Written for the Malfoy Manor Blackmail Challenge, using Prompt One: Hermione is caught by (Malfoy of your choice) buying an untraceable contraceptive potion in Knockturn Alley.

HUGE thanks to my beta, Maria Lynette, for not only being swift, but for also putting up with my blantent misuse of comma's along with my prepositional deficiencies.

Thanks to shadowchsr, Meiri, Jamie's_lady, and shinigamioni for helping me out in the shoutbox!

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I am not employed by anyone at Scholastic, Warner Brothers, or any other entity that holds rights to Harry Potter and his universe. I am making no money from the writing of this story, Muggle or other, and am simply borrowing anything recognizable to play with them. In short, it's not mine.

The sun had descended upon Diagon Alley. Shopkeepers were found lining the street, magically warding their businesses after closing up for the night. Though the war had been over for a good five years, many Wizarding folk were still hesitant about remaining out and about after dark. After all, there were still a few rogue Death Eaters about, and no one, not even the Aurors, knew where to find them. While the most of the stores in Diagon Alley shut their doors at eight or so, there were some establishments that remained open much later into the night. Most of them were eateries, but a few conducted business of a less than honourable nature.

A rather slight figure, almost completely obscured by robes, walked the cobbled street, pausing only briefly to ensure no one was following. Turning back on course, the person strode another twenty meters down the alley before disappearing from view. The Potions Lab, a small apothecary near where Borgin and Burke's once stood, dealt in potions and ingredients that took more creative means to acquire. Set up with similar magic to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, the door only showed itself when one passed in front of it with a true need of its special line of trade. The hooded body was just that sort of person.

Entering the store, the figure beat a hasty path to the main counter at the rear of the store. A whispered plea was followed by the trade of thirty-two Galleons for a small bottle of clear potion. The clerk and consumer then nodded to each other before returning to their prior business. Clutching the bottle tightly, the figure drew the robes close before swiftly leaving the store. Just as the lights from Diagon Alley fell upon the lowest hem, the person was grabbed from behind and pulled roughly back into the shadows.

'Well, well, well. What do we have here?' asked a familiar voice. Before waiting for a response, the attacker spoke again; his voice a lazy drawl. 'It would appear that you've been purchasing a rather illegal potion, Miss Granger.'

Pulling back her hood, Hermione Weasley nee Granger stared up into the glacial eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She covertly stuffed her newly acquired potion into her inner pocket, as if to hide it from his view. Taking her wand in her hand to draw his attention away from the potion, she glared up at him and spoke.

'My name is Hermione Weasley,' she seethed, putting extra emphasis on her surname. 'You would do well to remember that. Now, if you'll excuse me, it is rather late, and I am expected home.'

'I wonder what your employers would do should they learn of your after-hours activities?' When Hermione stopped dead in her retreat, he continued. 'On a similar note, is your husband aware of your current whereabouts? It would be a shame if they learned the truth, don't you think? Imagine the scandal,' he added when her back stiffened, 'when the whole world learns that their heroine is running around behind the back of her husband.'

'I'm not cheating on Ron,' she fairly screamed at him.

Lucius simply smirked down at her. 'See it from my point of view, pet.'

'Don't call me "pet" you smarmy –'

'The public will automatically jump to the worst possible conclusion,' he continued on, almost as if he hadn't heard her little outburst. 'When it comes to light that you're purchasing an untraceable contraceptive potion, everyone will believe you are doing so with the intention of not becoming impregnated with the spawn of some illicit affair. Is that not the truth, pet?'

'I'm not your pet, Mr. Malfoy, and no it isn't the truth! Besides, no one is going to find out, not even you!'

Hermione raised her wand as fast as she could, the incantation to wipe clear all memories of this encounter fresh on her lips, but even her years of practice left her a tad too slow to best a wizard of Lucius Malfoy's skill. With a slight flick of his wrist, her hands were bound behind her back, her front was pressed to the stone wall that had been behind her not a second before, and her wand was firmly in the grasp of the one man she had never hoped to have the misfortune of seeing again.

'Now listen to me very closely, Madam Weasley, for I am only going to say this once. You've managed to find yourself in a very interesting predicament, and you have two options as to how to proceed. I can either return your wand and part ways with the knowledge that your secret will be found on the morning edition of The Daily Prophet, or you can meet me for dinner tomorrow evening.'

Still seething in anger at her mistreatment, she ground out, 'And why should I meet you? You return my wand, I Obliviate you, and I never have to deal with this issue again.'

'I could keep your wand.'

'Then I'll call the Aurors and report you for theft,' she shot back.

'I'm not the only one who knows of your deception. There is another who will not hesitate to go public with your deeds should certain pre-negotiated specific actions not be met.'

Hermione heaved a resigned sigh. 'What is it you want, Mr. Malfoy? Surely you've enough money that you aren't looking to blackmail me.'

'Meet me for dinner tomorrow night and find out.'

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

'Where in the hell have you been?'

The voice of Ron Weasley cut through the air the moment she had pushed open the door to their flat. Though they lived in Muggle London, there were a few buildings that catered to magical folk. This particular building, not three blocks from the Ministry of Magic where both Ron and Hermione were employed, was of a slightly higher class than any of the others. You had to be at least somewhat wealthy to gain a flat here, and Hermione and Ron had a multi-level unit on the upper floors. It was a coveted piece of magical real estate, and Ron was quick to remind Hermione of how lucky they were.

'You were supposed to be home five minutes ago!'

'I'm sorry, Ron,' she soothed. 'I told you that I had an errand to run for my boss. It simply took a bit longer than I'd intended.'

Hoping to avoid any further confrontation, Hermione immediately moved to the kitchen and hastily began preparing dinner. She knew that she was treading on dangerous ground, as she could clearly see the half empty bottle of Firewhisky sitting on the counter. Not only had she been late, but also Ron had obviously come home earlier than usual if the bottle was any indicator. While he wasn't a physically violent drunk, at least not toward her, his words were harsher than usual, and often cut harder than any physical blow could.

'You know, Hermione,' Ron said, suddenly appearing behind her, 'you really are worthless. You won't stay home and care for the house even though your work is stupid and pointless. The laundry is never done, the sink is full of dishes, dinner is always late, and you would obviously rather be out tending to the whims of your boss than taking care of your husband.

'Are you having an affair with him?' he asked as she studiously continued to prepare the chicken and pasta she had decided on. 'Is that why you won't have sex with me?'

Hermione sighed. 'We have sex at least three times a week, Ron. In fact, it's usu-'

'But not for the past week! Is it him? Is he bigger than I am? Does he fuck you the way I do? Do you let him hold you down and whisper nasty things in your ear while he plows into you from behind? Is that why you haven't let me touch you for a week?'

She was unable to take any more from him. Pouring the fettuccini into a strainer in the sink, she turned to him with her eyes burning in fury.

'You're drunk again, Ron. I've had my period for the past week as you very well know, and I don't like to do anything while I'm bloated and bleeding!'

'Ah yes, it is that time of the month,' he sneered, stepping closer to her. 'Yet another deficiency-that body of yours. We've been trying for a child for almost a year now and nothing! It's almost as if your body knows that it isn't good enough to bear my children. Mum always said you were a bit of a bad seed-a scarlet woman. Now that I know you've been shacking up with your boss, I suppose it's the truth.'

Flinging himself into a chair at the table, Hermione could tell that Ron was impatient for his dinner to be served. She placed the chicken on his plate, served up a bit of pasta, and poured just the right amount of alfredo sauce over the noodles before carefully placing his dish in front of him. Turning back to the counter to prepare her own food, Hermione heard the sound of silverware on china briefly before a plate full of food shattered on the wall next to her head.

'Stupid cow!' Ron screamed. 'Are you trying to poison me? What the bloody hell was in that sauce?'

Fighting to hold back tears, she took a deep breath before replying, 'It's mushrooms. It's a mushroom alfredo sauce. Ginny said that your mum used to make something similar, and I thought that -'

'You thought. I don't keep you around for your brains, Hermione. If you were as smart as everyone seems to think you are, you would know that I never liked mushrooms. But no, you had to go and make assumptions again.' Pausing in the doorway on his way out of the kitchen, he turned back and continued, 'I'm going to Dean's for dinner. Clean up this mess before I get home. Someone would think you were raised in a barn.'

The door slammed behind him, and Hermione allowed herself a few minutes to cry before falling to her knees to clean up the remnants of her husband's dinner. She then poured herself a large glass of milk, taking it into the living room with her where she curled up on the couch with a book; her own dinner forgotten.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

It was gone nine in the morning before Hermione made her way into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Fortunately for her, her boss walked into the office about three minutes after she did. Unfortunately, he arrived bearing a missive addressed to Hermione in a rather elegant scrawl. Just as she suspected, the letter was from Lucius Malfoy. It instructed her to be dressed in her finest robes and ready to go by seven thirty. Another letter would be delivered to her at that time so that she would know exactly where to meet him. If any questions were posed as to her appearance, she was to tell her husband that she was meeting her boss and a potential benefactor for a late dinner meeting.

Great.

Hermione spent the rest of the morning worrying about Ron's reactions to her going out dressed to the nines with her boss. After the way he had gone off on her the night before, she was genuinely concerned about how he would take the news of her going off to dinner with her boss. It most certainly wouldn't be pretty, and she could already feel that she would end up late for the meeting.

The afternoon was spent wondering what Mr. Malfoy would do if she was to be late. Not only would her name and reputation be run through the mud, but she would also most certainly end up in Azkaban. She would lose her job. She would lose her house. Her Order of Merlin would probably be taken. As she toiled uselessly over code and legal jargon, her imagination served up images of her walking down Diagon Alley while onlookers shouted curses and hexes at her for her crime. By the time six o'clock finally rolled around, her mind's eye had her in shackles, chained to the stocks, and left for all and sundry to use and abuse at their own whims, her threadbare clothing clearly adorning a giant, red letter A.

She shook her head, cleared her desk, and made her way to the public Apparition point in the Ministry. She wasn't an adulteress. There wasn't a man alive with whom Hermione would cheat. It wasn't as if she was all that attractive either, she thought ruefully. Her hair was still completely uncontrollable, her features were plain, and her height was average. While she was thin, she had battled with her weight for the better part of a decade. At one point she had eaten herself to well over fifteen stone before discovering that food didn't cure her depression. Now she was down to a respectable nine, and while she was happy with the weight loss, she knew that she was still a bit squishy 'round the middle and generally unattractive without her clothes on. Hermione didn't even like to look at herself naked, so why would someone else want to look at her?

Ron never did.

Clearing her thoughts once again, she grasped her wand and concentrated on the foyer of her building, Apparating away with barely a pop. When she reappeared, she walked to the lift and rode up to her floor. Hermione placed her bag and jacket in the hall closet before bypassing the kitchen in favour of a shower. It was half six when she emerged, but her husband was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a familiar owl waiting patiently at the end of her queen-sized bed.

'What have you got there, Pig?' she asked the creature.

Hermione sighed as she read the letter. Ron had apparently closed a case he'd been working on for quite a few months and was going to Harry's house to celebrate with the other Aurors in their squad. He'd written that he wasn't sure how long he would be and that she shouldn't wait up for him. Well, at least she wouldn't have to field questions as to her attire tonight.

Moving to the closet, Hermione pulled out a basic black outer robe to put over the deep orange tea-length dress and brown Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane's she had chosen to wear out. While there was nothing overly fancy about most of her wardrobe, her shoes were a bit of a passion. She had scrimped and saved for quite a while, but finally bought herself a few designer shoes, the Manolo's being just one pair. Sliding them onto her feet, she dressed quickly and sat to wrestle her hair into submission. Forty-five minutes later she gave it up as a bad job, leaving it in a simple ponytail. She grabbed her outer robe and went to the living room to await the owl from Mr. Malfoy telling her where to meet him.

A few minutes before she expected the owl, Hermione went over to the writing desk to scribble a note for Ron on the off chance that he would make it home before her. She knew it was highly unlikely, but she also knew that if she didn't leave a note, he would return and rain down hell and damnation upon her for not leaving word. The hands on the clock moved to signal half past seven just as she finished writing, and an owl tapped on the window in the kitchen. Hermione stood to let the animal in and took the missive from its beak. The second her fingers closed on the ribbon tying it closed, she felt the unmistakable pull around her middle and knew that he had sent a Portkey for her.

When her feet hit the floor, her eyes first fell on a rather ornate grandfather clock, merrily chiming the half hour. There were assorted tables and antiques lining the room in which she had arrived. The dark marble floors were polished to the point of reflection, and the walls were adorned with paintings of various blondes from the past.

He had brought her to Malfoy Manor.

Panic immediately seeped into every fibre of her being as the events of years past assaulted her. Blood rushed into her head. The echoes of long forgotten screams cascaded over her and made her stomach churn. Her heart raced, her chest constricted, and her muscles began to weaken as a panic attack took hold. Her breath left her, her legs gave out, and her world went black.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

Hermione came to a few short minutes later to the sight of a small house-elf holding a vial to her mouth.

'At last,' the creature said. 'Missy is awake! Here, missy. You is to be drinking this. Master Lucius says that you is to take it and calm down. He is being very concerned.'

'Thank you, Pippy,' came the familiar drawl of the Malfoy patriarch. 'That will be all. I'm quite certain that Miss Granger can take the draught herself. You may leave us now.'

The tiny elf bowed her head down until her ears swept the floor before snapping out of sight, leaving the vial behind. Hermione, for her part, alternated between confusion as to her whereabouts and glaring at her host. Finally deciding where to direct her full attention, she focused on the tall blond seated next to her on the sofa.

'I'm quite certain that you know my name, Mr. Malfoy. I thought you were at least smart enough to remember my marital status,' she spat.

'Ah yes, Madam Weasley, but I most certainly know who you are and to whom you are married. What I don't understand is why you insist on maintaining such pretenses when you clearly don't want to remain married to that blo – bloke.'

Hermione sniffed derisively. 'Bloke, indeed. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy. Were you about to call my husband a blood traitor? Yes?'

His silence was all the answer she needed.

'I wonder what your former compatriots would think of you having me as a guest in your home.'

Her words roused him from his temporary silence. 'I strongly suggest you remember why you're here, Madam Weasley. I've knowledge that I won't hesitate to share should you not meet my demands. Unless you would prefer to spend a few years in Azkaban before returning to your Muggle roots, it would be prudent of you to bite your tongue and hear me out. Now, I haven't brought you here to have a battle of words, nor have you come here merely for dinner, though there will be food involved during our discussion. So if you're quite through shooting your venom at me, perhaps you would care to join me in the dining room for a spot of dinner?'

Hermione sat seething for a few moments before begrudgingly rising to her feet. The second she was upright her head began to spin, and she immediately found herself seated on the sofa once more. Hearing a soft chuckle from above her, her eyes landed on the vial that was now held in an elegant hand before her face.

'Before your vitriol came forth, my elf was trying to give you this. It will help with the after effects of your panic attack.' He dropped the potion into her open hands and walked to the door, not once looking back to ensure she was following him.

His arrogance knew no bounds apparently. Hermione knew that if she didn't immediately follow, she would most certainly get lost in the labyrinth of halls making up his historic manse. With that thought, she downed the contents of the vial, and, feeling immediate results, rushed to her feet and flew out of the door just in time to see him turn a corner. Catching up rather quickly, the two walked in uncomfortable companionship down another two halls until they reached the open double doors to a formal dining room. He led her to an elegant, ladder-back chair positioned to the left of the head. His manners made an appearance as he held the chair for her before taking his own place at the head of the table. As soon as he had placed his napkin on his lap, a dinner of roast duck, mashed red potatoes, and assorted steamed vegetables appeared on the plates in front of them. They both silently tucked in to the meal, Hermione waiting to pick up her fork until after her host had done so. After the meal was cleared, wine was offered, which Hermione politely declined. She was then served sparkling cider.

'You don't drink?' inquired Lucius.

'No,' she said plainly, leaving him to wonder as to why. A few more minutes of awkward silence passed before Hermione spoke again.

'Thank you for the lovely dinner, but I'm sure you didn't bring me here just to eat. So, get to it. What will your silence cost me?'

'Straight to the point, then.'

'I'd hardly call it that, seeing as I've been here for over an hour,' she said.

'As I'm certain you are aware, Narcissa met an unfortunate end shortly after the war. Since then, I've found myself without certain companionship.'

'You want sex?' Hermione interrupted, scandalized.

'Miss… Madam Weasley, if I merely wanted sex…Believe me when I say that I wouldn't be looking for it in a married, swotty little know-it-all with a holier-than-thou attitude. While sexual relations will most certainly play a part in our rendezvous, I also expect intelligent conversation and answers.

'I've been known to be a rather generous lover, and I highly doubt that your Weasley is a great conversationalist. Besides, it isn't as if you would have to explain a pregnancy,' he finished, subtly reminding her of the misdeeds she had committed.

Hermione sat in silence once again, giving great thought to her options. On one hand, she could easily refuse him and simply deal with the consequences of her actions. She could decline his "offer" graciously and own up to Ron before news hit the papers. He would be furious with her, that much was certain, but maybe he would finally realize that his antagonistic behaviour toward her had led her down that path. Even though sometimes he did not act it, she knew that deep down, Ron Weasley loved her dearly, and he would stand by her no matter what.

That thought led her to contemplate Azkaban. While the potion was, in fact, undetectable as a contraceptive, there were more than a few ingredients that would be present in tests if they were specifically searched for. The majority fell into a grey area as far as legality was concerned, but two of them were most certainly known non-tradable materials. From her brief studies into law, she knew that the presence of each in someone's system was an automatic ten-year sentence to Azkaban. While twenty years didn't seem like long when you looked back on it, Hermione wasn't so sure that the same could be said for the opposite.

She'd once seen the inside of the place shortly after the war had ended. In her early campaign for equal right for all magical creatures the Minister had contracted her to come in and help reform what was left of the long-standing establishment. Gone were the Dementors; banished to some remote part of Siberia, but the conditions were little better without them. The weather in the middle of the North Sea was not at all pleasant, and there were only so many ways one could improve upon flat grey walls and poor living conditions. In the end the only things changed were the quality of the food, the cleanliness of the building, facilities, and convicts, and the damper system for magical release. No longer would inmates go mad from a lack of magical expulsion, as there was now a specific room where they could go once a month to let off their excess magic.

Only doing magic once a month? The thought brought a frown to Hermione's face and was enough to get her to start actually considering taking Mr. Malfoy up on his offer. What kind of an offer was it really, though? Certainly no decent human being would agree to an affair to maintain a secret. This wasn't just any secret, and the repercussions of this one thing would be long lasting and far-reaching. The only positive she could think of in regards to the news coming out was that her parents would never find out; she had been unable to reverse the memory charm she had cast on them all those years ago.

Was that really enough of a positive? Could there be any silver lining to using this potion, aside from not bringing a child into a verbally violent relationship? Thinking on it for a few moments, she could come up with nothing. So she was left with only one choice.

Turning her head to the side a bit, she saw the figure of Lucius Malfoy, sipping his wine and reading the Evening Prophet. Believing his attention to be elsewhere, Hermione took a moment to really look at him. His hair, as signature to the Malfoy name as his crystalline blue eyes, was pulled back to the nape of his neck by a black ribbon. His robes were immaculate, appearing to be made of cashmere. They seemed to repel the dust mites that were floating around the room. While she knew him to be at least twenty years her senior, he didn't seem to show any signs of aging. There were no wrinkles on his face, no grey hairs on his head, and he seemed to have a youthful glow to his skin. Hermione briefly wondered if he had laugh lines, but then quickly dismissed the thought. She'd never seen him smile let alone heard him laugh.

His prowess was legendary if the gossip was to be believed, and even she had to admit that he was a very attractive man. From bits of conversations she had overheard at the Ministry, he was a highly intelligent man. There was also a rumour going around that Malfoy Manor was home to the largest private library in all of Great Britain. If that was true, it might be worth getting to know him simply to get to see the library.

But could she really cheat on Ron?

There was a voice deep down inside of her that knew that her marriage wasn't what it was when they had first gotten started. Ron's goals had changed, and his stress levels from work made it hard for her to relate to him anymore. Most of the time, he simply sat near the Wizarding wireless listening to Quidditch matches or other sports programming. He would have a few Butterbeer's, Muggle beer, or occasionally Firewhisky, and make his way to bed sometime after midnight. Other nights he would come home, eat dinner, and complain about the state of things. He would nag about housekeeping, dirty dishes, dirty clothes, messy floors, dust bunnies, and anything else he could think of to complain about. Lately, he had taken to complaining about Hermione's apparent inability to bear him a child. It was always something.

In the recent years, she noticed that he was working longer hours and was home less. He was drinking more and more often, disconnecting himself from her except for when he was aroused or angered and barely acknowledging her existence aside from when it was convenient to him. She longed for the intimacy they shared early on in their relationship when they would go out together, talk at meals, hold hands, and even kiss.

Oh, how she loved kissing! There was just something innately personal about the act. You could tell a lot about someone based on how they kissed. Were they passionate? Unsure? Dominant? Passive? So many variables… The single most telling thing that Hermione knew of was a kiss. While you can fake an orgasm, you can't fake a kiss. That should have been her first clue with Ron; he never kissed her anymore.

Looking up and turning her full attention to the blond wizard seated with her in the rather ostentatious dining room, she cleared her throat. 'I've made my decision.'

Lucius made a show of lowering his paper and sipping his wine before bidding her to continue.

'Before I agree to this, I need an Unbreakable Vow from you. It will simply state that you will share neither the knowledge of my purchasing and/or consuming the contraceptive potion, nor any of the events that will transpire between us.'

'What if a time comes when the knowledge of our time together no longer needs to be hidden?' he interjected.

'If, and only if, such a time comes, then I suppose that could be acceptable. We can work it into the Vow.'

'I'll agree to this Vow, but I refuse to enter into it tonight.'

Hermione looked perplexed. 'Why not tonight?'

'Well, Madam Weasley, it is after nine already. Do you honestly believe that your darling husband will accept you being gone much longer on what he assumed was a business dinner?' Realization dawned on her face. 'I didn't think so. No, we shall arrange another time to meet. This little intrigue will remain innocent. Expect an owl from me with a more appropriate time for our liaison.'

'I have more conditions,' Hermione almost shouted, feeling as if she was being dismissed. When he didn't say anything, she went on. 'Nothing personal. No overtly probing questions. We will stick to intellectual discussions.'

Lucius shook his head. 'No deal. Everything about this is personal, and I fully intend on getting to know your past as well as your person.'

'Fine, then,' she fired back. 'No kissing.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'You heard me. Kissing is incredibly personal and intimate. It is an act shared between lovers as a way to further express their feelings for each other. I don't love you. Hell! I don't even like you, and while we may have sex, we most certainly won't be lovers. Therefore, no kissing on the mouth.'

Rising from the table, Lucius extended his hand to her. She accepted it and stood only to be led from the room by him. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, bringing her back through the halls and into the foyer in which she had first arrived. Then, bringing her hand up to his mouth, he kissed her palm.

'Agreed,' he whispered. 'Should your husband inquire, tell him that your meeting was successful and that you have a new financial backer for your Preservation of Magical Creatures and Resources Act.'

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

The weekend had passed by far too quickly for Hermione's liking. Then again, they usually did. When she had returned from Malfoy Manor, Ron had been sitting on the sofa, drinking a glass of water and listening to the wireless. He'd immediately stood to greet her, kissing her on the cheek and asking how her meeting had gone. Not once did he comment on her appearance or the fact that she was out on a Friday night with her boss. When she told him of her success in procuring a financial backer for a start-up she was working on, he congratulated her and went back to listening to his game.

Saturday and Sunday passed in a similar fashion. The two made small talk, but most of the time they did their own thing. Ron spent his time listening to World Cup preliminaries on the Wireless while Hermione took care of her usual household chores. Sunday night was dinner at The Burrow, and Hermione went reluctantly. There were still many things she wanted to accomplish before heading to bed, but she knew that it was most likely a lost cause. Burrow nights often stretched long into the night, so that when they arrived home, she was too tired to do anything but take a headache potion and fall between the sheets.

This night was no different.

'Mmm,' Ron mumbled around a mouthful of Shepard's Pie. 'I haven't had a good Shepard's Pie in forever!'

Hermione's hand paused with her fork not an inch from her mouth; she had just made Shepard's Pie last week for him at his request, using his mum's recipe. Molly, for her part, sent a condescending smile in Hermione's direction.

'It's all right, dear. I'll just pop over one night and give Hermione a few tips. We'll turn her into a proper housewife yet.'

Ron snorted. 'Yeah. Maybe you can convince her to stop putting her job first, too. You know she actually went out with her boss on Friday night? Dressed all fancy and stuff and never even asked me if I cared!'

'It was an important meeting and I –'

'Plus she works long hours every day –'

'I work fewer hours than you do!'

'-And I can't even begin to tell you how long we've been trying for a baby. I'm beginning to think she might be barren…'

'RONALD! That is none of their business!' Hermione screamed. 'Besides, I am not barren! It isn't uncommon for it to take more than one try to get pregnant, and there isn't a fertility doctor out there who will even have a consultation with a couple until they have been unsuccessful for at least a year!'

'Well, don't worry, Ronniekins. I'm sure you'll give your father and I grandchildren soon.'

Hermione had had enough. She noisily set her fork down on her dish, stood from the table, and threw her napkin down. 'You already have grandchildren, Molly-quite a few, actually. Ron, I refuse to sit here while you discuss our private life and talk about me like I'm not even here. It's late; we both have to work in the morning. I think it's time to go home. Molly, thank you for dinner.'

Hermione bid goodbye to all the Weasleys seated around the table and made her way to the Floo. Just as she was about to throw in the powder and head home, she noticed that Ron wasn't with her. Tapping her foot impatiently, she waited as he took his time saying goodbye to his family before joining her on the trip home. As soon as they arrived in their flat, Ron threw his jumper off and started in on her.

'I don't appreciate the way you spoke to my mum tonight.'

'The things you were saying were none of her business! Our sex life is of no one's concern but our own. And I didn't hear you complaining about my Shepard's Pie when I made it last week.'

'It was edible, but it wasn't as good as my mum's. You know you could learn a thing or two from her. You should Floo her, apologize for your behaviour tonight, and invite her over. Better yet, you could go over early next Sunday and help her prepare our Sunday feast!'

'Oh yeah,' Hermione said sarcastically. 'That would be a great use of my time. Why stay here and clean when I can go there and listen to your mother prattle on and on about grandchildren as if she has none. Then she can tell me what a lousy housekeeper I am over the pudding preparations! I won't do it.'

'Did you ever stop to think that she has a point? You spend all your time at home sitting at the table and going over files and folders. The house is trashed, and the only time you do anything about it is when I complain!'

'That's not true and you know i-'

'Your cooking skills leave a lot to be desired, and all you ever do is antagonize me! I work hard to keep this family going, and I get no respect for it!'

'I work just as hard as you do, and you damn well know it!'

'Sure you do,' he patronized.

'Not only that, but after I work my ten hour days, I come home and play housekeeper to you! I cook and clean and never get any help!'

'Oh yeah, it's always about you and what a horrible life you lead.'

Hermione had lived through enough arguments to know that when Ron tried to turn it around on her like that, she had lost his attention. She threw up her hands, growled, and stormed off to the bathroom.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

The first three days of the work week passed in a monotonous parade of meetings and paperwork, spurred on by a rather large, seemingly anonymous donation to her department. Hermione had a feeling she knew exactly who had made the donation as it arrived with a note designating exactly to which project it was to be applied, and she presumed that he hadn't put his name on it due to their agreement. Either way, she really didn't care as his funds had allowed her to move forward with a pet project that she had foreseen taking many years to get off the ground.

Dinners early that week seemed to consist of a lot of take-away, which Ron was very quick to agree to. They had Chinese one night, Thai the next, and McDonald's on Wednesday. The two sat together at the kitchen table, eating the food and laughing over some of the gossip going around the Ministry. Ron cleared away the garbage while Hermione poured herself a glass of water, and they both went their separate ways; Hermione to work more on the most beneficial use of her new funds and Ron to write up his daily activities log.

First thing Thursday morning Hermione was greeted at her desk by a rather pompous-looking eagle owl. The bird held a note in its beak, written in a familiar hand and stating simply a time: seven thirty. There was no signature, no further information, and only those numbers. Sighing heavily, Hermione tried to set her mind on task, but found she couldn't concentrate. On one hand she was surprised that he had waited as long as he had. If she were being honest with herself, she would have expected his request the next night and not almost a full week later. That she hadn't seen the news in the paper also made her happy, but deep down she knew nothing good could come from this. On the other hand was the knowledge that she would be forcing him into an Unbreakable Vow. The thought both comforted her and set her on edge. What if she didn't word the Vow correctly? Would he be able to turn it around and make her some sort of depraved sex slave? What if she misspoke, and he was able to use her only to go to the paper first thing Friday morning and tell all?

What if the potion didn't work?

Hermione laughed out loud at the last thought, earning herself a few looks from her coworkers. Of course the potion worked! She'd been taking it for the past seven months - since the day after Ron decided he wanted to actively try for a child. Besides, for thirty-two Galleons a vial, it had damn well better work!

With that thought dismissed, she then turned to the Vow. Taking a scrap of parchment from her desk, she set to wording the stipulations. After using the remainder of her morning hours, all of lunch, and an hour and a half of her afternoon, Hermione was confident that she had constructed a hole-proof set of questions. She had written, dissected, rewritten and dissected again and again, taking all possible connotations and verbiage into consideration before settling on her final draft. Smiling at her efforts, Hermione folded up the finished product before tucking it safely into her handbag. That was when another thought hit her: a bonder.

In order to properly perform an Unbreakable Vow there had to be someone else there to conduct the magic. Shite! She hadn't even thought of that! Hermione spent the next three hours trying to not only sort out who could fill that particular role, but also whether it would be safer to just Obliviatethem or to force them into a Vow of their own. Deciding to wait on that particular decision, she set about writing up a Vow for the mystery person and coming up with another contingency should the Unbreakable Vow no longer be an option.

At the end of the day, Hermione's bag was full of back-up plans of all sorts, spells that could be used, and agreements that could be made. She sighed at her desk before leaving for home, regretting that she hadn't accomplished more work during the day and ruing the fact that she would do none that night. Upon arriving at home she immediately set water to boil in anticipation of making pasta for dinner. This, of course, earned her an argument from Ron. He'd berated her for her choice of dinner foods, while neither offering to make something himself nor giving her any alternatives when asked. Then he'd gone on for a bit about how they had eaten nothing but junk the entire week and how he needed a better diet if he was to continue to meet the Aurors' strict health guidelines. At that Hermione told him that she no longer cared what he ate for she had a business meeting to prepare for. She then turned off the stove and went to shower and change. They both sat silently ignoring each other as the clock ticked closer to the appointed hour. When the owl tapped on the window at precisely seven thirty, Hermione finally addressed Ron.

'I'm meeting the new financial backer for my preservation act to discuss the allocations of the funds that have been sat aside for this. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I would like it if you could at least take out the rubbish for me. Don't forget the bins in the bathrooms and next to the desk.'

'I know how to collect the rubbish, thanks.'

Without another word, Hermione took the proffered letter from the owl, this time fully expecting the pull of a Portkey when her hand touched the binding.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

His hands were on her the moment her feet hit the floor in Malfoy Manor, but unlike her initial response to the sensation, she was calmed by the knowledge that he was merely steadying her rather than trying to tear her clothes from her person. Lucius Malfoy once again led her through the halls, this time arriving at what appeared to be his private study. The room was grand, the space opulent, and it was decorated as if the King of England himself were about to walk in and sit down. This thought brought a tiny chuckle from Hermione as she realized that there currently wasn't a king on the throne, but rather a Queen, and while she was a woman with exquisite taste, Hermione couldn't see the Royal enjoying such a masculine room.

Continuing her perusal, Hermione took in the lavish tapestries, the leather furniture surrounding the oak desk, and the huge fireplace currently alive with welcoming flames. That was when she noticed that they were not alone. Lucius did not bother with a formal introduction, but vaguely stated that he was there to perform the Vow that she had required. The blond wizard immediately put out his hand for her to grasp, and the Vow was sealed with little fanfare. Once the magic was complete Lucius bid the man farewell. Just before the stranger made it to the door, Lucius pulled his wand and cast a discreet Obliviate. He then, once again, bid the man a good evening, thanking him for delivering the wine and handing him a few coins as a tip.

He turned from the door, stalking toward her like a predator. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, realizing now that this was really going to happen. He was upon her before she realized it, his hands in her hair and his mouth on her neck. She could only stand there not entirely certain as to what to do. When his fingers found the buttons on her blouse, Hermione brought her own hands up to his waistcoat, carefully undoing it and allowing him to divest both that and her shirt in a move so graceful she wasn't quite sure it was really happening.

Then he was back on her again, pulling her close and grinding himself against her belly. Instinct began to take over at the feel of his restrained erection pressing into her, and her hands came up to pull at the fastening of his trousers. Before she could get a good grip, though, he stopped her, telling her that he intended to make her scream before shattering her world.

Hermione could only swoon.

He backed her to his desk, removing her bra in the process, and he laid her flat on top of the glossy surface. After ensuring that she was comfortable, his mouth once again found that place where her neck met her shoulder before beginning a trek to her now exposed breasts. Palming one with his right hand, his mouth moved to lave attention to the other, alternately nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh into a hardened peak. When that was accomplished, he moved to the other breast and paid it the same attention, bringing Hermione almost to climax from these ministrations alone. Sensing that she was a little too close for his liking, he backed off a bit, teasing her with his tongue as he meandered down her body to the clasp of her trousers. He stood only long enough to remove the offending garment before admiring the simple black cotton knickers she had chosen to wear. Feeling distinctively uncomfortable under his gaze, Hermione tried to bring her knees together only to be stopped by surprisingly strong hands.

'Don't hide yourself from me,' he purred. 'We're only getting started.'

The words, she discovered, were just as much of a promise as anything. He quickly moved to occupy the space she had been trying in vain to conceal, using the fingers of his left hand to pull aside the fabric of her knickers before bringing his right to play with her already glistening folds. Still holding the material aside, he gently prodded her opening with his tongue, taking in his first taste of her essence. Deciding that it was most certainly to his liking, he backed off just enough to slide the black cotton down her legs, placing them carefully into his top drawer. While he was doing that, the fingers of his right hand relentlessly teased and tormented the tiny bundle of nerves to which only she had ever previously paid any attention.

He knew she was close. She could tell by the glint in his eyes and the smug expression on his face, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The only thing that mattered to her was completion and the man currently driving her there. Looking down between her thighs, she met his eyes just as his blond hair cascaded over her skin and his mouth met her core. She bit her lip, moaning at the sheer ecstasy he was bringing to her and lowering her hands to card through his locks. Holding him there and forcing him to continue taking her into his mouth, she felt the first flutters of orgasm come upon her. She screamed and went rigid when he pushed two fingers inside of her; release crashing over her. Screams were wrenched from her throat that seemed to come from the centre of her very being. Her body convulsed beneath him, and he took care to draw out her pleasure as long as was humanly possible.

'Have you taken your potion yet?' he asked her as he climbed back up her body and settled between her legs.

She shook her head. 'No, but I'm not due to take it until the morning.'

'Be sure you don't forget.' Then he was inside of her.

His pace was brutal and relentless, but equally measured and controlled. He braced himself on his arms, careful to keep his weight off of her as he pummeled her into his desk. With each thrust of his hips, Hermione's body reacted, meeting his hips with hers and sending jolts of pleasure and pain throughout her body. He was certainly large in both length and girth, and every stab of his throbbing masculinity inside of her brought stars to her eyes. She was no longer able to keep her eyes open. Bringing her hands around him, she began to claw at his back, neither of them noticing when she broke the skin.

His rhythm became more frantic. Running his hand down her side, Lucius drew her right leg up around his hip. She immediately took the hint and raised her legs to such an angle that caused him to hit her cervix with every thrust. Her moans turned to cries, and her cries to screams. Before she had a chance to really understand what was happening, she had dragged his head to the crook of her neck. He seemed to know exactly what she needed; he bit down – hard - while snaking his hand between them, bring her second orgasm on faster than she could control.

Her body bucked against him. Cries of 'Lucius, oh God, Lucius!' filled the air as he tried, and failed, to ride out her release. His groan of completion joined hers, and he emptied himself inside of her. They both breathed deeply for a few moments, catching their breath before Lucius slipped from her and rolled himself into his leather office chair. Hermione, for her part, remained sprawled on the desk, looking thoroughly satisfied. The silence stretched between them, but neither seemed in a rush to break it. After a few moments the clock on the mantle chimed nine, causing Lucius to groan.

'My apologies, pet.'

'Don't call me that.'

'I fear that I've made a poor showing this evening. Fear not, though, for next time will last considerably longer.'

Hermione's head spun. Longer? She had arrived at seven thirty, and the Vow hadn't taken very long at all. They had been at it for at least an hour twenty if not longer, and he thought it was short? The longest she and Ron had ever gone was twenty minutes! Usually, their relations lasted five minutes or so, and most of that was while she was going down on him. Once he was inside of her…

She shook her head and tried to get up from her spot on the table. When she tried to stand, her knees gave out and she braced herself for the fall that never came. Lucius had apparently seen what she was trying to do and correctly predicted the outcome. He caught her before she hit the floor and lifted her into his lap.

'Give yourself a minute to recover,' he whispered into her hair. Then he leaned them both over so that he could reach his wand. His chuckle washed over her and knocked the frightened look from her face.

'What's so funny?' she asked.

'You are, pet.'

'Don't call me that.'

Lucius turned them so that she could look in his eyes. 'Why? Why shouldn't I call you that? I think you would enjoy being my pet. I could fashion you a collar made of rubies to compliment your big, brown eyes. You would be well cared for, fed often, and frequently played with. You would want for nothing.'

He gave her another minute to let the thought sink in and take hold before bringing his wand up and waving it over her twice. He then explained that the first was a simple cleansing charm and the second was to rid her body of the physical signs of their joining; namely scratches, scrapes, and bite marks. She thanked him before finally rising to her feet and getting dressed.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

Hermione stood in the shower contemplating the odd direction her life was taking. It had been four months since her first sexual encounter with Lucius Malfoy, and since then her world had been turned upside down. She was coming to know herself better and starting to feel that maybe she didn't deserve Ron's verbally abrasive treatment of her. While she knew she wasn't the most beautiful woman out there, Lucius made her realize that she was, in fact, very attractive. Despite Ron's constant ogling of other women making her feel slightly inadequate, she now knew that it was more a case of his insecurities rather than her appearance.

Contrary to her initial misgivings, Hermione discovered that she and Lucius had rather a lot in common. They had been meeting twice a week, almost always engaging in what could only be described as enthusiastic bouts of acrobatic passion. It was more than sex. It was less than fucking. It most certainly was not making love.

When they weren't together in a tangled mass of limbs, they could be found sitting by the fire in his private office discussing everything from politics to personal experiences. Their conversations had started out with him trying to ascertain why she had chosen her current career and spouse, asking prying questions in regards to things like prior sexual experience and personal beliefs. She, of course, often turned his questions back upon him, questioning his morals and parenting skills. Most often this would lead to more bouts of explosive sex, so neither minded the heated arguments. The problems came when Hermione went home, back to Ron and back to her everyday life, when she would find herself in quiet contemplation.

While she wouldn't admit as much to him, Hermione found Lucius to be thought provoking and intriguing. He had not only reawakened her lust for life, but also brought about her zeal toward long-forgotten goals. Day after day Hermione grew more and more anxious for change and more unsettled in her work. While she loved the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, there was little work for her to do now that she had pushed through the Preservation of Magical Creatures and Resources Act. Her mind often wandered to the Magical Law courses she had taken after Hogwarts, and she knew that there was a legal position open to her should she choose to leave her current employ.

It had been two weeks since Lucius made the offer. He'd known that she was unhappy, but obviously had no idea as to the extent of her depression. It was merely coincidence. He'd told her that someone from his firm had decided to retire, but that since there was a position open, he could think of no one more qualified to fill the void. He gave her a fortnight to consider his offer, and Hermione knew that he would be expecting her answer during their meeting tonight.

Stepping out of the shower, Hermione wrapped her hair in a towel before covering her body with another. She turned to exit the bathroom, but instead came face to face with her husband.

'Where are you going?' he asked her.

'I've a business meeting tonight, Ron. You know that Thursday nights are meeting nights for me. We've been through this before and –'

'And I've told you before that I don't like it,' Ron interrupted. 'You're taking too much time for your so-called work projects and not enough time for me. It's very selfish of you, Hermione, and it needs to stop. The house is always a mess, the dishes are never done and the laundry just sits and sits until the hamper overflows with clothes. On top of that, your attitude lately leaves a lot to be desired, and all you do anymore is snap at me. What's going to happen when you finally have a baby? You aren't going to be able to keep up like this, you know.'

Hermione was seething. This was an argument they had already had many times since she had begun working, and the instances only increased when she started seeing Lucius. However, now there was one major difference.

She was sticking up for herself.

Lucius had made her feel confident about herself, certain that she wasn't completely inferior and useless like her husband had made her feel on more than a few occasions. Hermione knew now that there were men out there who would accept her as she was and not degrade her drive or her intellect. The time spent in the arms of a man who had once hated her had taught her to not second-guess herself; to take what she wanted and hold no regrets.

There were a lot of regrets with Ron.

'Well,' Hermione replied in the calmest voice possible, 'fortunately I'm not pregnant yet, so there is nothing to worry about.'

'And how do you know you aren't pregnant?'

'I'm not,' was her simple reply. 'Now, if you'll excuse me I need to get ready.'

'No you don't,' he insisted.

Just as she was going to question him, a Ministry owl floated through the window. Clasped in its beak was a small parchment with Hermione's name on it and written in the hand of her superior. With great trepidation, she took the missive, opening it with shaking fingers.

Miss Granger,

It has come to my attention that you and your husband have finally decided to start a family. With society as it is post war, laws have been put into place to ensure the continuation of our culture. It is with the deepest regret that due to that fact that you hold a position that can be stress inducing, you are being placed on an indefinite leave of absence. The pressures of every day employment here at the Ministry far exceed what is recommended for a woman who is trying to conceive or dealing with the strain of pregnancy. Therefore, you will be unable to return to your position here in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures until your babe reaches the age of six months.

Once again, I am deeply saddened to lose you in this department, but know that all of us here wish you and your husband every …

She couldn't read anymore. It was like a nightmare that she hoped to rouse herself from. Unfortunately for her, Ron's next words only proved that she was, in fact, awake.

'You knew the laws, Hermione. I was willing to play along with your silly little Muggle traditions, but no longer. It's time to start acting like a grownup and not simply play house. You decided to stay in the magical world, so you need to start respecting our customs. That includes realizing that I know what is best for you and that your parents haven't a clue.' Then he chuckled, a most mirthless sound. 'Best thing you ever did was to leave them in Australia.'

Hermione saw red. Ron knew that she had been unable to reverse the memory charm and that she beat herself up over it constantly, feeling like a failure for not being able to undo the magic that kept her parents from knowing her. She was also quite upset that he would have the gall to go behind her back and force her into what equaled an early retirement. As the letter had said, there had been laws put in place to protect pregnant women and those women considering motherhood in order to ensure a safe and healthy pregnancy. However, the flip side of these laws was that a woman wasn't able to so much as Apparate herself until the child was born for fear of physical harm. The witch was basically forced into a role of housewife. Once the baby was born Wizarding society deemed it best for the mother to nurse the young for as long as mutually desired between mother and baby before the child started learning everything necessary for entry into Hogwarts at age eleven.

In short, Ron had just sentenced Hermione to house arrest for at least the next twelve years. This was a life she didn't want and one she had never wanted. It was one of the main reasons she had first started taking the untraceable contraceptive potion.

Thinking about the potion brought Hermione back to what she had been doing before Ron decided to drop this all on her. Sitting alone in a rather large manse in Wiltshire, there was a rather attractive blond wizard who would never deign to do something like this without talking to her. He was a man who knew of her desire to be independent and respected the fact that she didn't want children. This same man was also waiting on her to either accept or decline a position on his panel of barristers.

She needed to see him.

She needed out.

Picking up her wand, she cast a charm to dry her hair before throwing on the first articles of clothing she could find: a plain white long sleeved tee and a pair of dark wash denims. She threw herself onto the bed, pulled on socks and trainers, and stormed from the room. Ron was hot on her heels as she descended the stairs and grabbed her work satchel.

'Where the hell do you think you're going?' he shouted.

'To get my job back. I can't believe you would actually do something like this to me, Ronald! Doesn't my happiness mean anything to you?'

'Oh yeah, I did this to you. It's always something I did, and you're never at fault,' he said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. 'Take some responsibility for once!'

Hermione had completely had it. She needed to get to Lucius and discuss this. She needed to get away from Ron. Knowing there was a Portkey due to arrive at any time wasn't good enough. Hermione needed to make a statement that would open Ron's eyes and make him see what a complete and total arse he was being. Knowing the Floo was open to her, she clutched the letter from her boss in one hand and took a handful of powder in another, ready to finally reveal her benefactor to a man who was certain to hate her for it. Locking eyes with her husband, she threw the powder in the flames and shouted the two words he never expected to hear.

'Malfoy Manor!'

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

He held her while she cried.

The moment she fell through the Floo into his study he gathered her up in his arms and just allowed her to cry. It was a gesture that she never would have suspected from such an aloof man, but she appreciated it nonetheless. When she was finished shedding her tears, he began to ask questions. She told him of how her relationship with Ron had started, glossing over the bits while they were still in school, but getting into more detail beginning with their impromptu kiss during the Battle of Hogwarts. They had married less than three months after the war had ended, and things had been well enough. Then he had begun to question why she wasn't more like his own mum, who stayed at home, tended the house, and cooked for him. In an effort to please him she had started making sure meals were prepared shortly after he got home before eventually leaving work earlier herself so that his dinner could be ready and on the table for him after his long days with the Aurors. However, that wasn't good enough for him, so she had copied some of his favourite recipes from Molly, but they weren't the same. She made efforts to keep the house spotless, but it was never clean enough for him. There was always something for him to complain about.

Then the jealousy had started. She wasn't allowed to go out alone with her Muggle friends because he didn't like the way her Muggle clothes hugged her curves and showed off her body. When she would ask him to accompany her, she would always end up regretting it due to his crass comments and his inability to keep his opinions to himself. In the end her friends had begun to avoid her because they didn't want to deal with Ron.

Knowing that her focus was now on him and no one else, Ron had begun to talk about starting a family. She had tried to put him off at first, stating that they were too young, there wasn't enough room where they lived, and they didn't have the financial resources to bring a child into the world, but none of her excuses had worked. That was when she had gone on the potion. She told Lucius that she had been taking it for quite a few months before he'd cornered her in Knockturn Alley, and then she laughed a bit, asking why he never told on her.

'It wasn't for your benefit, I assure you,' he replied. 'Here was an attractive young witch that I had wanted for quite some time, and at last I had the means to get you into my bed. Knowing you were taking that potion just made it all the better for me. I knew there was no way to get you pregnant as long as you were taking it.'

Hermione blushed a bit at his compliments. She then sighed and asked for a drink to sooth her sore throat. After a house-elf delivered beverages for the both of them, Lucius turned his focus back on her, asking what had occurred before her arrival to leave her in such a state. That was when she handed him the now rather crumpled letter. She watched his face grow white with shock before turning red in anger.

'Leave him.'

It sounded simple enough, and it was something she had considered a few times in the past. She never did, though. Her reasoning to herself was that, even though he could be a right bastard, there were moments when he could be sweet. He was occasionally romantic. The sex was good, though not nearly as good as it had been with Lucius. While Ron's words and actions often left her feeling lower than dirt, he'd never once raised a hand to her.

That was what she had told Lucius. It wasn't as if her husband was abusing her. He'd never once hit her. It was then that Lucius turned his rage on her.

'No,' he began in a voice she'd heard all those years ago in the Department of Mysteries. 'What he's done to you is much worse than any physical violence. I remember what you were like when you were younger. Your bravery in the Department of Mysteries, your courage here in my home near the end of the war, and your brilliance on the battlefield brought about a light inside of you that even my son had to admire. Seeing your vibrant eyes during the Death Eater trials when you and your…friends…spoke up for my family was something I won't soon forget, but that light was gone when I met you again months ago. That boy took your life from you. He took your sense of self, your personality, and your friends. The brightness inside of you has only recently begun to shine again, and I've noticed that it is not present when he is near, and believe me. I've been watching.

'He made you think and fully believe that you are nothing without him when that is far from the truth,' Lucius said, his voice once again becoming soft and sensitive. 'You are more than he is- better. You are everything he can never be, and he is jealous of you because of it. And remember that just because he's never physically hurt you before doesn't mean that it won't happen in the future.'

She was thrilled at his words, knowing from his tone and inflection that he truly meant every word. The look on his face, however, gave her pause. It wasn't something she would ever associate with Lucius Malfoy, but it was there as clear as day.

It was affection.

'Leave him,' he repeated. 'It is the only way you're going to get your life back. The laws are clear; so long as you remain married to him you are admitting commitment. You are, therefore, bound to obey him and any decisions he makes, including having children…or at least trying for them. No one in any position of power would believe that a married witch whose husband had already openly proclaimed attempts for a family is against that choice. Staying with him means staying at home, and I refuse to believe for a single moment that this is your wish. So, leave him.'

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a rather persistent elf.

'Master Lucius, there's is being peoples at the front door. Ministry peoples, Master Lucius, and they's is demanding to be speaking with you.'

No sooner had the creature finished speaking than Ron Weasley and Harry Potter walked into Lucius Malfoy's study. The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder, wands in hand, and seemingly ready for a fight. While Harry merely looked surprised to see Hermione sharing a sofa with a Malfoy, Ron looked murderous. However, it was Lucius who spoke first.

'Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?'

'You can get your bloody hands off of my wife, Malfoy,' Ron shouted.

'Mr. Malfoy,' Harry said, stepping in front of Ron and trying to diffuse the situation as best as possible. 'We've reason to believe that you've cursed Mrs. Weasley.'

Hermione laughed. 'Yeah, cursed. How original, Ron.' Then, turning to Harry, she added, 'I'm not cursed, and I haven't been brought here against my will. In case my darling husband failed to mention it, I had a meeting tonight with the benefactor for many projects for my department at the Ministry.'

'Your former department,' Ron muttered.

'Former?' Harry inquired.

Hermione answered, 'yes, former. Ron here decided to lose my position for me by invoking those stupid laws.'

Harry, for his part, looked both shocked and angered. Hermione knew that Ron and Harry talked about everything, including Ron's desire to have a family like the one he had grown up in and the one Harry and Ginny had started. However, she could also tell that Harry was shocked as to the means Ron would go to in order to achieve the ends. It was also very apparent that Harry was also surprised to learn that it was Lucius Malfoy who had stepped up to fund quite a few well thought out and highly successful projects that Hermione had brought into effect in the past few months.

'Ron,' Harry began again, 'this is ridiculous. What's really going on here? Why are we here if this is a business meeting that you obviously knew about?'

'What's going on is that she's out here whoring around with a Malfoy while I'm sitting at home! She needs to be home with me where she belongs and not out cavorting around with all these other men!'

'Cavorting?' asked Hermione, obviously surprised at his word choice.

'Contrary to what your highness believes,' Ron said sarcastically, 'you aren't the only one who knows how to read'

'I doubt she's cheating on you, Ron,' Harry said. 'Besides, there is no law saying that she can't have a business meeting at –'

'Are you two sleeping together?' he asked Hermione before turning his attention to the man now standing next to her. 'Tell me, Malfoy. Is she spreading her thighs for you? Does she tell you what a god I am in bed while you're fucking her from behind?'

'Ronald!' she screamed, scandalized.

'Do you call her a Mudblood when she comes screaming my name? Do you enjoy the feel of her pussy when it clamps down on your inferior cock? How does it feel, Malfoy, playing with her but knowing that she is my whore and not yours?'

Lucius moved faster than anyone could have expected, his wand coming out and pressing into Ron's throat before Harry could react. Hermione was scared, scared for Ron, scared for Lucius, but also thankful that the magic of the Vow she and Lucius had taken was preventing either of them from answering Ron's accusations. She knew, though, that nothing would keep Lucius from cursing her husband if he knew he could get away with it…or even if he couldn't.

She needed to get out of there. If she could just get out of the room and get home, Ron would follow and everything would be all right. Ron wouldn't get hurt, Lucius wouldn't get thrown into Azkaban again, and all would go back to normal. There would be a major row between her and Ron, but they he would get over it. He always did…if only she could get home.

'That is the second time since arriving here that you've referred to her in such a way,' Lucius seethed, speaking in low, controlled tones. 'I do not appreciate you treating any guest of mine like this, and request that you hold your tongue lest it be severed from your mouth.'

Ron stepped into Lucius' wand. 'Threatening an Auror, Mr. Malfoy?'

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She moved between her husband and Lucius and tried to push them apart. Lucius took a step backward, but Ron grabbed her by the arm and threw her down to the floor, her head hitting against the side of an end table.

'Stay out of this, you little slut.'

Hermione's head was spinning. Stars were bursting in front of her eyes, and the urge to flee became too much for her. Vaguely aware of Lucius and Ron exchanging blows while Harry tried to break them apart, she clumsily got to her feet and headed out the door. She'd made it almost to the stairs before the sound of hurried feet echoed in the corridor behind her. Voices were screaming her name, but she didn't heed their calls.

'Hermione, dammit, stop now!' Ron said, finally reaching her at the top of the stairs.

Unfortunately for both of them, her foot had been at the edge. When Ron had grabbed her arm once again, she had lost her balance, causing both her and Ron to tumble down the marble staircase. She had bounced and tumbled the whole way down, her world going mercifully black about halfway through.

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

It wasn't until a few days later that Hermione awoke in strange surroundings. The opulence of the room led her to believe that she was in Malfoy Manor, and her suspicions were confirmed when Harry spoke.

'Thank God you're awake,' Harry said. 'I was beginning to think you'd never wake up.'

'What happened? Where am I?'

'Perhaps the best question would be how much do you remember?'

'I remember fighting with Ron and then coming here. You both showed up and Ron and Lucius fought.' Then Hermione laughed. 'They fought like Muggles!'

'Anything else?' Harry pressed.

'Ron hurt me, I ran, then we fell down the stairs. Harry, where's Lucius? Where's Ron? Are they alright?'

A deep chuckle erupted from the shadows. 'Nice to hear you're concerned about me, pet, but I'm perfectly fine. I had to pay a few fines for my fight with your late husband but…'

Hermione gasped. 'My late husband?'

It was Harry who answered. 'You both were pretty banged up from the fall down the stairs, but Ron was more so. He broke his neck and, from what we can tell, he was gone before he reached the bottom. I'm sorry, Hermione.'

~*~*~*~HGLM~*~*~*~

The month that followed the death of Ron Weasley was one of the most hectic Hermione could ever remember. While a large part of her was beside herself in grief over his untimely passing, there was a small bit that was relieved. She felt horrible for feeling that way, but even she couldn't deny the happiness of finally being free from that abusive relationship.

It had taken her almost two weeks to admit it to herself, but she finally relented that her marriage was abusive. Once the funeral had passed and she'd had ample time to rediscover herself, Hermione went to the Ministry to request that her marriage bond be annulled. Since Ron had died, it wasn't necessarily something she needed to do, but by having it officially annulled, she would be able to avoid any future complications that came with being a magical widow. She would be allowed to remarry, take a new surname, and no longer be obligated to answer to her former in-laws, should she decide to sever ties with them. The Wizengamot took memories from her in regards to the verbal mistreatment bestowed upon her and, after viewing the memories they granted the annulment in a unanimous vote. Two weeks later Hermione had sold her flat and temporarily moved in with Harry and Ginny, helping them to care for their son, James.

Hermione remained close to the remaining Weasley's, despite returning to her maiden name. She'd been hesitant to contact Lucius following the most recent horrific events to take place in his home, but one month almost to the day after she'd recovered he'd sent her an owl offering up the position as one of his legal advocates. She'd responded requesting a meeting to discuss his offer.

A few hours after she'd sent her reply, his owl returned to her. Expecting a response with a date and time to meet, Hermione was shocked to feel the familiar tug of a Portkey upon touching the seal. She was not surprised, however, to land in Lucius Malfoy's personal study. He'd obviously been pacing for he seemed to have paused mid-step upon her arrival.

There was an awkward silence between them. Hermione didn't want to speak first for fear of saying the wrong thing and making assumptions that may not be correct. When Lucius simply stood before his fireplace unmoving and staring at her, her heart sank into her stomach. She didn't know why, but a part of her hoped that he would sweep her into his arms and declare his undying love for her. It was silly, really, and a testament to the fact that she'd been reading too many Harlequin novels. Assuming that this was to be a strictly professional meeting, she finally allowed herself to speak.

'I've come in regards to the position you've offered me.' When he still didn't speak, she went on. 'While I appreciate the offer, I feel that I cannot accept. Based on our history, both during the war and over the better part of the past year, I feel that it would create an uncomfortable working environment for me. Good luck finding someone.'

She stood there staring at him for another long minute, waiting for something, anything, from him. When she smiled weakly at him and began to turn from the room, she heard his voice.

'Is that the only reason you've come?' he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Hermione turned around to find him looking at her with a hopeful expression on his face. This time when she smiled, it was a small shy one that accompanied the blush rising on her cheeks. It was apparently all the answer he needed for in the next instant, his face broadened into the brightest smile she'd ever seen. He closed the space between them in four long strides and took her in his arms.

'Promise to stay with me,' he whispered.

'Forever,' she said before allowing him the only thing she'd denied. She tilted her head up while his descended, their lips meeting for the first of many times and expressing the emotions neither were yet willing to put into words.