Chapter 20: A Music Box

"I still don't understand." Hermione shook her head as she waited for Lucius to pull himself away from his hands. "Why am I the one in danger?"

Lucius straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He took a long breath in as his eyes made their way back to Hermione's. "The Death Eater outside your home tonight, was not there by coincidence. They were waiting for you."

Hermione's heart felt like it was swelling up and into her throat. She forced herself to swallow and suddenly felt the need to catch her breath, her mind feeling more muddy than before.

"Why are they waiting for me?" She blinked rapidly as her eyes darted across Lucius' solemn expression. But Lucius remained quiet. While his lips were pinched shut, his eyes confirmed her fears: the Death Eaters knew about them.

"How?" Her shoulders felt like they were carrying one hundred-pound weight on each side. The muscles in her back clenched as her skin dotted with goosebumps. Suddenly she felt freezing. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"I don't know." He stood up and began pacing between the couch and the golden coffee table, the same way he had paced a few nights ago once he learned about what transpired between her and Ron. He stroked his chin as he slowly came to a stop in front of his fireplace. He turned around and faced Hermione, his eyes suddenly brimming with distress. He pointed to Hermione's cloak. "Why were you outside tonight?"

"Last night while I was sitting in my bedroom window, I saw someone outside in the alleyways."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. That's why I was out there tonight. After hearing about Narcissa going to the Death Eaters, and then seeing one outside, I had a hard time believing it was a coincidence."

Lucius stepped closer to her. "How did you know about Narcissa going to the Death Eaters?"

As her lips began to part, Hermione stopped the words from overflowing. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to discuss Maggie's Tailoring customers in such detail. If she did, would anything happen to Maggie's business?

"I heard about it during a home delivery service." She finally said.

"To whom?"

It was no use. She felt like she had to trust Lucius., especially now that the Death Eaters knew where she worked and where she lived. "Her name is Mrs. Humphrey. She told Maggie and me about Narcissa coming to you for money, and about her eventually going to the Death Eaters for help."

Lucius tapped the tip of his chin, his lips pursed as he paused again in his pacing.

"But I don't think she has anything to do with how the Death Eaters know about…you know." Hermione continued. "Maggie says she's notorious for gossip spreading like wildfire."

"I'm sorry Hermione, but I can't trust anyone. Not even Maggie."

Hermione's head shot up. She couldn't believe what Lucius was insinuating. "Wait, Maggie? Do you think Maggie would do something like that?"

"Hermione—

"Lucius," she stood up from the couch and moved towards him. "I know Maggie would never do something like that. Now I need you to trust me. It wasn't Maggie." She stopped a few feet away from him. This was something she would never consider, not after everything Maggie had done for her since leaving Hogwarts.

'No,' she thought. 'I won't even entertain the idea.'

As his shoulders rose and fell, she couldn't help but long to be closer. Deciding to close the gap between them, she threw herself into his arms, unable to put it off any longer. She was with him again, something she'd thought about since leaving his home the night Ron gave her the truth-telling potion. Slowly, Lucius wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against hers. She tightened her grip and pressed herself harder against him, searching for the soft familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

She needed the quiet. The last few hours had felt loud and intrusive, invading her life like a rude uninvited guest. Now all she wanted was nothing, for nothing to be said, for her thoughts to slow down, for the world to dissolve the way it always did when she was in his arms. She wanted to memorize the feeling of his body against hers, to allow herself to be utterly consumed by his existence.

Lucius let out a long sigh, "I do trust you."

She lifted her head from his chest and gazed into his stone-colored eyes. "Thank you." She watched as his lips contoured into a smile. Finally, it felt like Lucius was happy to see her. The moment slowly became real—she was inside his home again, in front of his fireplace, but this time her body felt energized with only a subtle ache in her knees. The night had not been tainted with the effects of a truth-telling potion secretively administered by an angry Ron.

Lucius glanced around the room and pulled away from Hermione.

"What's wrong?" She watched as he traced the outline of the living room. He picked up a beautiful sea-green set of Russian nesting dolls. After setting the nesting dolls down on the small golden end table, he pulled out his wand and pointed the tip down.

"Portus!" He announced as the nesting dolls began to vibrate, illuminating the same moon-like sapphire blue as the clock on the wall back in Maggie's Tailoring. Its edges clanged against the glass tabletop, causing Hermione to clench her jaw as she waited for one of the fine pieces to shatter. Just as quickly as the spell started, the trembling nesting dolls slowly stilled, and once again the room was silent.

"There," Lucius said as he motioned to the nesting dolls. "When you're ready to return to Maggie's, all you have to do is touch the dolls."

She nodded, and suddenly realized she only had a few hours left until she would be expected back at the store. She rubbed the edges of her eyes and stifled a yawn.

"You should rest," Lucius said as he studied her movement while she glided across the floor back to the couch. She slumped down into the sponge-like cushions and felt she could pass out any minute. She tossed her head back and closed her eyes, soaking in the moment of being back in Lucius' house. She wanted to memorize this feeling, to have it imprinted into her mind any time she questioned his feelings. Tonight, Lucius had come to protect her. The thought caused a small smile to display across her lips.

She opened her eyes, able to feel Lucius standing above her.

"Would you like me to carry you up to your room?" His eyes held a magnetic charm and allure, and his lips displayed subtle signals of playfulness.

She lifted her head and said, "I can walk." But before she could stand on both of her feet, Lucius' arms wrapped around the bottom of her back and gripped the edges of her thighs as he cradled her body to his chest.

"I know you're capable," he said as she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But I owe you for hurting your knees back in the alleyway."

The way Lucius carried her with ease made Hermione feel smitten. She focused on the warm touch of his skin as he held the underside of her thighs, breathing his scent deep as she leaned closer to his chest. She trusted his arms to guide her and wished they would hold her even closer. As he propped her onto her feet in front of the guest bedroom door, the same room she'd stayed in just a few nights ago, he cupped her face and brought her forehead to his petal-soft lips.

"Thank you." She closed her eyes and whispered.

"Goodnight." As he turned down the rest of the hallway, she couldn't help but watch him. Her eyes were glued to the outline of his arms and shoulders, beautifully sculpted beneath his formal attire. Before he could turn and notice her stare, she clicked open the door and stepped into the bedroom. Her eyes darted from left to right, admiring the breathtaking features once again.

The bed was encapsulated within a sheer canopy that hung along the four golden posts at each corner of the bed. The see-through fabric seemed to sparkle in the dim lighting from the bedside lamps on the two nightstands. Across from the bed was a royal antique dresser with four drawers on each side. Its innate carvings across the front looked to be freshly polished as if Lucius knew she would somehow end up in this room again. Atop the dresser was something she hadn't seen before. It was a small wooden jewelry box, but something about it seemed out of place.

While the rest of the room was adorned with luxurious furnishings and decor, this small wooden box had scratches and a thin layer of dust across the top. Even though it was worn with age, the box was still pretty as she wiped her sleeve across the lid, creating a small cloud of dust and dirt to swirl around her. The clasp that kept it closed was a small rose, that when twisted, popped open the lid. She slowly lifted the lid to expose an empty jewelry box lined with a surprisingly clean red velvet. With the lid now fully extended, a hushed melody began to escape from within.

As she listened, she noticed the familiar notes matched the tune of Beethoven's Symphony No. 14. As the soft notes continued to play, she wondered if she should close the box. She was sure Lucius could not hear its song from his room, but she wasn't sure if she should be touching the box, let alone snooping inside. Perhaps someone close to him had left it there by mistake, or maybe it belonged to Lucius or his mother. Whoever it belonged to, she could feel that it was left behind on the dresser, in a room it was never meant to stay in.

As the slow melody looped over again, images of a hopeless Lucius slowly displayed like an old television screen in her mind. Visions of him sitting alone with the music box in his hands, listening to the song that escaped each time he opened the closed the lid, felt so real and plausible. He was a man of little words, and that was something she admired about him. His thoughts could be portrayed in the reflection of his eyes or the way he licked his lips, but he always appeared strong.

'What about his feelings of grief or sadness?' She wondered to herself. 'The events of losing his mother, discovering his wife's infidelity, did he ever talk about those things?'

At that moment, she realized Lucius had never discussed his feelings about those things with her. He had never shown her his sadness or spoke of his sorrow. Instead, he carried himself as if none of it affected him. She wondered if he would sit with this box in his lap, eyes closed as the song from the jewelry box played softly, pondering his choices in life and pondering other's choices in life.

She shut the box and placed it gently back onto the antique dresser. She sat on the side of the bed, her gaze on her knees as she silently fought with herself. Never had she asked how Lucius was feeling. At no point during any of their interactions was he open with her about Narcissa's affair, their divorce, or how all of it must have affected him. Every time they were together his focus was on her.

His selflessness protected her. It shielded her from possible darkness within him. The hours felt like pressure in her brain as she slid under the covers, still in the clothes she'd worn under her cloak. Her head felt sore and strained as she waited for the hours to pass. She begged for sleep to suffocate the endless loop of thoughts:

Is it possible that Lucius was concealing his sadness from her?

Other than Maggie, who would have known about her interactions with Lucius?

And what was she going to tell Maggie in the morning?