Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter and stuff.

Summary: Hermione and Ron are given to Lucius and Severus respectively as spoils of war, but from there do not go as they expect at all. Can they find a way to destroy the Dark Lord and his new Horcruxes once and for all while he plots something even more sinister for Ginny? These are their Dark tales of post-war life, love, anguish, and most of all, hope.

Pairings/Main Characters (In order): Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape/Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley/Voldemort/Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Author's Long Obligatory Note: As of August 2014, I have edited the beginning of this story and will add parts later to this story to better suit canon and made it more compliant to Deathly Hallows, the only major differences still being Harry dies as well as Draco and Narcissa and Snape obviously lives and there is a Curse on the Malfoy family. Unfortunately, I had to scrap everything I had written before, I couldn't stand to read it anymore and there was no fixing it when new readers are still discovering this story every day I decided to just post what I have rewritten so far and I will try so hard to finish this and all my other stories. I've always meant to edit this one and got part way through years ago which made the first part of the story better, the middle confusing as hell, and the ending somewhat more similar to how I write today. I'm finally making it a priority since this was written (oh dear,) eight years ago, I wanted to rewrite because I've changed a lot as a writer and it was before I even read DH, so I tried to add parts later, it was a mess- it'll all make sense in the end I swear. I was immensely dissatisfied with how the story turned out and I want to do it better justice; I will, I promise.

WARNINGS: This is a Dark story, a post-war story so there will be some unpleasant topics but I will give chapter warnings when it will occur and it won't be incredibly detailed, only enough to suit the story. Also I wanted to make it clear the pairings are together but there won't be a lot of romance in the story, at least not from Lumione, not until the end. Because I want this to be a realistic cannon story certain things must happen first.

That being said, the beginning of this chapter is a bit squeamish as we're faced with the Dark Lord's stronghold, formally Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who has stuck with this story over the years, reading and reviewing like mad and threatening harm upon my person, you make it worth it for me. And to everyone reading for the first time… enjoy your one-way-ticket to Angstville.

As always, Nijaded.

Title: Bittersweet.

Chapter One: Bittersweet Luck.

The once proud castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was scarcely recognizable anymore. The Dark Lord had been using it as his newest fortress for just over a month and already the building seemed tainted, twisted; broken under the waxing gibbous moon glowing defiantly under the wispy clouds.

A dark smog hung around and over the school- in fact; the whole building was decidedly unsettling when one looked upon it with discernable scrutiny, having known or attended the castle in its former glory. And the most perplexing part was that there was not much physically changed about Hogwarts School. The walls looked more or less the same despite some chunks of stone missing from the Battle a few months ago, but the windows and hallways in the castle were pitch-black, no firelight emitting from them or over the grounds.

But perhaps the most ominous thing about Voldemort's new stronghold was that the castle itself seemed to be fading, stubbornly grasping the horrors it held within its collapsing walls and trying to remain strong. Hogwarts was filled with the sacred and most ancient forms of magic, after all. The enchanted structure seemed to not only know what was happening to it; what was going on inside and around her grounds like a watchful mother but appeared to be trying to fight it.

Trying, and failing.

A pack of werewolves led by Greyback could be heard howling and clawing through the woods as two masked men crossed the grounds, known amongst their ranks as the Dark Lord's Favorite and his Cursed Left Hand. The wolves must have been returning from their hunt in the Dark Forest or at least Lucius, the latter of the two, assumed that was the reason for the state of the grounds; littered with debris and carcasses, the area was strangely silent as if the creatures normally lurking were in hiding. Even the Black Lake seemed hushed and empty as they passed it, their sentient reflections ill-defined in the streaming moonlight.

Lucius cast a sidelong glance at Severus, wondering what his companion's reaction to the disturbing scene before him was. It was the first time they had come back since the night of the Battle and not only had Severus also attended the school when it was in its previous state, but he had also lived and taught there for the better part of twenty years. His eyes were blank through his mask, but Lucius knew better and could tell he was just as affected as he felt.

Really, the blonde wizard just felt rueful for the school. It had had its flaws in the past, with previous incompetent Headmasters and interference from the Ministry of Magic (although that was due to his subtle urging two years ago,) but despite all of that when Lucius looked at the fallen institution he could only fondly recall his long-since gone school days. He was reminded of a time when things were much simpler than they were now; when the Dark Lord had not accumulated so much power and influence.

They ascended the steps to the building and pushed open the large, familiar doors. Both were looking around with veiled yet hesitant interest at the condition of the inside.

It was as dim as it had seemed to be from the grounds, sparse torches lit throughout the walls of the school in varying random quantities, just enough it seemed so that the path was lit. As they proceeded though the corridor Lucius had to choke down his startled gasp as something brushed the top of his shoulder while he passed underneath. Craning his neck so he could see the cause he felt his stomach churn with discomfort. The Dark Lord had preserved the bodies of the dead with a Dark magic spell and there were some suspended from the ceilings hanging from invisible ropes and swaying faintly in the dead air. As he looked about him he realized they were also hanging along the walls gawkily draped over the now-empty portraits, displaying the evil nature of Voldemort more evidently than they had ever witnessed before.

Lucius' eyes rolled over the countless bodies as they walked, unable to look away from their horrified faces, unseeing eyes and slack-jawed mouths. Whatever he had been expecting inside the castle this… this did not even come close. A trickle of unease was rolling down his spine as they strode mechanically, Severus keeping his eyes straight ahead the entire time.

They passed through the corridors, making their way to the Great Hall where others would be waiting, and no matter how far they walked, the walls and ceilings were decorated with corpses. Lucius could feel his heartbeat plummeting as he stared at mostly unfamiliar faces, hoping to whatever Gods above might favor him that he did not see the one he most feared he would…

…But it was inevitable. As they strode down the hall Lucius stopped abruptly, frozen in his tracks when he saw the inimitable form of a silvery-blonde haired head; his hair, bowed and poised over the entrance to the dungeons. Severus finally took notice and turned when he saw he was walking alone, following Lucius' gaze to see the reason for his abrupt standstill.

Draco hung between two unlit torches on the top of the wall, his limbs outstretched in what would have been an uncomfortable position if there was any life in him, but there was not so he was just displayed gruesomely, inhumanely for all to see. His only son; his heir; his little boy…

Severus was grabbing Lucius' shoulders and forcing him to look away and into his face as he had removed his mask and was currently removing Lucius' as well, dropping them both to the floor carelessly. "Don't think of it, Lucius. There is nothing we can do for him now," he softly said, his words soothing but holding no comfort for Lucius.

He could feel his lungs swelling, his brain racing with thoughts of murderous revenge. Draco had been the Master of the Elder Wand, unbeknownst to him. When the Dark Lord learned this he cursed first and would ask questions later. He didn't even need to kill Lucius' boy, merely utilize a simple Disarming Spell, but this was Lord Voldemort, of course.

Lucius had watched his son die, not able to do anything for him then and definitely not capable of doing anything now.

"Put it out of your mind for now," Severus was still speaking to him in a low voice, trying to bring him away from the cliffs of sorrow and back to his Death Eater persona. "He wanted to get a rise out of you before. Come on now, we don't have much time. If we make him wait…"

His words trailed off, but Lucius knew what he implied. If Voldemort were to detect such a weakness in him as familial love, he would be hung on the wall much like his son. To be made a horrible example out of, for all the world to see. He was looking back at Draco forlornly. It was easy to focus on other things while he was out there keeping busy but faced with his son's death so literally was unbearable for him. He had already lost so much…

"I… I know, Severus, but I- cannot…" Lucius whispered in anguish, hanging his head in defeat. He had nothing left; why did he keep pressing on thinking life would eventually get better? This was his life now; and he couldn't even give his son a proper burial in the Malfoy family cemetery, let alone defy the Dark Lord by turning against him as he so desired; and he had never wanted to more so than in that moment.

Severus was pulling out his wand, poignant understanding on his face. Without even posing the inquiry first, he pressed the tip of his wand to Lucius' temple and said, "Come on, then. Give the memory to me for safekeeping."

It was the only option Lucius had, and one that he had been relying on increasingly so for weeks. Regrettably, Lucius was not a gifted Occlumens and if the Dark Lord pried into his mind it would mean nothing good for either of them. So he let Severus keep his memories, where they would be stored later in a Pensieve, protected from Voldemort and Lucius' fragile peace of mind.

He did hate burdening Severus so, but there was no other choice. Taking deep breaths, he recalled everything that had transpired over the last several minutes as his old friend drew the wispy memories from his head, bringing the horrible images into his own brain selflessly.

When he was finished, Lucius could scarcely recall what had upset him so much, but knew gratitude toward Severus was indubitably owed so he thanked him and retrieved both of their masks for them as they fitted them back into place.

Together, they finished walking the rest of the way to the Great Hall, Lucius mindful this time to avoid the faces that were staring down at him obscenely, suspended from the stones and ceilings.

Upon their arrival the room was already full of Death Eaters, talking quietly amongst themselves while they waited for their Master to arrive. Lucius and Severus took their place in the center of the room, choosing to remain silent as the rest of the Dark Lord's followers filtered into the former dining area. The room smelled of stale smoke rather than lavish feasts and there were no more tables where the students would have dined with their Housemates, only charred remnants remained. Lucius tore his eyes away from the various burn marks and assessed the crowd instead.

Crabbe and Goyle Senior were there with their sons, and Lucius felt a rush of jealousy he suppressed and did not dwell on. He had worked too hard to obtain his calm over the last several weeks. Yaxley was talking in a low voice to Macnair and Dolohov, Blaise Zabini stood alone in the corner of the room, and Pius Thicknesse was there as well, not far from the last Carrow sibling who was standing next to Antonin Dolohov, both silently enduring for what was to come. Rodolphus Lestrange, however, was anxiously fidgeting with his cloak and tapping his fingers against his outer thighs impatiently.

It was not long before his attention was torn away from his fellow Death Eaters as the doors swung open and Voldemort strode through, gliding through the room with practiced incomparability and his head imperiously raised as he made his entrance. All the Death Eaters swiftly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads in reverence (or in some cases, like Lucius and Severus' masked resignation.) When the Dark Lord had reached the scorched Headmaster's podium in the room he motioned for his dedicated followers to rise and addressed them.

"Good evening, my old friends. After years and years of careful planning, cunning plotting, and the bloodshed of thousands of Muggles, Mudbloods, and blood traitors alike… here we are," Voldemort said with iciness in his voice that chilled the room to the bone. There was a murmur of agreement in acknowledgement of his words.

"I trust you are well and in good health from your journeys end. Many of you have fought loyally by my side for a number of years, never faltering when all seemed lost. Some of you have wavered, yes; you know who you are… But here you still stand before me; celebrating this glorious day, the aftermath of my victory shadowing the prestigious school of magic which failed so many of us. Tell me, did you approve of my decorations?" The Dark Lord burst with a mad cackle, barely containing his demented glee.

A rumble of laughter echoed through the masks of the Death Eaters, but Lucius noted Severus stayed as quiet as he did as they stiffly nodded their heads.

"Ah, I thought you might, now put all joking matters aside. In all seriousness," Voldemort said, addressing his Death Eaters with an almost reverent look in his eye. "I owe much of my success to you, my devoted subjects. I am going to list off the following names and if and when your name is called you will rise, come stand before your Master, and wait to be given your reward for your actions in my name."

Here, he turned to the door he entered from and motioned something forward with his hand. Lucius craned his neck to see as the former House Elves of Hogwarts emerged looking more ragged and run-down than he had ever seen the creatures looking, each one pulling a person or two behind them with a magically smoking rope.

All were faces he recognized, if he could not recall by them name. But these were Potter's friends; the Weasley boy and the Muggleborn girl, the Ravenclaw girl who had once been imprisoned in his cellar and Longbottom boy, previous Gryffindor students mixed with fewer Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw ones, and young faces already graduated from Hogwarts that he recognized from the Ministry of Magic. There were some of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix: one of the twins of the Weasley family, the French girl who had married the eldest son looking scratched almost beyond recognition, a bloodied Kingsley Shacklebolt, the list went on.

They stood in a row beside the Dark Lord and Lucius couldn't help but notice Granger was the one and only Muggleborn that had been spared, in or out of Hogwarts. Why? Why would the Dark Lord have mercy on her and none of the others? Perhaps it had to do with Potter…

Voldemort began listing off names, in no particular order and recognized the man's accomplishments before he called out the name of the slave so they could be claimed. One by one the group dwindled down until there were only three left.

"Rodolphus Lestrange, come forward."

From somewhere near the back of the room the masked, curly headed Death Eater approached the Dark Lord, kneeling before the podium dutifully. "You have served me very well over the years, Rodolphus. You have gathered information and recruited for me, torturing worthless blood traitors and Muggles alike which resulted in your extended stay in Azkaban. But you remained faithful, and you returned to me nearly four years ago when I rose once more, even losing your brother and wife to the long war. You have earned a fine slave, a Pureblood who fought against us futilely, and you may do with Miss Lovegood what you see fit. Go on now, place your collar about her neck."

Rodolphus rose, drawing his wand and producing the choker from the tip as it encircled her. He led the girl out of the room, leaving the final two shaking forms of Weasley and Granger standing alone next to the Dark Lord; the best two for last- or worse, in this case- Potter's closest allies. Lucius knew what was coming before it could even happen.

"Severus Snape, stand before me."

A hushed whisper erupted behind them as Voldemort spoke. Severus never had to kneel before the Dark Lord- he was his favorite Death Eater, after all, especially now with Bellatrix gone, so he would not lower himself if not necessary.

Lucius watched as the dark-haired wizard drew himself to his full height and walked purposefully up to the Dark Lord, bowing his head in a show of respect while he waited for him to continue in his speech.

Voldemort regarded him silently for a few moments, an unsettling smile spread over his lipless face. "Ah, Severus, my Half-Blood Prince… one of my most loyal Death Eaters, my beloved spy who roosted right under the nose of Albus Dumbledore for so many years, patiently was he awaiting my return to sell me information which ultimately led to the downfall of my most hated enemies, the old fool and Harry Potter. My victory would have been unachievable if it were not for you, Severus. So now I present you with the highest honor; a Pureblood wizard who, despite being from a family of blood traitors, has a rich familial history as one of the oldest Pureblood families still around. I give you Mr. Weasley, Severus, the adopted brother of Harry Potter, one of his closest friends- you have deserved it."

Severus bowed his head further, his hair falling over his shoulders and obscuring his mask as he replied humbly, "Thank you, My Lord."

Lucius stared as Severus collared the boy, putting a non-hesitant stunning spell on him when he struggled, issuing a chuckle from Voldemort. As they left the room, Lucius closed his palms and realized they had been sweating in anticipation for what was to come.

There was only one slave left and as he stared at the Granger girl he knew it only meant one thing.

His suspicions were confirmed when the Dark Lord turned back to his assembly and his voice rose over the rising clatter in the room. "Enough. Surely you knew not everyone could receive such ample compensation for their service. Some of you may have displeased me, abandoned me when I required you near; yes some of you have made many mistakes and to be recognized for your services you shall have to prove yourselves more worthy of my admiration. But do not fret; one of you has earned a final reward from me. Indeed, there is one who has repented for his mistakes and deserves acknowledgment for his service."

Voldemort's eyes landed on Lucius and spoke to him directly as he motioned him forward. "Come, Lucius Malfoy."

Rising steadily to his feet, Lucius parted the crowd and knelt before his current Master, gritting and grinding his teeth against what was to come.

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius… there was a time I didn't know what to do with you; a time when I thought you had finally managed to slip through my fingers, but that was never going to happen, now was it?" Voldemort hoarsely crooned, reminding Lucius of the magical bond the Dark Lord held over him and dangled in front of freely whenever possible.

"No, My Lord," he answered tightly, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed on his protruding knee.

"Of course not… you have finally proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that your allegiance lies solely with me. But this did not come without great personal cost to you, did it not? Your family is dead and with no son to bear your name, the Malfoy curse will die with you," he spoke low, tauntingly, but it did not stop the confused clamored that dispersed behind him. Voldemort silenced them with a look before turning with a lipless smile back to Lucius. "However, you pressed on and abided my orders, and for that I am most pleased. A shining example, we shall make of you, for what can be achieved if only my followers remain loyal- to none other than me."

Voldemort finally turned from him and started stalking toward the last terrified girl left standing by the former staff table. He had not spoken directly to any of the others, and that was what was bothering Lucius so much as the Dark Lord edged closer and she seemed to shrink in on herself, huddling in on her cradled arms and flinching away from him.

Though he was not addressing Granger, he was looking at her with a haughty, cold look on his face. "A Mudblood, yes… but she was Potter's Mudblood. He coveted her for her intelligence, the 'brightest witch of her age' she has been declared by some. But here, in this room, we see her for what she really is, don't we, friends?"

An agreeing murmur drifted from the crowd but Lucius kept quiet, remained still, waiting for the moment when he would be permitted to leave and trying to seem like he was doing anything but.

"She is a little Muggle who failed to protect Harry Potter when it mattered most. Isn't that right, Mudblood?" The Dark Lord spoke to her directly now, and she squeaked through her tears in response, recoiling away from him.

Chuckling darkly at her reaction, Voldemort turned back to Lucius. "You see, Lucius, I could pick no other one for you. You have failed me in the past, greatly and more than once I should not have to remind you, but alas… you repented and paid for your sins with the lives of your bloodline. For that, I give you the Mudblood. Take her."

Lucius finally pushed himself off the ground, grateful to change positions. The Dark Lord was waiting for some kind of protest from him; to challenge him on being given the only Muggleborn witch when so many of others had Purebloods or half-bloods in their care- but none would come from Lucius.

Bowing his head, he simply said, "Thank you, My Lord." And he approached the girl, fashioning the magical binding collar around her neck as all the others had. She did not move away, rather she stared unflinchingly into his face as he ignored her, turning her and leading her from the room.

Once he had exited the Great Hall, relief washed over him. He had made it unscathed by some miracle, only suffering the cruel taunting of the Dark Lord which was tame in comparison to being cursed repeatedly.

But he would not give the Dark Lord the satisfaction of getting under his skin. He didn't much care that he was given a slave at all; he had never wanted one after the first war, which would have been expected if the Dark Lord hadn't lost his physical form after failing to kill Potter, and he certainly didn't desire one now but he had no other choice.

When they were a safe distance away he stopped her, his hand still guiding her through her shoulder and she looked up at him. "I am going to temporarily blind you until we get to the Apparition point. Don't ask why," he cut her off promptly, drawing his wand. "Just hold still."

He said the spell that made her eyes start to glass over and she whimpered softly, frightened. He felt a small twinge of pity for the girl, but felt that if she were to see the bodies of her fallen comrades suspended in the halls of the Fortress, it would only make both of their lives that much harder.

The spell took full effect, leaving her eyes with a thick, not-quite-translucent white film over them. She wouldn't be able to see or make out anything, only fuzzy shapes. Lucius curled his fingers around her shoulder once more and started escorting her out of the castle, the damaged remains of a school where he; even she… had attended lessons not so very long ago.

She wobbled and tripped over random things and would clutch at his arm, the closest thing in her reach, when she would nearly fall. But he told himself it was better this way as he led her across the eerie grounds, steering them away from the dangerously inviting Black Lake and into the clearing in the Dark Forest where they could Apparate.

Removing the spell from her eyes, she blinked rapidly and rubbed over her lids as she let them readjust. When she finished she noticed his hand outstretched towards her, lingering as he waited for her to take it.

The instant she did, he pulled them both into Apparition and made for the safety of his Manor.

"You should consider it a privilege to end up with me, Miss Granger. Yes, you were very lucky, indeed…"

The Lord of the Malfoy estate lounged authoritatively on the duvet in the sitting room of his manor and observed the bushy-haired girl with a guarded and cold expression while tracing the rim of his wine goblet with a pale, lazy finger yet the wizard was not as disinterested as he outwardly appeared.

Really, if he were perfectly honest with himself he found himself simply appreciating being in the presence of another human being, unable to bear the whispering, cavernous hallways of his empty home at times; but he daren't let her see that side of him- for now.

Lucius was the picture of perfection, as he always had been before his brief stint in Azkaban Wizarding prison; it had taken quite a toll on him physically and mentally to persevere through his obstacles thereafter, being constantly emasculated and driven to drink, but he had managed it- as he had no other choice. Being forced to play the role of a Death Eater, well… one had to look the part, live the part, feel the part. And for Lucius, after years of practice it came rather naturally.

In the aftermath of the Battle at Hogwarts, he had been restored as the Dark Lord's left hand, second-in-command only due to his mistakes of two years ago and his defected wife, and with influence and power in his disposal once more he thrived; it was all he had to go on.

But as he flourished and fed off his restored glory to fuel his inner fire, the secret one that only Severus knew about; well... Lucius had one stratagem, one clear objective in mind and it heavily involved the girl sitting across from him on the floor. They had returned to his manor mere hours ago and after he dutifully showed her his home, her new room, and what small glimpses of his ancestral family she could handle, he led her into the sitting room with him so he could indulge in a mild spirit while he became… reacquainted with the girl.

Her dark eyes stayed averted and fixed on the luxurious Oriental rug that covered the floor of his sitting room, so he let his own roam over her head-to-toe. Though her face was plain by most standards she looked better proportioned without her girlish appearance despite the blotches of dried blood that marred her face and body. Her lips were swollen and bit as if she'd been chewing on them constantly, but he could see under the dirt that they were full and pink. She was nearly naked under a tattered, well-used garment and the parts of her body he could see were petite if not a little malnourished, but he tried not to stare too long at her more delicate features. He did not want to bruise her pride further, among other reasons.

At any rate, he was content with her face because he really preferred her eyes- for that was what really made her interesting to look at. They were dark and light at different times; youthful but simultaneously shrewd as evidence to the things she had seen and lived through and because they were slightly sunken in their sockets it made her look haunted and frightened. How could such deeply depressing eyes hold him so steadfastly? They were a mystery to him.

Granger sat with her legs tucked under her knees, a magical collar placed around her neck only he had the ability to remove with his touch. She finally seemed to give in and stared up at him indignantly, chin raised and jaw set.

"Why should I be so lucky? What- what happened to my- friends…?" She asked most vehemently, only faltering over the last spoken word with obvious difficulty. She wanted to know, but she was afraid of what he might tell her.

Lucius was slightly taken aback. Yes, there was pain and sadness in her eyes, but it was heavily shadowed by the hatred and misplaced contempt in her expression. He had been waiting for some tearful plea or begging of some sort, not this steely determination she was displaying before him now.

Yet he could break her spirit all too easily. He was a seasoned Death Eater in spite of everything, one whom had spent more than half of his life serving the Dark Lord. He'd owned Mudblood slaves in the not-so-distant past and he knew precisely how he could beat and rape her until she begged him to stop and then make love to her so sweetly she would go mad until she gave in. He could torture and beat her relentlessly and then heal her slowly and tenderly. Moreover he could alternate between the two, leaving her in a constant state confusion and agony, but in heavy need of him despite his treatment of her.

He could. But he would not.

The war was over; for the Light, anyway. The Dark Lord had triumphed over Harry Potter. 'Neither can live while the other survives,' and all that.

In the midst of the Battle at Hogwarts when the Dark Lord and Potter's wands were connected, he watched impassively restraining the very girl sitting across from him now and the same blonde Ravenclaw he had been forced to detain in his cellar and vaguely recognized from the skirmish at the Department of Mysteries two years before. However, inside he was damning to hell the gods, Voldemort, the boy- anything he could think of. The wrong side was winning…

Quicker than a flash Nagini, the final remaining Horcrux, had suddenly curled around the boy and attacked his jugular causing just enough distraction that he faltered and the Dark Lord's green spell over took the one opposing him.

When Potter dropped lifelessly once and for all, time seemed to stop; as if no one truly believed his or her eyes. It came as an unexpected revelation to them that the boy of eighteen had stood no chance against the Dark Lord. He scoffed inwardly as he had then at the time.

The youngest Weasley boy had moved first, screaming and lunging at Voldemort next to his sister and Granger who were both deathly white and still, but Snape was quicker to react and grabbed him; if anyone looked shocked, it was the unusually terrified Severus Snape. Lucius had cursed silently under his mask. He was very lucky he had not revealed himself before now - they both were. He couldn't imagine how things would have been if they had switched just moments before the Dark Lord triumphed. But Severus recovered and had his wand against the throat of the redhead while he awaited orders from his master.

Ginevra moved next, neatly dodging Snape and all but reaching the body of her already-gone boyfriend before Voldemort used an intense Cruciatus curse on her, the Elder wand glowing triumphantly in his fierce grip as her body crumpled beneath his.

All was silent after that and no one else attempted to move.

The Dark Lord guffawed with evil delight and tried to coerce the survivors to join him while they had the opportunity. When he was met with heavy resistance he quickly turned to his followers and gave everyone sharp instructions about which people he wanted dead and who to keep alive to be detained as prisoners even as people started running from the gruesome battleground. Lucius lost track of the people he was charged to go after, but stunned the girls he had been restraining and sprung into action like Severus had. They all had their orders, and Lucius resolved to murder or capture every single one for the sole purpose of maintaining on the Dark Lord's good side.

There would be no exceptions.

Then Voldemort erected a barrier around the area and left them, departed for Dumbledore's old office- Severus' office hours ago- with his final Horcrux slung over his shoulders protectively, levitating the trailing body of Ginny Weasley after him to plan the changes he was going to make to the castle now that he had fully taken control. Lucius had always known that the madman wanted the school to be his fortress, the Headmaster's office his throne; he was just glad to be rid of him so he could later return to his manor and erase the reminders of the war.

Other Death Eaters began executing their instructions, stunning or disarming and capturing the fleeing remainders of the Light side and killing them if need be so they could not escape. It surprisingly did not take long due to the Dark Lord's magical barricade.

Lucius suspected they captured more than they had murdered, which was what the Dark Lord had wanted. The more people they had at their disposal and to use as leverage against each other and for information, the better.

They bound them all together and let Wormtail lead them down to the House Elves quarters while they ventured out of the vicinity to search the castle for any remaining survivors. After three hours they had acquired a number of slaves and killed far more than that. When they were sure the castle was empty the Death Eaters went back to the Great Hall to await the return of their master.

Finally, Voldemort did arrive but he was alone and he seemed unusual, Lucius had noted. After the death of Potter, he was invigorated and nearly vibrating with evil joy, but once he lifted his head he seemed tired and his skin nearly translucent white. Lucius looked sidelong under his mask at Severus who also had his eyes narrowed at the Dark Lord.

When he began speaking his breathing was slightly labored as he gave out instructions and praised his gratitude to his followers. But the battle would not be truly over until Voldemort was sure he had effectively eliminated the Order of the Phoenix and any more resistance in Wizarding England.

Before they could take their prizes they had to extend their search for more prisoners beyond Hogwarts. It took several weeks with little rest, hardly any food or water; strictly hunting people until they could find no more to draw out of hiding. He and Severus stayed together only communicating through Occlumency about their future plans once the venture was over, about what seemed so off about the Dark Lord after he killed Potter, what it could possibly mean.

However, it was in the duration of those weeks his spoil of war was subjected to relentless torture by Wormtail and the other, newer Death Eaters the Dark Lord had not entrusted missions with. To what extent she suffered he could not say, but he could tell it was severe by the way she cringed away even from his own touch when he had come to collect her. Still, he kept his hand curled firmly around her shoulder and led her away from the fallen, shattered school- one they had both once attended, he reminded himself.

In time all would be revealed to her, but as to when the most fitting, beneficial moment would arise he could not say… that would be up to her.

Lucius had been lost in his thoughts, reflecting, his mind consumed by the bizarre and puzzling memories for minutes. Surely, by now she thought he was either ignoring her or deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable. He had gotten so wrapped up in his musings he had forgotten she had asked him some questions…

"I assure you Ronald Weasley is in capable hands as well," he said off-handedly. Severus was gentle at his core, he always had been, but the hardened years of playing both sides of a war had gotten to him and so began his cold, unfeeling appearance. Nevertheless, knowing all too well the Weasley temper, he was glad he was given the tamer, if not headstrong, Muggleborn. "But as to the others, I cannot say a great deal."

Lucius took a long, leisurely sip of his wine and set it down on the table behind him so he could fully regard the girl once again. It amazed him how a young woman of her unfortunate background could be thrown quite literally into the brutal hands of evil and manage to survive- flourish it even appeared- to be here before him now in his home with a fire still in her eyes, a womanly vengeance that he privately longed to encourage. Yes, her Muggle parentage was a minor hindrance, but as Severus softly pointed out hadn't stopped her from achieving a great deal in her school years, much like the former professor himself, much like the younger Dark Lord and of course Potter...

It was a fair point.

"I must say, you are an intriguing specimen despite your… background. You've been beaten in a war, lost some of your closest companions I'd wager, and have been abused by some of the most reviled Death Eaters in London, save for me, and here you are… glaring at me as if it was I who had done something to you."

Her glare faltered in its determination.

Good.

He chuckled. "Yes, even I would bitterly admit you have piqued my interest, Miss Granger."

She shifted under his gaze, not sure of what to do was what he presumed. She instinctively touched her collar, fingering the clasp absentmindedly while she silently deliberated, warred with herself possibly- he wouldn't know because she remained quiet.

As he stared at the black strip of leather under her hand he grimaced in distaste at the proof of his ownership of her. Once long ago he might have longed to see her this way, even reveled in it, but for now he needed her on his side.

He saw the questions burning in her eyes, on her brow, but she said no more keeping her lips pressed together tight.

"Have you forgotten how to speak?" He drawled at her, raising a pale eyebrow in question.

The girl opened her mouth and he heard a small croak before she cleared her throat to speak. When she did, her voice was hoarse with misuse and hysterics, most likely.

"I didn't have your permission, Master;" she bit out, her voice colder than he ever remembered hearing her before.

Cheeky little thing, she was; so very, very Gryffindor. Just a few years ago, that would have disgusted him, but he found it all rather amusing, if not a little ironic. But he did not want to be addressed that way- not by her, not like this.

"As I told you earlier this evening, Miss Granger, addressing me with such a title is superfluous; I will not tolerate it. Now as to what I was saying, you were lucky to be put into my care. Could you imagine being forced to serve Rodolphus Lestrange right now- or Yaxley or Dolohov? You'd be an inch from death."

Rabastan Lestrange had fallen earlier in the battle, and though he could not recall who, someone had finally managed to kill Bellatrix as well, effectively eliminating all of Rodolphus and Lucius' family ties despite not being related to her by blood. While he and Bellatrix never had much love for each other, it still stung watching his wife's sister fall, the last piece of her- but it left Rodolphus utterly distraught and alone and worse, even more deranged and murderous than before. Lucius quickly banished all memories of his dead family as they stirred far away, where they would remain until he could grieve freely.

If he recalled correctly, the blonde Ravenclaw girl was given to him and he must have assumed correctly because she visibly paled further than he thought possible and her eyes took on the size of galleons. They had to know each other as they were both present at the skirmish two years ago together with Potter and the youngest Weasleys suggested they all had been friends- but how close were they?

Lucius picked up his wine again, sighing into the cup as the pinot noir took the edge off. After his overindulgence following Azkaban, he had restricted himself to only a glass of wine or two a day- just enough to keep sane. But he couldn't deny he was feeling pleasantly warm and growing more comfortable with his mind blank, looking forward- he must always look forward from now on.

The girl watched him curiously, twisting her fingers in her lap. "Why… Why aren't you…?" She trailed off looking troubled. She couldn't figure out how to draw out her words tactfully.

Lucius chose to forsake discretion. "Why aren't I cursing you? Beating you? Locking you up in my cellar? For several reasons, Miss Granger," he replied, savoring the profound blush that crept up her neck before he continued, "First and foremost, I did not have any desire for procuring a witch-slave but due to… unforeseen circumstances I had to accept. No, I did not want this anymore than you did, so you won't have any need to run away from me, I can assure you of that."

At first she looked disbelieving at his words, but her face slowly morphed into an uncertain frown as she bit her lip thoughtfully. Of course, she did not trust him; and why should she? He had never given her reason to but it was still too soon; he would have to coax her slowly into his world in order for her to fully grasp her position, his plight, and their future together.

"Secondly, despite all that, you will find I can treat you most well in our own company, of course, should you choose to remain cooperative. I'm afraid at the Dark Lord's gatherings when you are permitted to attend with me the state of affairs will change. It is unavoidable."

He stared blankly at the Malfoy crest hung proudly on the wall above his fireplace before continuing, "And finally, when I do have to take you to my bed- and yes, I will have to one day, surely you knew that by now- I won't need any restraints or spells. Would you care for some wine?"

The swift change of subject made her visibly flinch as she twisted her dress, for lack of a better word, between her fingers. When she did not respond he conjured another goblet and offered it to her, insisting when she declined it. The scarlet liquid would do her good; relax her, put some color into her pale cheeks and some warmth into her body.

"Come now, I haven't poisoned it; I've been drinking it all evening," he pointed out with growing annoyance, his hand still outstretched towards her.

Having to shift forward to grab it from him, she inched closer on her knees until she was close enough and wrapped her hand around the slender glass. He did not let go yet as he levitated the bottle beside him into the air so it could pour into her glass. She watched him anxiously, her fingers trying unsuccessfully not to awkwardly brush against his as they both held the thin glass. When it was half full he let go, grabbing the bottle and replacing on the table next to him.

Whilst he turned back to her, she was raising the wine hesitantly to her lips and took a small sip at first, letting the glass hover by her mouth while she tasted. Before she barely finished swallowing her first taste she was tipping the rest of the contents down her throat and had the grace to sputter a little, wiping her mouth with her fingers.

"Do you find it to your liking?" He asked suddenly, visibly startling her again. Was she simply that skittish or was there something else about him unnerving her? At the moment, he hadn't the faintest idea what, but dismissed it as she had just been released from the Dark Lord's fortress and was still in a delicate mental state. But in response she nodded slowly and meekly thanked him as he poured her another. She held onto it tightly, taking a liberal sip but not downing it at once as she had before.

"Now then, haven't I answered all your questions already?"

"Hardly," she answered honestly, meeting his eyes.

His only response was his customary raised eyebrow and she quickly ducked her head again. She was a curious one. Severus always told him so. 'Insufferable know-it-all,' he'd called her in the past, as well as 'too smart for her own good' in more recent conversations. And Draco was second best only to her, when he was in school.

'When he was alive,' he amended. He shook his head and realized it was both at himself and in disguised awe of her.

"Oh? Then ask away; the hour is growing late and we should retire soon," he drawled nonchalantly, checking the antique grandfather clock in the room. It was already a quarter past midnight.

She seemed to be contemplating over the many questions she undoubtedly had swirling through her brain, her teeth tugging her bottom lip again- did she never cease that wretched habit?

"Well, I just… you… why are you doing this- why are you being so kind so to me?" She finally burst, and finally it dawned on him her real internal struggle. Everything in her innately told her to anticipate the worst from him, and he regrettably could not blame her. It's what everyone expected of him now.

He rested his glass on his lap as he looked down at her carefully, saying more with a look than what his eyes could say. "I have my own raison d'être, as they say, but for now I'm afraid my stories are all long and boring and will hold no real interest to you," said Lucius dryly, excluding the word 'yet.' She stifled a disapproving snort behind her wine and swallowed quickly. He ignored this and refilled their glasses, grateful for the pleasant warmth he was starting to feel spread through this limbs.

"I want to hear about you, Miss Granger."

"Me?" She asked incredulously. He couldn't blame her; no one had given a damn about her since before the war even started, if he had to guess. The only thing the public eye had ever credited to her was being a friend of Potter's, not her supposed talents which some claimed she had. And all too quickly she had been labeled a fugitive along with Potter and Weasley and lived on the run for almost a year before her capture. He certainly hadn't done anything for her while his late sister-in-law tortured her, carving the word 'Mudblood' into her arm. He could see it now and though it was faded some, the pink star was still harshly visible on her left arm.

He wanted to hear her history, firsthand from her.

"Yes. Tell me about yourself."

He watched the emotions pass over her face, dominated by utter bewilderment. He wanted and needed her confused. The more uncertain of him she was, the better it would be for him in the long run.

"Me… okay, well… where should I start-?"

"What is your full name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger..."

Well, he'd always known her first name was unique, but her name in general was still plain, not unlike her overall appearance. There really should be nothing special about it, about her, but it was still intriguing him in a way. "Go on," he urged her.

"Yeah… and well, you already know my parents were…Muggles. They were dentists, both of them- um… Muggle teeth doctors," she said, looking up to decide if she needed to explain their profession more clearly, but went on, "Um, well, both my parents were very loving, and equally pleased when I got my letter to Hogwarts," she told him and then looked up into his eyes again to wait for a sneer or something similar to signal his disgust. She found none, as he kept his face impassive while she spoke but he did interrupt her here.

"'Were?' Are they no longer with us?"

"Well, yes they are but… well; I suppose it doesn't matter now… before we went on the run to hunt for the Horcruxes, I… Obliviated them; I modified their memories so they haven't a clue who I am anymore and I sent them away, far away for good. I just wanted them... safe..." She explained as she turned away her eyes when tears began to form for the first time since he'd seen her in the presence of the Dark Lord.

Lucius felt his pale brow arch at his eyebrows again. She was quite a witch. To Obliviate her own father and mother, erase herself from their lives… He would be lying if he did not admit he was impressed, memory spells were very tricky. If done improperly, the repercussions were endless.

The air between them had grown stagnant and for some reason he wanted to bring her out of that time, so he asked her next, "What happened after you got your letter?"

She started off gradually again, unsure of his intentions and perhaps embarrassed but once she got past the gauche story of befriending Potter and Weasley because of a troll no less, she talked more insistently and let herself get carried away, seeming to forget altogether where she was and whom she was talking to.

As he listened, he found that he was slightly overwhelmed by her accomplishments; if only because she was so young when she achieved them. He heard from the source's mouth years before she had outsmarted Severus' task in the obstacle course for the Philosopher's Stone and only in her first year, as Severus had been quite aggravated about that. But he was taken aback by her brewing the Polyjuice Potion in her second year, something usually on par with a fifth year's studies, and solving the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets for Potter. He hadn't known she was given a Time-Turner in her third year and used it all year to take every class, save for Divination. No wonder they all called her a know-it-all. Then there was helping Potter in the Tri-Wizard tournament, and if that was not proof enough of her talents, she revealed herself as the mastermind who organized Dumbledore's Army in her fifth year, something that greatly surprised him. Draco had whined when he thought Potter was behind it and joined the Inquisitorial Squad to stop him. But equally shocking was learning she had earned her place in the Slug Club, which he himself had once been a part of. To Slytherins it was quite an honor and Horace Slughorn had never accepted a Muggleborn into his exclusive society since the days of Lily Potter. Finally, she spoke of her and her friends hunting down the Horcruxes, destroying every last one save for the snake; and all of this before she had even turned eighteen.

He simply could not fathom why she had wasted her talents on Potter and Weasley all those years. Honestly, if it were not for her Gryffindor bravery and nobleness with just a mite of Ravenclaw studiousness, with her burning ambitions she would have made an excellent Slytherin.

She seemed wholly caught off guard, but in a way shyly delighted that she had the opportunity to speak. By the time she had finished, he was so wrapped up in her tale she had to clear her throat to alert him she was done with her speech. He couldn't explain the deep need to know her, to really know her. Well, she would be his prisoner for the rest of their lives; until the end of his or her own, unless the Dark Lord saw fit to do away with her.

"That was very… enlightening," he said, struggling for a moment to find the right word. "I do thank you; I know not how difficult it must have been."

She chewed her lip nervously as she tentatively asked, "Why… Why did you want to know all that?"

He smiled faintly. "Information, Miss Granger, is the basis to any successful joint venture."

Silence hung in the air after that as he reflected on all his new-found knowledge. When he noticed her shifting uncomfortably, but knew it was not the weight of his stare against hers, he stood. She had been sitting on the floor for quite some time now and her legs were most likely losing circulation and falling asleep under her.

"Are you in pain?" He asked casually, smiling wryly at another look of surprise from her. "Come."

He offered his hand to her and she stared at it distrustfully, pausing for a moment before placing it into his. Her skin, by all rights, should not have been that soft, especially in her current state.

He helped her onto her feet and didn't let go of her hand until he was sure she was properly steadied and her legs did not quiver.

"Better?" He asked after a moment, meeting her face again.

She nodded once, grateful puzzlement painting her smudged features. "Thank you… Mr. Malfoy."

The fire was dying down into small embers and the room grew darker every few minutes. He supposed he should end things here, for tonight. Everything he had to tell her would take long and she would not be ready for it yet, only receiving her freedom from Hogwarts hours ago.

"Follow me. You look like you could do with a bath."

Her face lit up and he could tell she was fighting a smile. Her guard had come down for now, delighted at the prospect of getting clean. "That would be lovely, Mr. Malfoy."

As she followed behind him, her pace was a little unbalanced but she managed to keep up with his long strides. The nearest washroom was not too far.

He started drawing her bath, filling it with delicate rose water and using ample amounts of soap.

"You can use whatever you wish, if you require assistance, the House Elf, Talia, will come if you call out to her. When you are through, go up the second set of stairs and at the top, turn down the hall to your left and go to the very last bedroom on your right. Will you be all right on your own?"

She nodded and accepted his hand once more as he helped her into the tub.

"Very well… Take your time; Talia will wake you in the morning."

He left briskly; leaving the door just open crack. On the grounds of the Malfoy Manor, every room was charmed to be magically Silenced when the door was fully closed. His ancestors obviously cherished their privacy.

Lucius hovered in the doorway for only a moment, watching her sink into the water like it were a safe haven before remembering to peel the ragged piece of clothing off of her. He turned away before she did so and ascended the stairs and went down the hall lined with velvet paneling to his room at the middle of the end of the hall. His bedroom, not the one he ever shared with Narcissa, just his. He decided to not close the entrance to his private room either, just in case his presence was required. There was still no telling how the girl would react once the shock wore off.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, wanting nothing more than to pull roughly at the roots as if that would dull the headache he had experiencing since that morning.

It had indeed been a long day.

However, he didn't feel like reflecting on it all now. He undressed with magic and propped up his pillows and settled into bed, pulling the covers up to his waist in a reclining position. He Accio'd a random novel into his hands, set his wand on his nightstand and opened it without noticing or caring it was the middle of the book, trying to absorb his thoughts in it anyway- but knowing it was useless.

He tried to assert to his twitching fingers and straining ears that he was not nervous at what would happen the following day. But he could lie to the world; he could not lie to himself. Until he revealed to her the truth about him, he would have to walk on eggshells. The girl was still fragile, he knew, but they did not have an unlimited amount of time.

So he remained waiting, hoping not to fall asleep until he heard her retreat to her room, eyes flickering to the door every so often at some creak he heard in the floor boards but whether it was real or imagined, her footsteps or his House Elf, he couldn't say.

Much quicker than he would have liked, he was slumping into the pillows and losing his consciousness to the relentless beckoning of sleep.

He had awoken with unwillingly, unsure as to why at first, but then groggily realized he was sitting upright in a cumbersome position, not conducive to his half-awake, half-dreaming state. As he pushed the book off of him and rolled over on his side his eyes briefly passed the form of the sleeping girl below him on the floor.

With eyes fluttering closed, he was rather undisturbed by her questionable company for short moments as dreams pulled insistently at him before he fully comprehended what he had seen. His eyes ripped open and he pushed himself up on his arms so he could peer down at her in plain confusion.

The girl was huddled in a ball, curled into the fetal position as she shivered but slept quite thoroughly at the foot of the nightstand. But… why had she come here- when had she? Scenarios raced through his mind of her, witnessing him having fallen asleep with his door slightly open, his wand unguarded beside him, easily attainable and leaving him desperately vulnerable.

But… she had done nothing. Whether she had attempted or thought better of it would be lost on him for now, because the thing he could most not come to terms with was why- why did she enter his room and fall asleep at his bedside?

Did she not find the room to her liking? Or perhaps she had forgotten where to go, lost her way- no, he dismissed that thought. He had made sure to mark her door, so what was the meaning of this?

However as he looked down at the blissfully unconscious Hermione Granger, slumbering softly on the hard floor, he felt it happening rather than decided to make her body magically levitate in the air, hovering over him and settling onto the bed beside him. There was no need for her to sleep on the floor now, and perhaps this kindness would make her more receptive to him tomorrow.

As soon she hit the sheets she greedily welcomed their warmth, nestling her head into one of the pillows. He took in her curled form, completely undisturbed and unaware of her new surroundings even as she settled into them gratefully.

Satisfied, Lucius turned away, rolling back over to face the opposite side of the room. He would wake before her anyway; she needn't ever know they had shared his bed- so soon. He told himself over and over as he slipped away that he did it out of a sense of duty towards her, she being completely under his protection now, but even he could not convince his unwavering consciousness.