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Hungry Thirsty Crazy	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 47434 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 32
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            It
was strange resubmitting the request.
As he copied it, choosing to preserve his father�s wording rather than
add his own, Lucius didn�t feel that he wanted
to do it. He felt that he needed
to. Something was pushing him
inexorably toward this.

            Fate? No, he wouldn�t think about that. It would only give him a migraine.

            They
would never approve the request, anyhow.
It was a miracle they had approved it the first time around. Though, for all he knew, they had
simply waited for Abraxas to die and then made a
decision in the hopes that they would not look like heartless bastards for
denying a father the chance to save his son. It would be Dragon Pox that denied him, not the Ministry.

            But
there were so many variables in that equation. He wondered whether or not they calculated the designee into
it. How did they reconcile a
request if two different people were eligible to carry it out?

            He
put the quill down for a moment.
What if that percentile...what if it had not been for his father? What if the equations knew he would
die, and the 91% was for Lucius carrying out the time
travel? How in the hell did they
differentiate?

            He
was already giving himself a migraine.
Lucius picked up the sheet of parchment and
stared at it. There was no
designee on this version, and this time it was his signature at the
bottom. His handwriting could not
have been more different than his father�s.

            His
hands were shaking. Was it worth
it? Was this really what he wanted
to do? Was there truly a point in
dredging up the past, in feeding the spark of some
hope that was, in reality, a hope for the unknown?

            He
wondered how many men and women had used time travel for things like this. More than that, he wondered if they
were happy afterwards. Did a
person who completed a mission with a Time Turner ever really forget, even
though they altered the past? The
thought of erasing his life from age nine only to fill it with a new one of an
unspecified nature seemed incredibly overwhelming - especially after the recent
trauma of Pound�s memory charm.

            Time
travel was so confusing, even for a man as smart as he. The nuances...life was not so linear,
and altering something from long ago wasn�t like changing one pair of gloves
for another. All the same...it was
so tempting. What person had never
fantasized about having the ability to go back and change something? When it was a real possibility, who could say no?

            A
headache was building full-force behind his eyes. That was what happened to him when he didn�t know what to
do. It was a rare occurrence these
days, but when it came on...Merlin.
He remembered the last dark year of the war, when he had spent days in
his bed, trying to drown out all light, sound, and feeling to calm the awful
pain in his head. Even the sound
of his own breathing was like a dozen trephines in his skull.

            Maybe
it was a sign. Perhaps he
shouldn�t make a decision like this so quickly. He had to think about it and all its permutations. It wasn�t like he couldn�t come back;
he didn�t have to decide now.

            With
a shaky breath, Lucius turned the paper
sideways. He was just about to rip
it in half when the Unspeakable appeared again. Lucius cursed the other wizard�s
excellent customer service skills as he plucked the parchment from his hands.

            �All
finished, Mr. Malfoy? I�ll take that for you. Resubmissions usually require a little more time to evaluate
than original submissions. You can
expect an answer in three weeks or so.
Is there anything else I can help you with?�

            He
wondered if karma was punishing him, if this excessively helpful Unspeakable
was fate�s way of reminding him that he had thrown his life away down here, and
pain throbbed anew between his ears.

            �No,�
he responded, �unless you know of a good headache remedy.�

            And,
of course, the Unspeakable did.

            He
went home with every intention of forgetting about the Time Turner
request. The more he thought about
it, the more certain he was that it would never be approved, if they even
bothered to waste time and manpower on doing the equations. While it had made him feel somewhat
better to know that his father hadn�t lied to him, it was also incredibly
bittersweet.

            The
plain truth was that his father could have done more all along. Even if he hadn�t been able to prevent
the rape, he could have shown more care toward his son, exerted more energy to
raise and guide him, and just...been a father. As much as it pained Lucius to
think it, the Time Turner request was an example of too little, too late.

            Nonetheless,
he was glad that he hadn�t gone down to the Ministry for nothing. Whatever he felt now was doubtless
nothing compared to the way he might have felt if his father had lied. Lies
compounded upon lies...he�d had enough of that.

            Lucius walked back in to the safety that was the
villa. He felt better instantly;
though Hermione was out at class, the space was familiar, warm, and...his. He threw open the shutters and drew in
a deep breath.

            The
air was cool, but he felt the sun behind it, lending it a frisson of the spring
weather to come. It smelled of wet
earth - of growth. A current of
green was beginning to thread through the fields. He stood there for a long time, taking in the view that he
had seen a hundred times before.
He never grew weary of it.

            A
moment later, he felt a tug at his robe.
�Master Lucius?�

            �Yes,
Jo-Jo?�

            �Would
you like anything before Jo-Jo goes shopping?�

            He
looked down at the elf, pondering all the things he would like at the
moment. There weren�t many that
Jo-Jo could help with. He smiled
at her.

            �Perhaps
a cup of tea, and a headache potion.�

            She
nodded and disappeared down to the kitchen to oblige. She was only gone for a minute, but it gave him enough time
to sit at the desk and reach into the drawer that held his manuscripts. He dug to the bottom, reaching for the
one that had not been touched in quite some time.

            �Oh! Master is writing again?� Jo-Jo trilled
happily as she set his tea and potion down.

            �Indeed,�
he murmured. Because,
if nothing else, his father had at last given him an ending.



            Days
passed, and the Time Turner request faded from his mind. The completion of Soif
wasn�t confined to words on a paper; Lucius actually
felt that it was the completion of the journey that had led him here, to this
lazy Sunday with Hermione. There
were many things that he still wished to change, but here, now, he didn�t need
that hope to sustain him. The
request would be denied and he would be okay.

            Absently,
he rubbed Hermione�s foot where it rested in his lap. She usually squirmed when he stroked her arch just so, but
not today. He glanced up from his
book.

            �I�ve
been thinking,� she began, �I�m going to have to tell my parents about us
eventually.�

            He
had been waiting for Hermione to bring that up. Truthfully, he was surprised she had gone this long without
insisting that she had to come clean.
He closed the book and set it down, knowing that this would be more than
a passing conversation.

            �It�s
fine. I understand.� He took in her anxious face. �Will they be averse to our age
difference?�

            �I
don�t know,� she replied, twisting a curl nervously. �It�s just...I never dated much. I�ve always been so focused on my studies. I�m not sure what they�ll think.�

            �Well,
they struck me as nice people for the two minutes I met them,� Lucius said with a wry smile. Those had been under very different circumstances, of
course.

            �Any
parents are nice when they don�t suspect you�re sleeping with their daughter.�

            He
supposed that was different when one had a daughter rather than a son. He didn�t much care who
Draco slept with, not anymore.
Certainly he�d take issue if Draco was too promiscuous - it was never
prudent to spread oneself around indiscriminately for various reasons - but he
didn�t mind if his son had a healthy sex life. In fact, he wished it for him. He knew firsthand how a man�s mood and outlook were greatly
impacted by regular sex with a loving partner.

            �I�m
not in danger of death or immediate castration, am I?�

            �Oh,
no.� She sighed and pursed her
lips. �I suppose the best thing to
do is for me to tell them first, and then they�ll probably invite us to
dinner. After that...I just don�t
know.�

            �You�re
fidgety, darling.�

            Curse
her perceptive mother. �Oh, just some exams coming up.�

            �What
are you studying now?� her father asked around a mouthful of Indian takeaway.

            �Conditions
of the endocrine system and magical hormones.�

            �Magical
hormones? Intriguing. Do wizards and witches have many
different ones than regular people?�

            �A
few,� Hermione said, glad to be in safe territory. �Hormones control when and how strongly a witch or wizard�s
magical powers become active. Some
start to be able to do magic around age 8, while others don�t fully awaken
until their teens. It�s why
they�re never really sure someone�s a squib until they�re halfway through
school. If they haven�t been able
to do magic by 15, there�s a good chance they never will.�

            �Can�t
they take a synthetic form of the hormone, like we do in the Muggle world?� her mother asked.

            �They�ve
tried that. It doesn�t seem to
work. Apparently, each person has their own specific version of that
hormone. Giving someone else�s has
no effect.�

            �It�s
a bit mysterious, isn�t it?�

            �Very
much so.� Hermione looked back and
forth between her parents. �You
know, there have been theories that the parents of Muggleborn
witches or wizards are simply those with magical hormone levels too low to be
detectable. That Muggleborns may not be Muggleborn
at all...rather, they�re children of squibs who never knew they had any magical
lineage.� She took another bite of
her biryani.
�But nothing has ever been proven.�

            �It
seems like you�re enjoying your studies,� her mother commented, a proud smile
on her face. �But make sure you�re
getting out to do other things.
You�re young.�

            �What
your mother means is that she wants you to go out and meet boys,� her father
chuckled. Her mother gave him a
death glare, but then she turned back to Hermione.

            �I
just want to make sure that Ronald isn�t your only attempt at love. It�s easy to run away when the first
one doesn�t work out.�

            �So
how about it, darling? Any dashing
young men in your life?� her father asked with the enthusiasm that only a
father expecting an answer in the negative could muster.

            Hermione
took a fortifying breath. It was
now or never.

            �Actually...�

            Her
mother�s face lit up, while her father�s fell. Hermione would have laughed at it if it had been anybody
else. She plowed ahead, summoning
that supposed Gryffindor courage.

            �I�ve
been seeing someone for a while.
It was informal at first...we didn�t expect it to go anywhere. But it just keeps getting better and
better, so I thought I should tell you.�

            Her
mother grinned triumphantly. �I
knew it! You�ve been so happy
lately. And always busy...a girl
can only study so much!�

            Hermione
could study an awful lot, but she didn�t bother to argue with her mother. �Well, I didn�t want to jump to
conclusions this time around,� she murmured. The relationship with Ron had happened so fast; she had gone
from exasperated, distant love to explosive certainty that she was going to
marry him. It didn�t leave room
for much else - such as why they liked one another and whether or not
that was enough to sustain them.
It was too fast, too forced, and held together by too many jumbled
emotions and perceptions.

            What
she had with Lucius was honest. They had taken the time to know
themselves and one another with everything out on the table. Their only strife was what they each
brought with them. Nothing and no
one was pushing them to fall for one another. It just happened...and in her opinion, that was why it felt
so much better.

            �Tell
us about him. What�s his name?�

            This
was madness, but it had to be done.

            �Ehm...you�ve met him before. Do you recall the blond gentleman who came to visit me here
several months ago?�

            At
first they looked bewildered. It
had been over 8 months ago, now, and she couldn�t blame them for not
remembering a person they met once.
However, Lucius was not a forgettable man;
people noticed men with long hair, particularly hair as nice as his, and the
cane�that stupid cane. He claimed
his grandfather, a man he liked a great deal more than most of his other
relatives, had given it to him.

            Then
realization dawned on her father�s face and she knew the game was up.

            �The...older
gentleman? The one with the cane?�

            Deep
breath in.
Controlled exhalation. She
was the picture of composure.

            �Yes. His name is Lucius.�

            Now
her mother had caught on.
�Hermione, dear, isn�t he a bit old for you?� She paled.
�He�s not married, is he?�

            �Not
anymore. Divorced.�

            �You�re
dating an old man who is divorced and walks with a cane,� her father said
flatly.

            Hermione
sighed a sigh that Harry and Ron would have recognized instantly. It was her sigh of exasperation when
people were not on the same page she was.
�He doesn�t need the cane to walk.
It�s just an accessory.
Family heirloom. And by wizarding standards, he isn�t old! The headmaster of my school was almost
150 years old when he died, and he would have kept living long after that if he
hadn�t been killed.�

            �So
how old is this Lucius?� her mother asked.

            �He�ll
be 46 in June.�

            �For
heaven�s sake, Hermione, you�re only 22!�

            �I�ve
told you already, he�s young by wizarding standards,�
she replied, trying to remain calm and reasonable.

            �If
he�s young, you must be a zygote,� her father muttered.

            Hermione
put her fork down with a little more force than she intended. �I didn�t come here to ask your
approval. I�m a grown woman and I
will date who I like. I just wanted you to know that I�ve met someone who makes me
very happy, and I was hoping that maybe you would be able to accept him even
though he isn�t the most practical man for me.�

            There
was a long silence. Her parents
shared a look. Hermione didn�t
know what was contained within it, but it was hard to split her mind enough to
be concerned. This wasn�t looking
good. She had to mentally prepare
herself for this to be a sore point between her and her parents, who were still
sore about being Obliviated, though they swore they
had forgiven her.

            �Look,�
she continued shakily, �I don�t expect you to understand, but I wanted to be
honest with you. I want you
involved with my life even if you don�t always agree with it.�

            �We
don�t know anything about him,� her father said. �We�re just concerned.�

            �Then
give him a chance. Stop judging
him by his age and look at him like you would any other man I brought home.�

            Her
father looked at his hands. Her
mother blinked back tears.

            �I�m
sorry, Hermione, dear, it�s just hard to get used to the idea that now you
bring home men instead of boys.
You�re not a little girl anymore.�

            �No,
I�m not.�

            Another
pause. Then, at last, her father
spoke.

            �Well
then, you�ll have to bring him round.
You�re my brilliant daughter.
He must have a few redeeming qualities if you like him.�

            At
first Lucius wanted to invite her parents to the
villa. Hermione vetoed that,
explaining to him that while her parents now knew they were together, they
didn�t know he and Hermione were living together. He didn�t see what the fuss was. Lucius had
assumed that Muggles, like most wizarding
folk who weren�t Purebloods, no longer had a taboo about a couple living
together before marriage. She
explained that her parents didn�t think it was wrong; she just didn�t want to
overwhelm them when they were still trying to adjust to the fact that she was
dating an older man.

            He
accepted it without question, though he was clearly mystified. He was also bewildered when she
requested that he leave his cane at home.

            �What�s
wrong with my cane?�

            �Nothing
is wrong with your cane,� Hermione lied.
�I just don�t want anything present that will remind them of your
age! My father thought you needed
it to walk, you know.�

            He
pouted. �Shall I go get some
procedures, as well, so I don�t look like such a geezer? A facelift, perhaps?�

            She
swatted him on the arm. �Don�t you
start.�

            Though
he was surly about it, Lucius left the cane
behind. Hermione needn�t have
worried, anyhow; he could charm a siren out into the ocean rather than the
other way around. By the end of
the evening her mother was smitten.
Her father was a more difficult prospect, but it seemed that he could
find no obvious defect with Lucius. Hermione would guess that he even liked
him, but wasn�t ready to admit it or give up his protective father role just
yet.

            �So,�
her mother asked, �how did you two meet, anyhow?�

            Lucius and
Hermione looked at one another.
Knowing that this question would come up, they�d discussed how they
should respond. They hadn�t quite
agreed on what to say.

            �At
a tea shop,� Hermione recovered.
It wasn�t a lie. It was where
she had truly met Lucius - the real man, not the
mask. Everything else was history.

            Spring
was upon them. Hermione smiled at
the sight of Lucius sitting before the open window
scribbling away at his parchment.
Every now and then he would stop and stare out the window. Then, as if he had found whatever he was
looking for, he would set the quill to parchment and begin again. There hadn�t been any snapped quills
for a while.

            She
was desperately curious about what he was writing. He hadn�t said a word about it and was evasive when she
asked questions. Whatever it was,
it definitely wasn�t packing the same emotional punch as Faim
or Soif.
He seemed remarkably calm and content while writing it.

            Hermione
approached him, frowning at the way he hunched over the desk and making a
mental note to fiddle with his setup.
Only deep, deep thought and the haze of inspiration could make him
forget his ingrained Pureblood posture.
She wondered what they did to their children to make their backs ramrod
straight. Whatever it was, it had
either not been done to Draco, or it hadn�t worked. He was a moody sloucher if ever
she saw one. Lucius, not so much.

            She
slid her hands along his shoulders, then up his neck and into his hair. He hummed in pleasure and the quill
lifted from the parchment so he wouldn�t leave a splotch of ink. When it became clear that she wasn�t
going to discontinue her attentions anytime soon, he set it aside and leaned
back into her caresses.

            �This
had better not be a ploy to look at my manuscript,� he purred.

            �Of
course not,� she replied, leaning down to kiss his forehead. As she did, he reached up to pluck a
curl and twine it around his finger.

            �You�re
a miserable liar, darling.�

            Hermione
tilted her head to kiss the side of his jaw. �I know. I
don�t see you complaining.�

            Quite
suddenly, he spun the chair around.
It put her off balance. The
only way to go was forward into his lap, and that was exactly what he
wanted. He tugged her astride him
and cocked an eyebrow.

            �It�s
never a good idea to complain when your muse is doing her job.� His hands slid along her thighs and he
made a sound of annoyance. He�d
said only a few days before that he couldn�t wait until it got warmer and she
could wear her dresses.
Apparently, trousers were too much effort for him - though not much of a
deterrent, for a moment later he shamelessly slid his hands beneath the
waistband to cup her bottom.

            �I�m
not interrupting?� she whispered breathily as his lips devoured her neck.

            �You
never interrupt,� he murmured, his words hot little puffs against her skin,
�and if you do, it�s most welcome.�



            It
was the first time they�d made love in his writing chair. Most of the other furniture in the
house had already fallen victim to their passion, but the chair had remained a
curious exception until an hour before.
She sat cocooned in his lap afterwards, a blanket wrapped around her to
fend off the spring breeze.

            During
that long period of bliss, an owl flew in and landed on the windowsill. With one arm around her to hold her in
place, Lucius leaned over to take the mail and deftly
conjured a treat for the owl.
Hermione noticed that the Eagle owl was starting to look a bit portly;
it was probably receiving treats on both ends, since it was flying from the
Manor to Italy and back every day.
She smiled as it preened under Lucius�s
attention.

            Though
the shock was somewhat worn off now, it had initially stunned her how gentle Lucius could be with other creatures. The image she had in her mind was of
the man who treated his House Elves like rubbish. That was hard to reconcile with the man who humored Crookshanks and Musca with toys
and catnip when he didn�t think she was looking.

            Hermione
smiled to herself. The image of
the eight-year-old Lucius from his dreams of playing
tag in the sunflower field popped into her mind. She remembered the streak of mischief in that boy�s
eyes. If she was not mistaken, it
was starting to return to the man; slowly, steadily, he was reclaiming the
sense of fun that had been robbed from his childhood.

            Lucius yawned as he sorted through the mail. A moment later he said, �Oh, dear.�

            �What?�
Hermione asked dreamily.

            �My
ex-wife is having a dinner party.�
He shook his head. �It
would appear that her reputation has recovered enough to begin re-entering the
social circles.�

            �Hopefully
not the same ones.�

            �Hopefully
not,� he agreed. �My presence is
requested.�

            �When?�

            �Two
weeks from now.�

            �I
suppose I can let you out to play,� Hermione smirked.

            �Your
generosity knows no bounds.�

            �I
know.�

            She
felt the brush of his lips as he laid a silent kiss upon her crown. Then there was only the rustle of
papers as he continued to wade through the stack of mail - it was bigger and
bigger these days. Some letters he
barely had to look at before he knew they were trash. Others kept him busy for a very long time; he had received a
fair share of missives from others who had gone through the same thing as
him. Some of those letters just
related their stories, and some thanked him for being brave enough to speak
out. Hermione knew he didn�t feel
all that brave.

            For
his part, Lucius had been watching the mail closely
for anything from the Ministry. It
wasn�t that unusual for him to receive something from the Office of Magical Law
Enforcement, but now he had to be on alert for something from the Department of
Mysteries. However, four weeks out
it seemed less and less likely that anything would come. His request had probably given the Time
Turner team a good laugh and nothing more.

            As
expected, there was nothing. He
set the mail down and then gently dislodged Hermione from his lap. Today they had actually invited Paolo
and Elisabetta to come up to the villa for dinner
rather than the usual trip down to their home. There was a lot to do to prepare; the place needed to be
touched up and they had to apply a dozen Glamours to
make Jo-Jo look like a human servant because neither of them could cook well
enough to present an edible meal without her. Cooking lessons were now on Hermione�s list of things they
needed to do.

            She
sighed. �I�ll handle the Glamours if you do the cleaning.�

            Lucius smirked.
She really did hate keeping house; no wonder she had given up on
becoming a Weasley. �Done,� he replied.
As mortifying as it was to admit to himself, he
would get down on his knees and scrub with a toothbrush if it meant keeping
her.

            �I
didn�t realize you had no electricity up here,� Elisabetta
said in wonder. The sun had just
begun to set and Hermione and Jo-Jo, who was introduced to Paolo and Elisabetta as Joanna, diligently went to work lighting
candles. It took longer than usual
since they couldn�t use magic.

            �We
got so used to it that we haven�t bothered to look into getting it wired,�
Hermione shrugged, replacing the glass globe around the last candle.

            �It�s
romantic,� Elisabetta said. �No wonder you and Luciano are so
in love.�

            Hermione
blushed and sat next to the Italian woman on the couch. Lucius and
Paolo were still out in the courtyard for the time being, nursing their full
stomachs and the last of the wine.
Elisabetta had followed Hermione in to make
use of the loo and had been caught up in the fact
that their only light for the remainder of the evening would be provided by
candles.

            �He�s
easy to love, once you get past a few little things,� she murmured. Lucius would
have laughed at her. The things
she had to get past were neither few in number nor little. However, now that it had been done,
that was how it felt; everything from the past seemed so minor. Love had that effect.

            �When
will you two get married?�

            Hermione
was startled from her drowsy thoughts by the pointed question. She blinked at Elisabetta,
trying to formulate a response.
Marriage had never crossed her mind.

            �I...well,
we�ve only been together for about ten months. It�s still quite early.�

            She
looked surprised. �Oh. It seems like you have been with each
other much longer.�

            Hermione
examined her nails. �It does,
doesn�t it?�

            �That
is how you know you�ve picked the right one.� Elisabetta smiled. �I dated Paolo for a week, and felt
like we had known one another forever.�

            She
didn�t feel like she had known Lucius forever. In fact, she felt like she had known
him for precious little time, and every moment of that time made her want to
know more. Perhaps there were two
kinds of soul mates - the ones who knew each other inside and out and were meant
to be from the first moment of contact, and the ones who were continuously
discovering new and wondrous things about each other because whatever drew them
together was a complete mystery.
Sometimes love was there from the beginning and sometimes it grew from
one little seed of fascination, compassion, or determination.

            Once
upon a time she had wanted to put Lucius back
together. Now she only wanted to
dissect him, to know every inch of him as intimately as she could, because he
was no longer falling apart.
Hermione felt another one of those bludgeoning waves of emotion and had
to take a deep breath to temper it.

            �What
is it about your families, that they can�t see what you have?� Elisabetta asked softly.

            �They
will,� Hermione said. �Eventually,
they will.�

            �I
didn�t know what to wear,� Tiresias said
anxiously. �I don�t go to dinner
parties.�

            �You
look fine,� Lucius assured him.

            �Who
is going to be there?�

            �I
have no idea,� Lucius answered truthfully. His ex-wife�s guest list was certain to
have changed since the last time she had a party. This would be as much of a surprise for him as it was for Tiresias. He
experienced a moment of pity as he watched Tiresias
fidget. Either his healer had set
aside his personal life when he agreed to take Lucius
on, or he had not had much of one to begin with. He found that hard to believe considering how engaging Tiresias could be, but one never knew.

            He
resisted the urge to inquire about the last time Tiresias
had been on a date. Now that he
had Hermione, Lucius found himself feeling an inexplicable
pity for men who had not yet found the right person. However, he doubted that his curiosity would be welcome;
after all, it was partially his fault that Tiresias
didn�t seem to have time for romance.

            Tiresias sighed and then stifled a yawn.

            �Have
you slept?� Lucius asked, realizing that the time
difference made this an odd hour for the other man.

            �Not
really,� the healer said, �so if I look like I�m about to nod off into my hors
d�oeuvres, please rescue me and my dignity.�

            �You
don�t have to attend. My ex-wife
will survive if her guest list is one shy of the RSVPs.�

            �I
put on a suit and I�m here.
There�s no going back.� Tiresias smirked.
�Besides, even my dog has been giving me looks that say I need to get
out more.�

            �Then
we shall be on our way,� Lucius chuckled.

            The
Manor looked immaculate, as always.
Lucius felt a stab of pride. Since he had begun the slow process of
purifying the manse, everything about it felt lighter. The air was no longer oppressive and
the gleam of candlelight off polished surfaces wasn�t cold. He didn�t know how he had gone so long
without seeing how dark magic choked the natural beauty of his ancestral home.

            Tiresias seemed like he was noticing it for the first
time. He had been here before, but
had never seen it like this. He
looked up at the ornate ceiling and began to fidget again.

            �This
really is a beautiful home, Lucius. I can�t imagine why you don�t stay
here. The villa is very sparse in
comparison.�

            �It
is, but I prefer to make new memories rather than wallow in old ones.� What Tiresias
didn�t know was that many ghosts roamed these halls, visible or otherwise, and
it would take more than a magical facelift to erase them.

            �Understandable.� The healer straightened his
sleeve. �Speaking of, I�m guessing
that...certain topics remain off limits here?�

            �Yes.� Lucius didn�t
need to elaborate.

            �Done.�

            �It�s
best to stick to only three glasses of wine. No more.�

            �Only
three,� Tiresias nodded, doubtful that he would even
make it that far.

            �And
say no if anyone offers Ogden�s.�

            �Not
a problem.�

            �And
if my ex-wife starts fishing for information, escape as soon as you possibly
can.�

            �I
have my Irritable Bowel Syndrome excuse ready.�

            Lucius laughed, once again luxuriating in the strange and
wonderful feeling of having friends.
It was at that moment that Narcissa breezed
in. She smiled and leaned in to
bestow an air kiss to his right cheek.

            �Goodness,
it�s lovely to hear you laugh,� she said.
�I�d almost forgotten what it sounded like.�

            �That
makes two of us.� He returned the
friendly salutation and smiled at her.
She looked beautiful as always.
�How is the turnout?�

            �Excellent
so far.� Narcissa
turned her attention to Tiresias. �Thank you so much for coming, Healer Smythe.�

            �Call
me Tiresias, please,� he entreated.

            �Tiresias, then.
Come in, have some wine.
Dinner should be ready shortly.�

            He
should have known it would happen.
Lucius had been whisked away almost
immediately to catch up with old friends and acquaintances, as well as meet
some new ones, and he could hardly protest as he was,
technically, the host. Good
manners won out and he abandoned Tiresias. At the very least, he�d looked
apologetic.

            So
here he was, alone at a party where he knew no one. It wasn�t that he was anxious; he�d gone to countless
medical conferences where he found himself in the same situation. He always managed to find a few
interesting people to pass the time with.
Nonetheless, it always felt better to have at least one person to fall
back on.

            Perhaps
Lucius�s three-glass warning was more pertinent than
he thought. There wasn�t much to
do but nurse the full-bodied red.
He was already drinking more than he ought to. After this, he decided, he would stuff his face with food
instead of wine to even things out.

            �I
know you from somewhere.�

            A
woman�s voice washed over him, and he looked up. His eyes widened before he could control his reaction. It was her -
the woman from the hospital. The
one he�d attempted to ask out for a cup of coffee only to be thwarted by an
elevator door.

            �I
can�t figure it out,� she continued.

            �I
can,� he said. �I see you finally
managed to get off that lift, and not a moment too soon.�

            This
time her eyes widened, and then her cheeks went slightly pink. �Of course,� she murmured, touching her
hand to her forehead. �The
hospital. You must think I�m mad.�

            �No,
not at all. There are certainly
times when I don�t feel like getting off the lift, either.� Tiresias
smiled; he was more acquainted with the feeling than she could know, especially
from his younger days where he�d worked in a hospital rather than running his
own practice. �Until you step
outside those doors, you�re still in transit. You haven�t reached the moment of confrontation.�

            �Exactly,�
she nodded. She tilted her head to
the side, an unreadable look on her face.
�I�m Andromeda.�

            �Tiresias Smythe.� He offered his hand and she took
it. In a million years he never
would have believed that what happened next was actually possible, but he knew
it when he felt it. It was as if a
shock traveled up his arm, jolting him sharply into hyperawareness.

            �Oh,
you�re Lucius�s healer, then,� she murmured. �It makes sense.�

            �Yes,�
he answered, feeling dumbfounded but apparently not showing it. �I was just leaving his room when I
bumped into you that night. How do
you know him?�

            �I�m
Narcissa�s sister.�

            That
surprised him; they didn�t look very much alike. Narcissa was waifish, pale,
blonde, an ice-princess.
Andromeda�s beauty was more complex and more classical. Both sisters were beautiful in their
own way, but if he had to choose, Andromeda would certainly have his vote.

            �It�s
lovely to meet you,� he said, still feeling completely dazed. However, his voice sounded composed to
ears that were ringing.

            �Likewise,
and I�m glad that it�s under better circumstances this time.� Her brow creased slightly. �You know, I heard you start to say
something that night in the hospital when the lift doors were closing. What was it?�

            �I
was going to ask you if you wanted to get a cup of coffee,� he said without a
trace of hesitation.

            �Does
the offer still stand?�

            �Yes.� A thousand times yes.

            �My
treat,� she said, �since I was so rude.
Is Wednesday all right?�

            Andromeda
walked toward the loo with her heart beating like a
rabbit�s. She had just made a date
with a man she barely knew.
Moreover, it had been so automatic, as if she was not even in control of
herself. From the moment she took
his hand to shake it, some kind of autopilot had taken over.

            She
closed the door and leaned against the sink. It was not often that she felt overwhelmed, but it had taken
everything she had to tear herself away from Tiresias
Smythe.
He was magnetic, and she could only wonder why she hadn�t noticed
it the first time. Perhaps because
she had been so worked up over other things...

            A
part of her had known that this moment would come eventually - the moment when
she found herself reawakening as a woman, desiring someone to fill the void Ted
had left. She was content to avoid
it for a long time.

            More
than three years had passed since Ted�s death. Time didn�t lessen the pain of being alone, but neither did
isolation. Rationally, she knew
Ted would want her to move on, to find someone new who would make her
happy. Nymphadora
would have wanted that, too.
Andromeda was the only one who held on to the mantle of a widow with
such tenacity.

            It
was like living in a fog, really.
Her days were long, yet at the end of each one, she wondered where the
time had gone. In that way she had
been letting life pass by as one would watch scenery
outside a train window. Just a
pretty blur...

            But
something had brought it sharply into focus, and slowed it down into a speed
she could manage. That something had been that night at the hospital, where she
witnessed the impossible.
Seeing Lucius and Hermione together had
rekindled a fire in her. It had
reintroduced her to passion.

            Still,
it was only passion for other people and other things. Only now, when she interacted with the
handsome healer, did she feel it within herself. Andromeda took a deep breath.

            �Okay,�
she said out loud. �So you want to
kiss him. It�s all right. Perfectly normal.�

            �Yes
indeed, dear, perfectly normal,� the mirror commiserated. �Who�s the lucky gentleman?�

            Andromeda
looked shrewdly at the mirror.
�None of your business. And
you may tell my sister that it�s rude to spy on her guests.�

            In
response, the mirror showed her an image of herself with a very convincing
handlebar mustache. Andromeda left
the loo laughing, thinking that Teddy would love a
mirror like that, and jumped back into the fire without fear.

            His
head was spinning. Even at the
height of their popularity, he and Narcissa had never
hosted a party this lively. It
seemed like every other minute he was being pulled into some conversation or
dragged to meet a new person, and he had lost Narcissa
half an hour ago. This was exhausting,
but not in a bad way.

            At
last Lucius managed to find a moment alone. He had warned Tiresias
about overdoing it on the wine, but Lucius had not
managed a single drink himself.
Determined to remedy that, he detoured to the wine cellar to find the
more exclusive libations - the ones no guest would ever have access to, unless
it was Merlin himself.

            He
took a route back upstairs that only a Malfoy would
know. At least, he thought so; he
was startled to run into Marietta Edgecombe in one of the lesser-used
corridors. He nearly spilled his
wine on her.

            Nodding,
Lucius tried to step around her. Marietta didn�t move.

            �You
know who I am,� she blurted, �what I did, but you�ve never said anything. Why aren�t you trying to get Draco to
dump me?�

            He
stared at the redhead, contemplating her question. She waited anxiously; he could see her hands twining
together and her green eyes were wide with apprehension. This had probably been wearing on her
mind for weeks. For a moment, Lucius let her squirm.

            Then,
deciding that it was best not to be cruel when she had actually scraped up the
courage to confront him, he said, �I believe in second chances.�

            She
swallowed, appearing as if she was unsure if she wanted to jump up and down in
elation or cry. �Thank you.�

            �The
only gratitude I want is for you to make my son happy,� he replied. �So far, you�ve done that. But bear in mind that there are no
third chances, and I will do what I have to in order to protect him.�

            Marietta�s
shoulders drew up and back; Lucius saw confidence
take hold of her. He couldn�t have
known that it was an uncommon occurrence, one that had rarely happened before
now, but he recognized a woman determined to rise to the challenge that had
been issued.

            �I
understand,� she said.

            He
thought he was done with awkward encounters for the evening, but Lucius was very wrong. He had only just escaped Marietta and emerged onto the main
level of the house when someone else cornered him. Dawlish practically dragged him into an empty room and Lucius didn�t protest because it wasn�t outside the realm
of possibility that the Auror had something important
to tell him - something that was best relayed in private.

            �I�m
sorry,� he apologized immediately, looking unusually flustered. �I was hoping to get a minute alone
with you.�

            Irritated
that people continued to obstruct his glass of ninety year
old wine, Lucius took a sip before he
responded. �Well, here I am. What is it?�

            �Er...I don�t really know how to say this properly, but...I
wanted to...speak to you...regarding Narcissa.�

            Lucius controlled a smirk. �Yes? What
about her?� He knew what Dawlish
was alluding to, but pretending not to afforded more amusement. The Auror
bore a slightly pained look, as if he had been hoping Lucius
would make it easy on him and not force him to spell it out.

            �I...er...well, since meeting her, I confess I have been...developing
feelings for her. I thought at
first that it was friendship, but I...� Dawlish trailed off, licking his
lips. He looked at the floor for a
long moment. Then he jerked his
head up as if he had reached the decision that it all had to come out. �Lucius, this
is your house, and Narcissa was your wife. She still lives here. It could be your generosity that allows
for it, or it could be the fact that something still remains between the two of
you. I will not disrespect you by
pursuing Narcissa if it is in your mind to reconcile
with her. But I am not willing to
lose her because I couldn�t speak rationally with you to discover the
answer. So tell me now, Lucius, if Narcissa is off limits
so I will not get myself in any deeper.�

            �Of
course something remains between us, Dawlish,� he started, and instantly felt
bad when the Auror�s face fell, so he plowed ahead,
�and his name is Draco. Narcissa gave me a son and for that I will always love
her. But that doesn�t give me any
right to �claim her� or mark her �off limits�. One thing I have always respected about Narcissa
is that she knows what she wants, and won�t let anyone get in the way of
it. She would have you whether I
protested or not if it was really what she wanted to do. Do not believe for a moment that I ever
had her under any kind of control.�

            Dawlish
nodded. �I understand that she is
an independent woman. That was
never in question. I know what she
wants, Lucius.
It�s you I was unsure of, and since I�ve come to know you, I don�t
believe you deserve to have someone you care about stolen away.�

            Lucius stared at him, stunned. �Dawlish, it�s--�

            �So
if it will be too painful to witness, you have to tell me now, when I still
have the power to tear myself away.�

            �Dawlish--�

            �And
Narcissa assures me that you are seeing someone else
and you�re madly in love, but I don�t feel right bypassing you.�

            �Dawlish!�
Lucius barked, narrowly avoiding turning pink with
embarrassment.

            The
Auror startled out of his tirade, taking a deep breath. �I�m sorry. I�ve been thinking about it too much.�

            �Clearly
you have.�

            �I
shouldn�t have brought it up. I
just thought...�

            Lucius held up his hands, glass of wine and all. �You thought rightly. It is strange that I have allowed Narcissa to stay here and any man wishing to romance her
would have the same reaction. She
expressed to me when we were splitting up that she didn�t wish to return to her
parents� home, and having been in it several times, I don�t blame her. I couldn�t go from living here to living
there after so many years, and neither could she.�

            �So
it�s...purely for that reason that you let her stay?�

            �There
are a few more reasons, but nothing you need to know right this moment. The bottom line is that Narcissa is right; I have moved on, and I wish the same
happiness for her.�

            �Then
she�s...?�

            �Yours
to pursue.�

            Dawlish
blinked. �It�s that simple?�

            �Sometimes
it is,� Lucius nodded. Then, realizing that he wasn�t the one who needed it, he
pressed his ninety year old glass of wine into Dawlish�s
hand and excused himself.

            �Oh,
before you go, Lucius, I have today�s mail for
you. I figured there was no point
in sending it since you�d be here,� Narcissa said,
tiredly pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

            Lucius glanced at Tiresias to
make sure the healer wouldn�t fall over; he was that exhausted. Tiresias
appeared secure on the couch. He
followed Narcissa, stifling a yawn of his own. The party had been pure madness, at
least by pureblood standards. He
didn�t envy the House Elves who had to clean everything up.

            She
handed him a stack of scrolls and envelopes that he promptly shrunk down and
jammed into his pocket. The
likelihood of any of it being important was slim to none. However, he would sort through it
tomorrow, when he didn�t feel like his brain was leaking from his ear.

            �Thank
you.�

            �And
thank you for coming. I wasn�t
sure you would.�

            �Why
not?� he asked, perplexed.

            �I
didn�t know if you would want to be around so many strangers. People didn�t ask you too many questions
about the book, did they?�

            �Only
one or two,� he murmured.
�Certainly not the worst I�ve ever gotten.�

            �I�m
glad.�

            He
smiled at Narcissa. Dawlish was a lucky man, and Lucius
hoped that the Auror would be able to give Narcissa everything that he hadn�t. He certainly seemed the type. At last, Narcissa
would have a hero and not a villain.

            �What
are you thinking about?� she prodded.

            �Nothing.�

            �Twenty
years of marriage and you think I don�t know that look?�

            �I
have not had enough wine for you to successfully fish for information, my
dear,� he returned.

            Narcissa pouted, but then her lips curved into a
smile. �Well, a woman has to try.�

            �Indeed
she does. Say good night to Draco
for me, will you?�

            �He�s
not around?�

            �I
couldn�t find him. He�s probably
off with that girlfriend of his.�

            �Thank
goodness,� Narcissa sighed. �I was beginning to think I might have to resort to
matchmaking.�

            Tiresias was practically asleep on his feet when Lucius herded him out of the floo
at the villa. Either he had not
heeded the three drink rule or he was truly
bone-tired. He would not be making
the trip back to Vancouver tonight, since it was unlikely that he would be able
to stay awake long enough to shout out his destination.

            Feeling
oddly like he was tucking his child in, Lucius put
him to bed in the room Hermione had once occupied. He realized the healer was in a suit and that was perhaps
not the most comfortable attire for sleep; with a long-suffering sigh, he
muttered some spells and the other man�s suit left his body and hung itself in
the closet. Tiresias
dozed through the impromptu stripping, but woke when Lucius
deprived him of his shoes.

            �How
come you didn�t tell me Narcissa has a sister?� he
mumbled. �A pretty one?�

            Lucius gave him a sideways glance. �Well, she had two sisters. One is deceased and Narcissa
was not on speaking terms with the other for many years. They reconciled recently.�

            �I
have a date with her on Wednesday.�

            �With
Andromeda?�

            �Yes.� Tiresias
yawned.

            Lucius tried to process the implications. Narcissa had
mentioned to him that Andromeda had not shown any interest in finding a new
paramour after losing her husband; apparently that was erroneous. He decided it was best to let things
play out as they would.

            �She�s
a good woman.�

            �I
haven�t been on a date in two and a half years.�

            �Before
I met Hermione, my only dates were with you. And you are not cheap.�

            He
saw Tiresias smile even as his eyes were
drooping. �Neither are you.�

            �On
to greener pastures, then.� Lucius tugged the blanket back into place. �I propose a mutual breakup.�

            �Done,�
Tiresias said, and then his body relaxed completely,
alerting Lucius that he had finally lost the battle
with exhaustion.

            He
slid into bed next to Hermione, and only then did it hit him that he was as
tired as his healer, if not more so.
Adrenaline had kept him going.
Now, enveloped in the warmth and familiarity of his woman and his bed,
fatigue sucker-punched him into an instant sleep.

            Hermione
woke several hours later and was surprised when she made it to the loo and back without waking him. Most mornings he seemed tuned to her slightest move; no
matter how quiet she tried to be, she would ways turn around to find his cool
blue eyes open and fixed on her.
Not so today. It seemed his
party had gone later than expected.

            Upon
further exploration, she found Tiresias Smythe in a similar state in the other bedroom. Neither man looked any worse for the
wear. Nonetheless, she asked Jo-Jo
to brew a strong pot of coffee and have some headache and hangover relief
potions at the ready just in case.

            She
was deeply engrossed in a book when she felt Lucius
come up behind her. Unheeding of
her concentration, his hand threaded beneath her chin and tilted it up so he
could kiss her. She heard him
chuckle, because even as she returned the kiss, her eyes were drifting back
toward the page - it was the first time in a while that she had been able to
read for leisure rather than for school.

            �What
time is it?� she asked distractedly.

            �Just
after ten.�

            �Oh.� She had been reading for over two
hours.

            �Did
you eat breakfast?�

            �No.�

            �Is
Tiresias still here?�

            Hermione
nodded. �You two had a good time
last night, hm?�

            An
interesting expression came over Lucius�s face. It was the same one that graced his
features when he learned a particularly interesting and/or useful piece of
information.

            �One
of us did,� he smirked. �Tiresias is going on a date with Andromeda.�

            That
made Hermione put her book down.
�Are you serious?�

            Lucius held up his right hand. �From the horse�s mouth.�

            �Good
for them.�

            �Let�s
hope. I�m sure they both need a
good shag.�

            �A
date is not a guarantee of a shag, Lucius,� Hermione
replied, rolling her eyes - though privately she agreed with him.

            He
gave her a smug look. �If it�s
done right it is.�

            Containing
her smile so as not to encourage him, she picked up her book again. �Are you going to ask Jo-Jo to make
breakfast?�

            �Yes. What does my sarcastic little muse
desire?�

            Hermione
opened her mouth, but it wasn�t her voice that sounded a moment later.

            �Coffee,�
Tiresias Smythe fairly
moaned as he emerged from the short hallway. �For the love of all that is holy, coffee.�

            �I
think he might want some coffee,� Hermione said, stifling a laugh. �I told Jo-Jo to have a pot ready.�

            �Bless
your heart,� Smythe mumbled. Rubbing his eyes, he collapsed into one
of the chairs, seemingly impervious to the fact that he was only in his
undershirt and boxers. Lucius shared an amused look with Hermione and then turned
to walk down to the kitchen.



            After
a pleasant morning with Tiresias, who proved far more
gregarious once he�d had his all-important two cups of coffee, Lucius remembered the mail he�d shoved in his pocket. He didn�t relish sorting through it,
but it would be his luck that the one day he neglected
the mail would be the day something important came. He retrieved his cloak and pulled out the miniaturized stack
of correspondence.

            Hermione
was still absorbed in her book - a gargantuan copy of Hugo�s Les Miserables which,
by the look of it, had been read many times before - so he needn�t worry about
interruptions. Lucius
sighed. He would prefer them.

            He
enlarged the sheaf of parchment and scanned through to see if there were any
seals or return addresses he recognized.
There, fifteen letters in, was a stamp that made him freeze.

Ministry of Magic

Department of
Mysteries

Level 9

            Ah,
so his rejection had at last arrived.
So kind of them to expedite the process. A part of him didn�t want to bother
opening it since it was obvious what the answer would be, but curiosity won
out. He wanted to see if they�d
actually calculated the outcome percentage and how dismally low it would be. Did they get numbers as low as one
percent? Or was it never that definitive?

            Without
a stitch of hope or expectation, he opened the envelope.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

Enclosed are the
results of your recent Time Turner request. To schedule an appointment please contact our office between
8:00 and 17:00, Monday through Saturday.
As there are few Time Turners currently in operation, appointments may
not be available for up to six weeks.
It is advised that you contact us to arrange an appointment as soon as
possible for the earliest activation date.

            Activation
date? Wait a moment...surely they
meant appeal date...eyes wide, Lucius turned
to the second page. A large,
hunter green stamp announced to him that he had been APPROVED.

            For
a time, he couldn�t even process what the word meant. Approved? It
wasn�t in the vocabulary of a stalled brain. Approved...

            Then,
slowly, his mind supplied a definition.
Approved...confirmed, sanctioned, allowed, agreed to, authorized...

            How
in the world? It couldn�t be
possible. Hands shaking, he
flattened out the paper and tried to find the outcome percentile. There...his stomach sank like a
stone. Ninety-one percent. The exact same
number as his father�s request.

            He
felt panic rising within him, like a volcano suddenly pressurized past its
breaking point, and he backed away from the table. He wanted to run.
With a tremendous effort, he squashed the urge; he didn�t want to alarm
Hermione. She didn�t know about
the Time Turner requests and now was not the time for her to discover that he
had been keeping something from her.

            Lucius walked from the dining room to the hallway with
agonizing control. Down the hall. Out the door to the courtyard. Past the fountain, where Musca sat and waited for brave birds to perch for a drink. Into the greening
grasses.

            He
didn�t know where he was going until he got there. There were no sunflowers yet so the fields couldn�t hide
him. But he needed something,
somewhere closed and safe that he could crawl into and be alone. At that moment he was an animal that
needed the security of its burrow.

            That
was what propelled him into a copse of thick shrubs on the edge of the villa�s
property. There was just enough
room for him. Within the cocoon of
cool shade and the scent of evergreen, he finally felt safe enough to release
the clamp of his control.

            He
breathed. Too fast, too ragged,
but he breathed and listened to the unrelenting hammer of his heart. He didn�t try to stop the panic attack. He let it build, gripping him,
authoring screams in his throat, but those he smothered with his fist. It wouldn�t do to frighten anyone who
might be nearby. This was his
problem, not theirs.

            He
supposed he was not having a complete breakdown if he was rational enough to
consider others. After what seemed
like an age, it began to subside.
He was sweating, his muscles ached, and his throat was raw as if he had
screamed for an hour anyway. And so tired.
Merlin.

            Uncaring
of the dirt, grass, and insects, Lucius laid among the flora and surrendered to the toll of his
emotions.

            When
he woke again, he felt something he had not experienced in some time. It was the sensation of being two
different people in one body.
Though he did essentially lead a double life now, spending part of his
time playing the role of lover to Hermione and the rest as the Lucius Malfoy the world thought
they knew, the voice of Hermione�s Lucius and
everyone else�s Lucius was the same. She had integrated him into one man
with a secret rather than one man with two personalities.

            He
understood that this was his mind�s way to cope. It had to dissociate itself from the raging conflict that
threatened to overwhelm it. In
order to continue to function, and, Merlin help him, face Hermione and act like
nothing had happened, he had to become two minds once again.

            When
he was alone he could try to sort through the mire and reach a decision. With her, he would have to continue
Life As Usual. Though he knew that
Hermione would be supportive of him no matter what he chose, in the end it
wasn�t her decision to make, and it would be that much harder if he knew she
felt strongly one way or the other.
Never mind that the fact that he�d even entertained the thought of
altering the past could be hurtful to her...

            If
it was him, he knew the question that would blare most
prominently into his mind would be: is the present with me not good
enough? Lucius
groaned. The lines within his mind
were precarious. He remembered
this feeling, years and years of it, and marveled that he had ever been able to
tolerate such chaos.

            He
wouldn�t be able to maintain it for very long. Hermione would notice.
If only he could...

            But
why can�t you, Lucius?

            A
chill slipped over him and Lucius swallowed. There was that autopilot, that other
voice that had guided him for so many years - the one he had mistaken for his own. It was disconcerting how easily it came
back to him. He closed his
eyes. He knew what people said
about others who heard voices.

            Lucius also knew that while no one would ever find a single
notation about him in any document that pertained to mental illness, he had
flirted with several forms of it, if not outright taken a few home. Depression,
certainly. Anxiety...well,
that was why he was sitting in a wall of shrubbery right now, wasn�t it? Never mind that he could label almost
an entire year of his life as an acute psychotic episode.

            And
addictions. His was not for
alcohol, as his mother�s had been.
It had not even been for pain.
No, it had purely been for control. There was no stronger drug for one who was made to feel
powerless.

            With the exception of love, of course. What was it, but an addiction to
another person? He knew now that
if he was ever forced to be parted from Hermione, he
would withdraw as horribly as one would from heroin. How could he even consider going forward with the Time
Turner?

            You�re
not thinking clearly.

            No,
he wasn�t.

            You
can�t turn it down because of her.
It isn�t about her.

            Merlin, that voice was so cold, but it was
right.

            You
can erase decades� worth of suffering.
Which is the greater sacrifice?
Living what you�ve lived so that you can be with her or taking the
chance that you may never know her to remedy the past?

            For
fuck�s sake, he didn�t know.

            Then find out, Lucius.

            Yes. That was the only thing to do. He had to find the lesser of two evils
and Hermione couldn�t help him.
She only knew how to defeat evil, not how to decide which one to
accept. She had never accepted any
of it. And that...that was the
cardinal difference between them.
He had never had the backbone to refuse, nor
the courage to press for a third option.



            Hermione
glanced up from her book when she heard Lucius�s
footsteps. She hadn�t even noticed
that he left. It was amazing how
far away a book could transport her, even one that she�d read before.

            She
didn�t ask him where he�d been. He
did look slightly disheveled, but since he hadn�t yet taken a bath and was
recovering from what was by all reports an excellent party, she thought nothing
of it. She just watched him clear
the mail off the table.

            At
times, the inquisitive (or downright nosy) part of her wanted to read the
missives he received. Hermione
also thought about what she would write to him if she wasn�t
his lover...if she had never come to know him again, and had found out that he
was the author of Faim with only the picture of
wartime Lucius in her head. Inevitably, she drew a blank. She wouldn�t have written to him at all.

            That
was why it was difficult for her to imagine what others found to say. However, an unspoken rule had developed
between them; if Lucius wanted her to see a letter,
he showed it to her. If not, it
was meant to be private.
Howlers...well, they were given to the cats, who
took great pleasure in ripping the angry red envelopes to shreds.

            �Anything
good?� she asked as he moved the last of the stack.

            Lucius shook his head. �No. Just a
bunch of rubbish.� He hesitated a
moment and then strode over to her.
Leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, he said, �Hermione, I need
to attend to some business at the Manor.
It might take a day or two.�

            She
smiled. �That�s fine. I have some studying to catch up on.�

            He
smiled back, but she noticed that it was somewhat wan. It piqued her concern. Perhaps she did want to know
where he�d been...

            �Is
everything all right?� Hermione asked.

            He
nodded. �I�m just tired, and would
rather spend the time with you.�

            Warmed,
she reached out to smooth an errant strand of his hair. Though she loved that she was one of
the only people in the world who ever got to see him at his most relaxed, he
didn�t look quite right without his usual polish. �I�ll be here when you get back.�

            �Naked,
hopefully,� he joked, a little more levity slipping onto his face.

            �If
you�re lucky,� Hermione chuckled.

            That
levity deserted him in a fleeting instant. His face fell into an expression of such seriousness, such
earnestness that she forgot to breathe.

            �I
am lucky,� he said.
�Incredibly so.�

            �Lucius...�

            �I
love you.� He supplemented the
words with a rough yet tender kiss.
�I�ll see you in a few days.�
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