Chapter 23: Finally

She clasped her hand over her mouth as she froze. Her feet seemed to sink and dry like cement in that spot as she watched his long torso stretch as he reached for something above him, something she could not see from where she was standing. His long silver strands fell just above his butt but fell flat and darker than she was used to seeing. As her cheeks flushed with vivid crimson color, her eyes lowered from his sculpted arms down to the dip in his lower back.

Suddenly, he began to turn, and she couldn't stay there any longer. Before she could see more, she fled the master bedroom.

'I'm a "peeping tom" in a house I'm a guest in!' She thought to herself.

Feeling embarrassed and criminal, she wondered if she should run to the Russian nesting dolls and start the night over. She didn't want to admit what she saw or what she almost saw. She felt she had invaded his privacy but by accident. She strutted down the stairs, intending to keep her feet light as she walked to the living room and back to the lavender couch cushions.

She fiddled with the strap on her duffel bag while she waited for Lucius to find her there. With her other hand, she held her cheek in the palm of her hand, hoping the coolness from her sweat would cool down her bright red face. The image from a few minutes ago stained her mind like rich red wine on a beautiful white carpet, taking up any free space she had left in her brain. As she sat and panicked, she could hear the soft patting of footsteps above her. Her chest felt like it was about to burst as the creaking clamored even louder as the footsteps matched the pattern of the stairs.

Without delay, she stood up from the lavender couch before Lucius could turn the corner. "Hi." She smiled as Lucius came into view wearing black slacks and a grey-blue long-sleeved shirt that matched the cloudiness in his eyes. The fabric stuck to his still-damp skin like a leaf to a rained-on window, chiseling the outline of his arms and torso while the fabric clung even tighter to his abdomen. Before her eyes could travel further down, she tightened her shoulders and met Lucius in the middle.

Lucius' eyes widened in surprise. His lips parted as they met between the front entrance and the living room. His brows raised in astonishment as he reached for Hermione's hands. His gaze fell onto her grey hoodie and black leggings, and for a moment, he seemed almost breathless. "Hermione." He said. His voice sounded peaceful and seemed to wrap Hermione in a warm blanket.

Hermione giggled, pretended to curtsy, and bowed her head to try and hide her bright red complexion now that they were together again. The memories flooded back to the morning when she left without saying a word, to the night before when she found the mysterious wooden music box, to moments ago when she had accidentally intruded on Lucius' shower.

"Have you been here long?" He finally asked as they met each other gaze while the world around them began to melt into the background.

"I just got here," she told him as he squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry if I surprised you."

"It's a great surprise." His words felt like a sweet honeycomb. A small smile crept onto his lips, making her feel like she could crumble beneath him. "Let's sit."

She followed Lucius back to the lavender couch and sat beside him.

"I packed," she said as she motioned to the bag. "I know I came a little earlier than last night, but—

"Don't be ridiculous. You can come as early as you like." His tone was endearing and rich, its timbre a symphony of deep affection.

Hermione folded her hands in her lap and watched Lucius settle onto the couch. His long gorgeous strands were still wet at their tips as he turned to face her. The two of them sat in silence for a moment while Hermione gained the courage to speak up.

"I'm sorry I left this morning without saying goodbye."

Lucius' stone-colored eyes were fixed on hers, and their penetrating gaze sent lightning bolts through her veins as she tried collecting her thoughts for another sentence.

"Lately, everything has felt crazy and unpredictable. I think about how my life would have been if I had just boarded the train back home or if I had just stayed at Hogwarts."

"Hermione—

"Please, let me finish." Hermione stood up from the couch and walked towards the empty fireplace. She thought for a moment, careful about her next choice of words. "My life has never been this confusing before, and I'm not used to being this confused and scared." She turned to face Lucius, whose eyes were fixated on her as she moved. Suddenly, her chest felt cold while her face grew hotter. She twiddled with her thumbs and looked from one armchair to the other, trying to regain her focus on what she was trying to tell him.

She started again. "When I left this morning, I had barely gotten any sleep. Last night, in my room, I found a small wooden music box. It was beautiful and played the most beautiful music." She watched as Lucius' eyes contained a glint of subtle shock, and a tremble in his hands betrayed the calm facade he tried to maintain. "I didn't go looking for it, I swear." She assured him. "But as I sat there listening to it, I couldn't help but wonder why it was there. Then suddenly, I couldn't stop asking myself why you don't talk to me about you and Narcissa."

Something inside Lucius shifted uncomfortably—she could see it. It was faint, but she could feel a shift in his energy. She had nearly finished her thought when she decided to return to the couch next to Lucius. He watched her as she moved across the floor to him, his gaze never leaving hers. Something inside her finally felt comfortable, and she felt brave enough to finish her thought. "Lucius, you still haven't told me what's going on. You've kept me in the dark about everything. Please," she took hold of his hand. "I need you to tell me."

Surprisingly, Lucius never looked away from Hermione, even when she mentioned the distressing topic of him and Narcissa. She squeezed his hand and allowed the silence to fill the room until he was ready to say something. At this point, she didn't care what he had to say. She just needed him to say something.

Lucius squirmed in his spot on the couch, his eyes now resting on the black marble of the fireplace ahead of them. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded shaken like he was nervous to talk to her. "The only reason I've kept any of this from you was to protect you." His eyes moved back to hers, deep with sincerity. "But I understand now—you deserve to know the truth."

Her heart skipped a beat as Lucius turned toward her, inching closer to her until his hand could reach for the top of her thigh. As it rested warmly against her thigh, she closed her eyes and relished in the feeling.

"What is it you'd like to know first?"

Hermione was caught off guard by his question. Was he willing to be so open with her? She thought about it for a second and then decided. "Are you sad about what happened between you and Narcissa?"

Lucius' gaze fell back to the fireplace. "I was," he told her. "At first, I was devastated. I had known Narcissa and her family for over a decade. She was the first woman I had ever truly loved."

Something about his words stung like hot boiling water, but Hermione shook those scars off. She was the one who wanted to know, and she was determined to find out more about Lucius and to know him the way he knew her. "What about now?" She finally asked.

Lucius was quiet, and his silence was slowly killing her. Could he still be sad about the end of their relationship? Could she blame him if he was?

"Now, something completely different consumes my mind, and at a far more dangerous capacity. Like a fire engulfing a field of dried-out wheat."

She watched as he rested his hands in his lap while his eyes wandered off and around the room. His generous pause made her anxious, waiting for him to finish his thought. He still had not answered her question directly—a behavior so typical of Lucius that she started to wonder if he could even control it.

"To answer your question, no. I'm not sad about what transpired between Narcissa and me. These last few months, she has drifted further from my mind while something more fervent was taking her place." Lucius bore a smile, one that Hermione almost didn't recognize.

"And what's that?" She leaned closer to Lucius.

His eyes traced across the room until they eventually fell back on her. "Being a better person." He finally said, and Hermione's heart began to soar. The way a twinkle formed in the center of his eyes made her feel something other than mystery from Lucius.

"For so long, I searched for more power and more money. Narcissa always encouraged me to aim higher and hurt more people until nothing left stood in the way of my path of greed. It wasn't until she was gone that I remembered the boy I was while under my mother's care." His eyes were now aimed at the ceiling. "Believe it or not, I used to care about people, even strangers. My mother taught me about love and the beauty in the world. How to care for the people around me."

"She sounds like a wonderful lady. I wish I could have met her." She told him.

He reached for her hand again and met her gaze. "She would have loved you." Lucius suddenly faced her, turning his entire body toward her, causing their knees to touch. "What else would you like to know?"

Hermione's eyes fell to her hand in his, considering his question and how she should phrase this next piece. She searched her mind for the right words, the right inflections, worried she might in some way be asking for too much. She sucked in a long breath, held it for a moment, allowing it to fill her chest. She sighed and turned back to Lucius. "I need you to tell me everything you know about the Death Eaters. Why have I been seeing them outside of the shop at night?"

It was as if the entire room had become dark while the space around them was still lit. Lucius' brows furrowed as he searched Hermione's face for clarity.

"If I'm ever going to feel safe, I need to know what you know, Lucius." She said as she squeezed his hand.

"You're right." He told her, lifting a hundred-pound weight off of her shoulders. "They're looking for you." The twinkle in his eye was gone, and for a moment, Hermione wished they were still talking about Lucius' dead, sweet mother.

"Why?"

"Because they know about the two of us." His tone felt sinister, but his hand never let go of hers.

"What about you? Why aren't they coming after you?"

"It's complicated, Hermione," he said as he ran his fingers through the front of his hair down to the back of his head, pulling the now dry strands behind his shoulders. "They won't come after me, not after my years of devotion to the dark lord."

Hermione's skin danced with goosebumps at the mention of his title. "So, they're still loyal to you?"

"Not necessarily. To a degree, there is still loyalty, the same way I still share loyalty with a few of them. But they won't come after me because it's not my death or demise that they're after."

"So?" She shook her head, growing more frustrated with his indirectness. "What are they after exactly?"

Lucius' shoulders fell, and Hermione watched his eyes fall to their hands. Something was coming, something that made her stomach curdle like old milk.

"When the Death Eaters obtain a target, their first goal is not to kill them. Their main goal is to destroy everything they love. To torture and eventually destroy everything that ever mattered to them."

Hermione's heart raced as Lucius' words soaked deep into her soul, sending ripples of uncertainty and confusion into her heart. His words and their hidden meaning sent bolts of adrenaline through her veins, and the truth that was finally laid in front of her was both daunting and exhilarating. Suddenly, the only thing she could hear was her breathing and pounding heart.

Her throat felt dry as she finally muttered: "So, they're coming after me because—

"Yes, because I love you."