Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter/any of the characters from the books. I am receiving to money for the writing of this story, and it is purely for entertainment purposes.

Summary: Lucius Malfoy is a broken ghost of his former self. Someone knows how to heal him, if he'll let her. Non-specific female character/timeline, so feel free to use your imagination, or even imagine her as yourself.

Warnings: Angst/sexual happenings.

She runs her hands over his shoulder blades. She's always been told she's good at massage, but sometimes she thinks people just say that to be polite, only let her touch them out of pity, or because the person who's hands they really want are unavailable. But it seems to work, his upper body relaxes slightly, leans back into her. Her frown lessens. She reaches up one hand, gently stoking his hair. Long and veela blond. She wonders what those silvery eyes would tell her if they were turned on her right now. How many years has it been since it was short? Does he realise how much of it's former glory has been lost through lack of care? Does that even matter to him any more? And as she runs her fingers through it, smoothing, admiring the memories of former silkiness and beauty... Does he mind this? He is, like his hair, a former shadow of himself. His once lean muscle has hollowed into sunken cheeks and protruding ribs. His hair, split ended, coated in dirt and with a texture like straw hangs over vacant eyes that have lost their sparkle, their resolve, their pride. She moves from her perch on the edge of the bed, walk around in front of him. After a moment he lifts his head to look at her, so many things swirling in those eyes shes afraid to look, terrified of being washed away. She has to stay together, to make him better, to be the strong one. She slowly reaches out a hand and curls it against his face, stroking his cheek, running her fingertips over his temple. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. She drops her hand to his, gently squeezing his fingers before tugging lightly, pulling him into the bathroom almost by the force of her will alone.

He watches her as she walks in front of him, still holding his fingers. A connection. The sound of running water thunders, out of focus. Why is she here? Pity? The need to do good?And why is there such a hidden sadness in those eyes? His thoughts echo in his mind as he watches, as if from a distance, as she turns to him, biting her lip. Slow, gentle hands start to remove his clothing. He can't remember the last time he changed, the last time he washed. Cleanliness has been long forgotten. Chill air runs over his skin, and then the blissfully warm water replaces it as she eases him down into the huge, deep bath. He sighs, floating peacefully, and inhaling the long ago familiar scent of vanilla. She gets into the water behind him and he leans back onto her shoulder trustingly. He closes his eyes contentedly, peace has been a stranger for too long.

She watches his reactions, smiling and wrapping her hands around his waist. She kisses his temple. This is how things should be. Determination rises up. I will make him ok again. "Can you sit forward for me Lucius?" He obeys instantly. She rubs a soothing hand down his spine, whispering barely audible comforts as she takes a washcloth from the side. She lathers it in soap, and then with a kiss to his shoulder, she starts to gently wash him, easing away the grime and depression coating him like a second skin. His pale skin starts to turn red from the combination of hot water and necessary scrubbing. She sits the washcloth to the side, and instead pulls the shampoo towards her from the edge of the tub. "Lean your head back for me" she coaxes. With the help of a jug of clean water she is able to lather his hair, gently running her nails over his scalp and massaging the dirt out of the tips. Careful to avoid his eyes, she rinses off the now filthy lather and repeats the motions. Eventually she gets around to the conditioner, applying more than she should, hopeful to not only restore the original colour, but also the shine she remembers so well. When she is finished, the water they are both sitting in is the colour of dirt. She eases him up out of the tub, bending over to remove the plug and let the water drain.

His eyes follow the light dancing along her wet skin, catching her eyes as she turns back to him. She is beautiful. Too beautiful, too warm, too loving. He doesn't deserve this... to be in the presence of this. He hangs his head, averting his eyes. He shouldn't look. "Hey..." The vision swims before his eyes once more as she gently nudges his head up to meet his gaze. "Are you ok?" Her brow furrows slightly with concern, her eyes soft and worried. He wraps her in his arms, pressing his body into hers, nuzzling into her neck.

"Yes..." he whispers, as her hands run comfortingly over his back. Her hands can feel the scars the dirt had previously hidden, and she hugs him tighter. He's safe with her now. She will make sure of it. "Come on." She leads him to the standing shower in the corner, aware of the goosebumps rising along his skin and not wanting him to be cold for longer than necessary. She flicks on the hot water, testing it, before easing them both under the spray to rinse off.

His eyes never leave her. His hands, cautious and testing run down her arms, skim over her hips. Then he backs off, pressing his back into the cold wall of the shower, closing his eyes. He can't bare to see the rejection he would surely find in hers. Who would want him? A shameful ghost of former magnificence, wretched and scarred. He felt her hands on his face. Was she about to slap him? He tensed himself, waiting. "Open your eyes Lucius. Come on, look at me..." He felt tears well up. I don't want to see... But he couldn't disobey that voice. He watched her, his saviour, his protector. He watched her watching him. She was frowning slightly. A face so beautiful should never have to frown... "It's ok... I don't mind. I... I want you to." Now it is his turn to frown. What? Surely not... She reaches up, smoothes the confusion away from his face, then stretches up, whispering into his ear, "Touch me Lucius. I need you to... Please?" There is no disobeying that voice. He dips his head down, pressing his lips to her neck. His tongue snakes out, licking her, tasting her skin. His hands caress her, press her body into his. Her breathing is heavy. She pulls away slightly, turning off the spray. His frown returns. I thought... Did I do something wrong? She smiled, re-establishing the connection between their fingertips. "Come with me."

She leads him back into the bedroom, hand him a towel. They dry off, warming themselves with the egyptian cotton. She slinks across the room, losing her towel across the way. She slips between the sheets of his bed, holding out her hand., willing him to join her. He can't refuse. He'd never want to. Their bodies meet in a tangle of limbs. His hands burn her, lighting trails of fire up and down her skin. Tongues, teeth and nails skim over flesh. Not close enough, never close enough... I want, I need... More, please! By the Gods! You taste so amazing. Darling, sweet thing... I'll never leave you. I never want this to end... Yes! Closer... Never felt anything... Oh! Please... Their thoughts tumble, blurring together in a blaze of passion. He is inside her. Never has he felt so breathtakingly right. Her gasps spur him on to greater heights. It's been so long, I can't hold on... And then she is there, pressing herself up into him ardently. "It's ok... Don't hold back on me now. Come for me Lucius..." And he does. Moans and cries fill the air. That is all she needs, tightening around him, giving as good as she recieves. He collapses on top of her, and she welcomes the weight of him, pressing her down into the mattress. He is in her arms, safe, loved. Just how things should be.

Eventually she presses lightly against his chest. He picks himself up off of her, rolling onto his back. She curls into his side, smiling softly. Her fingertips brush away the tears stains coating his cheeks and she softly kisses his chest. sitting up, stretching, she grimaces. "Now for the hard part." She casts her eyes over him, taking in his raised eyebrow, and above it the tangles of platinum blond. "The hair..." He chuckles and nods. Sitting up, he allows her to move behind him. She starts to work out the knots, separating the strands and running her fingers over the once again silky surface. Eventually finished she runs her fingers through it, appreciating the different textures of the almost dry hair on top and the still slick darker strands underneath. Moving his hair to the side she kisses his neck, catching his eyes in the mirror opposite. She sits up, watching their reflection. Getting up, she moves round to his lap. His silver eyes look calmer now, soothed. She hesitates, lingering a hairs breadth away. She can feel him breathing. Feel almost all of him.

He moves, closing the last of the space, pressing his lips to hers. Thankyou...