Chapter Two:

Chapter Two:

Later that night after she returned to the cellar, she sat in the corner with her head bowed into her hands. A headache had sprung up, which throbbed at her temples. She rubbed her head, moaning slightly to herself when she happened to glance up to find Luna staring at her in a way that startled her.

It hadn't been Narcissa she had seen earlier; it had been Luna. She had been the one watching from the doorway.

They locked eyes and looked at each other with a knowing acknowledgment, but they said nothing about it. Even if they wanted to, they couldn't, as Mr. Ollivander was pouring them both drinks in the corner of the room.

When they had finally settled for bed, Luna laid next to her. The room was so dark that when Hermione turned toward her, she wasn't able to see her, even being as close as they were to each other. Across the room on the bed Mr. Ollivander snored lightly in his sleep.

Luna had continued her silence as Hermione reached over to place her hand upon her arm. She didn't turn away, which Hermione was thankful for, but if this silence between them continued . . . Hermione wouldn't know what to do. She did not want her only friend here turning her back on her, so she whispered into the darkness, "It's not what you think it is."

Her only reply was Mr. Ollivander's snores from across the room.

"There is more to it than you saw, and it's not really as bad as it looks." She continued with the lie. She didn't know whom she was trying to fool – Luna or herself.

"Balokstings," Luna finally said.

Wincing, Hermione thought Luna was attempting to avoid the subject, but then Luna elaborated. "When I was little, my father called me out to look at a Baloksting. It had found a toad in the garden, and it had already swallowed the toad's leg by the time I came out. I asked my father to save the toad, but he told me that we mustn't. The toad's leg had been broken, and the Baloksting would starve if it didn't eat."

"Why are you telling me this, Luna?"

"Because I can't stop what has already begun, even if I don't agree with it."

There was silence between them, a silence that both of them knew would not last long.

"It's hard being here; one can't help but seek comfort wherever one can get it." With that, Luna turned toward Hermione and placed a hand on Hermione's arm. "I'm here. Don't forget that."

Her words made Hermione cry, but she did so silently while Luna pushed herself into Hermione to give her a tight, comforting hug.

*~*

Lucius stood at the doorway and leered at her once again, which made Hermione drop her rag onto the shelf as she looked over at him.

They were fighting with their eyes again, but this time Hermione matched his calculating glare with that of her own. After a time, his expression slightly changed, and she saw that it mostly changed around his eyes, those icy grey eyes, which haunted her with their intensity.

Her breath quickened in anticipation as she watched him walk toward her and then move into her personal space. She had not placed the rag far enough away from the edge, and it toppled to the floor. His eyes followed it; then he looked back at her with a supercilious smile upon his face.

She didn't move her eyes from him, even as he moved his hand forward to press against her cheek. She had a small scar there from the night Voldemort took her, and he smoothed his fingers over it.

Hermione could no longer deny why Lucius was acting the way he was. It was not love, for that she was certain, nor did she really think that it came down to attraction. It was purely a power trip. He craved to touch her body only because he could.

Lucius would not admit that he was a fallen man. A man whose wife despised him and whose son saw him weakened in front of his own master. She knew that he was trying to cling onto something he could control, and unfortunately, she happened to be it.

She could no longer look at him and drew back, moving out of his reach as he moved forward.

"Don't," he pleaded. His plea caused her eyes to narrow in confusion – Lucius Malfoy did not plead with anyone.

He brought his hand up, not to her face again, but this time to run his fingers along the collar on her neck.

Her eyes were turned away, and he moved his head a little to the side to try to catch them, but she darted them away again to the other side. He brought his hand from her neck to her chin and with his fingers held her head still as he attempted to make her look at him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but in truth she did not know what to say.

"Allow me this." And he moved his head toward her, touching his lips softly against her own in a chaste kiss that lingered.

He pulled away for a moment, and when he tried to lean in again, she stopped him by placing her hand upon his chest.

She took a step away, and his arms dropped to his side as he looked at her in confusion. He almost seemed hurt, but it was so hard to tell from his natural haughty manner.

She steadied her resolve, focusing on the task at hand – to make sure that he understood her reluctance. She had to stop giving him mixed signals; she had to make sure he understood that this wasn't right. They were not going to benefit from this at all. Especially considering whom they were and what they were to each other.

She shook her head and then bowed it to the floor, unable to look at him any further. "I'm asking you to stop. I'm can't do this anymore. I don't want this. . . And I don't think you want this either."

"If you are trying to make me prove my desire for you, I must warn you; you are going about it the wrong way."

"I don't want proof of your desire. I know it exists."

"Then, what is going on in that silly, little head of yours."

Inwardly, Hermione wanted to scream her frustration, but she kept silent – letting her eyes do all the talking.

"I didn't mean to say that—" He attempted to backtrack.

"You've said worse to me before – especially about my parentage."

He raised an eyebrow at that and looked at her as if he just figured what she was going on about. "So, that is what this is about. Do you want me to say that I have changed my ways – my beliefs? That I no longer look upon your kind as something that should not have existed?"

"Do you?" she dared to ask.

He just gave her a pointed look as if she had asked the daftest question he had ever heard.

"You are such a hypocrite." She seethed.

She made a slight move to get out of the room, but he was on her at once. Grabbing her wrist, he snarled, "It is too late to deny what is happening between us. Despite my beliefs and your hatred toward me, there is a connection—"

"A connection?" She laughed without humor. "It's a pretty weak connection. No, I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

Lucius looked away from her, scowling as he moved his lower jaw back and forth. She could tell he wanted to say something to her. He opened his mouth to speak after a time, but he quickly closed it.

Giving her once last glance, a look that she thought could very well be resentment, he left without saying another word to her.

Hermione felt like she had won a minor concession with him, but she took no joy from it. She had thought by banning him she would have patched a part of her pride, but Hermione found while standing all alone in the room, that it was far too late for that.

She refused to cry, even though it was obvious she wanted to.