A/N Here it is - for a while I thought this was never going to get written. I totally lost my muse after going on holiday, I think rushing to try and finish before going away took the enjoyment out of writing and I'm not going to push myself like that again. I would like to say a massive thank you to all my regular reviewers - seeing your names pop up in my notifications really gives me a lift and every time I read a fic and don't review I'm reminded of how much your comments mean to me. Sorry I didn't get a chance to answer all of the last ones. Zeeksmum, Aliduck, Kitty, Artful Scribbler, riaroo400, pgoodrichboggs, silverorbedlioness and Alesia G and all the other people who have reviewed too thank you so much for taking the time to write such lovely, funny, incredibly insightful reviews.

She had forgotten what real pain was like. After all she had been through how could she have let go of a memory which should have been permanent? Surely this agony, this living breathing monster which clawed at her guts and threatened to consume her from within should have made a permanent impact on her grey matter. Instead she had retained useless facts. Arithmancy equations regarding people long dead and places never visited took up valuable storage space in her mental vaults. The ratio of butter to flour in her grandmother's scones could be summoned easily to the fore of her consciousness but this, sweet agony had been obliterated and she suffered today as if for the first time.

She tried to remember how she had borne pain before. Somewhere in the depths of her memory she knew she had been its master. She remembered Lucius looking at her with respect and something like fear, almost begging for her to share her secrets with him. In the dusty crevices of her mind she found her inner library. But the shelves lay in disarray, the books were stored haphazardly, the space long abandoned and the door to her safe room hung on its hinges. Her mental fortress reeked of neglect.

She swam back to the surface as the pain ripped through her again. It would last forever she knew that now. There would be no end to her suffering and she closed her eyes and let out a low groan of defeat.

"Hermione."

At the sound of his voice she wearily lifted her eyelids and looked around the dimly lit room. Her over stimulated body was almost incapable of processing anything but the pain but she was dimly aware of a hand holding hers. A hand that was warm and firm and ever so much larger than her own. A hand that remained still despite the fact that she was crushing the fingers, her nails digging into the smooth flesh just beyond the pinkie.

"Lucius."

His name was like a prayer on her lips. He had saved her once before and somewhere in the depths of her mind where hope still lived despite the certainty of her death she wished he could save her again. But as she met his eyes she saw the fear and exhaustion written clearly across his face. He was rumpled and unshaven, his eyes red rimmed , his hair tangled from repeatedly running his hands through it. He looked rather as he had that fateful day in Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix had branded Hermione with her own dark mark. It was the fear in Lucius' eyes that finally eclipsed all hope she had of survival. His fingers tightened around hers and his desolate look provided little comfort. Gently he smoothed his other hand across her sweaty brow.

"It hurts," she whimpered. Giving in to her own misery and fear, no longer able to save face against her defeat.

"I know," he drew their joined hands to his lips and she felt the burn of his flesh against her own just before the pain took her again.

"Is there nothing you can do?" Lucius snapped at the medi-witch who had just entered the room. She startled at his angry, aristocratic tone before drawing herself up and giving him her best professional glare.

"As you have been informed on more than one occasion Mr Malfoy your wife is simply too far along for any sort of intervention, either magical or muggle. We must simply allow mother nature to take her course." She brushed past Lucius with a brusqueness Hermione might have found amusing were she not in the throes of agony. Her husband gave way unwillingly allowing the medi witch to raise the sheet which covered Hermione from the waist down and to look speculatively between her legs.

"My dear you are ready," she proclaimed with an encouraging smile. "Now when the next contraction comes you give me a nice big push and we'll finally meet that baby."

Hermione scowled at her. She made the process sound so easy. The urge to push had been present for some time but it was superseded by fear and exhaustion. All she really wanted to do was sleep.

"How could you let me do this?" her fingers bit into Lucius' hand once more. "Why didn't you warn me?"

His face was stricken as he allowed her to abuse him both mentally and physically. "I forgot," he confessed, "I forgot how awful this was. Please Hermione forgive me."

Her forgiveness became a moot point as another contraction seized her and this time she pushed with all her might, the strange groan which emitted from her sounding almost alien in the otherwise quiet room.

Every minute was an eternity. She was stuck in an agonising cycle. Waves of pain and frantic pushing followed brief periods of respite in which she sobbed, or berated her husband or stared empty eyed at the ceiling wishing only for death. Then suddenly the pain was different, the dull ache intensified beyond that which she had thought possible to a fiery red and the medi-witch was excitedly telling her to stop pushing and Lucius was squeezing her hand. Then she was pushing once more and finally a warm lump of bloodstained and angry humanity was placed on her chest and she stared down in awe at the crumpled, blue tinged face of her daughter.

It was only in that moment and the few that followed that Hermione realised how wrong so much of her life had been. She had been afraid for so long it had become part of who she was. Her childhood had been cut off so painfully early that she barely remembered the unconstrained joy of youth. The years she had spent with Lucius had been a constant battle. Every day she sought to reconcile her guilt with the overwhelming love she felt for him. Guilt that she alone had survived. That she had grown to love this man who had once been their enemy. Guilt that she should allow herself to be happy when so many others were dead.

As she held her daughter she felt the promised and long awaited rush of emotion. As the unconditional love she had been guaranteed washed over her she realised how deeply afraid she had been. She had feared that she was too damaged to love her child in the way a mother should and it was only now, as the baby squawked and squirmed in her arms, that she knew herself to be complete. She reached out a hand to Lucius who was gazing down at them with a look of mingled adoration and terror, his eyes filled with tears. He squeezed her fingers and she felt her final doubts leave. Whatever and whoever they had been in their past lives she and her husband were something else entirely now and she knew without a shadow of doubt that there could be no wrong in that.

Hours later the room had filled with people. Bill and Fleur and their own brood of children cooed excitedly over the new baby. Percy patted Hermione's hand and helped himself to chocolates from her bedside. Neville and Hannah had brought a stack of gifts from the Hogwarts staff which Hermione was methodically working her way through.

Lucius stood a little to one side as his child was passed around like a rugby ball. Hermione watched him fondly. He would never be easy amongst her friends, she had come to accept that truth, but they all tolerated each other for her sake and that was enough.

"Have you thought of a name?" Fleur gently removed the baby from Victoire's arms and returned her to Hermione. Hermione was about to shake her head when Lucius spoke.

"Perdita."

Hermione gazed up at him in surprise. She looked down at the solemn, grey-eyed little girl in her arms.

"Perdita," she repeated quietly.

After their friends were gone Lucius sat on the bed looking decidedly rumpled and not at all himself. He cradled their daughter in his arms his expression now more bemused than terrified. Hermione leant her head against his arm breathing in his familiar scent.

"Shakespeare Lucius?" she asked softly.

He gave a slight smile and pressed his lips against the top of her head. "I am not a complete philistine you know."

Three months later

Hermione woke suddenly from a strange dream in which she was refereeing a quidditch match. Her Slytherins had been soundly beating Gryffindor when she had realised that her baby had somehow taken the place of the quaffle. She had been berating her husband for his lack of care of their daughter when she came to.

If anyone had told an eleven year old Hermione that she would one day be the head of Slytherin house she would have questioned their sanity. In reality the transition had been smooth and almost inevitable.

She had spent her first year at Hogwarts commuting backwards and forwards between the castle and Malfoy Manor. Once it had become apparent that Professor McGonagall was willing to tolerate his presence Lucius began spending more and more of his time at the school. Hermione secretly thought he found the institutionalised environment soothing. Once she had been made a permanent member of staff they lived almost exclusively at the school during term time with Lucius managing the Malfoy empire from an office in Hogsmeade.

During Professor Slughorn's final year as potions master and head of house he had become increasingly less interested in his students. At first it had just been the occasional Slytherin girl knocking on Hermione's door in the dead of night. She had thought that their presence might have had more to do with the fact that the Malfoy scion was somewhere within her apartments than a genuine desire to seek her council regarding woman's troubles and matters of the heart. But word of her sympathy for Slytherin woes appeared to spread and before long any Slytherin with a personal problem sought out her council.

When Slughorn had finally announced his retirement Professor McGonagoll begged Hermione to take his place as head of Slytherin. There were no Slytherin teachers on the staff and, who was better qualified, she had argued, than the muggle born witch who had fallen in love with the last remaining death eater? Hermione had demurred at first but she had seen how difficult it was to be a Slytherin at Hogwarts during those first few years after the war. Her marriage to Lucius had earned her enough abuse for her to sympathise with those who were associated by family or acquaintance with the other death eaters and her soft heart would not leave those children unrepresented. She asked the house to vote for or against her. The vote was returned one hundred percent in her favour.

She and Lucius had not yet discussed their plans for her return to work the following summer but she suspected that they would all move back to Hogwarts and perhaps her dream was an indicator that when the time came she would be ready to make that transition.

She looked fondly across at the crib next to the bed. Their daughter still woke her three hourly during the night and she was grateful she would not have to return to work any time soon. With a start she realised that Perdita was gone. Her panic was short lived as she saw Lucius' side of the bed was also vacant. Blearily casting a tempus charm she found she had slept for over five hours. No wonder she was refreshed although her breasts felt as if they might explode.

She padded through the darkened house searching for her husband and daughter. They were not in the library, nor her old bedroom, nor the nursery. They were not in the dining room and the door to the drawing room was locked as always. Hermione made her way to Lucius' study. She heard her husband's voice as she approached and paused in the doorway to observe unseen.

She could not help but smile at the sight before her. Lucius stood in front of the window with their daughter in his arms. The moonlight lit up his platinum hair and the baby reached up to grasp at the strands which fell over his shoulder. He murmured a quiet litany of reassuring nonsense to the child. He gently suggested she return to sleep, he told her how tired her mother was and how much she needed her rest, he implored her to look out at the stars a little longer. The child responded with a range of bird like noises and finally an angry squeal at which Lucius sighed.

"I think you have exhausted my repertoire young lady, shall we find your mother?"

"I'm here," Hermione stepped into the room feeling a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping.

Lucius smiled in welcome. "We are delighted to see you, I believe this little harridan requires feeding."

"Thank you for letting me sleep," Hermione stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She savoured the scent and taste of her husband as his warm lips caressed hers. The baby between them gave a wail of protest. Hermione smiled ruefully and gathered the bundle into her arms. She squeaked in surprise as Lucius carefully picked her up and carried her out of the room toward the staircase. Holding Perdita close, she rested her head against his shoulder remembering that he had carried her up these stairs once before. This time she did not struggle and he took her to his own room.

He placed her gently on the bed and arranged himself behind her, as she fed the hungry baby. Perdita reached up to his hair once more as she fed but eventually her eyes drifted shut in milky contentment. Before long the baby was asleep and Hermione placed her gingerly in the crib with the mingled hope and fear of the overtired parent. Perdita gave a soft groan and then settled into slumber.

Hermione curled her body against Lucius, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, her hand placed over his heart. She was on the brink of sleep with he spoke.

"You were wrong you know,"

"What about?"

"When you said that you were a punishment not a reward,"

"Sentiment Mr Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid so Miss Granger."

She smiled sleepily, "It's Mrs Malfoy."

"Goodnight Mrs Malfoy." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke.

"I love you," her voice was a whisper in the darkness.

"I know."

The End

A/N Phew! I hope that was ok. Sorry if I got a bit melodramatic at the beginning, in my defence I've given birth and it really was that painful! I also hope that I didn't imply that you in any way have to have a child in order to feel complete. I don't feel that way and I often struggle to imagine Hermione and Lucius with children together but I felt in this story it was the right thing to happen.