Sorry ... it's been a while. Hope this one's worth the wait.

This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Fox, who has steadily reviewed nearly every one of my stories. Now there is dedication for you. Thank you, my dear, and I hope this is worth the wait as I know you've been waiting a long time. xx

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Slowly, I recover. I lose track of time, but Draco tells me, when I finally feel I can sit up and eat a small bowl of soup, that it has been four days. My first thought is of her, but I don't want to show him my anxiety.

'How are they?' I ask casually as I taste the soup, relieved that it does feel somewhat restorative and doesn't make me retch like I feared. My voice is weak and my limbs ache still, but at least I can begin to live again.

'Who?'

'The … prisoners.'

He shrugs. 'Haven't seen much of Weasley. She just lies on her bed.'

'Have you been into her?' I try not to sound alarmed.

'No. After what happened, I thought I'd better stay away.'

Thank fuck for that.

'Weasley just sits but sometimes the Dark Lord comes in and talks to him. I don't know. Doesn't seem to be changing anything but you can never tell.'

'And what of the Dark Lord's behaviour?' I attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, but all things considered know that neither he nor I will accept my show of composure.

'He's been away. Apparently, they may have a lead on Potter. But nothing much is going on. He seems distant at the moment.'

'I suppose that's a good thing.'

'Yeah …' He looks at me. 'You've lost a load of weight.'

'Hardly surprising.'

'Is the soup okay?'

'Yes. Tastes odd but anything will at the moment.' I take another sip then raise my eyes to him. 'Thank you.'

He shrugs again. 'You're my dad.'

'If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here.' I can only acknowledge it as the truth.

'All I did was bring you water.'

'No. Before. He would have killed me. He saved me because he likes you. He told me.'

'He creeps me out.'

There is a beat of silence then I start to chuckle at the absurd obviousness of what he's said. 'That's one way of putting it. And it's fair to say that he also … creeps me out.' Draco meets my eye and shares the laugh.

'It's good to see you better,' he smiles gently. 'Try to finish that soup. I'll bring you more later. I'm going to have to go and see what's happening. We all feel like we're treading on thin ice. One foot wrong and you're a gonner.' He stands to leave.

'Is she …?' I can't help it. He stops and looks back at me. 'Is she alright, do you think?'

He lets out a terse sigh but shrugs out his answer. 'I can't tell, honestly. She eats a little but doesn't do much else. Just lies there.'

I nod then try to focus back on the soup. 'I'll see you later.'

After two more days I'm able to walk around the room. After four, I feel practically normal. My appetite is returning and I'm regaining the weight I lost. My face is looking less gauntly grey with each day.

As soon as my strength has returned adequately, I know there is only one thing I can do, only one place I want to go. I cannot wait. During the day, the house is quiet. I do not wait a moment longer.

I slip out of my room and down to the dungeons unnoticed.

I wonder if the cell has been enchanted against me but the door opens as always. I open it a fraction and knock, only a faint knock. I doubt she will hear. I enter and close it tight behind me. The wall to Weasley's cell appears solid and opaque. I can detect no charm on it.

She is lying on the bed, just as Draco said, her face to the wall, her legs tucked in around her.

Softly I approach her, but she doesn't stir. I wonder if she's asleep, but as I get closer, I see her eyes are open. She doesn't turn to me. I am as sick as after the curse. Have I lost her? Have I lost her completely?

Tentatively, as gently as I can, I sit on the side of the bed, trying not to impose myself on it or her.

For a time, there is silence, as if we are both accustoming ourselves to the other's presence again.

'I'm sorry.' It is not hard to say. I wanted to say it. And I mean it. I mean it so profoundly it releases from me with ease.

At first she gives no response. She does not move. She does not speak.

A minute passes, perhaps more, but I stay there. I have said it, and she can take it as she wants.

'I hate you.'

There. Her response. My stomach heaves, but surely I was expecting nothing more. I try to muster the same feeling for her. After all, she is still who she was, she is still that girl I tried to destroy. The girl I have destroyed. I nearly retch but control myself. I stay there.

After all we have been through, I cannot go back now. I cannot go back to what was. I reach out a hand tentatively and place it on her arm. She doesn't move, neither in welcome nor defence. It is so wonderful to touch her again. I can feel the warmth of her through her thin top, sense that smooth skin just concealed under my fingertips. I can't stop and let my fingers move along her arm, barely stroking, but feeling, walking their way across her familiarity. She takes a deep breath but still does not move.

My fingers are at her hip and brush over it, trailing over the smooth warmth. She is covered by the blanket and I can tell she is wearing little if nothing underneath.

She turns, surprisingly suddenly, and my fingers are halted in their progress. She pushes herself to sit up, but her slight frame is suddenly filled with passionate rage. She looks at me again, her gaze ferocious, and restates it: 'I hate you, I said.'

I say nothing. I cannot. She says it again, repeating it over and over: 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.' And now she starts beating me. With clenched fists, she pummels me, as hard as she can, thumping her hands down onto my chest, onto my arms, anywhere she can. When she reaches my head she uses her fingers, scratching, enraged, livid. I sit and take it, loving anything she will inflict on me, even pain.

All the while she repeats herself, crying now, sobbing herself out: 'I hate you, hate you, hate you.'

And then as she continues, her mantra changes: 'I hate you, hate you … love you, love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.' And those hands which were hitting and tearing at me now clasp me to her, desperate, gripping so hard I could not escape even if I wanted. She holds my head to her and kisses me, all over my face. At first I am too beside myself to respond, but she guides my head, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones and forces my eyes to meet with hers. She looks at me as if she wants to disappear into me and I let her. I let her disappear into me, be taken inside me as I wish to be taken inside her.

Her fragile, wonderful arms are curled around me and she kisses me again. She kisses me with such need I think she will drain me, but she can't, because I will give and give to her. She covers me with kisses, deep on my lips, then rubbing across my cheeks, over my forehead, across my closed eyes, down again, back to my mouth which I open for her as she slips that sweetest of tongues into me. At last I am overcome and tears begin. I cling to her and sob. She holds me, pressing me hard against her, stroking my hair, still unable to stop kissing any part of me.

'I love you, I love you, my love, my love, I missed you, I missed you, please, please …'

For a time I am so lost that I do not understand what she is pleading for, but her hands are skittering over my clothes, fingers are at the buttons of my trousers. I quickly come to my senses, and push down on them as fast as I can. They fall only to my knees – that is enough. She lies back and arches for me, spreading her legs, her hands on me, pulling me down to her. 'I missed you, I missed you, I missed you …' she chants.

For a moment I wonder if, in light of everything and my recovering weakness, I can muster the required performance, but as soon as I witness her before me, her eyes wide with lust, her sex damp and ready, I am as hard as nails. Of course I am. I was made to be inside her.

With no ceremony or preparation save for a sharp grunt of sudden energy from me, I push in.

I'm in fully in one thrust and I swallow with the stunning wonder of it. Encompassed. Safe.

She lets out a sharp cry then sighs it out as she accustoms herself once again to being impaled on me. 'Yess,' she hisses softly.

I am so hard. So fucking hard and big in her, I wonder how she can take me. But I can't move. I can't come out of her, not at all. I will stay like this, deep and complete inside her forever. 'I love you,' I whisper in her ear. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'

She closes her arms about me and rocks me, pressing me against her as if wanting me to melt into her.

My cock grows impatient and twitches with need. She takes my head and kisses me again, pushing her tongue as deep inside me as I am inside her. It makes me shift back a little and I take the signal to move. She smiles against my mouth as she feels the shaft sliding through her. Once I'm out a little she bucks, sending me hard back into her. She grunts with the near violence of it. I pull out again, further this time, then drive back in hard. She groans again, exultant, her smile of pleasure felt on my lips. We stay like this, slow, hard fucking, deep kissing, ensuring as much of ourselves is in the other as possible. The urgency to come is not there, simply the need to feel joined, to be one.

We continue in this way for minutes, an hour perhaps. If I soften at any point, she clenches on me, kisses me, purrs into me and I harden rapidly again.

At length, my balls ache in protest, seeking their release. I whisper against her, 'I have to come. I'm aching.'

'Come then. Come into me. Come back into me, my love.'

I move, in, out, pulling back, feeling the clench of her sweet pussy on me as I pull back, then the soft, wet give of it as it welcomes me in again. Oh Gods, this is all I need ever. I reach down and find her clit and immediately she gasps. It's tender and ready after our slow preparation. She comes nearly immediately but I remove my hand and hush away her tensing. Not yet.

I move carefully, although I can't hold back for long. I stroke around her fat little bud and build her as slowly as I can. It's worth it. I watch as her eyes widen and she opens her mouth silently. She locks eyes with me, mouths, 'coming' and there she is, crashing around me. I push in hard, then back, then hard in again and come. Oh fuck, I come. I fucking erupt into her, pleasure lost and found claiming me as hard as the pain of the Cruciatus curse took me before. I am rigid with ecstasy as my cock spurts out three, four times. She's plugged with me, full of me. I push up hard into her, ensuring every drop will be hers.

She is still whining out her orgasm, the after effect of which leaves her tender and tingling.

I lie atop her, knowing she wants the full weight of me. I want to press us both into the ground so that we can disappear together, disappear as one, vanish from all else. I want to encompass her and absorb her and then maybe it will all stop.

At length I feel her hands on my head, lifting it gently. I lift it for her and let her smooth my skin with the soft pads of her thumbs. She is so beautiful, even now, that I can almost not bear it.

'You're crying,' she whispers, finding my face damp. 'I didn't know you could cry.'

This makes me cry more, although I cannot say I was aware of it myself. I'm only aware of her, not myself.

She lifts her head and kisses away my tears, letting her tongue flit out like a butterfly's wings to dap at the wetness, replacing it with her own. I shudder in a breath and lie back upon her. She lets her fingers trail paths along my back.

'What now, Lucius?'

What does she mean? There is nothing, is there? This is all there is and beyond it, I cannot see.

'What now?' she repeats.

'We leave.'

I said it. Did I? I'm barely aware of saying it.

'What?' she asks, as surprised as me to hear my words.

I turn to meet her eyes and both of us know it is the only way. 'We escape.'