's plans if he had taken her away.

Finally, with rising fury and narrowed eyes, he rapped on the door. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to enter her room in temper to apologize but with all of the swirling and conflicting emotions, he wasn't in the proper state of mind. Fear and relief still in the forefront of his mind warred equally with his fury and penitent sentiments.

"Come in," Hermione's sour voice ordered.

Abraxas lost momentum for a moment, remembering belatedly that the elves had locked her in her room. Only a direct order from him would release her from her confinement and he grimaced. Rushing in angry was going to end in frustration for both of them. He tried to temper his furor and remembered that he was there to fix things, not make them worse. Abraxas pushed open the door, his emotions now firmly in check.

Hermione was sitting on the balcony alone, her knees drawn up to her chin and her back pressed against one of the glass doors. Staring out into the night, she refused to turn and look at whoever dared enter her domain. His lips twitched with amusement before he remembered that he was angry with her.

"Hermione,"

"You had them lock me in here!" she said through clenched teeth, still looking into the darkness straight ahead.

"Not exactly but Riddle was able to escape after you left and you wanted to go right to his base of operations. What would have happened to you? I don't know if we could have saved you a second time from there."

"I don't need to be saved!" She yelled.

"You are also only one person! You can't do everything by yourself. Why can't you let me help you?" He yelled back in frustration.

"You don't want to help me. You want to keep me here, safe, like a storybook damsel in distress! A porcelain doll!"

"I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to protect you." He murmured quietly. He walked to her and slid down the door next to her- sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"If you want us to work out, you are going to have to trust that I can take care of myself and though I appreciate that you want to protect me, you can't lock me away like Rapunzel."

"Like who?"

"Rapunzel. A stolen princess kept in a locked tower for her childhood and teenaged years. A Muggle fairy tale."

"I'm sorry for locking you in here. I can't promise that I won't keep trying to protect you but I will no longer prevent you from fighting. Please, trust me enough to come to me and let me help you. I would rather stand at your side than panic because you are walking into danger alone. The last thing we need is a division of allies because we refuse to work together. We have a common enemy."

"We do," she agreed. "You can't lock me in the Manor. I can't live like this."

"That it will never happen again."

"Okay," She said, taking a deep breath. "I forgive you but Brax, I'm serious, you can't ever lock me in here again."

Abraxas took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers and brought them up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip.

"I promise,"

"It's late,"

"Indeed," He stood up and pulled her after him and smirked as he literally swept her off of her feet. "I would be a complete boor if I didn't make sure you were sufficiently ready for bed, my dear."

Hermione snorted and said, "You just want to get me out of my knickers."

"Yes, well there is that," He smirked and tossed her onto the bed, and she landed in the center, blankets fluffing up next to her ears. She laughed as he leaped after her- sans shoes. He crawled over her and began pulling off her robes, piece by piece. His mouth on each inch of skin he uncovered. Her fingers flew to his buttons, pushing the starched material off of his broad shoulders.

They undressed each other in a frenzy, both impatient to feel skin against skin. Abraxas kissed his way down her torso, ignoring her breasts and hardened nipples for the moment. The stubble of his face felt rough against her tender skin of her belly and abdomen as he continued kissing down her body. He hitched one of her legs over his shoulder and settled himself between her spread thighs.

Hermione's core flooded with desire and she threw back her head against the pillows, writhing under Abraxas' gaze. Using his thumbs to spread her labia, he admired the shiny pink folds and Hermione started to squirm. He blew cold air on her clit, torturing her and testing her patience which was quickly abandoning her.

With a smile full of male satisfaction, he set to make her scream. His tongue swirled around her hardened nub, flicking fast and steady. Hermione was in nirvana, her body held in exquisite torment as the waves of her orgasm began to crest.

She groaned when his long fingers slid into her, massaging her inner walls, beckoning against the spongy area that sent lightning through her veins. She reached for him then, needing him inside her when she finally let go and shattered. Abraxas let himself be pulled away from her core and slid into her to the hilt. His hand caressing her neglected breast, lightly pinching her nipples. It was complete bliss, to be joined to him in such a fashion. He knew exactly what her body wanted, knew exactly how to move. She was gone, riding the waves of their desire.

Sweat dripped off of their bodies as he thrust into her. His lips were teasing- biting and sucking against the column of her throat. His tongue flicked against the sting of his attentions as he moved to nibble on her earlobe.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, hoarse with the power of his feelings.

That was all it took for Hermione to shatter. Her inner walls pulsed around his cock and her fingers gripped his firm arse, drawing him closer- further inside of her. She kissed his shoulder, over and over, a litany of his name on her lips as she climaxed. His thrusts grew erratic as he moved faster, pistoning in and out of her slick channel. Stiffening as his own orgasm washed over him, coating her cervix in his seed.

Resting his head on hers, he attempted to catch his breath, still holding his weight from crushing her.

"Is that true?"

"What?"

"That you love me,"

"I have loved you for so long, not always in this way, but I have always loved you. Even before I met you. I will never express my gratitude to the fates that be that I get to be with you like this. You in my arms, mine to protect and love and cherish. Thank you, Hermione, for bringing me back. You are everything I have ever wanted and more."

"Sometimes you frustrate me to no end, Abraxas Malfoy but I love you too."

**HGHG**

It was time. The end was so close he could taste it. Voldemort sat behind the Headmaster's desk and traced his bottom lip absently. He had come close to losing when Hermione's knights followed her to their meeting. Had he not been able to draw power from Narcissa, they would have. To make things worse, several of his prisoners had escaped and his servants in charge of their incarceration mutinied, turning their wands on him. They suffered greatly until their blood was thick upon the stone corridor of Azkaban. They realized their mistake quickly but paid the ultimate price for their disloyalty. He reveled in the violence and death that he left behind.

No longer could he afford to wait for Hermione to come to him. Recognizing that he was unable to afford any more losses because she and her Malfoy harem were obscenely competent and powerful, he decided he would have to do without her for now. The only option he had was to separate them and take them out one at a time.

Knowing that Lucius had left the country, he decided that he would start there. Lucius on his own, though formidable, could be taken out and he would have to do it personally. Voldemort stood a smirk twisted his lips cruelly.