This wasn't supposed to come out for a couple more days, but I couldn't just post an intermission without following up with an actual chapter, especially after making you wait so long! So, finally, we return to Hermione and Lucius's antics. I've missed you all dearly, and of course, our star-crossed lovers. ;)

Hermione has stormed out of the Manor, perhaps for good this time, and is fleeing through London in the night once again. But what else lies in wait for her in the darkness? And could there be anything worse than Lucius? Enjoy this slightly shorter chapter, dear reader, and look forward to the ultimate climax to be posted soon!

Chapter 40

The cold spring night air chilled the tears running down Hermione's face as she apparated back into Diagon Alley. She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and braced herself against the wind, but she continued to stumble clumsily down the empty city streets. She was sick, exhausted, and broken, not unlike how she had been all those months ago when her feet had brought her to the doorstep of the devil himself. On this night, she wasn't entirely sure where she planned on going, but she knew she wanted to put as much distance between the Manor - and Lucius - and herself as possible.

She could call on Harry and Ginny; she knew that. But she just couldn't handle their judgement or criticisms, their "I-told-you-so's" or their pity. Clearly, her old apartment was not an option being currently occupied by both Ron and Lavendar. She also had not the slightest idea of what employment she would eventually seek. At the moment, however, she had enough money in her purse that she didn't need to worry for the time being. All she wanted now was to be out of the cold Malfoy Manor and off the cold London streets.

A familiar sign caught her eye in the distance, and a feeling of warmth spread through her as fond memories flooded back. It's as good a place as any… she thought to herself, clearing the final tears from her face and soldiering on.

As her footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, Hermione couldn't help but think of the taps of Lucius's cane echoing through the cavernous Manor. She replayed their confrontation in her mind over and over again, trying to understand what had happened and to unpack her feelings surrounding these chaotic months of her life. Of course, she was relieved that after everything she was not carrying Lucius's baby. That wasn't what had upset her. It was the shadow that passed over his porcelain face when she refused his instructions, the coldness in his eyes despite her pain, and the way his hand had tightened around the handle of his wand when she didn't do as he commanded that haunted her. She worried that there would come a time where her playful resistance would prove too much for him, or where her sincere protests would be ignored, where he would lose control and she would be entirely at his mercy.

"At least I know who the villains are out there." That still felt true to her. Even though venturing out on her own was terrifying, at least she knew who she feared outside the Manor's walls. Inside the labyrinthine halls and serpentine corridors that twisted and turned and subverted expectations at every angle, Lucius was constantly changing with them, donning whatever mask he needed to get what he wanted out of her. But was he really capable of hexing her? Of forcing himself on her? When he had kept watch out the window each night to keep her safe, when he had healed her splinched leg so delicately, and when he had gently cradled her in his arms until sleep took her…?

This is also the man who tortured Mudbloods for sport and enjoyed administering Unforgiveable Curses, Hermione…of course he's capable! He's proven that time and time again! But a part of her still refused to believe that the man he was today could be the same as the man who had once haunted her dreams.

That part of her grew quieter as she remembered what she had been warned of months ago. "He's like a cat playing with a mouse before he makes the fatal strike! He's using you for social, political, sexual satisfaction, but when he's got all he can out of you he'll throw you away and move on to the next one. That's what he does." As Dolohov's cold words echoed through her mind, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she had just managed to dodge that fatal strike…

Hermione finally reached the large wooden door beneath the squeaky Leaky Cauldron sign blowing back and forth in the wind. Wrenching the door open, she slipped inside, offering a quick, cautionary glance behind her to ensure Lucius had not followed her.

She had not looked closely enough, however, for lurking in the darkness just around the corner down Knockturn Alley, a shadowy figure took note of her small, cloaked frame entering the Leaky Cauldron. As silent as an exhale, the silhouette slinked away and disappeared into the shadows.

"Good evening!" the middle-aged man behind the counter greeted Hermione as she shut the door behind her. There was a huge fire crackling in the hearths separating scattered tables and chairs throughout the main hall. A couple stray wizards were seated in corners, reading the paper or sipping tea, but the inn was very quiet at this late hour.

"Evening," Hermione replied cordially, but she could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. "A single room, please."

The man smiled and nodded, digging for a key below the counter. "Three galleons for the night then, Miss." He handed her the enchanted key before pushing a guest logbook her way and providing her with a quill to input her information.

Hermione picked up the quill, then hesitated. She knew her real name was likely being sought after by a whole host of people – her former fiancé, her fervent flame, her friends, an entire news organization, a scorned former coworker, and a mad dark wizard... She couldn't help but wonder if she was happy that any of those names were searching for her, but at least for now, she didn't want to be found by any of them.

Remembering her experiences in her seventh year, Hermione quickly wrote down her information next to the name Penelope Clearwater, then paid for her room and made her way up the stairs.

Hermione followed the worn metal signs down a long hallway on the second floor until she finally found her room in the back lefthand corner of the hall. She tried her best to open her door as softly as she could, but a loud squeak cut through the night as the old hinges whined in protest. She slipped in quickly and made sure to the lock the door behind her, adding a couple protection enchantments for good measure.

With a wave of her wand, Hermione lit the candles in the room. The room was small and plain, but Hermione was actually grateful. It was a refreshing change from the opulence of the Manor, and she was happy to set up in a room that actually suited her. She was especially looking forward to lying on a bed that didn't smell of cologne, a bed that didn't hold forbidden memories of herself and the master of the house. A bed alone, where she could sleep in peace.

Hermione dropped her bag unceremoniously to the floor. If she needed anything, she would unpack in the morning; she was just too exhausted now. She made sure to keep a hold of her wand, however, and tucked it beneath the pillow on the bed. She changed into a simple nightgown she had packed and left her yellow dress on the floor. She glanced at it again and sniffed. Perhaps she would burn it tomorrow.

Exhausted, Hermione collapsed onto the bed and buried herself beneath the covers. She hugged herself and curled up tightly, trying to find warmth but finding none. She had expected to feel relief in this new space, but all she felt now was disappointment. If she was so glad to be rid of him, then why did the bed feel so empty and cold…?

Shaking her head, Hermione leaned over and blew out the candle on her bedside table, plunging her room into darkness. Maybe this time alone could help her clear both her heart and her head, and in the light of the morning tomorrow, perhaps she might be able to see her world a little bit clearer, without a slimy, green, Slytherin tint.