Blinking in the pale morning light, she woke up with Lucius' arm wrapped securely around her waist. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was; her eyes seeing red curtains instead of the long green drapes she was used to. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was going on half past ten, and suddenly what had seemed like such a good idea the night before looked reckless in the harsh light of day.
"Bugger." She murmured, pulling on her glasses.
"Good morning to you too." He replied sleepily, pulling her back towards him. "What's the problem?"
"It's half past ten."
"It's a Sunday." Had he not been lying down, he would have shrugged.
"We're not at the Manor," she reminded him in a whisper, "I don't know if people are back or not."
"You could just go and see."
"And have them wondering what the hell's going on? Not after yesterday."
"Then what do you suggest." Sensing her worry, he wisely kept his voice at a murmur.
"Kreacher." She called out quietly. "Kreacher!" seconds later there was a crack and the wizened old elf appeared in the middle of the room.
"Why, what can Kreacher do for Miss Kathryn?" he asked, bowing low; Regulus' locked grazing the floor. "Kreacher is not knowing you are returned."
"Well, Kreacher, I actually only came back for the night." She explained, pulling the covers about herself as she sat up. "And we're going to have to go soon."
"Kreacher would like to welcome Mister Malfoy to the most ancient and noble house of Black." Kreacher made Lucius a very low bow. "Such an illustrious guest this house has not seen for many years."
"Kreacher, we don't have time for this." Kathryn cut in before he could embellish further. "Have the others got back from the Weasleys yet?"
"Yes Miss, is you wanting Kreacher to inform them of your presence?"
"No!" she hissed urgently. "You cannot tell them that I was here, or that Lucius was here. Understand?"
"Kreacher understands."
"Where are they now?"
"Master Sirius is in the bathroom," Kreacher listed off, "Master Harry is in his bedroom with Miss Ginny, and Master Weasley is with Miss Granger in the library."
"Anyone else?"
"Mrs Weasley is making lunch in the kitchen and her husband is reading the newspaper."
"Excellent. Do you think you would be able to get a couple of mugs of tea up here without anyone noticing?"
"Kreacher will be invisible." With another low bow, he disappeared.
"Can he be trusted?" Lucius asked curiously, running a hand through his errant hair.
"Kreacher is most loyal."
"I've heard he wasn't always so devoted to his family."
"Well, there was that one aberration in fifth year," she shrugged, "but that matter is resolved and forgotten."
"Very well. But just how exactly are we going to get out of this house?"
"How fast can you have the car here?" she asked, pulling on his discarded shirt before digging in a sparsely filled chest of drawers for some pyjamas, throwing some over to Lucius.
"An hour and a half." He guessed as he pulled the bottoms on.
"Then get the car to come and pick us up, there's some paper in my desk." He went where her hand pointed him, scrawling off a quick note and sending it in a burst of flame.
"Why can't we just use the Floo?" he asked, casting his eye over the fireplace.
"My fireplace isn't connected," she shook her head, "we only use the one in the kitchen." They both jumped slightly as Kreacher reappeared with two steaming mugs.
"Thank you Kreacher." Kathryn took the two mugs, as Lucius settled himself back onto the bed. "Everyone is still unawares?"
"Yes they is Miss." Kreacher nodded. "They has no clue, Kreacher sneaks past them like a ghost."
"Thank you. There will be a car coming to the square soon; would you be so good as to let me know when it arrives?"
"It will be done." Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a crack.
"That seems a bit silly, don't you think?" Lucius commented after taking a long drink of tea. "To have only one fireplace connected to the Floo?"
"It was in case we were ever compromised," she explained, crawling back into bed, "better the intruders to emerge in the kitchen then in our bedrooms."
"I suppose that makes sense."
"We had charms in place that would warn us of any presence in the house that was hostile."
"And what about me?" he asked slyly, wrapping an inquisitive arm around her waist. "Surely I am still considered a threat under this roof?"
"Not under this part of the roof." She replied seductively, leaning into his embrace. Planting a kiss on his shoulder, she set her empty mug on the bedside table and manoeuvred herself into his lap. "And certainly never here." She smirked, dipping her head to capture his lips.
"I should hope not." He smirked back in reply when she finally gave him a moment to talk. Undoing what buttons she had managed to fasten on his shirt, he slid the soft fabric off her shoulders and allowed himself a moment to admire the beauty before him. The look that passed over her face as his hands stroked over her skin was nearly enough to undo him. She could not help herself from giggling as he awkwardly removed the pyjamas she had given him, determined not to let her out of his grasp. Her laughter, delightful though it was, was silenced by a swift kiss; each of them tangling their fingers in the other's hair as they pulled their bodies flush.
Trying her best to be mindful of where they were, she did her best to remain quiet as he entered her; clinging onto his shoulders as she rocked up and down, even going so far as to sink her teeth into his shoulder to stop herself from crying out. Of course, they were not entirely successful in that respect and she hoped that they were far enough away from everyone else in the house to avoid discovery.
A little while later, lying in a tangle of limbs in the morning sun, they could not be happier.
"We need to get up." She told him lethargically, glancing at the clock.
"Really?" he asked, running a hand up and down the smooth skin of her back. "But here is so much more agreeable."
"Enjoy it though you may, the longer we stay here, the more likely it is they will find us." She reminded him. "Although I have no objection to resuming our activities once we get back home." She smirked, levering herself up and wrapping one of the bed sheets around her. Moving quietly, she walked about the bedroom, picking up her discarded clothes from the previous night.
"Well at least that is an incentive." He smirked at her.
"Well get a move on, the car will be here any minute." Reluctantly, he stood and began to gather up his own clothes. He was slightly bemused as to why she began to rummage in her drawers for clothes.
"Do you really need to change?" he asked. "We're only going to be in the car."
"Well, I want to stop in Diagon Alley before we leave, if that's alright?"
"Of course."
"Excellent!" she triumphantly pulled out a black garment from the back of one of the drawers. As she pulled it on, he realised that it was one of his shirts. To this, she added a belt embellished with gold sequins which cinched in her waist and nothing much else. Carefully, she rolled up the sleeves and checked in the mirror to make sure she looked half decent.
"Ready!" she pronounced, slipping her feet into her vertiginous shoes.
"Really?" he raised an eyebrow in apprehension.
"Well it's not like I'm going to go round Diagon Alley dressed like I was last night." She laughed, draping last night's dress over her arm.
"People might wonder what you've been up to." He brushed his fingers across a rather vivid bruise that he had left behind on her neck.
"Let them wonder." She replied as Kreacher appeared with a crack.
"Kreacher is coming to inform you that the car you is waiting for is just arrived."
"Thank you Kreacher." Kathryn nodded. "And thank you for your help this morning."
"Kreacher is glad to serve Miss Potter and her illustrious guest." The elf bowed low.
"Just make sure no one finds out." With a final bow, Kreacher disappeared again.
"Now," she held out her hand to Lucius, "take my hand."
"I you couldn't apparate?"
"You can apparate within the house, including to the front step." She explained before gently twisting through the motions of apparition with Lucius by her side. They reappeared on the front step and, being careful not to bump against the door as they moved, walked swiftly down the steps and across the courtyard to the car.
"Did you hear something?" Harry asked as the four of them sat in the front drawing room with mugs of tea, biscuits and the Sunday papers spread on the coffee table before them.
"No, what?" Ron shook his head, grabbing another biscuit.
"I thought I heard someone at the door." He leaned around and looked through the door to the hallway, expecting someone to come through.
"It might've been next door mate." Ron reminded him, just as the muffled noise of car doors opening and closing reached their ears.
"But that has to be someone." Instead of sitting down, Harry moved over to the window and peeked around the curtain.
Outside, standing be the open door of the car, Kathryn took one last look up at the house that had been her home for four years. It saddened her to think that, at least in her Godfather's mind, she was no longer welcome there. Had she been on a family tapestry, she was sure that Sirius would be very close to blasting her if it, just like his mother had done to him. There was a twitch at the front curtains and she saw her brother's faces staring back at her. His eyes widened in shock when he saw her standing there, but instead of slinking away, she held his gaze.
Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. Kathryn was there, waiting to get back into Malfoy's car. She looked like she hadn't long been out of bed and was wearing what he could only describe as a man's shirt that she had managed to make look like a dress. Her feet were in another pair of painfully high shoes which only served to attract further attention to her already exposed legs. He could not see if there was anyone else in the car, but the small, knowing smile that she gave him hinted that there probably was.
"Who is it?" Hermione asked, reminding Harry that there were other people in the room.
As her brother's head turned, presumably to tell the others in the room that she was outside, she sank back down into the car and they drove away as soon as her door shut.
Turning back to the window, his sister and the car were gone.
"No one." He lied, returning to his seat next to Ginny. "Just the neighbours." He didn't know why she had been there, but at this point he didn't really see the need to pry. Letting Ginny lean comfortably against his shoulder, he picked up the editorial section of the Sunday Prophet to see what they had decided to write about his sister today. There were two pictures of her, placed side by side; one of her impeccably dressed as she arrived at the courtroom a few days ago, looking supremely confident. The second was of her, looking browbeaten and terribly young, as she arrived at the Ministry on Friday morning.
Above the two pictures was the banner heading; 'Who is she?' In it, the author compared and contrasted the two conflicting images that had been presented during the past two years. Over the three pages, there were photographs of her when she had been with friends, taken by photographers when she had been in Diagon Alley during various school holidays. There were also the photos taken when she had been with Malfoy.
Most of them were from the trips they had taken to Dubai and Australia, but there were others that were billed as exclusive, unseen images from Quidditch games and the final ball they had held at Hogwarts. She was there sat next to him in the stands, intently whispering and laughing. At the ball they were pictured dancing, laughing and generally enjoying each others company. In one photograph, obviously taken without their knowing; his arm was wound around her waist, her body pressed tightly against his as they had grown accustomed to seeing. Beneath each of these exclusive photos was an acknowledgement to Colin Creevey for providing them.
In a way, Harry understood what was being said. There were two sides to his sister, he had seen them often enough. She had shouldered so much responsibility over the past few months, taken so much blame, that all people seemed to be able to think of was the figure that now carried the serpent-topped cane. This person was always impeccably dressed and wore an implacable mask; never betraying a single glimpse of the person who was really beneath. Her other self, one now rarely seen outside of the Manor, was refreshingly open and happy. She had given the world a glimpse of that person as she arrived late on Friday morning, dressed as a young woman of her age should be, for much as she exuded maturity and confidence, she was still only twenty.
Harry, being in a better position to comment than the author of the article, knew that these two 'personas' his sister seemed to have were not separate as the writer seemed to suggest. It was perhaps a by product of conducting a life, as well as a secret life, in the glare of the spotlight. What perhaps angered him more was that Colin had given the Prophet access to things that were supposed to remain private.
"Colin's sold her out." He commented crossly, flinging the section back onto the table for them all to see.
"Oh," Hermione's face fell as her eyes scanned over the photos, "that does not make her look good; going about like that in plain view."
"Well it's a bit late for that now." Ron chipped in. "She's not exactly low-key, is she?" Harry decided not to mention that she had been very low key if she had indeed been in the house overnight.
"It's not like she had a choice." He reminded Ron. "Neither of us had."
"Yeah, fair cop."
"She looks happy though." Ginny commented, picking up the section of newspaper. "That they cannot deny."
"That's because I think she is." Harry sighed, resigning himself to that truth he had tried to ignore for so long.
"So, just exactly how much shopping do you intend to do?" Lucius asked her curiously as they drove in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. "Should I just leave you in Diagon Alley perhaps, and send the car back once I am home?"
"Very funny." She hit him lightly on the arm. "I shan't be too long; there are just a few things I would like to get. After all, considering how often I am going to be appearing at the Ministry, it would not do for my wardrobe to be lacking!"
"Of course not."
"I shan't be long, I promise." She gave him a quick kiss as the car pulled to a halt in Diagon Alley.
As she walked down the street and disappeared in one of the discreet black doors, Lucius watched how people stared at her. There were many fingers pointed and eyebrows raised at her questionable attire. As was normal with men's shirts, the seam curved upward at either side; exposing quite a bit of thigh.
"Look at her;" he heard one woman say as she stood by the car, "she's barely dressed!"
"That's a man's shirt!" The advantage of being hidden behind the tinted glass of the car was that he could hear every passing comment whilst others remained completely oblivious to his presence.
"And look, there's a love bite on her neck!" he heard another comment. "She stands in that court and defends him and then flirts around behind his back. Disgusting."
Although he knew that she could see the looks and probably hear the hushed whispers, she strode on as if she had not a care in the world. She was true to her word and was not very long; she darted in and out of each shop and emerged with a handful of bags. By the time she was done he did begin to wonder if she would fit all the bags in the car, although he was impressed that she had managed to procure such a vast collection of things in only half an hour.
"Are you sure that's quite enough?" he asked dryly as she slid back down into the seat beside him.
"Oh I think that'll do for about a week." She replied in an equally dry tone as the car pulled away. "Considering how often I am going to be at the Ministry, it wouldn't do to be lacking in clothes."
"Should I be concerned about my bank balance?"
"It's not your wallet that's footing the bill." She shrugged. "I can buy my own jeans."
"You don't have to you know."
"I know, but I don't want to have to rely on you for clothes." She tried to explain as delicately as possible. "I don't want to be kept. You do understand, don't you?"
"I understand." He understood that she was sincere in her reasoning; not wanting to look like she was being induced into remaining with him.
"And besides, that means you can save your money for more important things, like diamonds!" she laughed, leaning against his shoulder as the scenery of outer London flashed past the window.
"Well, they do look exceedingly good around your neck." He chuckled, his fingers toying with the diamonds that hung from her ears. "And I am quite a fan of your current outfit."
"I bet you are." She snorted, smoothing the shirt down over her legs. "And I bet no one else is; I saw the way they were looking at me."
"You mean to tell me you care what they think?"
"Well, no, but I do wish people wouldn't stare." They sat in silence for a while, watching the verdant countryside roll by, before she spoke again.
"You know Snape was talking about tomorrow," she reminded him of the previous day's conversation, "have you thought about what they're going to do?"
"Not massively, although if Fudge wants to have any credibility he will eventually have to ask me to provide my side to the story."
"Will it be as long as mine?" she asked with a giggle.
"I'd imagine not, I see no need to repeat the truth that has already been told. I imagine that they will want me to enlighten them as to my reasoning."
"Will I like your reasoning?"
"I think you'll like the latter half."
"Well that's fine with me."
Upon arriving back at the Manor, and after having a light lunch, they retired upstairs as she had promised; spending several hours entwined on a hastily enlarged chaise lounge that sat in the sun on the balcony.
"You are happy here, aren't you?" his question caught her by surprise. His eyes were earnest, his expression leaving her in no doubt of the gravity he attached to the question.
"Of course." She replied with a smile from her perch on the stone balustrade. "Why would you think otherwise?"
"It's not that I think otherwise, I just wanted to make sure." He explained; his mind quite obviously occupied.
"This house holds many things that make me happy," she added, seeking to reassure him, "of course that is slightly lessened by your absence, but for the moment that is unavoidable."
"I assure I would much rather be here with you than in my usual accommodations."
"I think of this house as my home, I hope you know that." his heart swelled with happiness at such a statement. "And I don't think I shall ever tire of this view." She finished, gazing wistfully out over the gardens.
"I don't think I shall either." He concurred with a smirk, gazing at her figure that was barely covered by the pale cream sheet she had wrapped around herself. He smirked further as she blushed deeply.
"You know I don't know what people would think if they heard some of the things you say!" she laughed, sinking down to join him once more.
"Well it's true."
"Still, I think that such declarations would come as a surprise to many, me included."
"Why does it surprise you?" he seemed quite shocked at this particular revelation.
"Well, I suppose I've never really dared let my thoughts wander that way." She confessed. "I don't want to get hurt."
"Hurt?"
"Well, and I mean I know that this is no precedent, but with, you know, well…" she did not seem able to be voice the words, but he knew what she wanted to say.
"My wife?"
"Yeah, well, I mean, look at what happened."
"You fear I'll grow weary of you?"
"I fear that I will never be able to have my feelings returned." She told him quietly, not meeting his eye.
"Have I ever given you reason to believe so?"
"No, it's just that I'm afraid." With that, she stood and meandered back indoors to find her clothes. After a while spent thinking about what she had said, and of the conversation he'd had with Severus the other evening, he too headed in to find out where she had gone.
He found her in the kitchen, sorting out what appeared to be a light dinner.
"We'll have that outside." He told one of the house elves, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the kitchen.
"Why are you afraid?" he asked as they walked over the lawns. "I would not have you afraid of me." The concern in his eyes was very evident to see.
"I'm not afraid of you," she reassured him, "I'm afraid of getting hurt."
"I know I have hurt you before, and I would undo it if I could," he confessed, remorse clear in his expression, "but I swear to you that I could not bear to raise a hand against you, not now."
"No, not hurt like that." She tried to explain as they arrived at where all the food she had organised was spread out on a large rug, as well as a bottle of Champagne.
"Well, let's sit down, have some dinner, and you can tell me what you mean." Relieved at how calm he was being, she sank down onto the soft rug and put together a plate of cheese, bread, Parma ham and fruit. After a few mouthfuls, she began once more to speak.
"I suppose it's because for as long as I've known you, and by that I mean since the day we first met, I've always understood you to be cold, arrogant and heartless; implacable, if you will." It hurt him to hear such a description, but he knew that it was true. "And up until a year ago I was very much in agreement with that particular perspective. Now, however, I see such a different man; one who is open and friendly and so very attentive."
"I won't deny that I have spent most of my life as the former." He commented before silencing to allow her to continue.
"I think it's just hard for me to reconcile the person I knew you to be with the man now before me." She kept her gaze from his, instead looking intently at the rug beneath her. "It's like the Prophet has written about me today," she had closely studied the editorial article over the course of that afternoon, "I don't know which one you are either. Beyond these walls you still have that implacable, aloof front and I worry that one day you will wake up and wonder what the hell you've been doing."
"I really do doubt that."
"However you may doubt it, I still fear it. I have stood and defended you before my friends and before the public and I do not think that I could bear the pain if you were to revert to form." She supposed that was the best way to express what she was feeling. "My heart could not take it." Her voice cracked as she spoke those final words, and she looked up to find Lucius gazing at her with utmost concern.
"Well, if that is the case, let me tell you this." He gently took her hand in his. "You have meant more to me than any other person I have ever known. More than my wife, more than my son."
"Really?" she was glad that she was sitting down otherwise her knees probably would have given way.
"Really." He confirmed with a smile. "You have taught me what it is to be noble, what it means to be willing to lay down your life for someone. Before June, there was no one for whom I would have done something so foolhardy, no one at all."
"Then I am very pleased." She smiled broadly at him. "Very pleased indeed."
"It is hard for me to tell you exactly what you mean to me," he went on, "because though you fear that I may tire of you, I have spent far too long plagued by the fear that you will one day announce that you are bored."
After that, there was little more to say. They lay there in the late afternoon sunshine, eating, drinking their wine and talking; enjoying their last free moments of the weekend before the previous weeks' ordeal was to begin again.