A/N Welcome readers. I want to say a massive thank you to Elena Tria for allowing me to use her beautiful artwork as the cover for this fic. If you like Lucius (or Severus, or Captain Hook) then check out her wonderful gallery (link in my bio - the fan fiction bots won't let me post one here) This image is called Lucius' gloves.

"Miss Granger."

It was the first time she had heard her name spoken, had heard any word spoken in three months. She schooled herself to ignore it concentrating on the burn of pain across her chest. She kept her chin tucked in, arms straight beneath her shoulders as she mentally counted: 45, 46.

"Miss Granger." Louder, clipped and aristocratic, and slightly irritated.

Back straight, core locked in tight, her toes pressing into the flagstones: 47, 48, 49.

"Miss Granger," like a whip this time.

50.

She completed the final press up and scrambled to her feet retreating to the back of her cell where she knew the light from the barred window on the other side of the corridor would not penetrate. She hurriedly pulled on the long sleeved cotton T-shirt and shabby jeans she had shed during her workout, already feeling the chill of the cellar cooling her sweaty body.

Ninety days. It had been ninety days since someone, anyone had spoken to her and now all he could do was repeat her name. As if her name meant anything to her anymore. For a time she had longed for company, even his would have been better than the loneliness and the darkness. Even Lord Voldemort would have been welcome. Not now. Now the ebb and flow of her days was dictated by the thin ray of sunlight that filtered through the window opposite. The traversing of the golden shard across the bars of her cell had become her own personal sundial, her movements choreographed by its progress. Now the light had hit the third bar on the door of her cell. She should have been finished her press ups and starting her routine of squats and lunges but he had interrupted her. For no apparent purpose, as far as she could see, than to chant the name which no longer felt like hers.

"Miss Granger, please move to the front of the cell where I can see you." I will not ask again. She heard the smooth whisper of wood on wood and knew that he had drawn his wand. Sighing she moved to stand close to the bars, staring blankly at the man in front of her. He had not changed. Lucius Malfoy was as beautiful as ever, a fallen angel, golden halo set alight by the sunlight from her window. He was as implacably cold and distant as he had always been. Dressed in his elaborate robes, his cloak fastened at the neck by a ruby eyed snake. He was separated from her by so much more than the bars between them.

"What happened to your hair?"

Her eyes flicked to his before she looked away again. There was nothing about this man that interested her.

"It got in my way."

She had already been in the dungeon for a month when Draco had come to her. Terrified and shivering he had knelt before the bars and begged her forgiveness. He had confirmed her deepest fears. Harry and Ron were dead. The light had fallen and Voldemort now ruled the wizarding world. After he had left she had cried. She had cried for days and wished for her own death until finally. there had been no more tears to shed and death had not taken her. From somewhere within had risen a cold determination the like of which she had never known before. She surrendered to her cause, her old self almost entirely subsumed by what she now perceived to be her task. She assembled and examined her arsenal.

Shocked by the weakness of her body after weeks of captivity she had begun to exercise. Remembering snippets of her mother's workout DVDs and the classes they had occasionally attended together during the school holidays. Press ups, squats, lunges and curls, chin ups in the doorway, star jumps, running on the spot. There were twelve bars on the door to her cell. Time was divided into twelve increments, four of which she dedicated to her physical fitness.

As she exercised her mind began to clear a little. Where there had been misery and despair now there was a cold, frightening void. Not anger, not pain, not anything but a need to finish what she and her two friends had started. As she forced her weak body into action she pondered her options. What could she do here in her prison cell to ensure her eventual victory? Her mind had always been her greatest asset she had honed it with books and knowledge, but how would she strengthen it here without any tools to aid her?

She had read much about the practice of occlumency when Harry had tried and failed to learn and now she applied those principles to herself. She quickly found that her ordered sensible mind was suited to the discipline. She rearranged her mental files, the confusion and doubt of the last few weeks were cleared away as she neatly filed, shelved and categorised her memories. Then she took the kernel, the very centre of what made her and hid it in her safe room. Beyond that she constructed a library containing every thought and memory both conscious and sub-conscious. Then she began to build her defences.

Her fractured days were divided into twelve. With four fragments occupied by exercise and four more by occlumency and meditation four more waited to be filled. She turned her mind to the practice of wandless magic. A feat she would never have considered herself capable of had she not once cast the confundus charm without the use of her wand. Of course it had been in extremis, she had been so distressed at Ron's failure she had cast without planning or thinking. But if she had done it once surely the pathway must remain open somewhere within her. She began to practice in earnest and as her skills in occlumency grew and her mental library became even more ordered, her skills improved.

Her days were filled now, she would hone herself and when the time came she would be ready. She had no time for interruptions, no time for the irrelevance that was Lucius Malfoy.

He was still looking at her, almost expectantly, as if she might have more to say on the matter of her hair or something else perhaps. She ignored him. She was used to passing the time in silence. He shifted slightly.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you."

She was surprised but she knew that not a flicker of that emotion was shown on her face. She took a step back from the bars. "I'm sure he knows where to find me." Her voice was husky and dry, she had not spoken with anyone since Draco had left.

Malfoy regarded her steadily. "Do not make this any more difficult for yourself than it already is, Miss Granger. You will come with me willingly, or I will use the Imperius curse, the choice is yours."

She wondered if she could kill him. She was strong now, but Malfoy had a good six inches in height and several stone in weight on her. Plus he had a wand. She had never cast the killing curse let alone without a wand.

A few days ago she thought she had stunned a rat as it ran through the cellar. She contemplated casting a wandless stupefy in Malfoy's direction. But the man waiting outside the cell was considerably larger than a rat and even if she did stun him he wouldn't stay down for long. Having not the means to kill him, and no wish to aggravate him if it were not for her own gain, she gave in to the inevitable.

"I will come with you." There was no anger, no defiance, no fear. She said the words, nothing more.

He forced her to precede him down the hallway keeping his wand drawn. She was rather flattered. She would have thought that a Death Eater with the arrogance of Lucius Malfoy would have considered himself quite safe in the company of an unarmed Hermione Granger. As they reached the glowing circle of light which heralded the staircase out of the dungeons she stopped abruptly.

"Wait."

Malfoy stopped beside her. "Miss Granger." There was a warning in his voice.

She ignored him and, lifting her top, up tore a strip of cloth from the vest underneath, which she proceeded to tie around her eyes. The last thing she saw was Malfoy's own eyes lingering on her briefly exposed midriff.

"What are you doing?"

"It has taken me three months to adapt the darkness of your dungeon Mr Malfoy, I have no desire to be blind when you return me to it." Her blindfold in place she started confidently towards the dungeon steps.

She was not rendered completely blind, the fabric of her vest was worn thin from many washings and she could make out the shapes around her easily enough. Despite the protection of her blindfold the light still stung her eyes as they reached the top of the dungeon stairway. She waited for him at the top of the stairs and was surprised when he took her arm. His warm fingers curled around her bicep and she marvelled at the sensation of another body touching hers. How she had taken for granted the casual touch of another human being in her previous life. Now it felt strange, as if the heat of his fingers might burn into her arm leaving her permanently branded.

She followed him docilely into a room she well remembered. Even blindfold she could make out the furniture of the drawing room and the shapes that sat behind a long table there. Even if she hadn't been able to see him she would have sensed the chilling presence of Lord Voldemort.

She looked around observing several familiar faces. Even the wild eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange had no impact on her. She suddenly wondered if she had died and come back a ghost. Why else would she be so empty?

"Luciasss." She heard Voldemort's sibilant tones and turned to where the snake like man sat at the head of the council table. "You've brought your prize I see, pray tell why you have blindfolded it?"

"She chose to blindfold herself My Lord, she does not wish her vision to be impaired when she returns to the dungeon."

To Hermione's surprise Voldemort gave a chilling laugh. "When she returns to the dungeon? I see you haven't shared your happy news with Miss Granger. Take off the blindfold girl." His voice brooked no argument and Hermione quickly pulled the cloth away from her face. Her eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of light and she blinked furiously as her pupils desperately constricted. Before she had a chance to compose herself she felt the touch of Voldemort's mind against her own. She wondered if he meant to be subtle, if she was supposed to be unaware of his probing. She could feel every incursion as he twisted sinuously inside her brain. Surprisingly there was no pain, only a sensation of something horribly dirty brushing against her.

She had so little to hide. She opened the doors and gave him free access to every tiny aspect of her life, every thought, every dream, every failure. She allowed emotions she had repressed for years and months free reign as she poured the entire essence of her being into him. Finally she pushed her most recent thoughts to the fore of her mind.

He pulled back suddenly giving a wry chuckle. "Such contempt for you Luciusss, I would not wish to be in your place."

"Nonetheless, I am honoured to serve, My Lord."

Hermione looked back and forth between the two wondering what they were talking about. She felt relief that Voldemort was gone from her mind but perhaps something else, something like disappointment that he had been so easy to deceive.

"Our blushing bride is looking for answers Luciusss," Voldemort hissed. "Why don't you tell her of our plans?"

A muscle flickered in the line of Malfoy's jaw as her turned towards Hermione. "The Dark Lord has generously gifted me your hand in marriage, Miss Granger."

Hermione quite forgot herself as she let out a bark of laughter. "What a ridiculous idea." She curled her lip at the thought of herself and Lucius Malfoy engaged in anything other than bitter warfare. "Besides I believe you already have a wife." She looked around, searching for Narcissa. She was in time to see Bellatrix raise her wand and Voldemort place a restraining hand on her arm.

"I'm afraid you are somewhat behind with the times, Miss Granger. Luciusss is now a free man, and what better way to cheer the public and ease their worried minds than by having a muggleborn witch marry a pureblood wizard and one of my most loyal supporters?"

"Are you mad?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Do you really think seeing me brought out in chains kicking and screaming and married off to this vile piece of shit is going to endear you to anyone?" She didn't see Lucius' reaction but Voldemort's snake like eyes narrowed and he lifted his arm from that of Bellatrix. "As you will Bella." he murmured softly.

Hermione had plenty of time to brace herself, Bellatrix's intention was obvious and as the cruciatus curse hit her she had already retreated into her safe room slamming every door in her path and huddling in the furthest darkest corner. The pain tore through her body, a thousand needles pierced her skin. Her head was clamped in a vice her guts wrung out from the inside. All of it was happening so far away though and to somebody else. She waited patiently for it to be over. Dimly though the doorway of her safe room she heard Lucius speak.

"I believe that is enough Bella, it is bad enough to be married to a mudblood don't leave her an imbecile too."

The pain receded and Hermione gradually allowed her consciousness to slip back into her body. She was curled on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, small crescent shaped indents on the palms of her hands where she had clenched them in agony.

"It didn't scream." Bella was pouting at Voldemort. Lucius was staring fixedly ahead. Hermione braced herself for another blast but Voldemort seemed disinclined to allow Bellatrix to play further.

"I'm sure Luciusss will find a way to break her sspirit, my dear." He looked down at Hermione who had made no effort to rise. "You will be married at the ministry of magic in one month's time." His red eyes turned towards Lucius. "I suggest you make sure she is more docile by then Luciusss."

He rose and left the room his entourage filing out behind him. Hermione remained on the floor, breathing slowly, mentally assessing her body. Her muscles were fasiculating wildly she noticed with some interest. Her increased muscle tone rendered her less quick to recover from the cruciatus than before. What an unpleasant side effect to physical fitness.

Somewhere above her Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked up to see that he had extended his hand to her. It was large, the fingernails neat and well manicured. Several rings adorned the fingers. She considered ignoring it but then decided there was little point in spiting him. Her body ached and it would be easier to rise with his help than without. She placed her fingers in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"That was either very brave or very stupid," he remarked, averting his eyes as she leant on the table breathing heavily. The world spun around her.

"You think I should not aggravate your master?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not if you wish to live."

She straightened up meeting his grey eyes squarely. "Living is not particularly high on my list of priorities."

He regarded her silently for a moment before dropping his gaze. "I will show you to your room," He turned and swept out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow. She considered the wandless stupefy again before remembering that she could barely stand, let alone stun anyone.

She followed him as best she could on her trembling legs until they came to a large and rather grand staircase. Malfoy started up it but turned halfway when he realised that Hermione was clinging to the banister only three steps up. She refused to look at him, angry at herself for showing any weakness, angry with her body for letting her down so quickly. He muttered something inelegant under his breath before he descended the stairs and lifted her into his arms.

"Put me down." She struggled against him.

"Be still you little fool." He shook her hard, as one might shake an errant kitten, and to her own surprise she stopped struggling. There seemed little point in protesting, her muscles were too weak to fight him. She might as well preserve her strength.

He carried her easily, as if she weighed nothing and after a moment she rested her head against his chest enjoying the warmth he emanated. Cold had been her constant companion in the dungeon, only kept at bay by hours of exercise. Starved of physical contact for so long she was acutely aware of the touch of his body against hers, the beating of his heart, the slow inhalation and exhalation which seemed unaffected by carrying a dead weight up a lengthy staircase. Lucius Malfoy was carrying her up the stairs of Malfoy Manor. She was living the romantic dreams of a hundred Slytherin girls, she almost laughed at the thought.

He did not set her down when they reached the top of the stairs, merely shifted her weight in his arms and carried her to the end of a long corridor.

"This is your room." He kicked open a door and set her down carefully just inside it. She clutched his arm feeling her legs about to buckle, but quickly pulled away as soon as she was able to take her own weight. The room was a vast improvement on her cell. In fact it looked like the bedroom in a muggle regency novel. The walls were lined with heavy cream paper with a busy blue floral pattern, the large bed was covered in a matching blue and white bed spread and a pretty white dressing table and vanity mirror stood in one corner. A large floor to ceiling window faced out onto the grounds of the manor and, forgetting herself for a moment she crossed to the window and pressed her hands against the glass staring out at the expanse of lawn, at the sun, at the sky.

"I thought the world was gone," she said to herself.

Malfoy cleared his throat and she spun to face him, wondering if he was about to begin her subjugation. He was simply staring at her, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"I suggest you bathe and change." His voice was expressionless, "You may go where you please in the manor with the exception of my chambers. I would ask that you do not attempt to escape, the wards are most powerful. You may summon an elf if you require assistance, however they have been instructed not to allow you to leave."

She nodded her understanding as he began to withdraw.

"Dinner is at seven."

"Wait!"

He paused in the doorway.

"You want me to eat with you?"

He didn't reply immediately, his face cold. "Dinner is at seven." He repeated before he closed the door and she was left alone.