His arms were around her as soon as the lock clicked shut.
"As good company as your brother and friends are," he murmured between kisses, "this is definitely the highlight of the evening."
"Nice to know I'm appreciated." She smiled, kissing him back before pulling away. "Don't sulk," she laughed as his face fell, "I'll be back in a moment." She disappeared into the wardrobe and emerged moments later in a skimpy negligee made of deep, Slytherin-green silk.
"Even better." He smiled appreciatively, drawing her back into his embrace, his hands immediately slipping beneath the silk. "Although you do know I'll be taking it off pretty soon?" he reminded her with a smirk.
"And there I was thinking you would want to rest." She told him in a tone of false surprise as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders.
"Oh, so you would rather I rest." He replied in a petulant tone. "Even when I was going to spoil you so outrageously?"
"I though it was you who deserved indulgence?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as he kissed her neck. "You are, after all, the one that's locked away on an island prison in the middle of nowhere."
"Are you too not imprisoned?" he reminded her. "It may be a manor house, but it is still a prison no matter how grand it is."
"At least mine has heating."
"I have not had to bear the attacks of a scandalised media or the fury of an angered public." He countered.
"Fine, you win," she conceded, "I, for some strange reason in your twisted brain, have it worse than you."
"Now may I spoil you?" he asked with a smirk, although he would do it none the less.
"Yes." She sighed, giving in and allowing him to carry her over to the mattress.
She was quite glad she had decided to dispose of Dawlish and Scrimgeour for the night as, even though she would have liked to make them very uncomfortable, she wouldn't have liked the rumours that would fly about after what they would have overheard. She was anything but quiet as he pushed her over the edge again and again. She was quite surprised at the restraint he showed too, focusing more on pleasuring her whilst ignoring his own desires. This did not mean he completely ignored them, however. Her back arched in ecstasy one final time before he rolled off her and, wrapped in each others arms; they drifted off into the deep recesses of sleep.
She was supremely content that night as she slept; comforted by the warm body that lay next to hers. She was not plagued by nightmares or insomnia as she lay nestled in the crook of his arm. Similarly, he was allowed a complete night's rest; uninterrupted by other inmates howls or incessant muttering. He had, so far, managed to keep his sanity by clinging onto his memories of her. He buried the happy memories deep, hiding them from the scabbed hands of the Dementors as they glided past his cell.
They were woken early in the morning by the sun shining through a gap in the heavy curtains. The backs of his eyelids burned red and, after a few moments trying to ignore it, he opened his eyes to gaze blearily at her. Rubbing sleep from the corners, he watched her for a few moments before venturing to the doors. Opening them a fraction, he could see the two Aurors were still lying where they had fallen the night before and showed no signs of waking any time soon. Smirking at her ingenuity, he locked the door, pulled on his pyjamas and made the quick trip through to his study.
She was awake when he returned, her hair falling in long, unkempt waves over her shoulders and her eyes still blinking in the morning light.
"Good morning." He greeted her jauntily. Sitting down on the mattress and leaning over to give her a quick kiss.
"There's nothing good about it." She groaned, crashing back onto the pillows and pulling the covers over her head.
"Are you sure?" he asked, slipping beneath the duvet to find her.
"Yes." She said resolutely, turning away from him.
"Positive?" he asked again. "Cast your mind back, you may remember." He suggested.
"Well, it is," she paused, realising what he meant, "it is two years to the day since, you know." She turned back to face him. "Maybe it is a good day after all."
"Told you so." He murmured, pulling her close.
"Well, it's a good day apart from that other thing that starts at eleven." She corrected him.
"Apart from that." He flung the covers off and kissed her hungrily.
"What are you doing?" she asked with a laugh as he pulled her across the mattress to the middle of the bed.
"Breakfast." He smirked, trailing kisses along her neck and collarbone. Impeded by her negligee, he pulled it over her head and continued his journey down. She giggled as his hair tickled her stomach, a giggle that swiftly turned to a moan as his tongue started drawing circles in all the right places.
"I like this kind of breakfast." She moaned softly as he moved back up and found her lips again.
"Pity it's a rare treat." He murmured as her hips arched to meet him.
"They're going to take you away again." She whispered back. "I know."
"I'm so sorry, about everything I have put you through." He went on, his lips grazing the hollow of her throat as he spoke.
"It's not your fault." She shook her head, a tear rolling unbidden down her flushed cheeks.
"I feel responsible."
"You're not." She gasped; her head lolling back as she saw stars behind her eyelids.
He was careful to prolong her pleasure as they lay there, their limbs intertwined.
"None of this is your fault." She repeated as he pulled away and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's pointless playing the blame game now." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Besides, I wouldn't trade the time I've had with you for anything."
"Even when this all began?" he asked; steely grey eyes boring into green.
"Well, we didn't get off to the best of starts." She admitted. "But it got better."
"It did." His teeth nipped at the skin of her neck and she found herself, quite perversely, hoping that he left a mark.
"And I don't care what people say about me or about you." She reassured him, her finger drawing lazy circles on his shoulder. "You grow quite impervious to those sorts of things after a while." She groaned as he moved away again, pulling on his pyjama bottoms and dressing gown. "What now?" she moaned, burrowing back beneath the covers.
"Breakfast," he smirked, "for real this time." Giving an exasperated sigh, she pulled on her own nightie and dressing gown, and followed him out of the doors. Dawlish and Scrimgeour were still flat out on the floor and did not register their dressing gowns brushing against them as they walked.
"Dear me," Kathryn muttered, shooting the pair of them a hateful look, "asleep on the job. Obviously overworked." She laughed as they walked downstairs, her arm linked through his.
If she had thought the house elves a little over zealous when they had eaten yesterday afternoon then they had gone completely overboard with breakfast. There was enough food for about six people laid out and far too much choice for you average meal. With a grin, Lucius piled his plate high and began to tuck in. Se could understand this, as who knew when he would next get a proper meal? She waited whilst the teapot poured her a cup of steaming liquid and then began to nibble on a pastry. He cast a glance at her as he took his second helping of toast and, with a frown, set down his fork.
"Is that all you're having?" he asked, inclining his head at the half eaten pastry on her plate.
"I'm not really hungry." She shrugged, taking a sip of tea.
"You haven't eaten since eight last night." He pointed out. "You must be famished."
"Not really." She picked at the pastry a little more. "The prospect of the day ahead makes me lose my appetite."
"Well, you tell me that I've got thinner but you can join that club too." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't think I didn't notice that you've lost weight."
"I've been busy, sometimes I forget to eat."
"The last thing you need to be is malnourished, especially with what you are going to go through in the next few weeks." He argued.
"I'm not malnourished."
"You're thin."
"Then what would you have me eat?" he did not reply, instead waving his wand and sending a plate full of food to replace her half eaten pastry.
"Fine." She picked up her fork and began to eat whilst he watched her like a hawk. "But you still have to eat too." She smirked when she noticed that he hadn't picked up his fork again. She did finish her plate and then sat waiting whilst he consumed enough food for about three people.
"Well done," she commented as he finally set down his fork, "you have just exceeded Ron's record for most breakfast eaten in one sitting!"
"Hey, I might just be able to survive of that meal for a week." He pointed out.
"I would send you food parcels but I doubt that they would even allow me write to you, let alone come and visit you." She remarked glumly, finishing off her tea.
"And I somehow doubt that they would let me near a quill and a piece of paper lest I tell you what goes on up there." He shrugged. "They want you to lose all hope. That's how they keep people subdued, I mean, with some of them they needn't lock the doors to the cells."
"So if some were faking it they could just walk out?"
"No, there is still a human workforce up there. It's impossible to evade the Dementors though. I have a wizard guarding my cell all the time, I think they learned something after your godfather escaped."
"I suppose I could sneak onto the island. Who would notice a wolf wandering around a barren island?"
"Nothing survives there; the little wildlife there was gave up a long time ago. Besides, even if anyone ever did get out of the gates, it is next to impossible to get across to the mainland. I wonder at how your godfather even managed."
"He was innocent, that makes a lot of difference." She reminded him with a smirk.
"Oh yes, shame I'm not in the same situation."
"Innocent until proven guilty." She uttered the old phrase. "Besides, you have done some redeeming things. I mean, you didn't hand me over to Voldemort." She reminded him. "And you said that we were dead."
"Yes, but then again, I did use you like my own twisted plaything."
"Everyone gets used." She shrugged. "It's an inevitability of life."
"Not like that."
"Well, I know-" she didn't get to finish her sentence.
"No one should ever go through what I did to you." He interrupted her. "I mean, I wanted to break you. I wanted to make you suffer."
"Oh, I assure you I did." She told him in a dry tone. "I couldn't stand the guilt at points. Why do you think I ran away to Paris for that week?"
"I have to confess that you surprised me." He revealed as she stood up and walked for the door. "I didn't think that you were strong enough to outlast it." He followed her out of the dining room and back up the stairs.
"Neither did I," she admitted, "but I suppose people adapt."
"I thought you would be easy to destroy."
"I'm made of much stronger stuff." They walked past the still comatose Dawlish and Scrimgeour. "Besides, I only think that I managed to survive because things changed." She slipped the dressing gown off her shoulders and, with one swift movement, had pulled her negligee over her head and let it land on the floor. She disappeared into the bathroom and he heard the jet of a shower against tiles not long after. He thought for a moment, before following her in to the bathroom.
"What do you want?" she asked as he sidled up behind her.
"Nothing." He replied casually, his hands beginning to knead the tense muscles at the back of her neck.
"So why do I suspect that you have an ulterior motive?" she asked as his hands worked lower.
"I don't know." He smirked, turning her round and catching her lips before she could say anything else.
"That would be why." She commented when he finally pulled away. "You do know that you are defeating the object of having a shower?" she went on as he backed her up against the tiled wall. She shivered as her skin came into contact with the cool, damp tiles but this only made his smirk broaden.
"The water won't go away." He shrugged, lifting her up so she had no choice other than to wrap her legs around his waist. "Just be careful not to bang your head on the tiles," he told her, pretending to be offering a good piece of advice, "we can't have you with concussion now, can we?"
Eventually, the pair of them ended up entwined on the tiled floor of the shower as the warm water beat down on them. As she lay there, she was very tempted not to hand him back to the Aurors once they got to the Ministry. She might have given him a shock, but she did not expect Fudge to so willingly give in over the subject of Lucius' treatment in Azkaban. Still, she could hope; a life spent under the shadow of Voldemort had taught her that you should never give up hope, no matter how dismal things seemed.
"Really," she murmured, disentangling her arms from his, "we need to be getting ready."
"Do we have to?" he asked in a childlike voice, trying to pull her back down
"I'm afraid so." She gave herself a quick rinse under the warm shower before wrapping a towel around herself. "And I somehow doubt the Wizengamot would agree to having you placed under house arrest just so you can be with me."
"Not even if you ask nicely and bat your eyelids?" he asked with a laugh.
"I think that would only make me look worse. Besides, house arrest is technically what I'm still under." She wandered through into the wardrobe and began picking out clothes. She pulled on some underwear whilst he fished out a fresh, crisp, perfectly cut suit.
"Fresh clothes are quite a novelty." He remarked as he pulled on the trousers, noticing how they hung slightly looser on his frame than they had previously. "What are you wearing?" He turned round to look at her, now standing in Slytherin-green French knickers and bra, and considering three outfits.
"Don't get excited." She scolded as he raised his eyebrows.
"That will be quite a task if you intend to only wear that." he smirked as he buttoned his shirt.
"Oh you wish you were so lucky." She smirked back. "It's either the green dress," she pointed to the first hangar, "The blue one," she pointed at the second hangar which held a dress that he distinctly remembered taking off her, "or that." she pointed at the third.
"The third." He told her without hesitation.
"Isn't it a bit too, well, too you?" she asked, unsure of whether it was the right choice.
"No. It is all you and it will make a statement. I think the Ministry should understand that you mean business."
"Alright then, just remember you have to give me back your wand before we go out those doors." She reminded him. "I don't want to find myself being accused of giving you a wand because that'll just make my life worse." She opened a drawer and threw him his favourite pair of cufflinks; two large, dark emeralds set in platinum.
"Thanks." He slipped them deftly through the holes.
"I'm taking them back when this thing is over though." She warned him. "You're not taking anything that valuable to Azkaban because it won't come back. Now," she rooted around in a different drawer, "what jewellery should I wear?"
"How about this?" he summoned the box he had brought through from his study earlier. Giving him a curious look, she opened it to reveal a necklace and earring set of rich, dark emeralds set in platinum. "I thought they'd suit you quite well."
"How many more birthday gifts are you going to produce before you leave?" she asked as he fastened the clasp of the necklace.
"No more, although if you want all of your gifts you should look in the bottom drawer of my desk."
"You spoil me." She told him with a raised eyebrow, kissing him on the cheek. "But I don't mind."
"Good," he smirked, deepening the kiss, "because I wouldn't listen if you did complain."
"Stop." She told him in a tone of mock severity. "You can't arrive looking creased, what will people think?"
"They will all be jealous because, to put it bluntly, I get to bed the most beautiful girl to come out of Hogwarts for a long time."
"Take that back or I'll let Dawlish and Scrimgeour take you back instead of me." She warned him with a frown.
"That's what people will think." He shrugged. "I mean, you saw Dawlish's face."
"I hate it when people look at me like that," she shuddered, "it just makes me feel cheap."
"Please know that I don't think of you like that." He reassured her. "You are so much more than a pretty face." She could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't lying. "And only I get you all to myself."
"Don't worry," she shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist, "I'm not about to move out," she smirked; "Fudge wouldn't let me!" she pulled away and slipped a few things into a small dark green velvet bag.
"You do like living here, don't you?" he asked, worried that she had meant that she was only living here because she was forced to.
"Of course I do," she said with a smile, "you didn't take what I just said seriously, did you?"
"Well, you did sound serious."
"I know it's not the London apartment that I thought I'd be living in and I'll admit that it does get a little lonely, but I wouldn't swap it." She used a few pins to pull her hair away from her face as he pulled on his jacket. "My only worry is what happens if they let Draco out."
"What do you mean?"
"I've read the papers that I signed and I consulted your lawyers." She told him, slipping her feet into a pair of green heels. "Technically, if he is released by the Wizengamot, my claim of guardianship over the estate is null and void."
"Are you sure?" he couldn't believe that he had missed such a large loophole.
"Yes, I've checked the documents." She told him sombrely. "The way it is written, it implies that I have guardianship of the estate only if both you and your son are indisposed. If Draco walks free, however, the manor is technically his again."
"He won't be let off."
"He has before, if you'll remember." She reminded him. "You got him off the hook for letting Death Eaters into the castle in sixth year. All he needs to do is convincingly play the same card and he could walk with nothing more than a slap on the wrist."
"How long have you been thinking about this exactly?" he asked, as it sounded as if she had been giving this a lot of thought.
"A while, I've had plenty of time to think." She shrugged. "And I know that, if he does get away with it, he will not react well to me living here."
"I take it that you will fight any attempt he makes to save his skin."
"Well, yes, but, if I fail, I am instantly in danger. Technically, I cannot stop him. And, if he has been able to read the newspapers, he is not going to like the woman that has been termed his father's whore living under the same roof." She strode back out into the bedroom, gathered up her wand and tucked it safely in her bag.
"I can see where that would be problematic. Remember though, he doesn't have me to get him off the hook this time." He followed her through and picked up his cane. "You are most certainly not a whore." He finished resolutely. "And I will cause severe trouble for anyone that calls you such."
"Well, yes, but they haven't set a date for his trial yet so I do have some time."
"I guess I should give you this back." He held out his cane to her.
"You can have it until we get to the Ministry." She told him with a smile. "I'll hex Scrimgeour if he tries anything."
"All right then." He followed her to the doors.
"Take a last look around." She told him in a glum tone, her hand on the silver door handle. "I doubt Fudge will let me get away with this twice so who knows when you'll be here next." Opening the door, she found Scrimgeour and Dawlish sitting against the wall looking slightly groggy.
"Where are you going?" Scrimgeour immediately asked in a hoarse voice.
"Check the time gentlemen," she said in a dry tone as she swept past, "we're due in courtroom ten in an hour and a half."
"What did you do?" Dawlish asked in an accusatory tone.
"I, Dawlish, did nothing. It's not my fault that the Ministry is overworking you. Now, I have a proposal for you." She smirked. "You let me travel to the Ministry in peace and I won't let it slip that you fell asleep on duty." Scrimgeour looked as if he was about to protest but then gave a nod of his head in agreement. He did not want to think about the damage the revelation that he had fallen asleep whilst he was supposed to be guarding Lucius Malfoy, would do to his career.
It was a perfect summer day outside as they stepped out the front door. If truth be told, she would have much preferred to spend the day sprawled out on a blanket on the lawn instead of giving evidence. She was certain that, as soon as she had a free day, it was going to rain.
"Why do life's painful experiences have to happen on beautiful days?" she mused as the car rolled up. "Is it nature's way of saying 'ha ha, in your face'?"
"It is summer," he reminded her, "it could just be the weather and nothing more."
"True," she said with a smile, "but I prefer to think of it like that." She sank smoothly into the car seat whilst he held her door open. "Besides," she went on as he took the seat beside her, "I'd rather be spending my summer without the relentless media scrutiny."
"Even if this hadn't been discovered, wouldn't you still be living with constant media attention?" he pointed out as the car moved smoothly off.
"Well, yes, but that media attention would have been positive as opposed to slander." She remarked dryly.
"You never know, after the next few days, the press may suddenly change their mind."
"Yes, but if Rita Skeeter has anything to do with it," she reminded him with a frown, "she will have the whole of Britain behind her to push the Wizengamot to give you, a brutal rapist and Death Eater, the Dementor's Kiss."
"Ah, well, that bridge is yet to be crossed." He looked as if the possibility unsettled him and, usually, nothing worried Lucius Malfoy.
"Yes, until then," she slid across the seat and into his lap, "I can think of better things to do on a car journey."
"Minx." He said with a smirk as she kissed him.
"Oh you know you love it." She shot back as his hands slipped beneath her clothes.
It was in a slightly dishevelled state that they arrived in the dingy alleyway that held the visitors entrance to the Ministry. They stood in the alleyway for a few minutes whilst they rearranged their clothes; Lucius ensuring that she looked pristine whilst she did the same for him. With an almost ceremonial air, he handed his cane back to her.
"Don't worry," she reassured him, "hopefully it won't be for too long." She gave him a quick kiss before walking over to the phone box. As with the day before, she announced why she was there, collected the badge and then waited as the phone box descended. He took the opportunity to give her one last, private, kiss before they returned to being very much in the public glare.
The atrium was a lot busier than it had been the previous day. Of course, she had expected that the announcement she had put in the Prophet would draw a large crowd. She could make out several photographers in the hall as well as Rita Skeeter, dressed to the nines in a lime green suit to match her Quick Quotes Quill. People gave them a wide berth as they walked. They did not stop as they reached the security desk and, with one contemptuous look, Kathryn threw her badge at the same wizard who had been there the day before. She was aware of Lucius' arm moving to rest around her waist as their pace increased and she saw the scandalised looks of the people milling around, pretending not to be watching. Their stride was interrupted, however, by the appearance of Scrimgeour and several uniformed members of the Magical Law Enforcement Department.
"My turf, my rules, Miss Potter." Scrimgeour whispered as he walked up to her. With a nod of his head, the uniformed wizards following him surrounded Malfoy and began to lead him away.
"You couldn't resist could you?" she asked Scrimgeour, raising her eyebrows. "You love to feel like you have the upper hand." She grabbed Lucius' elbow to stop him from going anywhere.
"Please allow us to do our job, Miss Potter." Scrimgeour asked, looking as if he was trying to be as civil as possible.
"Fine." She pulled Lucius towards her and kissed him, full on the lips, without any care that the entire atrium was watching.
"Play nice." He whispered to her with a smirk.
"Not likely." She muttered darkly, releasing her grip on his sleeve and allowing the uniformed men to lead him away.