In Love and War

Hey everyone, sorry for the lateness in the chapter. I've had it done for a few weeks, but we were at a wedding (which took me forever to recover from) and our house was visited by the vile plague. Anyway.... after the next chapter, we are going to get to the meat of the story, ie the naked and all so yummy Lucius. So, stick with me, I promise it will be good for you. Like I always tell my husband... you can't put a pot of water on the stove and expect it to boil instantly. Meaning that Lucius and Hermione have too much between them to just jump in the sheets. It needs to build up. I hope you all had a great Halloween and are ready for a wonderful winter.

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Disclaimer: I make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction. All characters are property of JK Rowling.

Chapter 8

It had been a month. One long, drawn-out, lonely month. Rose had gone to school and written home three times. She had been sorted into Gryffindor, which was no surprise to Hermione, seeing as how both her and Ron had been in the same house.

With Rose gone, she spent her days idly. Instead of going to the supermarket once a week, she now went every day. Where before she would save laundry for Sunday's, she now woke up every morning to throw in a load, although now there wasn't as much.

Without Rose underfoot, Ron had seen no point in keeping up pretenses. He came home after they had seen her off the train, only to pick up enough clothes for the week and was off. He didn't speak to her, and honestly, she didn't mind. Hermione knew where he was going and wasn't jealous. She had gotten over Ron's affair with Lavender years ago. The only thing that pricked at her was that he was humiliating her and everyone knew it.

The oven dinged, pulling her out of her odd mind ramblings, reminding her that she was having company for dinner. She grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the rack of lamb out of the oven and transferred it to a silver tray that her grandmother had left her years ago. With that done, she set the table with three place settings, a bottle of chilled wine, a fresh salad and a platter of bread.

She stepped back and admired her handy work. She had cooked a full meal by herself, no magic and no wand involved. Hermione couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at the thought. It had been so long since she had done that, but now with all of the extra time on her hands, she found that doing something by herself alone, gave her more pleasure in her work.

As she was putting icing on a cake she had planned for desert, she heard a call coming from the floo. She smiled as she sat down in front of the fireplace to talk to Bill.

“Everything is all set for when you get here.”

Bill's face turned into a bit of a frown. “I'm sorry Hermione, but Fleur and I won't be able to make it.”

“Is everything ok?” She asked, trying to not get disheartened.

“Yes, everything is fine, just the baby seems a bit sick tonight. Poor guy has had Fleur awake since last night and I don't want to take him over to my parents if he's contagious.” He said, talking about their youngest son, Siri, who was only seven months old.

“Of course, I can understand that. Give Fleur my love and let me know if you guys need anything.”

Bill smiled and gave her a wink before closing off the call with plans for a rain check.

Hermione uncorked the wine, poured a glass and promptly took a large gulp of the fruity vintage. She looked over the table and saw all of her hard work sit around her unrewarded. She had spent hours on the preparations for nothing. It reflected her life.

For all those years, she fought beside Harry, supporting him, urging him, even almost dying for him, but in the end, it didn't matter. He no longer cared or even seemed to remember all she gave up for him. She didn't regret it, because even though it was unrecognized, she helped changed their world. When she could of went into hiding she stood beside him and fought for what was right. Where many had shunned him and didn't believe him, she had stood at his side, defending him to even his closest friends.

Then there was Ron. As his friend, she had always tried to make things easier for him, tried to feed his courage. She knew it couldn't have been easy for him, being born into the Weasley family, the youngest son with five other brother, but she had always tried to make him feel bigger than the rest. As his wife, she looked the other direction while he cheated on her, she bore him a daughter, she cooked and cleaned, even doing his damn laundry.

In a fit of rage Hermione picked up her wand and sent several spells aimed at the kitchen. Nothing was spared. Glass shattered and rained down to the floor in shining glints of light. China flew in every direction, smashing into the walls and embedding itself in the white curtains. She blasted the doors off of the refrigerator and oven. The cupboards were splintered, many hanging onto their hinges for dear life as others now had food and dishes falling out of them.

As she looked at the destruction around her, she felt the urged to laugh, and she did. The happiness, or insanity, that was within her soul, burst forth through her lips and reverberated off the light colored walls. It dawned on her, finally, that none of this was her fault. She had more than atoned for her sins, even though she felt that what she did was right. She had laid down and just accepted. She had stopped fighting and given up.

But now, her life... she didn't know what to make of it or what to do. She wandered through the house, running her fingers over photographs and trinkets. There were pictures of her with Rose right after she had given birth. She had been alone. Ron was off with Harry doing who knew what and she hadn't been able to contact him. She had flooed St. Mungo's and was checked into a room less than ten minutes later. After an emergency cesarean, her healer had taken the picture.

The only thing that had gotten her through that night had been Lucius. As she had lain there, tears coating her face, his comforting crisp scent had invaded her senses, calming her and giving her courage. Through the small mark on her wrist, she felt a throbbing pulse that went in time with her own. It was a gentle thrumming in her veins that reminded her that she wasn't alone.

She could feel it now, could feel in her blood that there was someone who cared about her. Hermione had tried to keep her thoughts from him, but he was always there. She smiled, thinking of the day last month where he had sat with her. It had been wonderful for someone to just sit, even though nothing had really been said. He didn't look at her with disdain as her husband and Harry did. He didn't look at her with pity as Bill and Fleur did when they thought she wasn't looking. Lucius had looked at her like a man would look at an old friend.

She moved her thumb over the small tattoo and had an overwhelming desire to talk to him. There was so much unsaid, so many questions that she had always wanted to ask him. She wanted to know why he had done what he did.

She had waited ten years for answers and didn't want to wait any longer. She grabbed her jacket and threw it over her tan trousers and white sweater. She wasn't sure how she would be accepted at the manor, but she hoped that the wards would permit her entry. In truth, she was a little nervous to be in that house again, but her curious mind won out over her apprehensions.

She slipped her feet into a pair of black flats and turned to look at the destruction of her kitchen. Her lips turned up in a semi smile as she turned on her heel and apparated.

Hermione looked up as she landed in front of a set of large, black iron wrought gates. They towered over her at an amazing height, but that didn't surprise her. Normally she handled apparition quite well, but this time she had landed flat on her ass with the cold ground pressing into the fabric of her clothes.

The last time she had been here, she had been dragged through these gates by her hair. They had swung open automatically, probably allowing anyone in league with the dark lord entrance. Remembering that bit of knowledge was useless as it didn't give her a clue how to get in.

She walked up to the imposing iron and ran her hand over the twisted metal handle and wasn't surprised that it didn't budge. As she pulled out her wand to send her patronus to the house, a small elf appeared.

Hermione could tell it was a she elf by the purple paisley towel wrapped around the tiny being's frame.

“Missus, the master bids me to find out who is calling at this hour.” The elf squeaked in a high pitched voice.

“I'm Hermione Gran... er, Weasley. Please tell your master that I apologize for the late hour, but wondered if he could spare me a few moments of his time.” She smiled at the small creature before it disappeared with a loud pop. Less than a minute later, the gates swung forward, allowing her entrance.

She smoothed down her clothes, hoping that there were no wrinkles or grass stains left from her rather clumsy landing. She was lucky that she had pulled her hair into a tight chignon earlier because otherwise she was sure her hair would look a mess. Her thoughts were interrupted as the house came into view.

The beauty of the manor stole her breath away. The walls were an orange, red color that had faded with hundreds of years of sunlight, rain and snow. She could see comforting yellow spilling out onto the lawn from the fifty or so tall mullioned windows. Framing the house was sweeping lawns of deep green, manicured to pristine perfection. The large mahogany doors were intricately carved with whimsical flourishes forming a complex and large M.

“Beautiful isn't it?” A voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione turned around with her wand gripped tightly in her palm. She lowered it quickly as she saw Lucius standing beside her, marveling at the beautiful home.

“Lucius,” she said breathlessly. “You startled me.”

She backed up from him, realizing finally that he had been standing right behind her, she could almost feel the brush of his expensive robes touching her.

“I apologize.” He leaned his head slightly and gestured with his hand to the door. “Shall we?”

She walked in front of him through the door. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his large, warm palm come to rest at the small of her back. Without conscious though, she leaned further into his hand, reveling in his touch.

He ushered her though the doors and led them into a large dining room, the table already set.

“Would you care to join me for dinner? I was just about to sit down.” He asked.

She thought of the dinner she had made at home and a smile came to her face. She nodded her acceptance and sat down in the chair he offered her as a plate appeared on the table.

“Thank you for seeing me Lucius. I hope I'm not disturbing your evening.” She said softly.

“Not at all. I have found myself having dinner alone on too many occasions.” The corner of his mouth shot up in a slow smile, causing her to relax.

“Well, thank you none the less.”

Hermione watched as he lifted his wine glass and saluted her before taking a drink. “So, tell me. What brings you here tonight? I wouldn't of thought you to be interested in returning to my home.”

“I just...” She didn't know why she found herself at a loss for words, but around him she had always felt insecure, always afraid of saying the wrong thing. “I wanted to speak with you about our past.”

A dark look came over his features, his arctic eyes turning cold before warming again. “I thought as much, although I was hoping that you came for my companionship.”

“Oh, well, I came for that too. I just like you have found myself eating all of my meals alone. With Ron always gone and Rose at school, I...” She cut herself off, realizing that she was saying too much.

“So, you did marry Weasley?” It would have taken a fool not to notice the malice dripping from his words.

“Unfortunately I did.” She put her hand to her forehead, accepting defeat while tears fell down her cheeks. She swiped at them furiously, horrified that she was crying in front of Lucius Malfoy.

He was behind her instantly, in his hand an embroidered handkerchief.

She accepted it and looked into his eyes. They were veiled, not showing any emotion, but through her mark, she could feel his remorse.

“I'm sorry Lucius. I shouldn't be miserable when you have lost so much.” She said, dabbing at her eyes, willing the steady stream to ease up.

He sat at the long table, abandoning his spot at the head in favor of the chair next to her. He held his hand out and without any thought, she placed hers into his. He rubbed his thumb over the small mark on her skin.

“What I lost was my fault.” He stated quietly.

She started to speak, but he hushed her with only a look.

“I saved you simply because you were what I wanted to be.”

“Lucius, I'm not...”

“No, listen. I've wanted to say this to you for ten years now. I've watched you grow up into this woman that you have become. I stood to the side and watched as you braved a new world and excelled in it, even though I felt you didn't belong. I stared you down in battle and you never stepped back from the challenge. I watched you tortured, listened to your screams, waited for you to spill your secrets and relished the moment that you would finally break. But it never came and I found myself at a loss.”

Lucius stood up abruptly and paced the length of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, his leather shoes clicking on the pale marble floor. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I waited for you to talk, like so many others had done in your position, like I would have done.”

Hermione sat there, her eyes fixed on the broad shouldered back of the man in front of her. She wanted to feel hate towards him for his part in her life, but she felt none. The only thing she felt was appreciation and acceptance. She pushed the chair back with her legs and walked over to stand behind him, her hands resting on the fine wool of his robes.

“Do you know what I've wished?” He paused for only a moment before continuing. “I wish that Draco had, had someone in his life who cared enough about him to stand by him as you did your friends.”

“Lucius, there were people that cared for Draco in that way. He had his mother.” Hermione used her hands to turn his body so that she could look into his face. “He had you.”

She felt him tense under her palms, allowing her to feel the ropes of muscle underneath his skin.

“I did a fine job of protecting him didn't I?”

“You did your best. You stood up for something that I am sure Draco had wanted.” She stepped away from him. “A lot of people don't know what happened the night that Dumbledore died.”

She watched as one of his eyebrows shot into the air.

“Harry told me what happened. Draco was lowering his wand, he was going to change sides. I know, that given enough time, your family would have done what was right.”

“You know, I talk to him.” He said, the briefest smile gracing his lips.

“How?” She asked, confused.

He grabbed her hand and led down the hall near his library. They passed the drawing room and Hermione couldn't help the shudder that passed through her body.

“I would get rid of the room if I could.” He said quietly and drew her into the library.

Hermione couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips at the sheer size of the room. For a bibliophile like herself, this was mecca.

He placed a crystal tumbler into her hand as she looked around her in astonishment. “This is amazing Lucius.”

“I told you this would get her to the house, Father.”

Hermione whipped around, her eyes locking on a face she hadn't seen in many years.

A smirk crossed his young features, forever externalized within the gilt frame. “Hey Granger.”