Muggle Studies

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2506055.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Characters: Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley,
Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Post - Deathly Hallows, Alternate Universe, HP: EWE, probation, Angst
and Hurt/Comfort, Don't copy to another site, Do not repost
Language: English
Collections: Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2014-10-24 Completed: 2015-03-02 Words: 195,935
Chapters: 25/25
 Muggle Studies
by Anonymous

Summary

After a year of litigation, Lucius Malfoy has a choice - a year in Azkaban to pay for his sins,
or prove he's a changed man by passing third-year Muggle Studies, the new and improved
version taught by none other than the esteemed Miss Granger. Even worse, his only son may
be attracted to a Weasley. Oh, the horror.

Notes

I'm not going to lie, Lucius can be a bit OOC at times, but I'm working off of the extreme
Woobie!Lucius we saw in Deathly Hallows, both book and film, who's sort of broken. I mix
and match where I please, also, taking bits from the films and taking bits from the books, and
sometimes just making things up, and not trying all that hard to keep them straight - hence
the 'alternate universe' tag. Well, that and I completely ignored the epilogue, and most
canonical pairings. Fred is still alive, also. I missed him too much to do without him, even
though he barely appears in this story. I'll update when I can, although RL is no one's friend.
In the meantime, enjoy this little...thing.
 School is In
Chapter Notes

Brand new shiny title card generously created and provided by ferryberry.

Lucius Malfoy sat on his bed with his arms folded, glaring at the man standing in his
doorway.

‘I won’t do it,’ he said coldly. ‘You can’t make me.’

Draco sighed and folded his arms, too, leaning against the door frame.

‘Would you rather serve a year in Azkaban? That’s the alternative. I worked very hard to get
you this deal, and I wish you would have told me you didn’t mind Azkaban before I did that,
if you were just going to refuse to hold up your end anyway.’
‘I didn’t know it was going to be a choice between Azkaban and attending Muggle Studies
classes, or I would have,’ Lucius said petulantly, his lower lip poking out.

‘That won’t work on me, I invented that look.’

Draco stepped out of the doorway and over to Lucius’s grand writing desk. He began
packing the bag he’d bought for his father, putting in the new Muggle Studies text, quills, ink,
parchment. Lucius watched with an unhappy scowl, and if he was acting like a child, that
was nobody’s business but his own.

‘Father, it isn’t that bad,’ said Draco placatingly as he packed. ‘Tuesday and Thursday
afternoons, for one school year. You Floo in, you Floo back home. You do the assigned
work. If the instructor passes you, and your attendance record was good enough, you’re
done. No more classes, no more threats of Azkaban. I think you can survive one class for
one school year, and you won’t be alone. Goyle, Sr., and Goyle, Jr., both have to do it, too.’

He dropped the bag in Lucius’s lap and put his hands on his hips.

Lucius slouched a bit. ‘Lovely, I just adore taking classes with idiots. Besides, whoever it is
will probably fail me, and then I’ll have to go to Azkaban anyway, so can we just skip to that
part?’

Draco laughed. ‘Trust me, if you show up and put in a good effort, your professor will not
fail you. Not if I know anything about Hermione Granger, that is, and I think I do.’

Lucius blanched, eyes widening, and the bookbag fell to the floor. ‘Hermione Granger is the
Muggle Studies professor now? Why won’t you let me go to Azkaban? What did I ever do
to you?’

Draco scooped up the bag and dropped it back in his lap. His expression was wry.

‘Do you really want to go there?’ he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Lucius dropped his eyes, grumbling, but he reached for his shoes anyway.

‘At the very least, they could have given us a private adult class. I don’t fancy sitting in a
room full of spotty third years for four hours every week.’

‘They could have, but the exposure to teenagers is part of what makes it a punishment, I
expect,’ his son replied dryly.

At last, he managed to chivvy the reluctant Mr Malfoy down to the entrance hall fireplace,
where he straightened his father’s robe and flicked a stray lock of hair back. He was
enjoying the role reversal just a little too much, which only made Lucius feel even more
obstinate about the whole thing.

‘Are you sure I can’t have my cane back?’ he asked for the hundredth time since July, when
the deal had been reached. It wasn’t the cane part he wanted, of course, but the wand it
concealed. He’d bought a new one as soon as Ollivander’s reopened, only to have it
confiscated by the authorities, pending his hearing. They had given it to Draco after agreeing
on this deal, and appointed Draco as his keeper. Well, that wasn’t the term they or Draco
used, but Lucius thought it most accurate.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Draco in a very carefully patient tone. ‘If you pass this class, you can
have it back in June. Now, play nice with the other kids, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t
do. Off you go, you’re going to be late as it is, and Granger hates that.’

With one last grumble and a withering glance for good measure, Lucius Flooed to Hogwarts
to begin the new and improved Muggle Studies course.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was standing at the front of her classroom, covering page two of the syllabus,
when a tall blond figure slunk in the door and slid into the nearest desk as quickly and
silently as possible, clearly trying to evade notice. She smothered a smile, very carefully
keeping her expression neutral and continuing to talk naturally as she strolled back to his
desk and placed a copy of the syllabus before him. Lucius Malfoy scowled up at her,
knowing he’d been caught. Her point was made. Suppressing another smile, she returned to
the front.

‘There will be no wands out in my classroom ever,’ she went on. ‘You won’t need them,
Muggles don’t use them, and there are no spells to be cast. Please put them away while you
are here, or I will deduct points. Understood?’ A murmur of assent. ‘I assign homework
regularly, but it shouldn’t be as long or as difficult as your homework from your other
classes. If you have problems, seek out one of your fellow students or me. I am always
willing to help if you’ve tried it yourself first. My office hours are on page one. The only
major items for this class are the end-of-term and end-of-year exams, and your final project,
due at the end of the year, but we’ll talk more about that later.’

She went through the whole thing with them, not trusting thirteen-year-olds to read it if left to
their own devices, and then fielded questions, some more worthy than others.

‘Who are the old guys?’ a chubby Gryffindor boy asked at last.

Hermione took issue with that choice of words, but ignored it for now.

‘The Messrs Goyle and Mr Malfoy are auditing this class,’ she replied evenly. Not true, but
it wasn’t really anyone else’s business. ‘They will be joining us every time we meet, and
they will participate, but they cannot gain or lose House points.’

‘Why are they auditing it?’ a Slytherin girl piped up, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hermione smiled. ‘Because they have been asked to.’

The patient, yet warning smile made it clear that the subject was closed, and the students
moved on to other topics.

At the end of the period, Hermione asked her adult charges to stay behind and dismissed the
rest of the class after assigning them to read the first chapter by Thursday. After the
teenagers had filed out, the two Goyle men sat staring at her stupidly from the second row,
while Lucius glowered at her from the back.

‘As I told the children, you can’t gain or lose House points,’ she said without preamble, after
putting up some privacy charms. She didn’t trust her students that much. ‘However, I’ll be
giving you a ten-point attendance and participation grade each day, and you may lose those
points if you fail to be involved.’

Goyle, Jr., raised his hand and she gestured for him to speak, firmly squelching another smile.
Really, she wasn’t going to have a lower lip left by the end of the year, if these three kept
making her have to bite the inside of it at the current rate.

‘What if we’re sick and can’t come?’ he asked, brow wrinkled with worry.

Hermione was surprised--that was actually a fairly intelligent question, from a Goyle.

‘If you are sick, send me a note or have someone send a note for you. I will give you make-
up work to do when you return to class. However, I can only accept that excuse three times,
unless of course you send me documentation from St Mungo’s that you’ve got something
serious, like dragon pox.’

The Goyles nodded their understanding. Lucius had turned his gaze to his desk and was
apparently trying to burn a hole through his syllabus with just his glare. It didn’t appear to be
working.

Hermione sighed and brushed her wild curls back. Apparently, getting the Malfoy patriarch’s
cooperation was going to take some work. Not that she’d expected anything less; from what
Draco had told her, Lucius had spent the entire year of litigation and house arrest sulking in
his room, and Narcissa divorcing him for a younger man and leaving for the Caribbean had
done nothing to improve his mood. His spirits were considerably raised from when it had
been Voldemort-enforced house arrest (the Ministry wasn’t half as terrifying, and had no
plans to murder Draco), but he had still been mulish and sullen. Draco had cheerfully
asserted that he much preferred his father acting like a spoilt teenager to his father acting like
he was afraid of his own shadow and might literally tremble himself to pieces at any moment.
Hermione had to concede that point.

‘I’ll expect you to complete all of the assigned work, and take the exams. You’ll have to do
the final project as well. I won’t expect any more from you than one of the students, though--
I hope to make this as fair for you as possible. Meet me halfway and I’ll help you as much as
I can. My office hours are as much open to you as they are to the students.’ Even the Goyles
seemed to comprehend, their faces not too twisted with effort. ‘Do you have any questions?’

Two shaken heads, and one blond in the back of the room who refused to acknowledge her.

‘Very well, the two of you may go. Mr Malfoy, I require a moment more of your time.’

He slowly settled back into the seat, apparently having been ready to bolt the moment the ‘V’
left her mouth. He stuffed the syllabus into his bag carelessly while the Goyles thumped out,
then turned his icy blue glare on her. Hermione couldn’t repress a shiver and fervently hoped
he was too far away to see it. Just in case, she walked around her desk and sat down, pulling
out the grading sheet she’d carefully designed for her three adult students. After studying it a
moment, she gave each Goyle a ten for the day.

When she looked back up, she went completely rigid to stop herself from yelping and falling
out of her chair. Lucius had left his desk and was now standing before her desk, glowering,
and she hadn’t heard even a whisper of cloth as he moved. She schooled her expression to
polite interest and deliberately met his gaze. As far as she knew, he had no skill in
Legilimency, and she’d spent the better part of last year becoming an Occlumens, so she
wasn’t worried.

‘May I go?’ he ground out through clenched teeth.

Hermione sat back in her chair and made a show of consulting the clock on her desk. One
did not show a Slytherin just how unnerved she was, unless one wanted to hand him a
weapon. She didn’t want Lucius to have the upper hand, ever, because as much as she didn’t
want to admit it, there was still a part of her that was terrified of him. Even now, when the
Ministry had placed him firmly at her mercy, wandless, and under Draco’s (much friendlier to
her, nowadays) thumb, he still made a part of her mind scream Run!

‘You were seven minutes late, Mr Malfoy,’ she drawled, raising a brow at him. ‘You owe me
three more minutes.’

She could see his jaw working, his nostrils flaring, but whatever he was thinking, all he said
was, ‘Very well.’ He sat back down in one of the front row seats and took out his pocket
watch, ripping his gaze away from her in favour of watching the second hand tick.

Hermione took the opportunity to study him. His robes were as fine as ever, although they
didn’t hang off of him quite as well as they had before, indicating that he hadn’t regained all
of the weight he’d lost from a year in Azkaban followed by a year of living in constant terror
of the madman who’d taken over his home. The Malfoys were always pale, but she didn’t
think they were normally quite as pale as he appeared now. He was clean-shaven and his
platinum blond hair was so well-kept it practically glowed, but his face was more lined than
she remembered, and his fingers retained a fine, barely noticeable tremor. Even when he had
towered over her just now, glaring with all his arrogant Malfoy might, there had been a
nearly indiscernible chink in his armour, one that hadn’t been there before. A shadow of
uncertainty behind his eyes, perhaps, or the tinge of fear when he drew in a slightly ragged
breath.

Or perhaps she was just imagining that part.

‘Time’s up, Mr Malfoy. You may go. Please don’t be late again,’ she said as calmly as she
could.

Lucius stood smoothly, snapping his pocket watch shut and tucking it away in one motion.
He straightened his robes and turned on his heel after one last glare in her direction, then
imperiously lifted his head and left.

Hermione shook her head and marked down an eight for the day beside Lucius’s name.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco jumped up from his chair with a smile and set aside his book when Lucius entered the
sitting room.

‘Well? How did it go?’ he asked cheerfully.

Lucius dropped the bookbag on the floor and slumped in a chair. He couldn’t quite bring
himself to meet Draco’s eyes.

‘She made me stay after for being late,’ he mumbled, not wanting to admit it and hoping that
Draco wouldn’t hear it clearly enough to understand.

There was a second of silence, and then Draco collapsed on the sofa, having a fit of giggles.
Lucius’s scowl deepened and he sunk a little further into the chair, folding his arms.
Humiliation burned at his middle, like a lit candle in his stomach, and he hated the Granger
girl more now, for making him a fool in his son’s eyes, than he had ever hated her for her
blood status.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it, because she was exactly the person he
had to try and be nice to, in order to avoid being sent back for another stint in Azkaban.
Despite his earlier complaints, and despite the fact that Harry bloody Potter and company
had destroyed the Dementors, so it was only guarded by run-of-the-mill wizards now, Lucius
very much did not want to go back to Azkaban. Memories of that place still haunted his
sleep, making him gasp awake feeling like he couldn’t breathe, soaked in sweat and shaking
so hard it rattled the bed. He feared it more than anything, now that the Dark Lord was
permanently dead, and in the back of his mind there whispered an unspoken thought that
returning to Azkaban, even for five minutes, might actually kill him.

Finally, Draco pulled himself together, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. His face was red
and splotchy. Most unattractive, Lucius thought maliciously, then deliberately turned to look
at the fire instead. Draco could address the side of his head, if he wanted to be so uncouth.

‘Sorry, Father,’ he said, but Lucius could hear the grin in his voice, and he hiccupped to cover
another giggle. ‘It’s just….’

‘Just what?’ Lucius snapped, without looking away from the fire. He blinked a few times;
his eyes were burning oddly.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment, and the only sound was the crackling and popping
of the fire. He tried not to start when he felt Draco’s hand settle on his arm and squeeze
gently, but it was so unexpected he really couldn’t help it.

‘Father?’

He tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Draco with an effort. His son’s face was
completely serious now, the remaining pink in his cheeks the only sign of his bout of
laughter.
‘What should we have for dinner?’

Lucius recognised this for the concession it was, an attempt at soothing his ruffled feathers,
but the fact that Draco was even offering it was comforting. A year ago, when everything
they’d been through had still been fresh, his son had barely been able to bring himself to look
at Lucius, let alone caring about his feelings. He’d been wrapped up in his own anguish, and
had lashed out at Lucius frequently.

Now, he saw his father’s distress and ceased to torment him. Lucius covered the hand on his
arm with his own and squeezed back. Draco smiled faintly.

‘Anything but that gumbo concoction you let Tibby try last week,’ he said with an
exaggerated shudder.

Draco’s smile widened. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

‘It was. I may never recover,’ he added dryly.

This time, Draco’s laugh was music to his ears, and the burn in his middle subsided just a bit.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘So how did it go?’

Hermione laughed at Harry’s dubious tone. ‘It went about as well as you’d expect.’

Harry shook his head, not breaking his rhythm of stirring whatever was in the pot Mrs
Weasley had put him in charge of.

‘If Hogwarts is still standing, then I doubt that. I expected Malfoy to burn the place down,
best case scenario,’ he said, deadpan.

Ron swallowed the roll he’d sneaked hastily. ‘Plus, you’re still alive,’ he added helpfully,
‘and in one piece. Harry and I were waiting to get called to St Mungo’s to identify what was
left of the body.’

Hermione rolled her eyes and rather viciously sliced another piece of cheese. ‘Lucius Malfoy
is not going to kill me, and he is definitely not going to burn down Hogwarts.’

‘How can you be so sure of that?’ Ginny asked in a bad fake accent, eyes narrowed and
twirling an invisible moustache.

She and Ron weren’t helping Mrs Weasley prepare dinner in protest of the fact that she’d
placed a moratorium on pumpkin anything in her house after Witch Weekly printed a pretty
suspect article about how bad it was for you. Hermione had had to promise to look into it
and prove to Mrs Weasley that it was all hogwash before she was even permitted to take her
coat off. Apparently, they couldn’t live without their pumpkin juice, not to mention pumpkin
pasties and pumpkin pie, and those new pumpkin cookies from Honeyduke’s.
Hermione forebore from pointing out that if they would just find their own places to live, or
at the very least, move into Grimmauld Place with Harry, they wouldn’t have this problem.
Mrs Weasley wouldn’t let them leave without having an emotional breakdown; it had been
bad enough when Charlie and Bill refused to move back home. To a certain extent,
Hermione understood--the war, George’s injury in particular, and rescuing Ginny from
Bellatrix, had hammered home to Mrs Weasley just how easily she could’ve lost any one of
her children, and she wanted to hold them close. However, it had been over a year now, and
they were all adults. Surely, at some point, seeing them for weekly dinners would be
enough?

But that was Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and Percy’s fight, not hers.

‘First of all, Mr Malfoy is not currently permitted to carry a wand,’ she began in her teacher
voice. ‘Draco has it, and he’s promised me he’s not going to let him have it until the Ministry
gives the okay. Secondly, even if he decided to kill me in a way that doesn’t involve a wand,
I could easily defend myself with my wand. Thirdly, he’s not going to kill me because he
doesn’t want to go back to Azkaban, or else we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

‘And as to him burning down Hogwarts, that would be extremely counterproductive, since he
and Draco have been helping to fund the rebuilding and repair all this time. It’s nearly
finished now, so why would he want to burn it down? That seems like a waste of money to
me.’

Ron snorted, snatching another roll. ‘The Malfoys have the money to waste.’

Hermione frowned at him. ‘Even so, it seems like it would be rather pointless. I don’t think
he’s into arson, at any rate.’

‘That, you have a point,’ said Harry. ‘You’re the only arsonist that I know of.’

She faked shocked outrage. ‘Hey! I only set Snape on fire because I was trying to save you!
I mean, you set one guy on fire and suddenly you’re an arsonist….’

They exchanged grins, which were quickly wiped away when Mrs Weasley began shrieking
upstairs. Ron and Ginny shared grimaces.

‘Fred and George have been packing today,’ Ginny explained. ‘She must have found out.’

They rose and left the kitchen to go help calm the matriarch down. Harry and Hermione
sighed, shaking their heads.

So much for a nice, relaxed dinner.

 In Case of Emergency
Chapter Summary

In which the students learn why they shouldn't blow off this class, and Lucius's mood
deteriorates. Draco seeks the advice of the resident know-it-all.

Chapter Notes

Our poor dear Lucius starts feeling a bit sorry for himself now, so you get a little of the
angst and hurt/comfort I promised in the tags, and Draco's a bit clueless, I'm afraid. It
may seem like it's all tied up in a nice bow, but depression isn't easily fought off by a
brief snuggle, and we're far from done here, don't worry. I haven't even delivered the
promised Draco/Ginny yet, but it's only chapter two, don't lose hope. Draco/Ginny is
going to be a bit of a slow build, just like our main couple, though hopefully not *that*
slow.

On Thursday, they discussed chapter one, ‘Outfits to Help You Recognise People in the
Muggle World.’ Mostly, it was about separating mail carriers from police officers, so that if
they needed help, they wouldn’t go to the wrong uniformed person.

‘Why would we ever need to know this?’ the suspicious Slytherin girl demanded. ‘When
would we ever need help from a Muggle?’

Hermione watched a few heads nod in agreement. Making Muggle studies compulsory for
pure-bloods and for half-blood students with limited or no exposure to the Muggle world was
a good idea, but it meant she would have to put up with a lot of dug-in heels.

‘Suppose, for a moment, that you’ve Splinched yourself while Apparating,’ said Hermione,
and she probably enjoyed the immediate terrified, disgusted expressions a little too much. ‘It
happened to a dear friend of mine, it could happen to you. So hypothetically, you have
Splinched yourself. You’re in a predominantly Muggle area, because someday, you will visit
places besides Hogsmeade.’

There was a ripple of humour.

‘You just so happen to have Splinched off your left hand, in which you were holding your
wand.’
Dead silence, and wide-eyed stares. Hermione’s enjoyment evaporated, because this was a
very serious scenario that could actually happen. Perhaps not exactly in this manner, but it
was easier than these young witches and wizards could dream for a magical person to end up
wounded and wandless in unfamiliar, non-magical territory.

‘You have no wand. You’re bleeding profusely. You’re in too much pain to concentrate on
any kind of wandless magic. There are no fellow magical folk in sight.’ She looked directly
into the Slytherin girl’s eyes. ‘What do you do?’

The girl swallowed. Her eyes were not narrowed with suspicion or disgust for once. She had
no answer.

Hermione released her from her gaze, looking around the room mildly. Many of the students
had paled as they imagined this scenario.

‘This class is not a joke,’ she said evenly. ‘Even those aspects which you think you won’t
need, you may someday need. You cannot predict every scenario in life. It’s best to be
prepared for all possible outcomes.’ She flicked her gaze briefly at the Slytherin girl. ‘Your
House, above all, should know that.’

The girl’s head lowered, and Hermione strolled back in front of her chalkboard. She was
smiling when she turned back around, and inadvertently looked straight into Lucius Malfoy’s
piercing gaze. He wasn’t glaring, for once, she noted, he looked interested. She blinked him
out of her sight, focusing elsewhere.

‘On a milder note, you should use this class as an opportunity to understand where your
Muggle-born and Muggle-raised classmates are coming from,’ she went on, more chipper
now. ‘As we get deeper into various subjects, such as how to use Muggle appliances and
how to use the Tube, try to put yourself in their place and imagine what it was like to grow up
surrounded by these things. I think you’ll find that they found the Wizarding world as
disorienting as you find the Muggle world.’

Goyle, Sr., spoke up for the first time that Hermione could recall in her whole life. ‘Why?’

She smiled brighter. ‘Understanding one another might help ward off another conflict like
the one we all just went through.’

It went completely silent. Hermione just kept smiling, let the moment stretch. The chubby
Gryffindor boy coughed. A Ravenclaw girl sniffled.

‘Now that we’ve got that cleared up, were there any questions about this chapter?’ Silence
again. ‘Okay, then, your assignment for Tuesday is to write four inches on the identifying
characteristics of Muggle police officers, firefighters, and emergency workers as covered in
the chapter, and also read chapters two and three.’

The Ravenclaw girl pushed up her glasses and raised her hand. ‘When are we going to talk
about the final project?’

‘I’ll have a rubric for you on Tuesday, and we’ll talk about it then.’
A few others got brave and asked questions, and they were nearing the end of the class when,
unexpectedly, Lucius raised his hand. He did it casually, almost carelessly, but she thought
there was still tension in his frame.

‘Yes, Mr Malfoy?’

He slowly lowered his hand and drew in a breath. ‘The scenario you illustrated before.’

Hermione twitched involuntarily. His voice was smooth as silk, just like she remembered,
when he wasn’t growling through clenched teeth.

‘What about it?’

‘What would you do?’

The entire class looked up at her, one hundred percent interested and focused. She kept her
eyes on Lucius’s. They were still icy blue, cold chips, but now they almost seemed to glow
as he waited for her answer.

‘What would I do if I was Splinched and wandless in Muggle territory?’ A pause. ‘I would
evaluate my surroundings to see if I knew where I was. If I did, then I would know where to
go to get help.’

‘And if you didn’t?’

Hermione wondered how much of Lucius’s respect she’d gain if she answered correctly, if
any.

‘If I didn’t know where I was, then I would see if there were any police officers around, or
any passersby at all. They could be approached for aid. If I was alone, I would try to find
someone who was home, or a telephone booth. They’re red and they say “telephone” on
them. I always carry a little Muggle money on me in case of emergency. If you do happen to
find a telephone, you dial 999 for emergency.’ She swallowed. ‘We’ll cover this all on
Tuesday, in chapter two.’

Lucius nodded, breaking their eye contact, and she couldn’t tell if she’d satisfied him or not.

‘I’ll see you all on Tuesday. Class dismissed.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco wasn’t home yet when Lucius got back, so he wandered to his room and shut the door.
He really ought to actually read chapter one, now that he had an essay to write.

Lucius, Lord of Malfoy Manor and writer of four-inch essays on how to spot a Muggle police
officer.
His lip curled at his own thoughts and he took out his textbook for the first time. Draco had
bought it, Draco had put it on his desk, and Draco had packed it for him. He hadn’t touched
it, hadn’t even looked at it.

A Beginner’s Guide to the Muggle World by Hermione Granger. Including an emergency

survival guide for the stranded wizard in the first five chapters, according to the bright red
oval in the top right corner.

He shoved it away and pulled out the crumpled syllabus. So far, Granger was following it
exactly. Apparently, announcing the homework was done for the benefit of those who’d lost
their copy, because even the four-inch essay was on here, with due date, as well as the dates
each chapter was meant to be read by. Technically speaking, he could read the whole book
and do all of the essays.

Lucius got up and paced, wishing desperately for a glass of something alcoholic. Draco had
locked up all of the alcohol back in January, when he finally noticed the state his father was
in. That is, that Lucius tried his best to be completely out-of-his-mind drunk at all times.
Draco had even instructed the house elves not to let him have any, no matter what he said or
did, and they obeyed Draco much more easily than they did him, nowadays. Draco said it
was a tip he’d got from Granger and Potter--something about being nice to them and saying
please and thank you.

He sat back at the desk with a muttered curse. ‘The whole world’s gone insane.’

Nobody answered him, so he studiously opened his textbook and began reading chapter one.
He didn’t have to like it, he just had to do it.

After he’d read ‘Outfits to Help You Recognise People in the Muggle World,’ ‘Muggle
Emergency Services and How to Reach Them,’ and ‘The Muggle Methods for Surviving
Injuries,’ he wrote the stupid essay and shoved it all back into his bag. Now he wouldn’t
have to worry about it for the rest of the week-end.

Then he got out a calendar and carefully starred September 1 before crossing it off. He
crossed off each day up until today from there, and then he began counting. He counted each
and every day until June 6, which he also drew a star on. It was the day of the end-of-year
exam in Muggle Studies, and the last day before he would finally be free.

There were 280 days. 9 months, 6 days. He’d already lived through nine of them, so 271
days left to go. (Granger thought starting class on a Thursday, just to jump into a weekend,
was stupid, and had sent them all a letter stating that their attendance had been taken for
granted and counted already. He didn’t know if she told the students the same thing, but
either way, the first day of her class had been the Tuesday of the following week.)

He included week-ends, and days he didn’t have to go to class, because he still had to do the
work outside of class, and he still couldn’t have his wand, and he still couldn’t leave his own
bloody house except to go to Hogwarts.

Lucius pressed his fingers into his eyes until the burning sensation went away. He couldn’t
help a slightly hitched breath, though, and hated himself when he heard it echo in the still
bedroom.

The door banged open.

‘Father? Let’s go have dinner! I have loads to tell you!’

‘Don’t you know how to knock?’

Draco only grinned and tugged on his arm. ‘I know how.’

‘Try doing it sometime.’

He allowed himself to be dragged downstairs anyway.

‘Why? If you didn’t want me to come in, you’d lock it.’

He was shoved into a chair with exuberance, and he could only sigh and shake his head as his
son bounced around the room with energy he thought only house elves possessed.

‘Tibby is making some kind of stew. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll bet it’s good,’ he went
on, with selective memory regarding Tibby’s cooking experiments, as far as Lucius was
concerned. ‘So much happened at the Ministry today, you wouldn’t believe….’

Draco chattered on and on and on. Lucius poked at his food when it arrived and tried to give
appropriate responses where required. There was a lot of drama at the Ministry, and it made
Lucius momentarily grateful that he didn’t have to put up with it anymore. Eventually,
though, Draco said something of interest.

Apparently, Draco was being recruited to help with a new project, spearheaded by Granger.

‘Doesn’t she have enough on her hands?’ Lucius asked bitterly, and spat out a piece of celery
into his napkin. It wasn’t dignified, perhaps, but celery was the worst thing ever, and he only
ate it when he couldn’t get away with spitting it back out upon discovering it.

What’s more, the blasted elves knew he hated it. He idly tried to think of what he’d done
recently that might have offended them.

‘That’s disgusting, Father,’ said Draco offhandedly. ‘I don’t think Hermione is capable of
being “too busy.” Besides, you’ll like this project. You know how she and that Brocklehurst
girl pitched the idea of a magical preparatory school so that kids would actually know math
and English when they arrive at Hogwarts, and Brocklehurst is starting it up, due to open next
year? Well, apparently, while they were designing that idea, Brocklehurst said something to
Hermione that got her thinking. It’s a splendid idea, actually.’

Lucius looked down at his bowl and put his spoon down. He wasn’t eating this, he’d rather
starve. Perhaps it was when he called Tibby a cloth-headed ninny muggins yesterday? That
had been a mild insult, almost comedic, in fact, and he hadn’t really meant it.

‘It’s a companion course to Muggle Studies.’

He flinched at the very name, but Draco didn’t notice, just nattered on cheerfully.

‘The students who aren’t required to take Muggle Studies would be required to take
Wizarding Studies, you see? Hermione and I are designing it together. It’s meant to help
integrate Muggle-borns into pure-blood traditions and society, so they won’t offend people,
or touch things they oughtn’t to touch and get cursed, or old legends every wizard child
knows from nappies, or things like that, that Hermione tells me we purebloods take for
granted. Isn’t that a wonderful idea?’

‘Wonderful,’ Lucius echoed hollowly. ‘May I go back to my room now?’

Draco seemed to look at him for the first time since he’d arrived. His brow creased with
concern, and Lucius scowled to try to alleviate it. It didn’t appear to work.

‘You’ve barely touched your dinner,’ he said gently. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘I hate celery,’ said Lucius, and tipped his bowl so Draco could see that he’d eaten everything
except the celery, which appeared to be more than half of its total contents. ‘I don’t want it.’

Draco’s nose wrinkled. ‘I like celery, but that’s...excessive. What did you do to Tibby?’

Lucius shrugged, letting the bowl drop. ‘I called her a cloth-headed ninny muggins.’

Draco blinked. ‘What’s a cloth-headed ninny muggins, and why did you call her one?’

‘I don’t know, and she moved my shaving kit. I couldn’t find it.’

His son sighed at him and sat back. ‘You should apologise to her--I moved it. I borrowed
yours because my razor broke and I didn’t have time to repair it before I left yesterday.’

‘Oh.’

Lucius looked away, let his eyes unfocus and his gaze wander where it would, because he
was tired and he didn’t want to deal with trying to swallow enough of his pride to apologise
to a house elf right now.

Another sigh. ‘I’ll talk to her and see if I can’t get her to bring you something else later. You
should apologise sometime this week-end, though.’

He nodded marginally. ‘May I go back to my room now?’ he repeated, softly, defeated.

He wasn’t in control of anything. Draco controlled the house elves, Draco controlled the
manor and their finances. Draco controlled their interests, and their potions supply business.
Draco even maintained the wards on the manor, because Lucius couldn’t, and Draco was the
one who went to the Ministry and had power and did things and helped decide the course of
their world.

Lucius wrote essays about the helmets police officers wore because Draco and a Muggle-
born said he had to, and he had to apologise to his own house elves to get them to feed him
properly.
‘If you want to,’ Draco replied after a long moment.

Lucius nodded once and left. Back in his room, he climbed into bed, pulled the covers over
his head, and pretended that his room was the only world that existed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione, Harry and Crookshanks were lazing in front of the fire in Hermione’s sitting room
after a lovely dinner when the flames turned green and Draco Malfoy’s head appeared, his
brow creased with worry.

‘Draco?’

‘Hermione, Harry,’ he greeted, seeming relieved just to see them. A year ago, that would
have been insane. ‘Can I come through?’

‘Sure.’

He stepped out and did a quick cleaning charm on himself--Malfoys did not go around
covered in soot, he had informed them once, a touch of his old arrogant snobbery in his
voice.

‘What’s the matter?’ Harry demanded. ‘Are you all right?’

Draco sat next to Crookshanks--or rather, in front of Crookshanks, perched on the edge of the
chair, because the half-Kneazle was in no mood to move.

‘Yes, I’m fine, I...um, actually, I came to talk to Hermione.’

Harry frowned. ‘If it’s about your dad, I’m over it. Or didn’t you get that when I testified
that he didn’t have a wand at all that year?’

Draco’s features relaxed slightly. ‘Well, then, yes, it’s about my father.’

Hermione sat up. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s happened, exactly, it’s just...I’m worried about him, and I don’t know what to do,’
he said helplessly.

She looked bewildered. ‘Why come to me about it?’

Draco flailed a hand. ‘Well, you’re, you know, you’re a girl. Girls are good at, uh, feelings,
and, uh, things.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’m not good at it at all.’

Harry raised a brow. ‘I’m marking this day down in my calendar.’

‘Oh, shut up, Harry. What are you doing here, anyway?’
Harry shrugged and was not sheepish at all. ‘Avoiding Mrs Weasley by having dinner with
Hermione instead. Fred and George are moving out, and she’s having hysterics.’

‘Oh.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I can see avoiding that.’

Hermione sighed. ‘What’s wrong enough with your father that you need help with it? I
thought you said you two were doing better.’

Draco made another helpless gesture and got up to pace. ‘I thought we were, but tonight I
felt like we were back to square one again! I got home and he was sitting at his desk with his
head in his hands, and at dinner, he barely spoke at all. He didn’t even want to look at me!
And he was upset because he apparently called Tibby a cloth-headed ninny muggins--’

‘A what?’ said Harry, wrinkling his nose.

The blond waved an impatient hand. ‘He insulted her and accused her of moving his shaving
kit, because he didn’t know that I borrowed it, and now she keeps making him celery, which
she knows he hates, so he barely had anything to eat at dinner. I asked him to apologise to
her, but he hasn’t done it. And then when he was finished he asked me if he could go back to
his room. Asked me.’

He stopped pacing and looked at them, and even Harry seemed to understand how
uncharacteristic it was for Lucius Malfoy to ask permission to do anything, let alone to ask
his own son permission.

‘That’s...not good,’ Hermione summed up.

‘No kidding.’ Draco sat on the ottoman, since Crookshanks had stretched to encompass the
entire seat. ‘What do I do? What is wrong with him?’

She thought for a moment, trying to see the world through Lucius Malfoy’s eyes. It was no
easy task, and when she finally reconnected with reality, she still didn’t know exactly what
his problem was. He was too different from her. However, she had an educated guess.

‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘First of all, I think you should feed him. If he’s full of a nice, warm,
celery-less dinner, his outlook will improve.’

Draco pouted. ‘I tried to talk to Tibby, she won’t make him anything that isn’t chock full of
celery until he apologises for the false accusation.’

Hermione cocked her head. ‘What does he like?’

His brow crinkled. ‘Are you asking what my father’s favourite food is?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe not favourite, but something that he’ll eat. We just had roast
beef with green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and rolls and orange marmalade. We’ve got
enough leftovers to last three weeks. Would he eat that?’

He pondered. ‘Yes, I think so. I think he’ll eat anything, as long as it’s not celery.’
‘No celery, I promise.’

‘What is his problem?’ Harry broke in. ‘Celery is delicious. Particularly with peanut butter
and raisins on it.’

Hermione shot him a quelling look, and he subsided.

‘Let’s forget about the celery, okay? Did your father say anything else?’

Draco thought for a long moment, then shook his head. ‘Not really. Like I said, he didn’t
speak much at all. I did most of the talking,’ he added sheepishly. ‘I was really excited about
our project, and I’m afraid I got a little carried away.’

‘Hmm.’

She got up and went to the kitchen, assembling a plate and reheating its contents until they
steamed. When she emerged with the plate (covered and protected for Floo travel), both boys
looked up at her in unison, wearing expressions like hopeful puppies. She smiled inwardly.

‘I think,’ she began slowly, ‘that you should put your father in charge of something.’

She sat down and extended the plate. Draco accepted it with a look of confusion.

‘In charge of what?’

She shrugged. ‘Something. Anything. Some little thing that won’t get either of you in
trouble, but will make him feel like he’s useful for something.’

The word ‘useful’ made comprehension dawn for Harry and his face smoothed. Draco
remained confused, but he was at least listening.

‘Also, I think you should ask him to help you with our project. His input could be helpful,
and I think it would mean a lot to him if you asked him for advice and ideas,’ she added
softly.

Draco rose, his face still twisted slightly. ‘If you think it’ll work…. I still have no idea what
I could put him in charge of, though. He isn’t allowed to have a wand, and he isn’t allowed
to leave except to go to Hogwarts, so that puts a damper on a lot of things.’

‘You’ll think of something,’ Hermione said confidently.

‘I hope so,’ came the doubtful reply, and then Draco was gone in a flash of green fire.

Harry frowned. ‘I never thought that the news of one of the Malfoys being depressed would
make me upset. Maybe I’m coming down with something.’

Hermione swatted him with a decorative pillow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had fallen asleep at some point, and he was having a nightmare about Azkaban again.
The walls were closing in and water was getting in and there was a Dementor waiting for
him at the top of his cell, so he could either drown, be crushed by the walls, or have his soul
sucked out, and he didn’t want to do any of those things, he wanted to live, but he couldn’t
find a way out, and even though he knew he was dreaming, he couldn’t wake up--

‘Father!’

He snapped awake when a hand closed on his shoulder, gasping and shaking all over. Draco
was looking down at him with worry painted across his features.

‘Are you all right?’

Lucius blinked and tried to relax, but the panic hadn’t quite subsided yet, and he couldn’t stop
shaking.

‘I was in Azkaban and I was going to die,’ he blurted in a rush.

Draco’s face melted into a softer emotion. ‘Oh...Father….’

Then he grabbed Lucius into a hug that he was too surprised to resist. Instead, he lay limply
on Draco’s shoulder, feeling Draco’s arms around him, and just breathed until his heartbeat
began to settle.

‘Do you have that dream often?’ Draco asked, when Lucius’s breathing was calmer.

Lucius hesitated, then mumbled into his shoulder, ‘Almost every night. Usually no one
wakes me up, and I drown.’

‘You drown?’

‘The cell is flooding and the walls are closing in and there’s a Dementor above me, but
there’s no way out, so I have to choose how to die,’ said Lucius, squeezing his eyes shut
against the images until all he could see was bright flashes on the inside of his eyelids. ‘I
always pick drowning.’

A long silence fell, and Draco absently began rubbing circles on his back.

‘I wish you’d told me.’

‘Why?’

Draco hesitated. ‘I would wake you up. Before….’

Lucius pulled out of the hug, sat back against the headboard, wrapped his arms around
himself.
‘Then you wouldn’t be able to sleep,’ he pointed out. ‘You have important things to do, you
need your rest.’ He tried to sound confident. ‘Besides, I can handle it. I’m not weak.’

Draco looked sad. ‘No, you’re not.’ He reached over and picked something up from the
nightstand. ‘I brought you something,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful.

It was a plate, a plate full of steaming food. Draco handed over utensils when he saw
Lucius’s stare turn hungry.

‘Where did you get this?’ Lucius asked between bites. ‘It’s delicious.’

Draco smiled. ‘I went to a friend’s house. She had leftovers. Tibby won’t cook you
anything good until you apologise, I’m afraid.’

Lucius froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. ‘You mean Granger, don’t you? She’s the
friend?’

Hesitantly, Draco nodded. ‘I didn’t want to go near the Weasleys. Apparently, Molly has
turned into a raging tornado of emotion.’

Lucius considered throwing the plate, and a fit of temper right along with it, but it just didn’t
seem worth the energy. Besides, he was hungry, starving even, and it really was delicious.

He continued eating without further comment.

Draco let out a breath of relief, and talked softly of unimportant things until Lucius had
finished eating. When he went back to sleep this time, he felt better, and he didn’t dream, at
least not that he remembered.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione spent her week-end hosting various Weasleys. Ron and Ginny used her place as a
hideout on Friday night, while Percy needed somewhere to lie low on Saturday, when he
mentioned that he’d be moving out soon as well. Arthur spent Sunday morning sleeping on
her couch, apparently too exhausted to put up with any further emotional turmoil, and then
the twins had their moving-out celebratory dinner at her place, since Grimmauld Place was
still rather creepy (although it had grown on Harry) and Mrs Weasley didn’t see any reason to
celebrate the occasion.

Harry popped in and out from time to time, generally to laugh at her, since only Ron and
Ginny spent any length of time in Grimmauld Place, which was where they’d fled to once
Mrs Weasley figured out where they were. Hermione responded by presenting him with her
grocery bill, which rather effectively shut him up.

Draco appeared again on Monday night, looking tired but somewhat more pleased than he
had on Thursday night.
‘Well?’ she prompted, once he’d come through and cleaned up.

‘The week-end went pretty well,’ he said cautiously. ‘After I cheered him back up on Friday
night, and after I finally got him to apologise to Tibby. She’d progressed to putting celery
sticks in place of his toothbrush and quills on Friday, and he must have decided enough was
enough.’

Hermione smiled a little. ‘Cheered him back up?’

Draco sat, frowning and agitatedly running his hands through his hair. ‘He was alone all day.
I think when he’s alone with his thoughts, he works himself into a depression all over again.
Today, I had him writing down his ideas of what he would want a Muggle-born to know
about Wizarding society, so I think that kept him busy enough that he wasn’t thinking about
his situation too much.’

‘Yet you seem upset,’ Hermione pointed out.

He sighed. ‘I asked him if he would mind being in charge of the indoor plants, and he told
me to stop patronising him and slammed a door in my face.’

Hermione could totally imagine that happening. ‘Your father is a proud man. He saw the
request for what it was.’

‘Which means putting him in charge of anything isn’t going to happen, because everything
else requires him to be able to leave the premises and/or have a wand.’

She frowned, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. That was a problem, especially
because she suspected that the root of Lucius’s moods was the fact that he’d gone from being
one of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain to being utterly under his son’s control,
with no say in anything. He was still in his prime, and that had to hurt. What’s more, he had
to complete assignments set by her, a Muggle-born he hated, and that, too, had to sting.

‘It’s only for a year,’ she said at last. ‘Term has barely begun, surely he can last until June?’

Draco snorted. ‘268 days, according to my father. And I hope so. I feel like, if I can get him
through the beginning part, he’ll make it to the end. But that isn’t his only problem.’

Hermione listened with growing concern as Draco recounted what Lucius had said about his
nightmares, and Draco’s own experience of the stand-offish, proud man actually allowing
himself to be hugged and coddled for a moment because he was so shaken up.

‘Now he won’t let me help,’ Draco concluded. ‘He barricades his door at night by locking it
and putting his desk in front of it. He says I need my sleep, but how am I supposed to sleep
when I know he’s screaming himself awake at nights? When I pointed that out, he said I
should put up a Silencing Charm, and that most of the time he gasps himself awake. Like
that’s supposed to make me feel better,’ he added darkly.

‘And you offered him Dreamless Sleep?’

Draco nodded. ‘Of course. He says he has the nightmares almost every night, so he would
definitely get addicted to the potion before long.’

‘A valid point.’

Hermione chewed her lip, deep in thought. She found it oddly sweet that Draco apparently
hadn't even considered the fact that he was a wizard, and could therefore easily unlock
Lucius's door and blast the desk out of the way, but wisely chose not to mention it.

Draco clutched the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t wring his hands. Crookshanks woke up
and began bathing himself.

She saw an opportunity to test a theory.

‘You said that being alone is what does it? Do you think he’d like company?’

Draco shot her a puzzled look. ‘You mean like a dog?’

She clamped down on a not-very-flattering retort, and answered when she was sure all
thoughts of Draco’s usually high intelligence were tucked away.

‘No, I mean like fellow human beings. People he can talk to. Sneer at, if necessary.’

He blinked. ‘What kind of people? Everyone we know works.’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t come over sometimes. Why don’t you start a weekly
dinner tradition? We all eat at the Weasleys’ on Tuesdays, when Mrs Weasley isn’t freaking
out, and we eat at Harry’s on Wednesdays. Why can’t the Malfoys’ be Thursday nights? It
might cheer him up after a long week, and you could invite some of your other friends.’

Draco snorted. ‘What other friends? Half of my friends went to Azkaban because it turned
out they were murderously evil, and the other half weren’t really my friends. The same goes
for my father. I don’t think he writes to anyone; even I at least correspond with Goyle and
Nott.’

She poked his knee. ‘Don’t invite anyone else then. Come on, what about it? It could be fun
for you, too, you know.’

‘Do I have to invite Longbottom and Loony, too?’

‘Everyone,’ she insisted with a smile. She knew she had him.

Sure enough, he sighed and rose from his chair. ‘All right, fine. At the very least, he might
explode out of his depression when he sees his house full of Weasleys.’

Hermione grinned. ‘That’s the spirit!’

Draco shook his head at her and left.

The invitations arrived within the hour.

 The Power of Being Annoying
Chapter Summary

Lucius has a little fun at Hermione's expense, and Draco overreacts.

Chapter Notes

Here we have Lucius being a bit mood-swingy and kind of a diva, and Draco being a bit
thick. Mostly, this is setup for the next chapter, but I hope you have fun with it anyway--
it was certainly fun to write!

Lucius found himself oddly looking forward to going to class later, much as he tried to
squelch the feeling. He had been a good student, in his youth, and the familiar feeling of
being well-prepared was with him this time. Plus, he got to leave the house for a while. The
sight of hordes of spotty teenagers was not a pleasant one, to be sure, but at least it was
something different.

Most of all, though, he was looking forward to hearing what Granger would say next, despite
his attempts to stir up the anger he’d felt toward her last week. He hadn’t expected the
scenario she spun for them, and he’d been impressed with how she got her point across. The
multiple plans she had spelled out when he questioned her had been, by her own admission
when she reprimanded that snotty brat, bordering on Slytherin. He hadn’t expected a
Gryffindor, however intelligent, to have multiple contingencies mapped out, however shaky.

And…the girl could cook.

He reviewed all three chapters and read chapter four, rewrote his essay, rearranged everything
in his chest of drawers, and finally sat in the sitting room, staring at the clock and bouncing
his knee. It beat lying around moping, which only gained him unwanted attention.

Draco had clearly been surprised and relieved at his changed attitude at breakfast, enough
that he didn’t tarry too long before heading to work this time. Lucius was glad about that,
too. His son had been positively mother henning him since Thursday night, clucking and
fussing over him, and while he was glad to know Draco cared, it made him uncomfortable.

Especially the offer to let him take over the care of their potted plants from the house elves.
He hadn’t been able to control his temper then, which had fortunately resulted in Draco
dropping the subject altogether. He refused to accept their pity, their charity. He ground his
teeth and fumed at the very idea. It would only be 267 days, and he would have his wand
back, and so help him he would curse anyone who pitied him during his probation. He would
not allow himself another moment of weakness.

The half hour struck, and Lucius jumped to his feet and headed for the entrance hall to Floo
out. He wanted to get there early so he could have his seat in the back, nearest the door.

When he arrived, Granger was sitting at her desk, scribbling something. Probably grading.
She looked up briefly and offered him a distracted smile when she heard the door.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius nodded back, getting out his supplies. ‘Granger.’

She didn’t correct him and tell him to call her miss or professor, just smiled again and
resumed her scribbling. He took the opportunity to observe her.

Granger had been eighteen the last time he saw her in person, in the Great Hall after the
battle. She had almost been a woman, still a little soft around the edges, the fading remnants
of adolescent awkwardness hanging around her yet. Now she was twenty, or would be soon.
Draco had mentioned shopping for a birthday present for her, and a birthday party being
planned in secret, but Lucius hadn’t cared enough to catch the date.

There was no hint of adolescence about her now. She moved with certainty, carried herself
with the graceful ease of someone who knew herself and was comfortable in her skin. When
she met his eyes, he sensed none of the insecurity she had broadcasted as a child.

Otherwise, she hadn’t changed much at all. She still had freckles and bushy hair. She still
had slight knock knees and a nearly flat chest. The real difference was internal--as a teen, she
had been ashamed, but as an adult, she accepted and owned her body, flaws and beauty
together, producing a confidence and inner calm in place of her former restless energy.

Lucius scowled at his thoughts. Good for her, but she was still an annoying, holier-than-thou
goody-two-shoes. That hadn’t changed.

Students began trickling in and Granger stood and started writing on the board.

‘Final Project

Written assignment

Oral presentation’

Several students groaned when she stepped away from the board. Granger clasped her hands
and smiled that polite little smile that always meant something else underneath. If he had to
hazard a guess, he would say she was hiding a smug smirk this time. It was another Slytherin
aspect of her that Lucius found himself appreciating.

She had the bespectacled Ravenclaw girl pass out copies of the rubric, and then began to
speak.
‘Before you all start panicking, I must remind you that these are not due until the end of the
school year. You have two whole terms to work on this, so please breathe.’

A couple of gasps sounded from the small Gryffindor section of the room as they realised
that air was important. Lucius smirked--so much for bravery.

‘We will spend the last two weeks before the final exam listening to each of your
presentations. You must choose a topic to present and clear it with me by the midterm. No
duplicate topics, and I would recommend that you skim the textbook to see what we’ll be
learning.

‘Think of some questions you have about the Muggle world--many of your questions would
make good topics for a lengthy paper and an oral presentation. If you need help, either
thinking of a topic or narrowing down to one, don’t hesitate to come and see me. I would be
happy to help. Both paper and presentation should be informational only--we’re not trying to
prove or disprove anything.’

She moved on to discussing the chapters they were to have read after going over the rubric.
Lucius let his mind drift toward the idea of a question, his eyes idly tracking Granger’s wild
bushy hair as she paced back and forth lecturing. He’d never wondered anything about
Muggles. To him, they had always been unworthy of consideration, like an ant or a mouse--
pests to be squashed, nothing more. Granger really ought to do something about that hair.
Didn’t women have potions and tonics for that sort of thing? Lucius personally used a
smoothing tonic.

He supposed he sometimes wondered about the Muggle world in general terms. What sort
place produced some of the rudest, most sloppy wizards he’d ever met, yet also produced
those like Granger, who were only offensive because they tried so hard to prove they
belonged that he ended up wanting to hex them into oblivion? Rather difficult to write a
paper about that, though, particularly since he wanted her to give him a passing mark.

‘Homework for Thursday is to read chapter five, and to write five inches outlining how to
contact the Ministry of Magic using purely Muggle means. Please place your scrolls on my
desk before you leave!’ she added, raising her voice to be heard over the students packing up.

Lucius took his time packing up his own supplies; he had no desire to be caught in the crush
of slimy-faced teenagers. When he finally rose and sauntered up to her desk, scroll in hand,
they were once again alone. She turned from erasing the board and barely halted her forward
momentum in time to stop herself from crashing into him. She reared back, the height
difference between them forcing her to tilt her head back. Lucius suppressed a smile,
breathing in her nervousness--it was only there for a second before she mastered herself, but
he’d seen the flicker of fear in her eyes, in the flare of her nostrils. It was only a second, but
for that brief tick, he’d had power again, over her, who always seemed so calm and
unaffected, and he drank it in.

He would have to try to catch her off-guard more often.

Hermione stepped to the side, out from between him and the board. Another sign that he’d
thrown her off balance. He extended the scroll toward her with a polite smile; she took it
slowly.

‘You could have left it on the desk, like everyone else,’ she said, and her voice was too
perfectly even to be natural.

Lucius tilted his head a touch, maintaining the smile. ‘I wished to ensure it did not become…
misplaced.’

The slight narrowing of her dark eyes told him that his innocent tone hadn’t fooled her. His
smile widened.

Delicious.

‘Good day, Miss Granger.’

He whirled and left without waiting for a response.

Draco was preparing to leave when he appeared back in the manor’s entrance hall.

‘Father, Harry has invited me to have dinner at the Burrow--I’ve already spoken to Tibby,
and--’ He did a double take. ‘What are you smirking about?’

Lucius removed his cloak with a theatrical snap. ‘Oh, nothing.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What have you been doing? Have you been giving Hermione a hard
time?’

Lucius felt an irrational urge to rub his hands together while cackling maniacally, but
restrained himself with an effort. Such behaviour was hardly dignified.

' Father… . These people are my friends, you can’t treat them that way anymore!’

His smirk collapsed into a scowl, his good mood sliding away even as he tried to clasp it
close. Draco’s expression was full of worry and upset, but not for him. His son’s hands
fluttered over his head like dying white birds as he resisted the urge to run them through his
coiffure.

‘It was just a bit of fun,’ Lucius grumbled, dropping his eyes to the marble floor and his own
hands clenching into fists at his sides.

‘Father!’ Draco half-shrieked, exasperated, ignoring Lucius’s automatic cringe. ‘Do you
want her to fail you?!’

He made an incoherent noise, and didn’t give Lucius a chance to respond.

‘Well, I was going to go to the Burrow and try to strengthen my network with some of
Harry’s other friends, but now, I guess I’ll be spending the whole time with Hermione, doing
a little damage control . ’

He disappeared with a pop, and Lucius stood blinking at the empty space he left behind.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that all was not well in the world of Draco Malfoy. He’d
stormed into the house from the Apparition point in a flurry of robes and gone straight to
Arthur to formally thank him and apologise for his tardiness. He followed this up by
skulking in a corner with Percy, of all people, and didn’t even smile when the twins tried out
one of their new products on Ron, who could only spit chicken feathers when he tried to talk
for the next hour.

He was avoiding Ginny like the plague, which wasn’t unusual, but he was also avoiding
Hermione, which was. He looked away when she tried to catch his eye, and she decided that
enough was enough. She cornered him in the kitchen toward the end of the evening, as he
was preparing to leave.

‘Draco, if you run out that door when you know perfectly well I followed you to talk to you,
I’ll never forgive you,’ she said as haughtily as she could manage. Sometimes the only way
to deal with a Malfoy was to act like a Malfoy (e.g., that you thought you were cooler than
everyone else in the whole world, which was only arguably true).

He turned to face her looking like he’d just eaten something extremely spicy.

‘I wasn’t,’ he mumbled, hunching his shoulders.

Hermione raised a brow. ‘Sure, you weren’t. You haven’t been avoiding me, either, I
suppose. What seems to be the problem, Draco? Whatever it is, I’d much prefer you just tell
me so I can fix it.’

Draco blinked, his mouth gaping most unattractively. ‘ You didn’t do anything! Aren’t you
angry?’

She frowned. ‘That…you’re avoiding me?’

His shoulders dropped and she got the distinct impression that she’d just said something
incredibly stupid.

‘What?’

‘Aren’t you angry after whatever my father did to you today?’ Draco said, enunciating slowly
and clearly.

‘Um…angry that he implied I might accidentally-on-purpose lose his homework? Or angry

that he scared the bejeezus out of me by sneaking up behind me?’ She paused. ‘I was a little
annoyed at first, but he seemed to be having so much fun razzing me that I really didn’t mind
too much. Although I wish he could get his jollies without insulting my professional
integrity, but I think I’ll live.’
Draco blinked. And blinked again. ‘And that’s it?’

Hermione was now more confused than ever. ‘Um, yes? Your father came to class, sat
quietly and attentively, waited until everyone else left the classroom before sneaking up
behind me so that he scared the bejeezus out of me when I turned around, handed me his
homework, implied that I would purposely lose it, and then left. It was actually one of the
most pleasant interactions we’ve ever had, given that he didn’t call me any names or make
snide remarks about my blood status. He even called me “ Miss Granger” instead of just
“Granger” like he has been for the past year or so, on the rare occasions we saw each other.
So, yes, I would mark that down as one of my favourite Lucius Malfoy conversations.’

Draco raised a brow.

‘If I ever had to make a list of them, definitely in the top five. Not that anyone’s asked me
for a list. If you don’t stop me, I’m just going to keep talking.’

He chuckled and looked away for a moment. ‘I have noticed that tendency. I thought Harry
was exaggerating.’

Hermione smiled. ‘No, it’s the sad truth.’

He started to smile back, but then his expression momentarily froze and he groaned.

‘Oh, no….’

She frowned, stepping forward in concern. ‘What is it?’

He fidgeted, suddenly looking very guilty. ‘I, uh…sort of…yelled at Father. About not
treating my friends like a Death Eater would treat them anymore.’

Hermione gaped at him for a second. ‘Draco!’

‘Well?! What was I supposed to think when he came home all giddy and evil-looking? He
stopped just short of twirling his moustache! If he had a moustache, which he doesn’t. You
know what I mean . He was acting like he’d done something truly, deliciously horrible to
you.’

She folded her arms, eyebrows raised. ‘And what exactly did you think he’d done to me,
when I have a wand and he doesn’t? There’s only so much Lucius can do right now.’

Draco fidgeted again. ‘I didn’t think about it, I just saw his face and kind of assumed…. I
need to go home and try to talk to him. If he’ll let me.’

‘You mean apologise.’

‘No, I mean try to convince him that it was really his fault all along anyway, so he should be
apologising to me.’ He smirked at the look on her face, lifting his chin. ‘It’s the Malfoy
way.’
She sighed, defeated, waving an exasperated hand. ‘Okay, the Malfoy version of apologising
to him. Tomayto, tomahto.’

He grinned and left with a courtly bow. She heard the pop of his Disapparation and shook
her head.

‘Men. Malfoy men, to be specific.’

‘They are the worst, aren’t they?’ said Ginny, who entered just in time to hear Draco
Disapparate. ‘Draco knew damned well I was coming in here to talk to him. I’m going to
get that ferret alone if it’s the last thing I do, and you won’t recognise him when I’m
through.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After Draco left, Lucius had spent a good fifteen minutes pouting at a wall, convinced that
life was extremely unfair only to him, and that everyone else in the whole world had it easy.
Particularly his ex-wife, who he could just imagine lounging on some sunny beach, while he
wasn’t even allowed to walk in his own gardens, lest he miraculously find a way to get
through the Ministry’s ‘no Apparating for Lucius only’ and ‘no leaving the property for
Lucius only’ wards that they came and maintained once a month. Without a wand. And
having apparently lost the ability to perform wandless magic.

With his self-pity well on its way to becoming another episode of full-on depression, he
finally took to agitatedly wandering the house. He went in rooms he hadn’t been in for a
decade or more, just because they were there, and they looked slightly different from his
room, the dining room, the entrance hall, the sitting room, the library, the hallway and the
staircase, which were the only places he normally went. Also, he was afraid that if he went
and sat in his room, the depression really would steal over him again, and Draco wasn’t here
to poke and prod him out of it. Besides the embarrassment factor of Draco trying to hug him
again. He shuddered at the very thought.

He hadn’t run out of rooms to explore, but he had run out of interest despite his restlessness
when Draco returned, so he was in the library trying to juggle paperweights when his son
walked in.

‘What are you doing?’

The paperweights fell to the floor, and Lucius scowled at his only son.

‘I’m trying to find a topic for the project Granger is making me do,’ he said, which totally
wasn’t something he’d just now thought of as an excuse. ‘Muggles juggle, right?’

Draco sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. ‘I don’t know, I’m not the one taking the
class. And she’s not just making you , specifically, do it, she’s making the whole class do it.
And thirdly, even if Muggles juggle, I doubt you could get a whole paper out of it.’

Lucius begrudgingly conceded that point and tossed the paperweights back in the drawer
he’d found them in.

‘So how was dinner at the Burrow ?’ he asked mockingly. ‘Did you remember to take a
bezoar with you? You’re still alive so far, so that’s a positive sign.’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Father, they’re my friends. They’re not going to poison me. Even if
they’re only pretending to be my friends, they obviously have their reasons for doing so, and
murdering me would be counterproductive to those reasons. If they did decide to assassinate
me, they’re far too Gryffindor to go the poison route. Actually, it went well, and Molly is an
excellent cook.’

Lucius snorted and didn’t dignify that with a response. Only the Weasleys would hold a
dinner party and actually cook the meal themselves.

‘Anyway, Father, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I spoke with Hermione,
and….’

He squirmed and looked exceedingly uncomfortable. Lucius perked up a bit with interest.
Granger was a Gryffindor, too--one of the most Gryffindor Gryffindors Lucius had ever had
the misfortune of meeting--so she had undoubtedly told Draco the truth of what happened.
Still, she’d been showing an almost Slytherin enjoyment of her students’ pain, so there was
always a slim chance that she’d made up something truly vile that would make getting
scolded by his own son worth it.

‘I’m sorry I overreacted,’ he finally mumbled, not looking at Lucius. ‘I should have verified
the facts before I assumed that you’d done something awful.’

Gryffindor.

‘Yes, you should have,’ said Lucius haughtily. ‘I am still hurt by the fact that you apparently
think me so stupid and so Gryffindor as to attack someone on whom my freedom depends. I
can suffer her existence without retaliation until the end of the school year--at least give me
credit for that much intelligence and restraint.’

Although truthfully, it hadn’t required as much restraint as Lucius had thought it would.
Granger was a tolerable (even occasionally amusing) teacher, much different from her
normal personality, and he found it easy to forget that he had no wand with which to hex her
while she was lecturing, because hexing her wasn’t on his mind. It had been the
circumstances, more than anything, that Lucius had been railing against, and which continued
to gall him.

‘Well, I apologised, and that’s that,’ Draco said, still squirming a bit. Then he straightened
and changed the subject. ‘I’ve been invited to Harry’s for tomorrow’s dinner as well, and I
decided to reciprocate, so on Thursday, we’ll be hosting Harry, Hermione, Longbottom,
Loony--I mean, Lovegood--and of course the Weasley horde.’
Silence fell between them. Lucius thought perhaps his brain was broken. He had just had a
vision of his home , filled with those red-haired, slobbering peasants, and his brain utterly
rejected it and went blank.

‘Father?’ Draco prompted worriedly.

Lucius blinked. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you just said you invited a pack of Weasleys into our
home.’

‘I did.’

‘You….’

His mouth worked, but no sound came out. Something very ugly and black started boiling in
his insides, and he actually saw red when he looked up at Draco. His face heated and he
could feel the blood pounding in his temples as he rose to his feet, his wand hand twitching
uselessly.

‘You invited Weasleys into my home . Without even asking me first.’

Draco shrugged stiffly. ‘Well, it was the polite thing to do, Father. And I think you can
handle them every Thursday, it’s only one day a week….’

‘ Every Thursday?! ’

‘The dinners are sort of a weekly thing.’

Draco seemed utterly unaffected by his rage, which simultaneously made him angrier and
deflated it, making his eyes sting with the utter helplessness and impotence of his position.

‘Weekly.’ He ground his jaw, and his voice got very quiet. ‘Weasleys in my home. Every
week. Well, I guess it’s your home now, isn’t it? I just live here.’

He stormed out, headed for his bedroom.

‘Father….’

He quickened his pace and slammed the door in Draco’s face, locking it. It was all very
satisfying, but it didn’t take away the main core of helpless indignation.

‘Father, please let me in. I’m sorry I upset you, but we need--’

‘Go away.’

Draco could easily unlock the door with a first-year’s spell, and Lucius found himself
relieved and grateful when he didn’t, instead muttering an apology through the door and
taking his leave. Lucius let out a breath and flopped back on his bed, pressing his hands to
his eyes to stop the stinging.

‘I hate everything,’ he said sulkily to the empty room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco arrived on time to the gathering at Harry’s the next evening, and he looked pale and
upset again, but fortunately this time he immediately cornered Hermione.

‘That didn’t go well,’ he said without preamble, his brows knit with concern.

‘What, your apology?’

He waved an impatient hand. ‘No, telling him about Thursday. I told him and he blew up at
me, and then he went in his room and he hasn’t come out since. He won’t talk to me. Tibby
says he isn’t eating the meals she brings, either.’

‘She isn’t putting celery in them, is she?’ Hermione joked, and immediately regretted it when
Draco scowled at her, looking genuinely hurt. She sighed. ‘After we eat, I’ll cook up
something for him. What’s his favourite food?’

He chewed his lip. ‘Do you really think making his favourite food will work? He might just
be starving himself to death.’

Hermione felt her heart melt a little at Draco’s sincerely distressed, tearful visage. The
Malfoys weren’t exactly known for their emotional displays, so his open worry for his father
was very touching. She made a mental note to never mention that to Draco’s face.

‘Draco, if Lucius Malfoy was going to kill himself, I think he would be much more dramatic
about it than simply locking himself in a room and starving himself. Think more along the
lines of throwing himself off the roof or stabbing himself in the middle of the hallway, where
everyone could see it.’

His eyes widened with alarm, and she cursed herself and hurried to reassure him.

‘Anyway, he’s not going to kill himself. If he was going to kill himself, he would’ve done it
already, like when Voldemort was living in his house, or after the Battle of Hogwarts and
Narcissa’s filing for divorce, when he seemed poised to drink himself to death anyway. Your
father loves life, and more importantly, he loves himself,’ she pointed out with a wry smile.
‘He’s not going to throw that away no matter how miserable and depressed he is at the
moment.’

Draco still looked alarmed. ‘How can you know that?’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘He’s Lucius Malfoy , and he knows it. Would he really deprive
the world of his fabulousness?’

He stared at her for a long moment before relaxing with a snorted laugh. ‘No, probably not.’

Hermione grinned. ‘There you go. Now then, what’s his favourite food?’
Draco had to think about that for a long time, so long that Hermione grew impatient and a
little annoyed.

‘You don’t know what his favourite foods are? Doesn’t he request them from his house
elves?’

‘No, he just tells them what he doesn’t like, and eats whatever they make him,’ Draco said
defensively.

Hermione blinked. ‘Really?’

‘Really. He actually gives the elves a very free hand with most things. It’s only the fact that
he’s so high maintenance that makes it hard for them, because he can suddenly decide
something’s very important to him to get just so, when normally he wouldn’t care.’ He tilted
his head. ‘I know you’re thinking of Dobby, but that was a special case. Not that he can’t get
mean and temperamental with all of the house elves, but Dobby never made any secret of the
fact that he disliked our family, sabotaging things and purposely getting things wrong, and
I’m afraid it made Father rather vindictive. Moreso than usual, I mean.’

‘Ah. And it never would have occurred to him to sell or free Dobby, naturally.’

‘Naturally,’ sniffed Draco. ‘In his eyes, Dobby was our property, so he needed to straighten
up and start adoring the family. How dare Dobby have an opinion, etc., etc.’

Hermione smiled. Draco had come a long way, and moments like this just proved it, and
increased her fondness for him.

‘All right, so we don’t know what his favourite foods are.’ She frowned in thought.
‘Comfort food, then. Does he like pot pies?’

Draco blinked. ‘We’ve never eaten them, only shepherd’s pie. A pot pie is, uh….’

Hermione raised a brow and smirked. ‘Peasant food?’

His cheeks reddened, and that was answer enough.

‘It’s just two pie crusts, vegetables--not celery--cheese and a meat. Does he like turkey?
That’s my favourite kind.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I guess he’d like that. It doesn’t sound like anything he hates, anyway.’

‘Then I’ll make him some after dinner and we’ll take it over.’

His brow rose. ‘We?’

She smiled. ‘I want my pie plate back afterward.’

He shook his head at her and they rejoined the party. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that
Draco continued to assiduously avoid Ginny, though he did join Ron, Harry and Neville this
time. She was going to change that tomorrow night, and that was that.
 A Dinner Party
Chapter Summary

Hermione convinces Lucius to come out of his room with the ultimate weapon--food.
The following evening, they experience a proper Malfoy dinner party, and Hermione
gives Draco a shove in Ginny's direction.

Chapter Notes

Okay, this chapter ended up really, really...really long. I'm only half sorry, since I
accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I hope you all enjoy!

Three hours later, Hermione Apparated to Malfoy Manor alongside Draco, pot pie in hand.

‘He probably won’t talk to either of us,’ the younger Malfoy warned glumly.

‘We’ll see,’ said Hermione.

She was finding it more than a little disturbing to be standing in the entrance hall where she’d
been tortured not too long ago, and really wanted to move things along. Perhaps this had not
been the wisest choice she’d ever made.

Draco led her upstairs, to a door that appeared identical to all the others. She fleetingly
wondered how they managed to not get lost, and then mentally shrugged, figuring that at
least here, the doors and staircases seemed to stay put, unlike at Hogwarts. He knocked, but
there was no reply, as expected.

‘Father?’ he called through the door. ‘Father, I’ve brought you something to eat. Please let
me in.’

There was no response, again. Hermione stepped forward, wincing slightly.

‘Can I try?’

Draco shrugged. ‘It won’t make any difference, but go ahead.’

He backed away, and she stepped forward and knocked lightly.

‘Mr Malfoy? Mr Malfoy, it’s me, Hermione Granger….’ She winced again at how stupid
that sounded. ‘I made a pot pie, and…well…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have it?
I’m not…hungry.’

She closed her eyes briefly in physical pain at how idiotic she sounded, and Draco was
laughing at her, but they both came to attention at the sound of the lock turning. The door
opened a crack, and one icy blue eye appeared in the space. Hermione straightened and
smiled, trying to appear casual and confident. She suspected that she failed; being inside
Malfoy Manor was unsettling her a lot more than she had expected it to, and it had nothing to
do with the fact that the Malfoys had apparently never heard of decorating with anything
other than marble and black.

‘What kind?’ said Lucius suspiciously.

‘Oh, um. It’s turkey.’

She took the lid off to show him, and the smell filled the air. He peered down at it, and then
the door shut again. Silence fell.

‘It was a good try,’ said Draco bracingly. ‘That’s more than I’ve got out of him.’

Hermione wasn’t ready to fold just yet. She could play the waiting game. A quick spell
ensured that the aroma would linger a lot longer than it would have otherwise, and another
spell would keep the dish hot.

‘Mr Malfoy? If you change your mind, we’ll be downstairs in the dining room,’ she called,
and turned on her heel.

Draco followed her like a lost puppy dog, until it became apparent that she had no idea where
the dining room was, whereupon he led her the rest of the way.

‘I don’t think this will work, Hermione,’ he said as they entered. ‘We Slytherins can play the
waiting game like nobody else.’

Hermione just smiled and set the pie on the table, removing her cloak and preparing to settle
in.

‘Oh, certainly, when it’s politics, or a business deal,’ she agreed, her confidence growing
back as she continued to not be tortured or threatened. ‘But a Slytherin who hasn’t eaten
since lunch on Tuesday, presented with a plate of hot food? That’s something different
altogether.’

He sat down across from her with a snort. ‘I know a Gryffindor would jump at it in five
minutes, but we Malfoys don’t operate that way. We might not see him again until it’s time
for class on Thursday.’

She just smiled serenely and removed a pack of Muggle playing cards from her beaded bag.

‘I’m not saying it might not be a long wait,’ she said, shuffling. ‘I’m just saying that, Malfoy
or not, Slytherin or not, your father is still a man, a man who, if my ears didn’t deceive me,
closed the door on us because his stomach was growling.’
Draco blinked, and then grinned slowly. ‘What are we playing?’

It was another hour before Draco begged off, his eyes too tired to keep playing, and bade her
good night. Hermione switched to solitaire and continued to wait. Another twenty minutes,
and she was about ready to concede defeat and go home, when--

‘Where is Draco?’

Hermione let out a little shriek, dropping the cards she was holding all over the floor, and
turned to face a now-smirking Lucius Malfoy, a hand at her throat.

‘ Must you do that?!’ she half-yelled, her heart still pounding with adrenaline. ‘You nearly
gave me a heart attack!’

‘My apologies,’ Lucius murmured, but the delighted smile playing on his lips and the twinkle
in his eye told a different story.

He walked further into the room, and with a sigh, she summoned her cards.

‘He got tired and went to bed,’ she said, frowning, but getting calmer.

‘Ah. Yet you’re still here?’

He seated himself at the head of the table, adjacent to her, and reached for the pot pie without
any coyness or attempts to pretend that wasn’t why he was there. He served himself a piece,
and Hermione watched in awe as he polished it off faster than anyone she’d ever seen, save
for Ron as a teenager. He still managed to do it with dignity and style, which she found
incredibly unfair. He raised a brow at her as he served up his second piece, reminding her
that she hadn’t answered him.

‘Obviously, since I’m still sitting here,’ she said, deadpan.

‘But you have classes in the morning. It’s nearly midnight--shouldn’t you be asleep?’ he
parried, very pointedly.

‘Shouldn’t you ?’ It was a lame comeback, but it was all she had at the moment.

Lucius’s expression went blank, save his eyes, which darkened with a shadow of fear.
‘Nightmares.’

‘Oh.’

She remembered Draco’s description of Lucius’s nightmares and felt guilty for even
accidentally broaching the subject. He poked at his food for moment, but the smell seemed
to recall his appetite, and he went back to it.

‘How’s your homework coming?’

Lucius stopped with his fork poised in his open mouth, shooting her an incredulous look.
Hermione shrugged innocently. ‘We needed a subject change?’

He deliberately chewed and swallowed that bite before even attempting to answer her,
pinning her with his annoyed gaze the whole time. She wondered how she could escape
gracefully.

‘I haven’t done my homework,’ he said at last, challengingly. He even lifted his chin at her,
his eyes flashing.

Hermione was unfavourably reminded of Draco in their early Hogwarts days, and bit the
inside of her lip to keep from laughing in Lucius’s face. She didn’t imagine that would go
over well, and she had no desire to have to duel Lucius the instant he got his wand back in
June, as she was certain it was an occurrence he would remember.

‘Okay,’ she said when she was certain she wasn’t going to laugh.

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. ‘Okay?’

‘Yes, okay. It means sure, fine, all right--’

‘I am familiar with the term,’ he snapped. ‘You aren’t going to lecture me?’

Hermione smiled. ‘You’re an adult, Lucius. You’re older than I am. I think you’re perfectly
capable of deciding whether or not to do your homework, with a full understanding of any
and all consequences.’

He stared at her for a long moment. She resisted the urge to squirm under his unreadable
stare. She suddenly realised that she had called him by his first name without his permission,
and was debating the merits of trying to apologise for her faux pas when he spoke.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, turning his eyes to his now-empty plate.

It was her turn to frown in confusion. ‘For what?’

He just shook his head and served himself a third piece, eating silently but without rancour.
Hermione finished her hand of solitaire and packed her cards away.

‘Are you finished?’ she asked when he’d finished the third piece and put his fork down.

‘Yes.’ Then he seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. ‘Thank you, it was
delicious.’

Hermione couldn’t help her genuine grin. ‘You’re welcome. Would you like to keep the
leftovers, or should I take it with me? If you want the leftovers, I’d like my pie plate, I only
have the one.’

‘Tibby!’ Lucius called in response, and the house elf appeared with a crack. ‘Take this pie
out and save it for me for tomorrow. Miss Granger would like her pie plate back.’
The house elf bowed and did as instructed so fast that Hermione almost didn’t see it
happening. She took her empty pie plate and stood with a frown.

‘You could have thanked her,’ she grumbled.

He stood, too, and openly rolled his eyes at her. ‘I could have, but I didn’t. Don’t start your
house elf crusade on me--it may have worked on Draco, but I will not stoop to asking my
servants to serve me. It’s why they’re here.’

She bit down on her cheek very hard, and forced a smile that was undoubtedly not very
convincing.

‘I hope to see you in class tomorrow, Mr Malfoy. Good night.’

She gave a little half-curtsy, half-bow that Draco had once told her was good manners in
pure-blood society, and enjoyed how surprised Lucius looked.

‘Good night, Miss Granger.’ He paused. ‘And thank you again.’

Then he offered her the courtly bow Draco used. Hermione nodded her acknowledgement
and stalked out of the room, head held high. She’d allowed herself to forget, for a while, that
just because Draco had improved didn’t mean that his father wasn’t still an arrogant prick.

At least he hadn’t called her a Mudblood or demanded that she leave his house, and he had
genuinely seemed to enjoy her cooking, since he kept what he didn’t eat. Silver lining, of a
sort.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning at the Malfoy table was tense. Lucius had not forgiven Draco for his
presumptuous invitation ( Weasleys! ), so he remained stubbornly silent, only offering glares
as responses while his son talked. He did eat, though, and Draco seemed too relieved about
that to offer any reprimands over his silence.

‘Now, since the Weasleys and the rest are coming here tonight, whether you like it or not,
you’ll need to wear something suitable. We’re Malfoys--we don’t entertain guests in bare
feet and shirtsleeves.’

A pause, to allow a response to that jibe, but Lucius just shot him another glare. What he
wore was his own business and nobody else’s. He’d show up to Draco’s little party in his
pyjamas, if the mood struck him, and see how the little snot liked that .

‘I want you to be on your best behaviour, if you can manage it,’ said Draco with a sniff.
‘They’re my friends, and they should feel welcome in our home.’
Lucius bit down on his tongue to still the urge to assert that he would never call that pack of
morons and blood traitors friends , and they were most certainly not welcome in their home.
He had the uncomfortable feeling that he would regret saying that later, if he didn’t stop
himself. He’d really only just got his son back after years of estrangement, and as much as
he hated the circumstance, he didn’t really want to do anything that could potentially push
Draco away.

Unfortunately, it seemed that that meant tolerating Weasleys . He wondered when the
universe was going to stop laughing at him.

‘Have a good day, Father,’ Draco said when he’d finished, and his tone was gentler. ‘I hope
your class goes well.’

Lucius grunted in response, and didn’t glare, and Draco seemed to be of an ‘I’ll take what I
can get’ state of mind, because he accepted that and left.

That left him only one thing to do now: his homework. Oddly, since Granger’s visit the
previous night, he actually perked up a little at the notion. As she had so astutely pointed out,
it was really within his control whether he chose to do the homework or not--no one, not even
Draco, could force him to do it--and while he was hardly going to choose not to, given the
consequences of failure, it was…nice that someone saw it that way. As his life. His choice.
Even if that someone was Hermione bloody Granger.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione found herself mildly surprised when Lucius actually showed up to class,
homework in hand. He had seemed so angry and obstinate last night that she’d half expected
to get an owl, bearing some excuse. But no, he arrived with his usual arrogant aplomb, head
held high and sneering down at the lesser beings of the world (everyone except himself,
generally).

She lectured on chapter five, about contacting the Ministry from the Muggle world, and
handed back last week’s homework before dismissing the class. Honestly, her favourite parts
of the textbook were from the midpoint on, not that she’d admit it to the students. The next
chapter was about Parliament and other aspects of British Muggle government that differed
from the Ministry of Magic, along with an outline of various other types of Muggle
governments. It had been so dull that she had fallen asleep while writing it, so she wasn’t
particularly looking forward to teaching it.

When she turned from erasing the blackboard, Lucius was standing super close again, having
obviously sneaked up behind her again. She didn’t scream, as she had at Malfoy Manor, but
she barely kept from crashing into him, and couldn’t help a hissed breath between her teeth.
The corner of Lucius’s mouth curled up and his eyes seemed to come alive, and he was
absolutely stunning for a moment. He smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.
She quickly extricated herself before she could do or say anything stupid.

‘I’m going to tie a bell around your neck if you keep doing that to me,’ she scolded jokingly.
‘I take it you want to personally hand me your homework again?’

He handed it over. ‘It continues to seem like the safest course of action,’ he drawled. ‘I shall
see you this evening, Miss Granger.’

He bowed gallantly and swept out of the room, all confidence and elegance, and Hermione
felt very frumpy and scruffy in comparison. She wondered how he managed to do that when
she knew for a fact that just yesterday he’d been sulking in his room, which was not at all
elegant or confident.

Hermione went home and got ready before heading to Harry’s. They had decided that there
was strength in numbers, so they would arrive together.

‘Wow!’ said Harry when she Flooed into his kitchen. ‘You look…like we’re going to a ball.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. It seemed appropriate, given that we’re dining at
Malfoy Manor. Do you even remember all the marble floors, all the marble walls, all the
marble pillars? It’ll be like dining in Buckingham Palace, except with a lot more awkward
comments on the weather and gritted teeth.’

He frowned. ‘You don’t really think it will be that bad, do you?’

‘Lucius threw a fit that lasted over a day. He hates the Weasleys more than anyone else in the
world, and if it weren’t for the fact that it’s probably the only way to get Draco talking to
Ginny, this would be the worst idea I’ve ever come up with. You do remember that he and
Arthur hate each other so much that they forgot they’re wizards, or that they’re grown men,
and started brawling, Muggle-style, in the middle of a crowded bookstore?’

Harry’s face scrunched and he only hesitantly pulled his cloak on. ‘This is the worst idea
you’ve ever had. Is there any way we can get out of going?’

She shook her head resolutely. ‘Nope. We’ve got to be there to be mediators, if anything
does happen. Besides, I want to be there so I can forcefully shove Draco in Ginny’s
direction.’

He made a show of double-checking his wand. ‘Fine, then--let’s get it over with.’

He offered her his arm and they Disapparated.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had made himself extremely presentable, hopefully to the point that the Weasleys
would be so ashamed of their very existence that they would leave, and Draco couldn’t say a
word about how appropriate his attire was. He’d even perfumed and tied his hair back with a
silk ribbon, as though he was about to dine with the Minister or someone equally important,
instead of inbred, red-haired, pathetic excuses for wizards.

Sure enough, when he arrived in the entrance hall to greet their guests, Draco looked him
over and turned away without saying anything. He had every intention of remaining above
his son’s reproach--at least where Draco could see. If he and Arthur Weasley ended up alone
together, well…certainly he could come up with a clever story about why it was Arthur’s
own fault that he’d fallen out a window.

The first set to arrive were Molly and her daughter. They greeted Draco enthusiastically, and
Draco’s ears turned red. He stammered a little when Ginny kissed his cheek, but remembered
his manners eventually.

‘Molly, Ginny,’ he said in a voice that squeaked a bit. ‘Welcome to our home. You
remember my father, Lucius?’

Lucius set his face into a neutrally polite expression and bowed courteously when they turned
toward him.

‘Ladies,’ he greeted, pitching his own voice low and smooth, and Molly blushed when he
kissed her hand.

On second thought, this could be fun.

‘I’ve set out refreshments in the sitting room, it’s just this way…?’ said Draco, and escorted
them out.

Arthur and Percy Weasley arrived while he was showing them the way, meaning that Lucius
had to play host alone. And, of course, it just had to be Arthur, didn’t it? He was the worst
of the lot, because he’d spawned all the rest.

‘Arthur,’ said Lucius, and he couldn’t really help it that his voice and face were like granite.
‘Percival.’

‘Mr Malfoy,’ Percy returned brightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension. ‘Thank you for
your kind invitation.’

He made a noncommittal noise-- he hadn’t invited them, but it would be rude to say so. No
matter how much he hated them, they were his guests now, whether he liked it or not, and
Malfoys were always hospitable to guests. Except when evil crazy Dark Lords took up
residency in their houses, but then the ‘guests’ hadn’t really belonged to the Malfoys.

‘Lucius,’ Arthur replied evenly.

His face was red, but he was doing an admirable job of putting aside his feelings otherwise.
Lucius wondered what other important mental functions were being ignored so he could
apply his negligible intelligence to such control.
They managed to nod civilly enough to each other, and then thankfully Draco arrived to
escort them to the sitting room as well. Unlike Percy, he was well aware of the tension as
soon as he stepped into the room, and made haste to move the two of them along.

The twin menaces to society arrived next, and Lucius personally escorted them to the sitting
room before Draco could return to do it. He wanted those two firmly under their mother’s
eye, where they could do less damage.

Ron was the last of the Weasleys to arrive, bearing a bottle of really terrible, very cheap wine
that Lucius had only tasted because the Ministry served it at their social functions. Even
Draco was hard-pressed to act pleased by this offering, not that Ron seemed to care whether
they were pleased or not.

‘Has Harry arrived yet?’ he asked flatly after they got the niceties out of the way.

‘Not yet, but your family’s in the sitting room,’ Draco said in an equally flat tone.

Lucius smirked. Apparently Draco wasn’t friends with all of the Weasleys. They walked out
of the room together, each keeping a wary eye on the other, and Lucius wondered for whom
this uneasy truce had been struck.

Luna Lovegood arrived, waved at him vaguely, and wandered out of the entrance hall.
Lucius stared after her for a moment, then shook it off. There was a reason Draco called her
Loony, after all.

Neville Longbottom arrived alone, too, but his offering was a much more palatable one--a
selection of cheeses.

‘Not that you probably don’t have your own set out already,’ he said awkwardly, ‘but Gran
says I should never show up empty-handed, and I can’t cook.’

‘Neither can I,’ said Lucius, disdainful of the very idea that either one of them ought to know
how. Neville was a more understandable kind of blood traitor, given what had happened to
his parents, and Lucius found himself feeling a bit…soft toward the uncertain young man. It
was most disconcerting.

Oddly enough, his comment, however harshly spoken, seemed to calm Neville’s nerves, and
they passed a…not entirely unpleasant few minutes talking of inconsequential things. They
were interrupted by the arrival of Potter and Granger, arm in arm and bearing a dessert box.
Potter was his usual scruffy self, but Granger had put forth an effort, a visible one. Her robe
and gown looked at least somewhat expensive, and she’d tamed her bushy mane into a more
tolerable twist of curls. It exposed the white column of her neck, which Lucius found himself
oddly preoccupied with.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ Potter greeted after a moment, and Lucius realised he’d been staring at Granger
and forgotten his manners. He quickly corrected, acting as though the slip was intentional.

‘Mr Potter,’ he replied, drawing out the ‘mister’ just for fun, and to watch Potter redden a bit.
‘So glad you could make it.’
A blatant lie, and everyone there knew it, but Potter had evidently learned that he didn’t need
to say every stupid thing that popped into his tiny mind. Auror training was useful for
something.

‘Glad to be here,’ he said, but he stumbled over the words.

He quickly turned to greet Neville instead, leaving Lucius free to greet Granger, who was
watching the whole affair with amusement.

‘Miss Granger,’ he said, and he pitched his voice low again, bending over her hand but not
kissing it. He couldn’t embarrass her too much, or she might fail him.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I’m glad to see you out of your room.’

Lucius smiled tightly. ‘I occasionally emerge.’

‘I didn’t think you would, not for this particular occasion,’ she replied lightly, recovering
much more swiftly than Potter had. He was still red around the ears.

‘That would be rude of me,’ said Lucius dismissively. ‘Unless I had a good excuse, which I
don’t.’

They began walking together, and Neville and Potter followed them after a moment.

‘Hmm,’ Hermione said innocently. ‘You didn’t seem to have a problem lying just a moment
ago.’

Lucius glanced at her. ‘I…have been attempting to keep my dishonesty to a minimum. A

little white lie here and there is more forgivable than blatantly shirking my duties as host.’

She just hummed in her throat.

‘What’s in the box?’

She grinned briefly. ‘Oh, nothing you’ll be interested in, I’m sure,’ she drawled. ‘Just a
cheesecake I made.’

He swallowed, because all of a sudden his mouth watered like a fountain.

‘What kind?’ he asked, attempting to keep his tone nonchalant, and failing miserably.

Hermione’s eyes twinkled. ‘Chocolate.’

Lucius bit the inside of his lip and made a noncommittal noise in his throat. He was feeling
the urge to suggest that they skip straight to dessert, and it would really not do to appear so
eager. No matter how good her cooking was.

Fortunately, they arrived in the sitting room, where Granger, Potter and Neville were
immediately accosted by gingers, and he was saved from blurting out anything he would
regret later.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was impressed with Draco’s mediating skills. He managed to circulate the room
until dinner, keeping certain parties away from each other and making everyone feel welcome
at the same time. He’d clearly been paying attention when his father taught him how to be a
diplomat, she reflected, because he didn’t give any one person more than their due, and
couldn’t be accused of taking sides. Lucius himself, on the other hand, had apparently
decided to let Draco take on the bulk of the hosting duties, and settled in with Harry, Ron and
Neville, much to her surprise. Although, given the smirk on Lucius’s face and the redness of
Harry and Ron’s faces, she thought she could guess why he’d chosen that particular corner of
the room. Ron didn’t seem ready to explode yet, so she let Lucius have his fun and chatted
with Ginny instead.

A chime announced that dinner was ready, and Lucius and Draco shepherded them graciously
into the dining room. Unlike the last time she was here, this time the table was draped with a
pristine white cloth, and set with candles in fine silver holders, shining silverware, and some
of the most beautiful, delicate china and crystal she’d ever seen. She had to make a concerted
effort not to stand there gaping.

Draco had assigned them seats, she noted with amusement. There was a little card on each
plate with a name on it in elegant script. She smirked at him as she rounded the table in
search of hers, and he shrugged a little, his cheeks tinged pink.

He had seated himself at the head of the table, she noted, which was proper in the sense that
Draco was the one who had issued the invitations, but not proper at all because Lucius was
the head of the family, not Draco. She worriedly glanced at Lucius to see how he’d taken it,
but other than a brief grimace in Draco’s direction, he made no sign that he’d even noticed,
taking his seat midway down the table with more grace than she would’ve expected. She
somehow doubted that that was the end of it, but then, she tended to forget that Lucius was
the one who had taught Draco what restraint he possessed. He was probably saving up all his
anger and malice for after their guests left.

Hermione finally found her card across from Lucius’s, and offered him a smile as she took
her seat. He smiled tightly back, and she carefully schooled her expression as she saw why
his smile was so tight--Arthur Weasley sat down beside him, wearing a hang-dog expression
she usually only saw when Mrs Weasley was on a rampage. And then it got even worse, as
Ginny sat down on Lucius’s other side.

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth to keep in the giggle that wanted to escape as the skin
around Lucius’s eyes tightened visibly. He shot her a quick glare that told her he knew
exactly what she was thinking. This was going to be so much fun .

Especially since it turned out she was lacking in any other dinner entertainment. She had to
wonder what Draco had been thinking when he assigned the seating, because he’d put Neville
on her left, rounding out the head of the table of boys, with Harry and Ron on Draco’s right
and left hands, and on her other side was Percy, who spent the whole time talking with Arthur
across from him about Ministry things that were colossally unimportant and boring. Mrs
Weasley was at the opposite end from Draco, and had been saddled with keeping Fred and
George in line. Luna was sort of the odd man out, with an empty space across from her,
acting as a human buffer between Percy and George. And Hermione suddenly realised there
were thirteen of them and hoped it wasn’t an omen.

So, since her dinner partners on either side were otherwise engaged, Hermione spent most of
dinner (which was simply delectable) watching the comedy across from her.

Arthur was talking to Percy, and Ron was talking to Draco, so Ginny had taken it upon
herself to try and talk to Lucius. It did not appear to be going well, but, as always, Ginny was
undeterred.

‘…And did you know that it’s actually suspected that owning a puffskein clears your nasal
passages and improves your athletic performance? It’s just a rumour, really, but some of my
teammates swear by it,’ she was babbling on and on.

Lucius’s knuckles were white around his fork and knife, but his ‘Ah’ was perfectly even and
polite. Hermione caught his eye and raised her brow just a hair, and had to hide a smile
behind her wine glass when his nostrils flared with repressed rage. Ginny must have seen it,
too, because she grinned and continued with renewed gusto.

Really, it was a miracle that everyone made it through dinner alive, Hermione reflected.
Particularly since, while Draco had provided everyone else with wine, he was still apparently
barring Lucius from alcohol. She couldn’t decide whether a glass of wine might have helped
lubricate Lucius’s mood, or if it would have made things worse. Ultimately, she decided that
Draco knew his father better than she did and that he’d probably made the wisest choice.

Lucius visibly perked up when their dinner plates vanished and dessert plates appeared,
though he tried to hide it. Hermione made certain not to catch his eye this time. She was
actually confused about his enthusiasm for her cooking now, having eaten his house elves’
fare. They rivalled the Hogwarts house elves, and yet he’d poked at his food and scowled
when he chewed. She’d thought it was wonderful, and there was no way her cooking
measured up.

Still, there was no denying that his fingers eased their grip on the silverware and he even
managed to respond to some nonsense Ginny was spewing with more than an ‘Ah.’

‘You get to choose which dessert you want,’ Draco announced once he had everyone’s
attention. ‘Tibby made pumpkin pie, and Hermione made a chocolate cheesecake, so just
announce your choice to your plate and it will appear.’

Lucius immediately said cheesecake, so fast that Hermione had to pretend to cough to cover
her giggle. He just raised his brows at her and unashamedly surveyed his slice.

Hermione opted for pumpkin pie. It was absolutely divine, and she looked up to tell Lucius
so, but he was sitting with his eyes shut, rolling his first bite of cheesecake around in his
mouth like nothing else in the world existed. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance of
open surprise, and Ginny shut up for the first time in the whole meal. There was no point in
even talking at him, Hermione supposed, because he was oblivious to all else.

‘He must really like chocolate,’ Ginny stage-whispered across the table to her.

Lucius didn’t appear to hear.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After they’d all finished, they returned to the sitting room, where various beverages had been
laid out. Hermione went for water before setting her sights on Draco. He was standing with
Neville, Arthur and Percy, evidently engaged in a discussion on Ministry budgeting practices.
She marched over and snagged his elbow with a sweet smile.

‘Do you gentlemen mind if I steal Draco away for a moment?’

They assented, and she dragged Draco to a corner near the door.

‘Ow?’ said Draco. ‘What was that about?’

Hermione folded her arms. ‘Are you really going to spend the remainder of the evening
discussing budgets?’

He scowled. ‘Is there something else I should be doing?’

‘You’ve hardly spoken to Ginny all night.’

His cheeks immediately reddened and he fiddled with his wine glass. ‘I’ve spoken to her,’ he
mumbled.

‘You’ve been avoiding her for far too long, Draco. When are you going to get the courage to
tell her how you feel?’

He pretended to think. ‘Oh…in approximately…never. Hello? She’s not interested in me.’

Hermione resisted the urge to throttle him. ‘How do you know? You two were getting along
really well before you suddenly decided to treat her like a leper.’

He shuffled his feet. ‘Well, she’s…a Weasley, and I’m a Malfoy, and if tonight hasn’t
illustrated it enough for you, I’m here to inform you that historically, Weasleys and Malfoys
tend to…agree to disagree, shall we say.’

She huffed. ‘But what about Ginnys and Dracos? From what I’ve seen, they “historically”
get along just fine. You both share a lot of political opinions; you obviously have the same
taste in wine and food, since I’m here to tell you that most of what you served were Ginny’s
favourites, if a little fancier than usual; and your favourite Quidditch team just happens to be
the team she plays for. It’s practically a match made in heaven. Not to mention that she
bullied and nagged you out of your depression, and you liked it. Admit it.’

Draco tried not to smile. ‘It was annoying,’ he said, not very convincingly.

‘Uh-huh, which was why it made you fall in love with her.’

‘SHHH!’ he hissed urgently, looking around wildly. ‘You can’t just say things like that! Out
loud! Where there are people !’

She’d had quite enough. She planted her feet and glared at him.

‘Look, Draco. Ginny likes you, too, but she’s young. She’s a popular player. She’s got men
and women alike propositioning her all the time. She’s pretty. She’s an extremely eligible
single woman. She’s not going to wait for you to pull your head out of your arse forever.’

His face fell and he looked away, swirling his wine and putting a hand in his pocket. He was
the very picture of desolation.

Hermione sighed. ‘All is not lost, stop being so dramatic. You’re on your home turf, right?
If you’re going to get brave enough to approach her, now would be the time.’

Draco looked up at her, stricken. ‘But…but what will I say ?’

That startled a laugh out of her. ‘You, the scion of the House of Malfoy, don’t know what to
say to a pretty girl?’

He reddened again. ‘Well, Ginny’s not like other girls, you know?’

She softened at that, smiling gently. She put a hand on Draco’s arm supportively.

‘I know. Why don’t you just ask her to take a walk with you? That’s nice and non-
threatening, isn’t it?’

He straightened a little, brightening. ‘I could do that. That’s not scary. It’s just a walk.’

‘That’s right,’ she coaxed. ‘You can handle a walk in your own gardens.’

‘Right. I’ll do it.’

He straightened his spine and lifted his head and marched purposefully over to Ginny,
interrupting her harangue of a miserable-looking Lucius mid-word. Lucius practically ran to
the Mrs Weasley and Harry side of the room as soon as Draco appeared. Draco spoke
quietly, and then Ginny nodded, and they set aside their glasses and walked out together.

Resisting the urge to squeal like Lavender and Parvati in their school days, Hermione hurried
from the room to find a good vantage point.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had to escape. There were too many red-heads and not enough sense, and he really,
really needed a break, or he would definitely do something that Draco would heartily
disapprove of. He skilfully redirected Molly’s attention on to how dreadfully skinny Potter
was looking these days, and slipped from the room as soon as she’d started in on the boy.
Potter glared daggers at him as he left, which just made it all the more fun.

His room seemed unappealing, and it might be interpreted as sulking if Draco found out, so
he set course for the library instead.

He was halfway there when Luna Lovegood emerged from the lavatory. She was wearing her
shoes on the wrong feet. He focused on her face, but the radish earrings were distracting, too.

‘Oh, hello, Mr Malfoy,’ she said dreamily.

Lucius inclined his head. ‘Miss Lovegood,’ he managed to say with some civility. ‘I do
hope you’re enjoying your evening.’

‘Oh, yes, very much,’ she said, still in that dazed, unfocused way she had. ‘It’s been much
more fun than the last time I was at your house, sir.’

Lucius went cold. He very much remembered the last time she was here--a prisoner in his
house. He opened his mouth, but realised he did not know what to say. His throat felt tight.

‘I’d better rejoin the other guests,’ said Luna, and drifted past him.

Now he really, really, really needed to be alone for a while. He stopped just short of running
to the library.

And, of course, there was someone already there. He let out a disgusted noise and turned to
go, but paused when the person hissed in a breath of surprise.

‘You startled me! Again! Seriously, I am going to tie a bell around your neck,’ Hermione
Granger scolded him, one hand at her exposed throat.

He smirked in spite of the fact that he still felt as though he’d just walked through the Bloody
Baron. ‘My apologies. Again.’

She waved a hand. ‘Did you need something?’

He hesitated. ‘I was seeking a little solitude, actually. I’m afraid I’m a bit…overwhelmed.’

Her expression softened. ‘Ah. Mrs Weasley and Ginny can be a bit much at times. I can
leave if you want. It’s your library.’

Lucius realised suddenly that, while the library was hardly an odd place to find Granger, she
wasn’t surveying the shelves, but rather, standing at the window. He craned his neck and
stepped closer.

‘What are you doing in here, anyway?’ he asked curiously.

She grinned at that and beckoned him over. ‘Look down there!’ she said excitedly, gesturing.

He looked. And then the world spun and he clutched at the wall.

‘They’re so sweet together!’ Granger squealed, focused on the couple walking in the garden.
‘Don’t you think?’

Draco was walking with the youngest Weasley. He’d offered her his arm . There were
fountains and twinkle lights and even the bloody peacocks had arranged themselves as
romantically as possible. Draco was slightly red, but he was smiling as the Weasley girl
chattered animatedly beside him. Lucius’s only source of relief was that she wasn’t
chattering at him this time.

‘My son…and a Weasley?’ he said faintly. ‘My son…and a Weasley …. I think…I need to
sit.’

Granger turned and noticed his distress for the first time. She grabbed his arm and helped
steer him to the nearest chair, and then stood staring at him worriedly as he held his head,
willing the world to hold still for one bloody moment.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ she said tentatively.

‘What?’

‘Can I get you something? Anything? A glass of water, maybe?’

He closed his eyes. It helped with the spinning. A few more minutes of silence passed.

‘It really isn’t that bad,’ Granger said suddenly, obviously attempting to be comforting. ‘At
least she’s a pure-blood, right?’

Lucius snapped his head up and glared at her. ‘She’s a Weasley . I’d rather see him with a
Muggle-born than one of them !’

Granger blinked, her lips parted in shock. ‘Oh. I didn’t realise they ranked even lower than
me on your scale of hatred.’ She frowned. ‘Why do you hate them so much?’

Lucius sputtered. ‘It’s…well… obviously , it’s…I just…. I hate that man!’

She blinked again. ‘Arthur?’

‘Yes!’

‘Why?’

‘ Because ,’ said Lucius, and to him, that was reason enough.

Granger stared at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. They started small
at first, and then grew until she had to sink into a chair, too, her face red and tears of mirth
collecting in her eyes.

Lucius fumed. ‘What is so damned funny?’

‘Arthur…said the same thing,’ she gasped out between giggles, ‘when I asked him…why he
hated you !’

Lucius’s brain refused to make the connection between them and stubbornly insisted that it
was clearly different.

She calmed a little, wiping her eyes. ‘I swear, you two act like schoolboys about each other.
Brawling in public areas, hating each other just because ….’

He huffed. ‘If you want a list, I’m sure I can come up with one. Arthur Weasley has many
unpleasant qualities.’

She just smiled at him. ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you. Actually, I can see where Ron
and Draco get it from. They’re barely able to tolerate one another, and that only for Mrs
Weasley’s sake.’

Lucius scowled at the reminder. ‘How did this happen ?’ he asked, more himself than her.

She answered anyway, because she was Hermione bloody Granger.

‘How did Draco become friends with the Weasleys?’

‘Friends with them, and apparently romantically interested in one of them,’ said Lucius
glumly.

‘Well, it started when Draco’s mother left, really,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘As I’m sure you
noticed, Draco wasn’t at his best after she left.’

Lucius grimaced at the reminder. Draco had been hostile, sullen, and he’d barely seemed to
function when he wasn’t lashing out at Lucius. For that reason, Lucius had made a pest of
himself, since it seemed to be the only way to keep Draco from sinking into total despair.

‘At the Ministry one day, Harry and Draco and I were having a meeting,’ she went on, ‘over
lunch, and Mrs Weasley arrived with some goodies for us. Draco looked awful at that point.
Narcissa had been gone for over a month, and I don’t think he’d been eating much. Mrs
Weasley took one look at him and dragged him back to the Burrow, in spite of his protests.
She stuffed him full of food and sent him to bed. Basically, she mothered him into
submission. It took a few days, but she did get him back on his feet as far as functioning like
a normal human being goes.’

That explained Draco’s disappearance at that time. He’d fretted and panicked, but the Auror
office had blown him off when he tried to Floo call them, and when he returned, Draco had
ignored him completely for about a week. Eventually, Lucius had stopped asking where he’d
been.
‘It helped, I think, having a sort of surrogate mother. He started to realise that perhaps he’d
been wrong about a few things. And of course, she wouldn’t tolerate her children bullying or
belittling Draco when he was feeling so low. She actually knocked Fred and George’s heads
together when they tried to prank him while he was asleep,’ she said, grinning at the memory.
‘They struck a truce with Draco for her sake, and eventually Draco apologised for what a
nasty little git he’d been. It turns out that he has something in common with each of them--
even he and Ron have a lot in common, although you’d better not tell him I said that--so after
a while, it grew from an uneasy truce to keep Mrs Weasley from being upset to a real
friendship. Well,’ she amended, ‘except for he and Ron. I don’t think they’ll ever really get
along on their own.’

‘And the girl?’ Lucius prodded, dreading the answer.

Granger grinned. ‘Mrs Weasley took care of the eating and looking after himself--Ginny
took care of his depression. She nagged him, she bullied him, she outright ordered him to get
out and do things. She made him attend her Quidditch practices and go out to lunch with her.
Honestly, I think Draco enjoyed being pushed around by her. She’s good for him. He needs
a firm hand, even if he does think for himself a little more these days.’

That stung, a bit, and Lucius scowled at her. She just looked back at him innocently.

‘And I suppose the rest of you eventually just fell in line, then?’

Granger flicked back a stray curl. ‘Well, Draco and Harry had already started to realise they
could get along from working together at the Ministry, but yes, they really became friends
after Draco stopped being such a git to everyone. It took Draco and I a little longer, mostly
because he wasn’t prepared to apologise to a Mudblood at first.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Lucius snapped, without thinking.

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

‘We don’t use such…uncouth terminology in this house,’ he said defensively.

Her brow rose and her tone was dry. ‘Funny. Draco never had a problem using that word at
school.’

‘He didn’t learn it from me, or from Narcissa. He most likely learned it from our…
associates,’ he sneered. ‘If we had known he was using such terms, he would have been
punished. While our attitudes toward Muggle-borns have never been as positive as you
might desire, we have never stooped to slurs,’ he added with a sniff. ‘It’s classless and
tasteless.’

Her lips curled into a smile that wasn’t altogether happy. ‘Two terms which can never be
applied to the Malfoys.’

‘Almost never,’ Lucius corrected. He hunched his shoulders a bit. ‘During the war, we….’

He trailed off. He had no words to openly apologise. He was a Malfoy.

Granger’s eyes were very dark. ‘None of us were at our best.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘You were tortured in my home,’ he rasped.

She tilted her head. ‘You did nothing.’

‘Exactly. I did nothing .’

She considered him for so long that Lucius dropped his eyes. He was wishing he’d never
broached the subject at all, but when she called herself a Mudblood, something in him had
twisted oddly, and he’d felt a pull to wipe the word away, to make amends, somehow. It was
not something he was practised at doing, and so his attempts only caused this awkward
silence. He was out of his depth, and didn’t know how to smoothly save this situation as he
had so many political stumbles. Other people’s, not his own. He never stumbled politically.

‘What, exactly, do you think you should’ve done, Mr Malfoy?’ Granger asked softly, making
him jump.

He avoided her eyes, shoved his hands under his thighs so he wouldn’t wring them.

‘I don’t know. Something. It was…my house, and my sister-in-law. I should’ve….’

He trailed off again.

‘Disabled Bellatrix without a wand?’ she suggested gently. ‘Defied Voldemort, openly?’

He flinched at the name and said nothing.

Granger drew in a breath and hesitantly touched his knee. ‘There was nothing you could’ve
done, Mr Malfoy. I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you, not for that. You had no wand,
no way of defending yourself or your family. Bellatrix was a powerful witch, there’s no way
you could have taken her on without a wand of your own. And openly defying… him in such
a way would have meant a death sentence for you and your family. You did what you had to
do to get them through alive. How could I blame you for that?’

Lucius nodded stiffly, but the guilt choking him (and he finally acknowledged that it was
guilt) did not dissipate. He swallowed it down as best he could, and tried not to examine why
he felt so guilty. She was a Muggle-born. He’d taken part in many Muggle-baitings in the
past, had actually been somewhat renowned for his cleverness at it, and while he’d never
killed anyone, that was more because of his need to maintain plausible deniability than it was
morality or respect for human life.

Perhaps it was because she was Draco’s age, and when thinking of the Dark Lord killing both
her and Potter, even back then when he’d hated them, a part of him had clenched and thought
of Draco. Or not. He didn’t really want to know.

And since when was it when he had hated them? He did hate them. They were annoying.

She removed her hand and sat back. ‘Draco likes Ginny. Like, really likes her,’ she said,
getting them back on topic. ‘I think you’re going to have to deal with that.’
He cursed, making her giggle.

‘I thought the Malfoys didn’t use words like that,’ she teased, eyes sparkling.

‘Only when discussing Weasleys,’ he returned, and inexplicably felt lighter.

The silence that fell between them was easier, and Granger went back to the window to watch
the two lovebirds.

‘If he was so upset about Narcissa leaving, why didn’t he go with her?’ Lucius wondered
aloud, since he was feeling so maudlin and horrible anyway. Might as well go all in.

Granger went very still for a moment, and when she spoke, she didn’t turn from the window.

‘I think…you’ll have to ask Draco that yourself,’ she said softly. ‘But I believe that it’s
because he wouldn’t abandon you.’

Lucius turned away bitterly, his jaw working. It was always his fault, wasn’t? Everything
was always because of him, and the many stupid choices he’d made as a young man.

‘You’d had your wand taken away and you were under house arrest, going through countless
months of litigation, and he just couldn’t bring himself to leave you to fend for yourself.’

‘He should have,’ Lucius said, matching her soft tone despite the bitterness of his words. ‘He
would’ve been better off.’

‘Draco would never do that,’ Granger argued, finally turning to face him again. ‘He loves
you, Mr Malfoy. He’s going to stick by you no matter what.’

Lucius did not reply, instead changing the subject. ‘How was Tibby’s pumpkin pie?’

Food was a safe subject. Mostly.

She smiled. ‘It was good. Everything was delicious, actually. Your house elves are really
talented. I don’t see how you resist their cooking sometimes.’

He grunted. ‘They’re all right,’ he said grudgingly.

Granger let out a merry peal of laughter, and then they were interrupted by an explosion from
the sitting room--Fred and George at work again, naturally.

The party dispersed pretty quickly after that. The house elves got to work cleaning up the hot
pink and neon green mess the twin terrors had made, and Draco and Lucius saw off their
guests graciously.

‘See you next week!’ Draco chirped cheerfully at Ginny.

Lucius ground his teeth together and tried very hard to smile. Granger shot him a wicked
grin before she left, so he knew at least one person had seen through the act, and she was
incredibly amused by his irritation.
Annoying, that’s what she was. So annoying.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione Flooed back with Harry for a cup of tea before heading back to her flat. Harry was
never very good at hiding his feelings, and he hadn’t improved with age, so she could tell he
was just bursting to ask her something, hence the offer of a nightcap.

‘Well, out with it, then,’ she said after she had her cup of tea in hand. ‘What’s on your
mind?’

The words very nearly exploded out of him. ‘Luna says that you and Lucius were alone in
the library together.’

She raised a brow. ‘And?’

Harry leaned forward in his seat agitatedly. ‘And you were alone with him.’

‘I’m alone with Lucius a lot,’ she replied coolly.

He just stared at her with both brows raised, biting on his lower lip.

She rolled her eyes. ‘He was feeling down. Too many Weasleys, I think. He just needed a
little sane conversation. Of course, I unintentionally made things worse by pointing out that
Draco was walking in the gardens with Ginny, in a more than friendly way….’

Harry scratched at the back of his head, mussing up his hair even more. ‘Since when are you
Lucius’s shoulder to cry on?’

‘He didn’t cry,’ Hermione chuckled, amused by the very thought. ‘I think it was just an
accident of proximity. He chose to retreat to the library to be alone, and he was too polite to
kick me out when he found I was there already.’

‘You were gone a long time,’ Harry pressed. ‘ All you talked about was Ginny and Draco?
Which, by the way, is still weird.’

‘Well, we also talked about how responsible he feels for the fact that I was tortured in his
house.’

As expected, Harry immediately backed down, sitting back and his expression softening.

‘Does he?’ he asked softly.

‘Oh, yes,’ Hermione said wryly, swirling her tea. ‘And nothing I said seemed to make any
difference.’
Harry pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. ‘I had no idea Lucius knew what guilt was.’

Hermione cupped her chin in her hand. ‘He does. He feels guilty about a lot of things, he
just doesn’t want to admit it. He feels very guilty about everything he did as a Death Eater,
and all the things that happened during the war. He even feels guilty about Narcissa leaving.
I think he thinks it was his fault, and he feels bad that Draco misses her so much.’

‘Huh.’ He shook his head. ‘Well, if he won’t pay a therapist, I guess you’ll have to do.’

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Shut up, Harry.’

He grinned and gulped his tea.

 Aftermath
Chapter Summary

Lucius confronts his guilt and crashes. Hermione cooks, and Draco just tries to cope.

Chapter Notes

We get some consequences from the Weasley overload, and he and Hermione's little
chat. No more hiding for Lucius. Poor guy. I'm so mean to him.

I hope you enjoy! If you have any thoughts on the story, I'd love to hear from you. A big
thank you to all of you who've left me comments already, you've really encouraged me
and helped me keep my momentum going.

Draco was annoyingly chipper at breakfast the next morning. He was humming to himself.

Lucius couldn’t take it. He knew exactly why Draco was so chipper, and he wasn’t going to
let him pretend it was anything else.

‘I saw you walking with the Weasley girl,’ he announced during a break in the humming.

Draco met his eye, and then drew himself up, his expression darkening as he looked down his
nose at his own father.

‘And?’ he demanded coldly. ‘Is that a problem?’

Inwardly, Lucius called a retreat. Clearly, Draco was more infatuated with her than he’d
supposed, and he would not budge on this issue. He saw his future, full of Weasleys, and
swallowed. He would have to learn to accept it, somehow; he couldn’t bear to lose his son,
not over a Weasley or anyone else.

‘You didn’t even offer her your cloak,’ he said testily instead. ‘It was a cool September
evening and you asked her to go for a walk outside , and then you didn’t bother to offer her
your cloak. Have I taught you nothing?’

Draco’s expression eased. ‘We used Warming Charms,’ he replied mildly.

Lucius snorted. ‘Warming Charms are hardly romantic. Wrapping a girl in your cloak is
romantic.’
He smiled, shaking his head slightly. ‘I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Father.’

‘You do that.’

Next time , he thought, and tried not to sigh.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was a Friday, and Lucius was out of things to do after Draco left for the Ministry. He’d
done his homework already, having newfound pride in actually accomplishing that. He’d
written a six-page list of things he wished Muggle-borns knew about pureblood society (at
the top of which was ‘Don’t act like idiots’), and Draco had finally begged him to stop for the
time being, pointing out that six pages was a lot of ideas to go through, and he hadn’t even
had an opportunity to meet with Granger about it yet. The only thing left was the final
project, or getting even farther ahead on the homework. He didn’t want to get too far ahead,
and he had no ideas at all for the final project.

That was actually a problem, he reflected, staring at the library ceiling. They were coming
into the third week of September, and he had to have an approved idea turned in by the
Christmas break. Lucius was a firm believer in getting things approved ahead of time, and
the sooner he got it approved, the more time he would have to work on it. He expected to
need lots, and lots, and lots of time to work on it, because he had no idea at all how he was
going to come up with the answers to whatever question he managed to wrangle out of his
brain.

He had no plan of attack, and that was unlike him. He frowned at the ceiling. As much as it
pained him to admit it, he might have to ask Granger for help. It was rather difficult to start
doing something when one didn’t even know how to attempt to do it. And she had said that
they could ask her.

Still, it wasn’t something he really wanted to do, if he could help it. The very idea hurt his
pride, and…after her unexpected understanding over their…shared past, it felt awkward. He
wasn’t sure he could approach her with a request, knowing he owed her for her magnanimity.
She wouldn’t go back on what she had already said--she was far too Gryffindor--and the
whole conversation had settled any doubts he might have had that she would fail him out of
spite. Certainly, there were other things she could be angry with him about, or still hate him
for, but none as large and overt as the fact that she had been tortured right in front of him, on
his floor, and he had stood and done nothing, said nothing. Only hoped that perhaps the Dark
Lord would be pleased and his family would be safe and favoured again.

Disgusted, Lucius threw himself off the sofa and paced. Yes, he’d done terrible things. Yes,
he’d been a bit of a selfish bastard his whole life. Yes, he was more than a little bigoted.
Must he suffer for it forever?
According to the outside world, no. He just had to try to understand Muggles for a year, and
then he was through, free and clear. Lucius was more afraid that the pressure in his chest, the
tightening in his throat whenever he closed his eyes and thought back to those dark days
would never go away. He was afraid that Draco would never again look at him with a smile
undimmed by judgment, by the knowledge that when it came down to it, his father had led
him astray and put him in a terrible position. That he had failed him.

He sat and pressed one hand to his eyes. This was not thinking of Muggles. He needed to
think of Muggles . What did he know of them?

He knew how they screamed. He knew that they, like so many wizards, begged for their
loved ones to be spared. He knew that they were more fragile than wizards, that they bled
and died so much more easily. He knew that their homes were different, that they were
flimsier and had no wards, and that there was rarely enough space to torture them properly, so
they usually had to be levitated outside. He knew that Muggles cried when a loved one died,
the same as any wizard. He knew that the Muggle-borns would do anything to protect their
parents--even Obliviate them to remove all knowledge of a magical child and send them far
away, to some place like Australia, to protect them from people like Lucius, despite the
personal cost.

Lucius laid back on the sofa and put both hands over his face, trying to pretend that the
hitches in his breathing weren’t strangled sobs, and that there weren’t tears leaking out of the
corners of his eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione wasn’t supposed to know about the ‘surprise’ birthday party on Sunday. She was
turning twenty, and her friends were cooking up a large and festive get-together at the
Burrow. The problem was that none of them were any good at hiding things from her. Harry
and Ron tried not to grin whenever they saw her, and Neville would blush and mumble for a
while when talking to her at first. Ginny practically bounced with pent-up energy that she
couldn’t easily explain away, and even Draco was looking like the cat that got the canary.
She didn’t want to spoil their fun, so she pretended she didn’t know.

Still, Friday was the worst that they had been so far. When she popped down to the Ministry
for lunch, she got tired of watching Harry, Ron and Draco contorting their faces from trying
not to smile, and excused herself early.

Honestly, it was kind of cute, though she would never admit it.

She also didn’t want to spoil their fun by telling them about the ominous notes she continued
to receive weekly. She’d been receiving anonymous notes since the end of last term,
threatening ones, in a hand she didn’t recognise. They were never jinxed or hexed, so she
didn’t feel right turning them over to the Auror Office, but nonetheless, they were disturbing.
They seemed to imply that the person had met her before, as well, because several of the
notes mentioned ‘finishing what we started.’

She knew that there were still rogue Death Eaters out there. It was part of the reason Draco
remained somewhat paranoid about his safety, and why Lucius’s strict house arrest was
almost as much for his safety as it was to punish him. The Goyles, too, were under house
arrest, although they were at least permitted access to their own gardens. It was also why she
and Harry had no Apparation point on their properties (although Harry had designed his own
wards so that he alone could Apparate in and out of them), allowing Floo access only, and
then there were wards to ensure that only certain people could get through without
permission.

As much as she was aware of all of that, she was waiting for the right time to show them to
Harry and Draco. She knew they both had a lot on their plates, and she hadn’t wanted to
disturb them with a few nasty notes. They all regularly received actual death threats and
cursed letters, after all, so these seemed almost innocuous by comparison.

Her afternoon classes went by in a blur, and she found herself at loose ends. She couldn’t go
to the Burrow because of the party preparations she wasn’t supposed to know about, and
Neville and Harry were both going to be at the Burrow. Draco, as far as she knew, was
helping with the party by throwing money at it, judging by the fact that he was the only one
who hadn’t tried to come up with a lame excuse for why he couldn’t entertain her, so she
Flooed to the Ministry and went to his office.

She knocked three times on the open door, smiling when Draco looked up.

‘Can I come in?’

He smiled back and laid his quill down. ‘Certainly.’

She made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs across the desk from him, and took a
moment to observe him. His cheeks seemed to have taken on a permanent pink hue, and
even before he smiled at her, he’d been looking down at his budget reports with a lot more
pleasure than was warranted. His whole aspect was more relaxed and content than she’d ever
seen him.

‘What?’ he prompted, reddening a little more.

Hermione shrugged. ‘Nothing, just noticing how happy you look.’

His smile turned shy and secretive. ‘Yeah, well…I owled Ginny to let her know how much I
enjoyed our walk together, and she’s invited me to lunch tomorrow.’

She grinned widely. ‘Very nice, very nice. I told you she was interested.’

‘Yes, thank you, oh wise and powerful Hermione,’ he said dryly, but his happy expression
remained firmly affixed. ‘What would we ever do without you?’

‘Be single forever and ever, probably.’

He snorted and shook his head. ‘So what brings you by? I thought you were super, super
busy and that’s why you had to leave lunch early.’

Hermione chuckled. ‘No, I had to leave lunch early so that you all wouldn’t expire from
trying not to tell me about the party on Sunday.’

Draco’s jaw dropped. ‘How did you know?!’

She smirked. ‘It was kind of hard not to guess, when everyone starts squirming and looking
really, really pleased with themselves whenever I show up, and when I mentioned making
plans for the week-end, I thought Harry and Ron were going to burst a blood vessel from
trying not to say anything.’

Draco grinned. ‘That was particularly evil of you.’

Her smirk grew. She just shrugged innocently, though, and starting aligning Draco’s desk
clutter by right angles. He chuckled and stopped her from moving the picture frame.

‘How can I help you, Hermione?’ he said pointedly.

‘Well,’ she hedged, fidgeting.

He raised a brow.

‘I’m booooooooored,’ she whined.

He burst out laughing, rocking back in his chair.

‘What? I’ve read every book I own multiple times, there’s nothing new at any of the
bookshops, and I’ve done as much as I can on the project with Mandy until she is able to get
back with me. I graded all the homework, so I’ve got nothing to do.’

Draco continued to look greatly amused. ‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’

‘Well, I thought that maybe we could have dinner and look over the ideas you and your father
came up with for Wizarding Studies?’

She used her most pleading tone, and batted her eyelashes for good measure. Draco shook
his head and put away the reports, standing.

‘All right, but only because I gave the house elves the day off, so I need you to bring food,’
he said with mock sternness.

It was Hermione’s turn to gape. ‘You gave them the day off ?’

Draco cleared his throat and wouldn’t look at her. ‘Well, I was tired of them bothering me,
you know. And after that mess the twins made of my sitting room, it only seemed fair….’

Hermione spent a few minutes blinking, until Draco cleared his throat again. Rousing
herself, she followed him out of the office.
‘I’ll need to do some shopping first then,’ she said finally. ‘Can I just use your kitchen, rather
than transporting something from my house to yours?’

Draco shrugged. ‘Go ahead. What are you going to make?’

‘A pasta bake, if you don’t mind. It’s fast and easy.’

‘I don’t know what a pasta bake is, so go right ahead. I’m always up for an experiment,’ he
added cheerfully.

She pursed her lips. ‘How did your father feel about giving the house elves the day off?’

Draco glanced at her. ‘I, uh, forgot to mention it to him,’ he mumbled.

She stopped walking, pulling him to a stop with her. Fortunately, the hall they were in was
empty, but she put up a quick privacy charm anyway.

‘Draco. What do you think Lucius had for lunch? Or for breakfast?’

He appeared to have been hit between the eyes with a blunt instrument.

‘They made breakfast before they left,’ he said slowly, ‘but I didn’t think about lunch….’

She let out an annoyed breath through her nose. ‘I’m impressed and pleased that you thought
about your house elves’ welfare. Really, I am. But you can’t keep doing things like this to
your father.’

He scowled. ‘Doing things like what? Like, treating our servants kindly? I’m sorry I forgot
to tell him, but it’s not the end of the world! I’ll make it up to him. Or rather, you’ll make it
up to him by feeding him and then he won’t be hungry anymore.’

Hermione had to resist the urge to stamp her foot, or to shake Draco with the pure frustration.
She also had to try very hard not to grind her teeth--having dentists for parents had taught
her that that was not good.

‘I’m not talking about him missing a meal,’ she snapped, in spite of her attempts at control.
‘He does that to himself often enough that he probably didn’t even notice.’

‘Then what are you--’

‘I’m talking about you making major decisions without even consulting him! Decisions, by
the way, that directly affect him!’

‘Hey, it was your idea to invite the Weasleys over!’ he snarled back defensively.

‘But it was not my idea to announce it to Lucius the way you did. You just told him that we
all were coming over, whether he liked it or not , to use your own words.’

That brought Draco up short. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
‘And now you gave the house elves the day off and didn’t even remember to tell him, let
alone ask him if he was okay with it,’ she went on, lowering her voice with an effort. ‘And
you ask me why he gets upset? Why he stops talking to you and stops eating?’

He made an exasperated noise and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Well, what am I supposed to
do, ask his permission every time I do something?’ he demanded helplessly.

She shook her head. ‘Not every time you do something, but every time you do something
that’s going to affect him. I’m also not saying that you have to ask his permission. You’re an
adult now, you can decide for yourself who you associate with and what you do with
yourself. What I am saying is that you and Lucius would probably be on better terms more
often if you told him what you were planning to do ahead of time and then asked if he was
okay with it.’

He folded his arms, a slight pout emerging. ‘And what if he says no?’

Hermione sighed, putting her hands on her hips. ‘It’s called discussion, Draco.
Communication. If he says no, he’s not okay with it, then you ask him why not. You never
know, he just might have a good reason. And if he can’t come up with a good reason why
not, then you tell him your reasons, and see if you can’t change his mind. If he can’t sway
you and you can’t sway him, then you compromise. It’s a term I believe you Slytherins are
familiar with when you wish to be.’

He ducked his head, the pout more pronounced. ‘I never claimed to be good at this.’

‘No one is asking you to be the most amazingly functional family ever within five minutes.
I’m just telling you what you can do to improve the situation. Right now, you’re being Lord
of the Manor and treating Lucius like his opinions don’t matter.’ She smiled wryly. ‘And
I’m sure some of them are less open-minded than we could wish. But if you want him to stay
on an even keel, you can’t keep lording over him. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Good,’ said Hermione, and they kept walking. ‘Am I still invited?’

Draco snorted. ‘My father will starve if you don’t come, so yes.’ He paused. ‘And
unfortunately, I think you may have a point. Why are you always right?’

‘Because I’m amazing,’ she said cheekily.

He snorted again and shook his head. Hermione grinned, and they parted ways at the Floo
center.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Either the house elves had stopped listening to him full stop, or they weren’t around today.
Whatever the reason, his summons went unanswered, so the library fireplace remained cold
and empty. Lucius stared at it anyway. He was lying on his side, on the sofa he’d been
occupying all day. He was cold, but moving to get a blanket or some socks would require
energy, so he resigned himself to being cold. He had no idea what time it was, nor did he
care.

‘Father?’

Draco’s voice echoed through the house. He heard it move as Draco checked the sitting room
and his bedroom. He didn’t bother to answer.

‘Oh! Father, there you are,’ Draco said with obvious relief. ‘Didn’t you hear me calling?’

Lucius shrugged one shoulder.

Draco padded over and touched his cheek, his forehead, probably checking for fever. He
hissed in a breath.

‘You’re freezing! Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?’

Lucius just grunted and blinked slowly at the empty fireplace.

Draco turned away and with a swish of his wand, there was a fire blazing in the hearth. He
walked over to a different sofa and retrieved a blanket off the back, which he laid over
Lucius, before sitting on the floor beside him and rubbing Lucius’s hands between his
vigorously.

Lucius let him do what he wanted.

‘Father?’ he prodded worriedly. ‘Talk to me. Has something happened? Are you ill?’

Lucius pulled his tongue off the roof of his mouth with an effort. ‘No.’

Draco arranged Lucius’s arms under the blanket and tucked it around his hands. His brow
was still wrinkled with concern. He reached up and stroked Lucius’s hair back, as Lucius had
done for him when he was sick as a child.

‘Father, please tell me what’s wrong,’ he pleaded softly. ‘I want to help you.’

He couldn’t help the soft snort that escaped him then. ‘You can’t help. There’s nothing
wrong,’ he lied, because everything was wrong. He was wrong.

Draco shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I gave the house elves the day off. I
should have asked you first.’

Lucius let his eyes slide back to the fire. ‘I don’t care,’ he said flatly, because he didn’t.

A pause. ‘I’ve invited Hermione over to talk about our project. Is…is that okay?’
‘Sure,’ he said, because he still didn’t care.

Draco paused again. ‘She’s going to make us dinner.’

Lucius’s eyes fastened immediately on Draco’s. Draco gave a small smile.

‘There you are,’ he teased gently, as though Lucius hadn’t been lying there the whole time.
‘She’s going to make us something called a pasta bake. I have no idea what it is.’

Lucius’s stomach stirred for the first time all day.

‘It will be good,’ he asserted, and stiffly moved to sit up.

Draco hopped to his feet and fluttered around him nervously. ‘Father, you don’t have to get
up if you don’t feel like it--’

‘If Miss Granger is going to be here, I need to be at least somewhat presentable,’ Lucius
interrupted, casting the blanket aside and forcing himself to his feet. ‘As someone pointed
out to me recently, Malfoys don’t entertain in bare feet.’

Draco had the grace to look abashed. ‘I’m sure she would understand….’

‘She can’t see me like this,’ Lucius snapped defensively, and hurried from the room.

It was bad enough that Draco had seen him being weak again, but at least he was family. He
couldn’t bear it if anyone else saw him moping around, being weak and pathetic.

He went up to his room and changed his rumpled clothing, brushing out his mussed hair and
donning some socks and shoes. He didn’t need to be as finely arrayed as he had been for the
dinner party, but he needed to at least look as good as he did when he went to class.

He was just in time, too, because he was smoothing back his hair with his tonic when he
heard Granger’s voice echo in the hallway downstairs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘How is he?’ Hermione asked without preamble when she arrived.

Draco’s distress was pretty blatant, and could really only have two sources. Since she didn’t
think Ginny would turn around and cancel that quickly, that left only one other person.

He sighed. ‘Better, now that he knows you’re coming and making dinner.’

He took one of the two bags from her and led the way to the kitchen.

‘But he wasn’t good before,’ she surmised, and did not examine why the knowledge that she
was making him food had improved Lucius’s mood.
‘He was lying on a sofa in the library, staring into space,’ Draco said glumly. ‘He was
freezing cold and wouldn’t move or talk. I have no idea how long he’d been there.’

This was worrying. Lucius’s high points seemed to be getting higher, but his lows were
lower than they’d been since Draco took the alcohol away.

‘Were you able to get him to tell you why?’ she asked with a frown as they arrived and set
the bags down on the counter.

‘No. He kept insisting there wasn’t a problem, and he didn’t even seem to care that I gave
the house elves the day off. Although I’m sure the missed meal didn’t help.’ He frowned,
rubbing his jaw. ‘He didn’t seem to care about anything at all, until I mentioned that you
were making dinner.’

Again, Hermione shook that off. If she thought about it at all, she would only overthink it.
Obviously, Lucius just enjoyed home-cooked meals.

‘Maybe you should ask Mrs Weasley to bring him some lunches sometime,’ she suggested
doubtfully. ‘It would be a little company during the day, and he seems to enjoy food that isn’t
made by house elves.’

Draco cocked his head. ‘You don’t sound sure of that idea.’

She waved a hand and continued unpacking her supplies. ‘It’s Mrs Weasley. I’m not sure
how he’ll react to her on her own,’ she half-lied.

She didn’t express or even acknowledge to herself the niggling doubt that whispered it was
Hermione’s cooking that Lucius liked. The very idea was absurd.

He mulled that over for a moment. ‘I’ll have to ask him, but I think he has less of a problem
with Molly than he does any of the rest of them. At least he appreciates her ability to keep
the twins in line--most of the time.’

Lucius himself appeared in the doorway then, and Hermione was glad she’d kept the door in
her sights so she saw his approach this time.

‘The key phrase there is “most of the time”,’ he drawled, ‘as our sitting room would attest.’

Draco smiled. ‘Agreed.’

Lucius offered her a small bow, an abbreviated version of the one the Malfoys normally used.

‘Miss Granger.’

She smiled. ‘Mr Malfoy.’

His eyes grazed over the counters. ‘That is a lot of food. Exactly what does this “pasta bake”
entail?’
Her smile widened, and she touched each package as she identified it. ‘Ground beef. Bow-
tie pasta. Puréed tomatoes. Various spices. Mozzarella cheese. Green onions. And then, to
go with it, bread, which I’m going to turn into cheesy garlic bread.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and his eyes were a little brighter.

There had been no sign of his earlier state except his eyes, she realised. He was once again
the immaculate and elegant Mr Malfoy, except his eyes, which had been flat and dull. She
only noticed now, when they started to come alive again. Again, she wondered how he
managed to appear so arrogant and sophisticated after lying on a sofa and refusing to move
less than a half hour ago. It was almost a superpower, and it made her wonder just how often
she’d looked at him and seen only cold superiority when something very different was going
on underneath.

She shook the thoughts away and continued preparing, getting some water boiling and getting
the ground beef started browning.

‘Did Draco tell you we’re going to be working on our project after dinner?’ she asked, not
looking up from her preparations.

‘I did,’ said Draco.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lucius drawled. ‘I will make myself scarce after we’ve eaten.’

She glanced up in surprise. He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded,
appearing very nonchalant, but his eyes had darkened again.

‘Actually, I was going to ask if you would mind joining us,’ she said, allowing her surprise to
filter into her voice. ‘Draco tells me that you’ve made a very thorough list, and I’d really like
it if we could discuss your ideas with you.’

Lucius had been playing the game a lot longer than she had; the only sign of his own surprise
was that his brows rose by a hair’s-breadth. The shadow faded from his eyes again.

‘I would consider it an honour, Miss Granger,’ he said, his voice very deep and smooth.

She couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not, so she accepted it at face value. She also very
fiercely ignored the funny fluttery feeling that had developed in her stomach when he spoke.

‘Good,’ she said firmly, and Draco changed the subject to something that had happened at
work.

She only managed to half-listen, her attention divided by cooking, and the sudden awareness
she had of Lucius’s proximity.

It had nothing to do with fear.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Dinner went over very well, especially with Lucius, and then they retired to the sitting room.
Much to Hermione’s surprise, Lucius and Draco were the ones who started arguing over the
merits of teaching certain things, like The Tales of Beedle the Bard , which Lucius insisted
was a stupid, boring, insipid collection of nonsense, and Draco insisted was a valid thing to
teach because all wizarding children grew up with those stories, so it would help Muggle-
borns with context. Hermione had pointed out that she taught a few Muggle fairy tales in her
class, but then had stayed well out of it as neither one of them seemed inclined to listen to
her.

She stirred her tea and watched with amusement. It was like a tennis match.

She also was taking the time to reflect a little. The realisation in the kitchen that she had lost
her fear of Lucius had startled her so much that she nearly chopped off her finger. It had then
broadened into an awareness that she was not afraid of Malfoy Manor anymore. The
sensation of having a crawling itch at the back of her mind had fled, and she was trying to
peg down when it had happened.

Her best guess as far as the Manor at large went was that she’d stopped being afraid because
of the dinner party. She’d been relaxed, happy, and welcome, and she’d even got something
resembling an apology from Lucius.

Lucius himself was a different matter, and it actually worried her that she looked at him and
felt no fear. She’d only been teaching him for two weeks; she couldn’t afford to lose that
extra layer of caution. Just because she knew he was currently depressed and lonely
shouldn’t have influenced her so much. She also knew that he was only being civil to her
because he currently had no other options.

She admonished herself to be more careful of him again, trying to stir up the wariness she’d
felt before. It did not work.

This newfound confidence that Lucius would never harm her had come from nowhere, and
she had no assurances that in June, when his wand was restored, he wouldn’t turn on her. She
had no right to have such faith in him--she barely knew him! Yet there it was, an unshakable,
steady feeling that she was safe with him.

This was not good.

‘Earth to Hermione!’

She started, then wandlessly vanished the tea she’d spilled. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

Draco frowned at her. ‘Unhappy thoughts?’

She tried to muster a smile. ‘A little. They’re gone now, don’t worry. What did I miss?’

‘We’ve agreed to let you decide about Beedle the Bard ,’ he said glumly. ‘Although Father
still thinks they’re rubbish. Why did you and Mother read them to me if they were so awful,
may I ask?’

‘It’s tradition,’ Lucius sniffed.

‘If you think a tradition is horrible, you throw it away ,’ Draco argued.

Lucius opened his mouth, visibly bristling, and Hermione quickly interceded.

‘Let’s just not discuss the merits of tradition right now. How about we instead talk about how
to teach Muggle-borns about the Statute of Secrecy in a way they’ll understand? I see that’s
near the top of your list, Mr Malfoy.’

The two Malfoys shot each other dark looks, but otherwise allowed the subject change.
Hermione hoped that didn’t mean they were going to start screaming at one another as soon
as she left, but there was very little she could do about it if they did.

It was a problem she hadn’t foreseen when Draco was pulling his head out of his backside
and learning to treat everyone with respect. He was now seeing the world in a totally new
way, a way that was completely different from what his father believed and had raised him to
believe. More than just the surface level of not treating Muggle-borns and so-called ‘blood
traitors’ like trash, Draco was essentially saying that pure-blood traditions were stupid and
should be cast aside like last week’s fruitcake. Even if he didn’t mean all of the traditions,
that was undoubtedly how it had come off to Lucius, and she didn’t see how they were going
to reconcile their differing world views.

It made her feel a little guilty for her part in it, but she couldn’t very well say that Draco
ought to go back to being the self-righteous bigot he’d been before, so there was nothing she
could do to help. As with the Weasleys, she had to accept that there were some battles that
were not hers to fight, and she couldn’t aid the combatants. It was very hard for Hermione,
meddling do-gooder that she was, to swallow, but she liked to think she was getting better at
it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius half expected Draco to pick up where they’d left off when Hermione departed, but he
didn’t. Instead, he told him about his date with Ginny Weasley the following day, so Lucius’s
relief was mixed with despair.

‘It’s only for lunch, so I won’t be gone that long,’ Draco said for about the fiftieth time as
they headed for bed.

‘I think I’ll survive,’ Lucius replied dryly.

‘Are you sure?’

He stopped, his hand on the stair rail, and looked at Draco quizzically. His son was wringing
his hands and chewing his lip, and generally looking like a worried mess.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Lucius demanded, genuinely confused.

Draco swallowed. ‘Well…this afternoon, you….’

Lucius winced at the reminder. This was why he usually hid in his room. No one needed to
see his weakness.

‘I just don’t want you to…do anything,’ Draco went on in a strained voice. ‘Do anything,
you know, bad , if you’re, uh…upset, and I’m not here.’

Lucius blinked at him, trying to comprehend this strange sentiment, and not succeeding.

‘Bad?’ he echoed, quite lost.

Draco squirmed. ‘You know. Like, if you decide life isn’t worth living anymore….’

It clicked. ‘I’m not going to kill myself!’ he exploded. ‘Why would I do that?! Why would
you even think that?!’

Draco looked miserable. ‘I just worry, about you. You seem so…. I just…don’t know what
you’re thinking, sometimes, and I don’t know how to help.’

Lucius’s jaw worked. ‘Well, I’m fine. I don’t need your help. And I am not going to kill
myself. Do you understand?’

How could he atone for anything if he was dead? How would being dead improve the
situation at all? If he wanted to be dead, he wouldn’t wake up terrified every night from the
dreams of dying in Azkaban.

Draco did not look appeased. ‘May I have your word on that?’

He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘You have my word. I am not going to kill myself.’

Draco studied him for a moment, then nodded once. Lucius turned away from him and
continued up the stairs.

It had never even occurred to him, actually. Lucius admitted that he was being pathetic. He
was miserable right now, and most of the time he hated himself, now that Granger and the
crazy girl had apparently opened some kind of floodgate inside him that made him
acknowledge how he was feeling. But he’d never once wanted to die. He wanted to atone
for his sins, he wanted to help the people who were still around that he’d hurt, and he
couldn’t do that if he was dead.

Above all, no matter how much he probably deserved to die, Lucius wanted to live more than
anything. The drive for survival was very strong, and he couldn’t imagine a circumstance in
which he wouldn’t want to keep on breathing. Even with the Dark Lord in his house,
breathing down his neck, he had still found the will to keep going. If that didn’t make him
want to kill himself, nothing would.

He was so riled that sleep was elusive, and when it did come, the nightmare inevitably came
with it.

He didn’t realise that he’d forgotten to lock the door this time until, at the same moment in
the nightmare when he breathed water, hands closed around his shoulders and he was shaken
awake.

His eyes snapped open but didn’t focus immediately. He was shaking again, sweat-soaked,
his heart pounding and breathing heavily.

‘Father, look at me!’

It was Draco, and he sounded panicked. Lucius squinted and his eyes focused, finally.

‘I don’t want to die, Draco,’ he choked out miserably.

Draco pulled him up against him, wrapped his arms tightly around him. Lucius saw that
Draco’s hands were trembling, too, but he was shaking so badly himself that he couldn’t feel
Draco’s tremors.

‘I know,’ Draco mumbled into his hair. ‘I know you don’t want to die. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I
said that.’

Other than Granger’s visit, today had been a really, really bad day. Lucius buried his face in
Draco’s shirt and made no attempt to extricate himself from the hug this time. His breathing
slowed gradually, but he still shook with fear and exhaustion.

‘Don’t leave me,’ he pleaded in a very small voice.

Draco hugged him tighter and started to rock him. ‘Never, Father.’
 Birthday Weekend
Chapter Summary

Lucius recovers from his breakdown with Hermione's help. Draco hovers and has a date.
Hermione enjoys her birthday party.

Chapter Notes

Not a whole lot to say about this one, I guess. The facts Lucius recites were either things
that are common knowledge or they were on Wikipedia. Mostly, I just wanted to show
Hermione and Lucius getting along alone, outside of a classroom setting, and not
because Lucius was hiding from the Weasleys this time. ;) I enjoyed writing that bit, so
hopefully you'll enjoy reading it.

Lucius felt…fragile the next day. He could think of no other way to describe it. Tears always
seemed embarrassingly close to the surface, and he felt shaky and nervous. Draco watched
him with sympathetic wariness for most of the morning, particularly after Lucius couldn’t
seem to eat. He’d tried, so that Draco wouldn’t be worried, but his stomach seemed to knot
up after a few bites of toast, and he had to give up, because vomiting would be even more
embarrassing. The food didn’t taste like anything anyway.

Draco ensconced him in the library with a blanket and a roaring fire, and very kindly didn’t
say anything when Lucius couldn’t thank him without choking up a little. It was stupid, and
humiliating, and he hated it, but he couldn’t seem to get himself back under control. He tried
to read, but the words didn’t register. He kept up the charade anyway, so Draco wouldn’t
worry even more.

‘When are you supposed to leave for your date?’ he asked quietly when it was nearing noon.

Draco checked his watch. ‘In about…twenty minutes. Father, I can cancel if you’d--’

‘No, no. Go. Have fun. Buy her flowers.’

Draco just stared at him with that worried look.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he insisted, drawing himself up a bit. ‘I think I can be by myself for an hour or
two.’

‘I don’t feel right, leaving you alone….’

‘Where can you find a babysitter at this late notice?’ Lucius joked.

A light seemed to dawn for his son, and he grinned. Lucius had a very bad feeling.

‘Hermione Granger is bored this week-end,’ Draco said wickedly. ‘I’ll bet she’d hop over.’

‘Draco, no --’

‘I’m going to ask!’

‘She won’t want to--’

‘You don’t know!’

And Draco ran out of the room. Lucius dropped his book in his lap and folded his arms with
an exasperated sigh. Couldn’t Draco tell when he heard a joke anymore?

Draco returned practically bouncing with excitement. ‘She says that she’ll come if you’re all
right with entertaining her for a while, and if you say yes she wants to know what you want
for lunch.’

Well…that altered matters slightly. He sighed in defeat. At the very least, it was an
opportunity to ask her for help with his final project.

‘I don’t know how entertaining I’ll be, but she may come over,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And tell
her I usually just have whatever sandwich the house elves deign to give me for lunch.’

Draco sped out of the room with very little dignity. Lucius shook his head with another sigh.
He wasn’t moving this time. He was comfortable, and the meddlesome witch could bloody
well deal with his bare feet and shirtsleeves. His feet were hidden by the blanket anyway.

Although, he was blaming the wrong person. Draco just had to take everything so literally!

Granger arrived alone, carrying a cloth tote. She smiled apologetically and put her free hand
in her pocket. She was wearing some rather scruffy Muggle clothes--jeans and an old,
fraying jumper. She looked very natural and relaxed.

‘Draco sends his love, but he was going to be late if he didn’t go and he wanted to still have
time to pick up flowers,’ she recited. Then she noticed his gaze and looked down at herself
briefly. ‘Sorry. I didn’t have time to change, and these are my Saturday “lying around the
house” comfy clothes.’

Lucius shrugged slightly. ‘I’m hardly dressed for company, either. Draco didn’t give either
of us much choice.’

She chuckled. ‘No, he really didn’t. He is a force of nature when he wants to be. Why did
he want me over here so badly, anyway?’

He huffed out a breath. ‘He didn’t bother to tell you? I had a…bad moment last night, and
now he thinks I’ll break if I’m left alone for more than five minutes,’ he admitted
uncomfortably. ‘I’m still a little…off-balance today.’

She grimaced. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?’

Lucius shook his head, but was inexplicably warmed by the question.

‘Well, I’ll just go fix us up some lunch and then I’ll be back.’

She flounced out of the room when he nodded, and he laid his head back. He was tired, and
that was a big part of the problem. Dealing with all of those people on Thursday had taken
more mental energy than he cared to admit. And he so rarely got a restful night’s sleep
anymore. Draco’s offer of Dreamless Sleep potion was becoming very, very tempting, but he
was afraid of growing dependent on it, especially now, when his nightly terror seemed to be
getting worse, not better. Draco had spent the rest of last night with him and ended up
waking him twice more when the nightmare took hold again.

Lucius couldn’t help but make the connection between last night’s increased frequency and
his realisation during the day that he was a very, very bad person--a monster, almost. It
seemed that even his subconscious agreed that he deserved to be punished much more
harshly than he was.

He closed his eyes--just for a moment--and then woke to the sublime smell of something hot
and cheesy. He lifted his head to see Granger hovering uncertainly in the doorway with two
plates.

‘I wasn’t sleeping,’ he said defensively, pulling himself into a more upright position.

Granger’s uncertainty evaporated and she crossed to his side, extending one plate to him.

‘Of course you weren’t,’ she agreed easily. ‘There’s no harm in resting your eyes when
you’ve been reading.’

‘Exactly.’

He took the plate and examined the two sandwiches and small pile of crisps. He’d never
eaten crisps before, because it was Muggle food, but it did make the sandwiches seem less
lonely.

Granger settled into the armchair Draco had been occupying earlier and put her feet up on the
ottoman with a sigh of contentment. A thick red book had emerged from the tote or her other
bag at some point.

‘What kind of sandwiches are these?’ he asked.

He didn’t want to bite into it and get a nasty surprise--like bologna. Yuck .

‘Oh, one is grilled ham and cheddar, and the other is grilled turkey and swiss. I wasn’t sure
what you’d like.’
Lucius mulled that over for a second before giving an approving nod. Neither of those
seemed offensive. His stomach was still uneasy, though, so he ate a lot slower than he
would’ve liked. The taste was divine, as always when Granger made something, except for
the crisps, which he assumed were store-bought, since they had that foil-and-plastic taste.
Either that, or crisps always tasted like that. He wouldn’t know.

He actually wondered why Granger had chosen to become a teacher and not a chef. She
outstripped the house elves by lengths, and he would’ve gladly eaten at her restaurant,
Muggle-born or no.

Then he closed his eyes at his own thought, letting out a slow breath. He had to stop thinking
like that, if he was to make amends and regain Draco’s respect. The fact that she was a
Muggle-born had to stop factoring into his thoughts at all.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. He had a lifetime to overcome.

‘Is everything all right?’

He looked at her quickly, warily. ‘Yes, just…an unpleasant thought.’

She nodded her understanding and went back to her own food and book. Lucius watched her
for a moment, unaware that one corner of his mouth curled up with something like fond
amusement. She was happily munching, one foot turning back and forth like a very rapid
pendulum as she read.

He…appreciated her. Unlike Draco, who was well-meaning but smothering, Granger had
accepted his answer graciously, evidently believing that Lucius would tell her if something
truly was wrong. She respected his space and his privacy despite having come at Draco’s
behest, offering company if he wanted it simply by being there, but otherwise not intruding.
He picked up his own book and found that he could actually read it this time, enjoying the
silent but steady company beside him, something deep inside him unclenching just a little.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘What are you reading?’

Hermione started. They’d been sitting, each quietly absorbed in their own reading, for over
an hour, and Lucius’s question had come out of nowhere. He was watching her expectantly,
one finger stuck in his own book to mark his place. Apparently, he was in need of a break.

She jammed a finger in her book, too, letting it fall into her lap with a thump.

‘ The Lord of the Rings ,’ she said, slightly dreading his reaction when she had to explain that
it was a Muggle book. ‘It’s a fiction novel.’

‘I have never heard of it,’ said Lucius, after thinking for a moment.
She drew a slow breath. ‘It was written by a Muggle. J. R. R. Tolkien.’

‘Ah.’

And that was it. No snide comment, no sneer, just a slight nod of comprehension.

‘What is it about?’

Hermione blinked away her surprise. ‘Um. It’s about a Dark Lord’--she pretended not to
notice when Lucius went white--‘who wants to take over a place called Middle-earth, but in
order to do that, he needs his magic ring, but it just so happens that he can’t find it, because a
creature called a Hobbit has it. The Hobbit’s name is Frodo, and he takes on the quest to
venture into the Dark Lord Sauron’s realm and destroy the ring.’

Lucius frowned. ‘Why does he have to go to Sauron’s realm to do that?’

‘Well, it can only be destroyed by really, really hot and powerful fire. They haven’t got any
dragons lying around, so the only place it can be destroyed is in the volcano, Mount Doom,
where it was forged in the first place, and that’s in Sauron’s realm.’ She paused. ‘I heard
recently that they’re making a film based on the book, and that made me want to re-read it.’

‘What’s a film?’

Hermione smiled. ‘You’ll find out later in the term. For now, suffice to say that it’s the
Muggle version of pictures that move.’

‘I see.’

He’d probably been in enough Muggle houses to have noticed that their pictures were
generally not given to moving.

‘Does Frodo manage to destroy it?’ he asked after a moment of frowning, apparently
contemplating.

Hermione debated how to answer that. ‘No,’ she admitted finally. ‘He doesn’t.’

Lucius’s frown deepened. ‘Then Sauron wins and takes over the world?’ he demanded, an
incredulous edge in his voice. ‘Why would you read such a depressing book?’

She laughed. ‘Oh, Sauron doesn’t win. It’s bittersweet, but it’s not depressing.’

Then she gnawed her lip for a moment. She really, really didn’t want to be snapped at, but he
seemed genuinely interested….

‘You could…borrow it sometime,’ she offered tentatively. ‘If you want.’

Lucius blinked at her. Her stomach dropped and she wished she could rewind the last forty
seconds and un-say that.

‘Perhaps,’ he said at last, and Hermione breathed again.

‘What is your book about?’ she returned, feeling a bit bolder.

He tapped his leg with the book, once, and looked at her wryly. ‘It’s a fiction novel.’

A smile slowly spread across her face. The sight of it seemed to ease him.

‘A young wizard goes on a quest to find the Firebird, to save his dying wife.’ He paused. ‘I,
too, am revisiting an old favourite. Draco hates it.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘He says it’s depressing,’ said Lucius, with another wry smile, ‘but I say it’s bittersweet.’

Hermione giggled--she couldn’t help it. ‘I see, I see. So he doesn’t find the Firebird?’

‘Oh, no, he finds the bird, but his wife still dies.’

She frowned a little. ‘That is depressing.’

Lucius shook his head. ‘Saving his wife wasn’t actually the point of the book. You’d have to
read it to understand.’ He hesitated. ‘You could…borrow it,’ he added, mimicking her own
tentative offer.

‘I’d like that,’ she said warmly, feeling a little more touched than was probably warranted.

To her surprise, he looked away like he was embarrassed and flipped his book back open. He
didn’t start reading again, though, so she didn’t, either, studying his face while she waited for
him to say whatever was on his mind.

She could see why Draco had been so worried. Today, Lucius had not pulled himself back
together the way he always did after a bout of depression. His face was drawn, he hadn’t
shaved, his hair was obviously brushed but still appeared scraggly and unkempt, like he
hadn’t put much effort into it. He was pallid and sickly-looking, and there were dark
smudges beneath his slightly-sunken eyes, eyes that had no spark or depth at all today,
instead appearing watery and pale. She felt a tug in the region of her heart and was moved to
pity, but she was careful to keep it covered. Neither of the Malfoys appreciated pity, Lucius
least of all.

‘Miss Granger…’ he began reluctantly.

‘Hermione,’ she corrected.

Lucius’s eyes snapped to hers. She made a deliberate effort to smile innocently.

‘We’re not in class. You can call me Hermione, if you want to,’ she said with a casual ease
she didn’t really feel.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally said, ‘What I’m about to ask you has to do
with class, though.’
She shoved the disappointment that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling under a mental rug
and kept smiling.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I….’ His face twisted slightly as he struggled with something--his pride, or the correct
wording, or something else she couldn’t see. ‘I need…your help. I can’t come up with a
topic for the final project.’

That explained his difficulty getting the request out. She wondered how much it had cost his
pride to ask a Muggle-born for help.

‘You don’t wonder anything about Muggles?’ she asked lightly.

Lucius scowled. ‘No. And I don’t know where to start wondering about them. I tried
looking through the textbook, as you suggested, but it just left me more at a loss than before,’
he admitted sourly.

Hermione’s smile became more genuine at the pouty tone. He very strongly reminded her of
Draco in his less-pleasant years at times like this, and it was extremely amusing. It was also
more touching than it should’ve been that he’d tried her suggestion before asking for help,
and she sternly reminded herself that she was both his teacher and someone he considered an
enemy, and she needed to be more wary.

It was just hard, when he was sitting there looking so haggard and fragile.

‘You have plenty of time to think about it, Mr Malfoy,’ she reminded him gently. ‘You don’t
have to have an idea until Christmas, and it’s only mid-September. If you want to think about
it some more--’

‘I want to get it approved as quickly as possible so I can get it done ahead of time,’ he
interrupted agitatedly.

And now Hermione was reminded of herself. It was…surreal, actually. And it made her
wonder….

‘How many seats are there in Parliament?’ she shot off, in her most strict teacher voice.

‘1,495,’ Lucius replied succinctly.

‘What is the American system of government called?’

‘A presidential democracy.’

‘What year was the first Muggle radio news program broadcast?’

‘1920.’

‘Who invented the first patented telephone?’

‘Alexander Graham Bell.’

‘How do you operate a mobile telephone?’

‘Ensure that it is on and operational, dial the number that you want, and press the button that
says “talk” or has a picture of a rotary telephone on it.’

‘How many chapters ahead are you?’

‘Three.’

Hermione grinned, the teacher’s rare thrill of having a good, dedicated student making her a
bit light-headed for a moment; Lucius smirked back at her. In truth, two of those answers
could only be found in the footnotes, which they were not required to read, and Hermione
didn’t test for them. He had just unintentionally admitted to going above and beyond the
required reading.

‘Well,’ said Hermione, a tad breathlessly. ‘Well.’

He raised a brow at her.

‘Sorry,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Most of my students are, like you, required to be there, and
they make it very plain that they don’t want to be by being as un-engaged as possible. It’s
rare for me to find a student so…well-prepared.’

‘If I fail, I go to Azkaban,’ he reminded her dryly. ‘I have a unique motivation that your
other students do not share.’

She still couldn’t stop grinning. ‘The Goyles share it, and I’ve had to go over to their house
on six separate occasions to help them. They’re behind a chapter, actually, even with my help
and helping each other.’

Lucius was unimpressed. ‘They’re Goyles. They’re morons. I’m insulted that you’d even
think to compare me with them.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, but she wasn’t.

He snorted and shook his head, but seemed to accept her apology at face value anyway.

‘Will you help me or not?’ he demanded testily, fiddling with his blanket and not looking at
her.

She softened. ‘Of course I’ll help you.’

Actually, it gave her a rather awful, wonderful idea that would hopefully kill two birds with
one stone. She might not be able to pull it off, though, so she kept it to herself for the time
being.

‘I’ll have to brainstorm for a while and get back to you,’ she said after a moment. ‘If I come
up with anything that’s too me , people will think I did it for you, and that wouldn’t be fair to
you.’

He conceded that point. ‘You’ll owl me a list?’

She snorted. ‘I’ll give it to Draco when I see him, and he can give it to you. Owls are
impersonal, and somewhat dangerous these days,’ she added darkly.

Lucius’s surprise was evident. ‘Oh?’

‘Hasn’t Draco mentioned to you? We’ve all been getting cursed letters and death threats ever
since the war ended,’ she explained, frowning at the thought of her ominous notes. ‘You’d
probably be getting them, too, if Draco wasn’t blocking all owls for the two of you and
having the Ministry intercept them first. It’s routine now to check every letter you get for
hexes and curses before you even touch it. Most of us just Floo call if we have something to
say, and if we miss each other, it’ll keep until later. In an emergency, we would just send
Patronus messages anyway.’

Lucius blinked. ‘Draco can do that, too?’

‘What, cast a Patronus?’ She had the sudden feeling that she’d just stepped on a landmine.
‘Yes, he can. He learned last year, when Harry asked for his help with destroying the
Dementors.’

She had very definitely ventured into dangerous territory. Lucius had turned another shade
whiter, and his expression was lost and a touch hurt.

‘I didn’t know he helped with that,’ he said faintly. ‘He never told me.’

Hermione felt sick with guilt. ‘The two of you weren’t, exactly…on the best of terms then.
I’m sure it just slipped his mind after….’

He shook his head minutely. ‘What form is his Patronus?’

She had to think. Fortunately, it had been a very long time since any of them had had to use
them.

‘It’s a horse, I think. It’s been a long time, and Ginny’s is also a horse, so I might be
confusing the two of them.’

He nodded vaguely, his brow furrowing. ‘I never could cast it.’

The admission was soft and almost Luna-like, as though he didn’t know he was saying it
aloud. Hermione frowned at him and wondered how or even if she should respond, but
fortunately, Draco returned at that moment.

‘Father, Hermione,’ he greeted, floating in on a cloud of oblivious joy. ‘I just had the most
amazing lunch ever.’

This time, Hermione got to see the transformation at work. Lucius’s expression was lost and
unfocused one moment, and the next, a mask seemed to slide over his entire body. He
straightened, his eyes sharpened, his expression was once again cool and controlled
arrogance. Even his shirt seemed to gain a little starch, the collar stiffening up, which she
knew was actually impossible, but it was the impression he gave. It was a near-
instantaneous, smooth, and awe-inspiring thing to see. She admitted to being a little jealous;
she’d never been as bad as Harry, but she’d never come within miles of showing the kind of
emotional control Lucius had just displayed.

‘Oh?’ he inquired politely.

‘Yeah,’ said Draco dreamily, and collapsed into a chair with a silly, sloppy smile on his face.

Hermione laughed at him with no compunction whatsoever. ‘You look like a doofus.’

She was more than a little annoyed that she’d unintentionally upset Lucius because of
Draco’s lack of communication, and she was getting tired of fixing all of their father-son
relationship problems in general. She didn’t mind helping, but she didn’t like being the
scapegoat who took the brunt of Lucius’s reaction when he found out things from her that
Draco should have told him.

‘Hmm,’ Draco hummed, and continued to smile stupidly.

‘What happened to make it so amazing?’ Lucius asked with remarkable restraint, in

Hermione’s opinion.

‘She kissed me,’ Draco said, sounding dazed. ‘And she said she’d like to see me again.’

‘We’re all going to see each other tomorrow,’ Hermione pointed out as she packed up her
things.

‘Don’t be obtuse,’ he replied a little sharply, seeming to come out of his lovelorn trance a
little. ‘You know what she meant. Anyway, how did the two of you get on?’

She smiled and hefted her bag and tote onto her shoulder. ‘We were fine.’

‘It was fine,’ Lucius agreed.

Draco looked doubtful. ‘Oh. Well…good, then.’

She took her leave, then, and shook her head as she heard Draco immediately begin grilling
Lucius about how he was feeling and if she’d fed him and if she’d let him sleep.

If she were Lucius, she reflected, she would have long since slapped him upside the head.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Lucius felt better the next day, and what he really wanted was to sleep. He was facing an
unforeseen complication, however, in the form of Draco.

‘I really don’t think I should go,’ he was babbling, ‘there won’t be anyone here but house
elves, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and Hermione will understand if I’m not there-
-’

Enough was enough.

‘DRACO!’

He sputtered to a halt and stared at him wide-eyed. Lucius let out a little sigh and spoke
more calmly, now that he had his son’s undivided attention--with his mouth shut for the first
time all morning.

‘Go to the party. Have fun. I will be fine. I don’t need you to babysit me all day. Please,
please go.’

Draco accidentally mussed his hair running a hand through it. ‘But, I--’

‘If you don’t want to go, that’s different,’ Lucius argued. ‘But if you’re only staying because
you think I can’t fend for myself for a few hours, then I am begging you, please go to the
party.’

He slumped guiltily. ‘I do want to go, it’s just--’

Lucius put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, turned him, and steered him into the hallway,
toward the entrance hall.

‘Then go. Stay as long as you want. Have a good time. Dance with your Weasley. Eat a
slice of cake for me.’

Draco stopped in front of the fireplace, still looking unsure.

‘And you’ll really be okay while I’m gone?’ he asked uncertainly.

Lucius smiled, sensing that triumph was near. ‘Really, really. I’m going to catch up on my
reading, maybe write to an old friend or two.’

He brightened. ‘Oh.’ Then his brow wrinkled again. ‘Not the evil kind of friends, right?’

Lucius restrained himself from rolling his eyes with an effort. ‘No, not the evil kind. The
political kind, who stayed neutral.’

‘Oh,’ he said again, and he stayed brighter this time. ‘I’ll bring a slice of cake back for you.’

He disappeared with a pop, and Lucius nearly collapsed with a relief. Finally , a little peace
and quiet.
He dragged himself up to bed and slept for three hours straight, too exhausted even for
nightmares.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione didn’t have to pretend to be surprised, because the party started with a literal bang,
courtesy of Fred and George. She laughed herself silly at the bright pink and green otters
adorning every surface of the Burrow’s living room while Mrs Weasley scolded them
roundly. The explosion at Malfoy Manor had apparently been a test run.

After they were set to cleaning, she endured Ginny putting a paper and cardboard tiara on her
head, and everyone singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of their lungs (Fred and George
choosing to sing it to the tune of ‘The Saints Go Marching In’). Draco turned up late, but as
he didn’t seem upset this time, she didn’t make it her job to corner him and demand answers
this time. Ginny pounced on him readily enough, which he seemed to enjoy, and Hermione
was actually able to relax and enjoy herself.

They had a gigantic meal, courtesy of Mrs Weasley, and then they were expected to cram a
slice of cake into their stomachs, which proved a challenge. They sat around talking and
recovering for a while after that, before the boys and Ginny decided to play some friendly
Quidditch while the weather was still nice. Hermione didn’t object, and moved out into the
sunshine to enjoy the weather in her own way. Mrs Weasley, Neville and Luna were on the
ground to keep her company, and she was glad to see her friends enjoying themselves.

‘Draco and Ginny seem…close today,’ Neville commented, watching them out-fly Percy for
the Quaffle.

Hermione darted a glance at him, but she saw no jealousy, just curiosity. ‘Yes, they had lunch
together yesterday. The date kind of lunch.’

‘Ah,’ said Neville, nodding. ‘Any hope for them?’

‘I think they want to make it work,’ she said diplomatically.

It was a little early to tell, given that they had literally only been on one date, but she was
very hopeful, given how happy the two of them looked.

‘Harry hasn’t mentioned anyone recently,’ Mrs Weasley put in, looking worried.

Hermione chuckled. ‘I think Harry’s enjoying being alone right now. He doesn’t have
anyone depending on him or asking anything of him, and he can just focus on Teddy and
Andromeda, his friends, and his Auror training. He might never be with anyone--not
everyone is meant for someone.’

The thought saddened her a little. She’d had a few interested suitors in school--Viktor, and
the repulsive Cormac--but she’d had only fame seekers after her since then. She knew it was
a little too early to call it quits, but it was a little discouraging when the only people who
seemed interested in you were interested because of your friends and because you were a war
hero, rather than for your personality. Or even her looks, she would’ve been impressed if
someone had asked her out simply based on her face right now. Anyone but another ‘you’re
Harry Potter’s best friend!!!’ flirter.

She and Ron had made a brief go of it, but once the dust settled and the panic wore off, it had
become pretty obvious that they were not well suited, and they amicably parted. Harry and
Ginny had come to a similar realisation. She wondered if Ginny was the only one destined to
find someone who appreciated her for who she was, not just her looks, talent on the pitch,
and her connections.

‘What about you, Neville?’ she asked, to distract her from such depressing thoughts.
‘Anyone new in your life?’

Neville reddened a little. ‘Gran intimidates most girls so much they head for the hills the first
time they meet her. I thought it would improve once I got my own place, but she always
wants to meet them after the first few dates, and then it’s over.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said with genuine sympathy.

He shrugged, and darted a look at Mrs Weasley. ‘I’m thinking perhaps there is no girl for
me.’

He put slight emphasis on ‘girl,’ and Hermione nodded her comprehension. Mrs Weasley’s
thoughts on boys with boys and girls with girls were not entirely clear, but Neville was
choosing not to take the risk. He already knew Hermione was all right with it, since she’d
once found him in a rather compromising position with Goyle, Jr., in their sixth year. A fight
had turned into something else with equal heat, and she had sworn not to tell anyone while
simultaneously trying to scrub the unwanted images of people she’d never wanted to see…
those parts of from her brain.

As far as she knew, Goyle had immediately forgotten about the whole thing, and Neville had
told her that he swung both ways and then agreed that they would never discuss it again. She
wondered if Neville would ever be brave enough to bring a man home to meet his
grandmother, since he wasn’t even brave enough to broach the subject with Mrs Weasley.

Then she chided herself for not giving him enough credit. Neville was always brave enough,
eventually. He just took his own time about things.

‘Luna? How about you, are you seeing anyone?’ Neville asked, just in case Mrs Weasley
caught on.

The spacey girl smiled in her foggy way. ‘He hasn’t got brave enough to ask me, but I think
Rolf Scamander likes me. He keeps dropping things when I’m around.’

Hermione smiled and exchanged a glance with Neville.

‘Either that, or it’s the Nargles,’ Luna added, and they coughed to cover their snorts.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was getting dark when the boys were finally persuaded to abandon their fun. They all
feasted on leftovers and more cake, and then Harry yelled, ‘Present time!’

Hermione blushed. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘I know , but I wanted to!’ he yapped happily, bouncing in place while holding out a package.

She thought that perhaps giving and receiving presents were Harry’s most favourite things in
the whole world.

Mrs Weasley made them all go in the sitting room and sit in a circle around her, so Hermione
felt very uncomfortably ‘on stage’ while opening her presents. It just wasn’t worth it to fight
Mrs Weasley on occasions like this, though, so she resigned herself to it.

Harry had got her a magical logbook that recorded every book she owned, and whether or not
she’d read it, and if she lent it to anyone. Ron and the twins gave her a sampler of their latest
products, which she was amused by but didn’t intend to use. Ginny gave her a book of dating
advice, which Hermione considered rather tactless but well-meant. Mrs Weasley, Arthur and
Percy had gone together and bought her a new trunk, since on the rare occasions that she
travelled, she still used her old school trunk. Neville got her a belladonna plant, which was
pretty, but she didn’t really see a use for. She thanked him all the same, and mentally
reminded herself to put charms around it so Crookshanks wouldn’t eat it.

Luna forgot to get her anything, but that was both expected and normal. She apologised, but
Hermione assured her that her presence at the party was enough. It really was, because
sometimes Luna forgot to show up to things, wrapped in whatever thoughts of the moment
consumed her.

Draco got her the most perfect gift, though. It was a bookshelf, which she was in desperate
need of, and it was self-assembling, charmed against water and fire.

‘Thank you, Draco,’ she said with a broad smile.

He inclined his head, and Hermione reminded herself to send him a proper pure-blood thank-
you note, even if she sent everyone else casual ones. She always sent thank-you notes, of
course, because she was Hermione Granger.

The evening finally came to a close shortly after that, and after divvying up what was left of
the cake, they parted ways. Hermione immediately got into her pyjamas and snuggled up
with Crookshanks, thinking that turning twenty had not been horrible at all.
 Two Hundred and Fifty Days
Chapter Summary

Hermione receives an ominous note while at the Malfoys', resulting in her and Draco
having an argument. Lucius is anxious for help, and for them to make up already.
Hermione celebrates a milestone with Lucius. At Halloween, Hermione reveals that her
plan has finally come to fruition.

Chapter Notes

We're moving along now. Hopefully this chapter will read as smooth as it seemed when
I wrote it. Let me know what you think! And another big thank-you for all of you lovely,
wonderful reviewers, you're perfect and you've helped me loads more than I can explain
here!

According to Draco, Lucius was much improved by Monday. She saw for herself on
Tuesday, although she no longer trusted his outward look in class. Appearances clearly
mattered a great deal to Lucius (no surprise there), so she fully expected his elegant, superior
dress and manner. She waited instead for the end of class, when he came to hand over his
homework, and looked into his eyes.

He was plainly delighted after sneaking up on her ( again , and one of these days, she would
learn to expect it and not be startled, damn it!), and his eyes were bright and very blue. On
Thursday afternoon, he was even better, wearing a pleased smirk and his eyes dancing with
amusement at her expense.

‘I can’t account for it,’ Draco said that evening before dinner. ‘He was just fine without me
on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, too, but I don’t think it was because of Molly’s lunches.
He seemed pleased enough, and he said they were all right, but he didn’t get excited the way
he does when you bring something over. Molly said he was polite but dismissive, and
uninterested in leftovers or her continued company.’

Hermione felt her face heating and didn’t comment. That was undeniable proof, nearly, that
the niggling doubt was correct. She chose not to think about it right now, although she
couldn’t help the pride that ignited in her stomach, warming her from the inside out.

‘I know I didn’t really do anything different than normal,’ he went on. ‘He mentioned
writing to an old friend on Sunday, though, so maybe he got a reply and it cheered him up?’
She acknowledged that possibility.

But on Friday, Lucius was down and quiet again. Hermione brought over some brownies,
since it was long after dinner when Draco finally admitted defeat.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said when she emerged from the fireplace. ‘I’m sorry to have to
keep bothering you, but when he gets like this, you’re the only one who can seem to shake
him out of it. He was much better last Saturday after you left.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘It’s fine, Draco. I’m happy to help. Is he in the library again?’

‘Yes. I didn’t tell him you were coming. It’s hard to speak to a wall,’ he added with more
than a touch of bitterness.

She eyed him curiously as they walked. ‘Did you two quarrel?’

‘No--at least, not for my part. He was like this at breakfast, and he wasn’t any better when I
got back from work.’

She stopped outside the library and lowered her voice to a murmur.

‘So you haven’t got any idea what triggered it?’

‘None.’

She could see Lucius from her vantage point. He was on the sofa he favoured, closest to the
fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes closed and his head turned to one side. The fire cast
him in an orange light, dyeing his white-blond hair and pale features. He looked like a
classical painting from this distance--too perfect to be human.

Hermione roused herself with an effort and stepped inside, very aware of Draco’s curious
eyes on her. They settled in the armchairs nearest to Lucius and she got out a quill and
parchment. Draco snagged a brownie and they began talking as softly as possible so as not to
wake him. It wasn’t long before the smell of the warm brownies reached him, though, and he
licked his lips, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at them blearily.

‘Would you like a brownie, Mr Malfoy?’ she offered with as much cheer as she could muster.
‘We were just discussing why Muggle-borns will never understand the modern, wizard
version of Beltane, so there’s no point in teaching it.’

‘Apparently, Muggles--for the most part--no longer engage in wild naked orgies while drunk
in the middle of a field with cattle and a bonfire,’ Draco said dryly, brushing brownie crumbs
off of his lap.

Lucius blinked slowly, then stretched in place, reminding Hermione very strongly of
Crookshanks for a moment. He sat up and selected a brownie with an expression so utterly
serious that it looked as though he was making a major life decision, instead of just picking
which brownie he wanted to eat. She hid a smile.

‘Beltane is outdated anyway,’ he said in a voice rough with sleep. ‘We never participate.’
She was surprised, but tried her best not to show it. ‘So you agree with Draco, then, that we
should just skip it?’

‘I would,’ Lucius agreed around a mouth full of brownie.

She and Draco exchanged an amused glance and quickly moved on before Lucius could take
notice. He looked like nothing so much as an overgrown child at the moment, lips smeared
with chocolate and his eyes soft and bleary from being prematurely woken. He wiped his
mouth on his sleeve, completing the picture, and Hermione was very, very worried about how
it sparked a feeling of tenderness deep within her.

She cleared her throat. ‘What about Samhain?’ she wondered, very deliberately not looking
at Lucius.

‘Same story, different month,’ Draco said with a snort. ‘The old festivals don’t mean what
they used to, now that most wizards use them as an excuse to shoot off fireworks and get
drunk and naked out of doors. There’s no point. The Muggles, much as I hate to say it, have
done a better job of keeping them true to the spirit of things.’

Hermione slowly grinned, a brow raised. ‘Really.’

‘Shut up. You’re as bad as Harry.’

She was unrepentant, and he rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

Lucius grew more awake and started contributing to the discussion (without having his
mouth full this time, although she noted that he’d taken two more brownies and showed little
sign of slowing down. She made a mental note to never, ever tell him what exactly he had in
common with Ron Weasley, because she liked breathing). It felt like they were making some
very good progress when an owl arrived, one that Hermione thought she recognised.

Draco scowled fiercely at it. ‘Are my wards failing?’

She reached out and took the note from the impatient bird, which immediately flapped away.
As always, there were no jinxes, hexes or curses. Just plain paper and ink.

‘No, they haven’t. You’ve redirected both of your letters specifically to the Ministry, not
anyone else’s,’ she said offhandedly as she opened the note.

She stared at it for a moment, drawing a slow breath.

‘ Not long now, my sweet. ’

She cast it into the fire, and tried to hide how her hands were shaking.

‘So. Um.’ She blinked, but the words on her parchment remained blurred. ‘Where were
we?’

Draco sat forward. ‘Hermione? Are you all right? What was that?’
She forced a smile. She noted that Lucius was staring at her with an expression somewhere
between confusion and concern, too.

‘It was nothing,’ she said, trying for a breezy tone and failing. ‘Just a note, that’s all.’

Draco’s brow wrinkled. ‘Hermione, if someone’s threatening you--’

‘I said it was nothing!’ she snapped. ‘Geez, Draco.’

He persisted, because he was sometimes a blockhead. ‘It doesn’t look like nothing--you’re
all pale and shaking now, and now you’re getting defensive--’

She shoved the parchment, ink and quill back in her bag, standing decisively. She left the
brownies, because Lucius had wisely stayed out of it.

‘Hermione, wait,’ Draco began, standing to follow.

She whirled. ‘I have to go. Don’t follow me.’

‘I’m just worried about you!’

‘And I said it was nothing!’ she yelled back.

She could not, would not, discuss this now. She hadn’t wanted them to find out yet, and she
was still determined to wait until a better time. Maybe when Harry was less busy with Auror
training, and when Draco wasn’t so busy trying to keep Lucius stable. Maybe.

‘If it was nothing, then--’

‘Draco, why can’t you just leave people alone?!’ she snarled, her nerves shot by the note and
her patience gone with it. ‘Sometimes, when we say we’re fine, we really mean we’re fine!
It’s okay to ask, but you just keep on and on and on , and it’s ridiculous!’

He looked hurt. ‘I just want to help.’

‘Then leave me alone when I say I’m fine!’ she said shrilly, and stormed out.

She was halfway down the hall when a voice rang out.

‘Miss Granger!’

It wasn’t Draco, so she forced herself to slow to a halt and turn. He was standing just outside
the door in bare feet, his shirt hanging loose, and he looked uncharacteristically uncertain, his
fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

‘Yes, Mr Malfoy?’ she responded, and it was surprisingly easy to soften her tone.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, ‘You forgot your pan.’

His tone made it very clear that that wasn’t what he’d intended to say, and he felt incredibly
stupid for saying it.
She smiled. ‘I’ll get it next time.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Next time , Lucius thought, and this time it didn’t seem like an omen of despair. Granger left
and he returned to the library, where Draco was sitting in his chair sulking over a brownie.

‘It’s your own fault,’ Lucius pointed out, sitting down across from him, and trying to
convince himself that he could justify eating a fourth brownie. She was probably the best
baker in the whole world. ‘We were having a lovely time, but you couldn’t let it go, could
you?’

Draco sneered. ‘What would you know about it? Like you’ve ever had a real friend in your
life. Real friends care about each other, and they look after one another. I don’t know if you
noticed, but Hermione was seriously rattled by whatever it said in that note, and as her friend
, it was my job to find out what the problem was.’

Lucius ignored the insults and the hostile tone, nodding slowly. ‘I did notice. It would’ve
been hard not to. However, as her friend , you should have backed off when she didn’t want
to tell you.’

‘But what if it’s something dangerous?!’ he very nearly exploded, reddening.

Lucius tried not to sigh. ‘Granger is an adult. More than that, she is an extremely capable
witch. If she didn’t think she could handle it, I’m sure she would tell you. As it is, she
obviously feels that it’s within her abilities to cope with it alone.’ He paused, but finally
added, ‘A friend would respect that.’

Draco shot him an extremely ugly look and threw himself out of the chair, storming out
without another word. Lucius rubbed the bridge of his nose and wondered when he’d
become a counselor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Despite the lack of owls, Lucius was making good progress on his atonement, he thought. So
far, he’d got by with Floo calls while Draco was gone. Granted, he’d only discovered one
person in need of his help thus far, but it was monetary, so it was easy for Lucius to arrange
to have the proper funds transferred anonymously where they needed to go. It had taken him
two weeks, which wasn’t bad at all, since he was trying to do everything secretly. He didn’t
want anyone getting wind of his involvement in anything. What if they decided they didn’t
want anything from him and rejected his attempt to make amends? Worse, what if the
Prophet got wind of it and plastered it all over the place? No, it was better to do it as some
kind of anonymous benefactor. That way, they would get the help they needed, and he would
feel better about having hurt them in the past, having sort of evened the score.

He’d made a list of everyone he could remember. It was disgustingly short; most of what
he’d been involved in had been manipulating people at the Ministry, which had been both
easy and not harmful--at least not to those wizards’ bank accounts. The other major parts
he’d been involved in had been Muggle-baiting--he could remember none of the names of the
few people they’d left alive, if he’d ever known them in the first place--and missions like
retrieving the prophecy. He’d cast very few spells even during that battle, because he wanted
to keep his hands clean. Not that it had done any good, since he’d been injured, knocked
unconscious and captured while obviously with the other Death Eaters. He hadn’t been able
to talk or pay his way out of that one--not that he could do much talking with a cracked jaw.

He shuddered and deliberately pushed away the memories. He needed to focus.

There were charities for Muggle-borns who’d lost family or property during the war. If he
could find a way to donate a sizable amount without Draco knowing, that would help with his
guilt about all the Muggle-baiting he’d done, although he didn’t consider it truly making
amends. He couldn’t undo what he had done, though, and without names, he couldn’t do
anything more personal. It wasn’t very satisfying, but it would have to do.

Lucius crossed the one name off of his list and considered the others. Some of them, he was
too…intimately involved with now to expect an anonymous anything to help. Like the
Weasleys--particularly Ginny. If his son was set on courting her, as he seemed to be, then at
some point, he was going to have to muster the courage to apologise to her--face to face.
Lucius had been directly responsible for her being possessed by the Dark Lord and nearly
dying; he didn’t expect her to easily forget that, even if she cared for Draco as much as he
seemed to care for her.

He would wait and see, though. They had only been on three (very successful, but still only
three) dates. If they parted ways, an anonymous gift of some kind might do. He would
rather do that than try to look her in the eye and admit he’d done her a terrible wrong, and
that he owed her a debt.

He owed a lot of debts that could not be paid with anything found in his vaults.

Lucius closed the notebook and stashed it away. Draco would be returning, and then after
that they both needed to get cleaned up to entertain again. It was Thursday, a day he had
simultaneously been anticipating and dreading. Dreading because of the Weasleys, and
anticipating because of class.

They had learned about television. Lucius had already read the chapter, of course, but he’d
looked forward to Granger’s lecture anyway. Her enthusiasm was catching, making him
enjoy the lectures much more than he would have guessed. Television really was fascinating
on its own. She’d only covered the basics (the technical, detailed aspects of electronics,
appliances and electricity in general weren’t covered until later years), but the idea that
Muggles had come up with a method of transmitting stories in moving pictures, a series of
them instead of one static painting that moved but never really changed, was actually quite
brilliant.
He stopped himself before he could escalate to Arthur Weasley-levels of admiration and
enthusiasm, though. That was just not to be borne, under any circumstances.

Despite Granger’s words, he hadn’t seen her outside of class since last Friday. She and Draco
were apparently not on speaking terms at the moment, as Draco hadn’t mentioned her once,
and grew sour and silent when Lucius brought her up, even obliquely. He was anxious to
speak with her, to find out if she’d come up with any ideas for his final project. She was
always too busy to talk after class now, turning away and dismissing him after she accepted
his homework. He tried not to be hurt, because it was stupid that he should be hurt by that.

And…he missed her cooking. The brownies hadn’t lasted long, between him and Draco
eating them, and the house elves’ food just wasn’t the same.

He waited for her patiently, but this time, Potter arrived alone. Draco raised a brow at him,
but Lucius could barely control the distressed feeling that wanted to take over his features.

‘She said she was busy,’ Potter said flatly, glaring at Draco. ‘And you and I need to talk.
This has got out of hand, and I’m not putting up with her grouchiness anymore. You need to
fix this.’

Draco just glared back, and they excused themselves to go fight it out. When they emerged
from the study, Lucius was waiting for them. They both glanced at him with open surprise.

‘Father? Have you forgotten our other guests?’ Draco demanded pointedly, obviously still
very miffed.

Lucius ignored that. ‘Well?’

Draco blinked. ‘Well what?’

He huffed. ‘Are you going to fix it? I need to talk over my final project with her, and I can’t
do that if she won’t come over because you’ve angered her.’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll speak with her tomorrow, but no guarantees, all right?’

He shoved past Lucius and headed for the sitting room. Potter shrugged apologetically and
followed him.

Lucius didn’t want to join the dinner now, but he couldn’t come up with a realistic
explanation to get out of it, so he reluctantly rejoined the party in the sitting room as well.
No one seemed to have missed him, and he took up a corner where he stood scowling at his
water glass.

The food at dinner was tasteless, he had no one to entertain him seated across from him this
time, Ginny Weasley did not come with a power switch like television sets did, and all in all,
it was a terrible evening. Lucius excused himself to his room with a headache that didn’t
really exist in a physical sense at the earliest possible moment.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius did not bother to get up and join Draco for breakfast. He was angry with Draco. He
didn’t want to see Draco. He didn’t want to hear him talk. Also, he was very tired, and he
needed to sleep. So he made sure his door was locked and he slept in.

Later, when he was sure that Draco was gone, he relocated to the library, where he tried to
read for a while, but his eyes were still too tired. He told himself he was just going to take a
short nap, and let his eyes close.

The next thing he knew, there was a delicious smell in the air, and someone with very bushy
hair was crouching in front of him.

‘Hermione…?’ he mumbled, without realising what he’d called her, rubbing the sleep from
one blurry, crusty eye.

She smiled dazzlingly, and he instantly felt more awake. He sat up, and she held up some
kind of food container. There was another cloth tote hanging off of her arm, too.

‘Happy 250 Days Left in Your Probation Day,’ she said brightly. ‘Care to join me in the
kitchen?’

He nodded a little more enthusiastically than he probably would have if he hadn’t just woken
up, and smiled back. They retreated to the kitchen, where Granger got out plates and napkins
and served up what turned out to be homemade pizza, with sausage and mushrooms on top.
He’d never had pizza, but he greeted the prospect with a great deal of cheer.

‘How did you know?’ he asked, when she slid a slice onto his plate.

‘It’s October 1, right? 250 days until June 6,’ she replied with another bright smile.

‘You’re counting them, too?’

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger being so eager to be rid of him. The answer should
obviously have been ‘Good, and good riddance to you, too,’ but it wasn’t. It was more…
muddled now.

‘Well, I wasn’t,’ she admitted, ‘but Draco told me you were, and I decided that getting your
wand back was a positive thing to count down to. Besides, what’s the point of counting
down if you’ve got no one to celebrate the landmarks with?’

Lucius smiled; he couldn’t help it. ‘Like two-hundred and fifty.’

She lifted her tea in a toast. ‘Like two-hundred and fifty.’

He toasted back and they ate quietly for a moment. She seemed content with the silence
again, lost in her own thoughts and not demanding anything of Lucius.
‘Did Draco send you over?’ he asked finally, nearly bursting with the question for reasons
that were beyond him, and which he didn’t really care to examine.

She frowned, puzzled. ‘Draco? No. I haven’t spoken to him since last Friday, actually.’

Something loosened in Lucius’s chest. She was here for him, then. He wasn’t sure how he
felt about that, either.

Could they realistically be friends? It seemed possible when Draco was around, or not far
from their thoughts, but now, when she was boiling mad at Draco (for something that Lucius
himself had taken issue with multiple times, and therefore couldn’t blame her)? Lucius was
trying to change, but being friends with a Muggle-born for her own sake was more than he
was prepared to deal with just yet. It made him feel a bit dizzy.

And yet, here she was, and he was just as content as he always was when they were alone
together. Perhaps, whatever the reason, they were alike enough that it could work?

Lucius was willing to try it--he had no real friends, as Draco had pointed out. Perhaps
Granger could be his first. She was nice enough, forgiving enough, Gryffindor enough, to
have absolved him of guilt for something awful, and she was here now for no other reason
than to celebrate an occasion that was happy for him. She was more than meeting him
halfway.

They were alike, in some ways. Granger was very logical, for a Gryffindor. She was well-
read. She enjoyed books and quiet and simple companionship. Lucius liked to consider
himself logical, and he loved books nearly as much as she did. He didn’t need or want
constant conversation, either.

The main problem was that he didn’t deserve her friendship. He just wasn’t sure whether his
guilt outweighed his loneliness, or if it even mattered.

He was too tired to think about this.

‘You seem a little down again,’ Granger observed with cautious concern.

He smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m tired.’

‘You’re always tired on Fridays.’

‘Weasleys on Thursdays.’

A light dawned, and she nodded, her eyes bright with new knowledge.

‘Ah…I see. It really does take a lot out of you, doesn’t it?’ she said sympathetically.

Lucius winced. ‘They’re a bit…rowdy. I spent most of last night with Luna Lovegood,
trying to avoid them. She says my aura is full of Nargles, and I haven’t a clue what that
means.’
Granger nearly choked on her tea laughing. ‘No one does. They’re everywhere, though,
according to Luna.’

He sighed. ‘She’s insane. I would have spent some time with Longbottom instead, since he’s
halfway tolerable, but he was roped in by the twins.’

It was her turn to wince. ‘Poor Neville!’

Lucius hummed his agreement. He’d devoured half of the pizza without realising it, he
noticed, and his taste buds still wanted more. He just wasn’t sure his stomach was in
agreement with that plan.

‘I brought ice cream for after,’ she said wickedly when she noticed him debating another
slice. ‘It’s not a proper celebration without ice cream.’

He decided against another slice and impatiently waited for her to finish hers. She dipped up
the ice cream with an indulgent smile and they attacked it as though they hadn’t just gorged
themselves on pizza.

‘There’s trouble on the Weasley homefront again,’ she warned him between bites, ‘so you
might be seeing more of Draco. Percy finally followed through on his threat and is in the
process of moving into his own flat. The twin menaces are helping, and Harry and I will
probably be juggling Ron, Ginny and Arthur as they look for places to lie low.’

Lucius shook his head. ‘Molly is also insane.’

That surprised a laugh out of Granger. They talked of this and that for a while; she shooed
the house elves out of her way when they would have cleaned up for her, and he leaned
against the counter watching her as she filled him in on all the latest news and gossip. He
filtered out things of actual interest to him. It seemed so natural and…homey, watching her
putter around his kitchen. Narcissa wouldn't have been caught dead in the kitchen.

Afterward, they relocated to the library with small glasses of brandy.

‘Don’t tell Draco,’ Granger teased in a mock-whisper, and it occurred to Lucius for the first
time that Draco was very late. He hadn’t even noticed the time slipping by.

‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ he agreed, and knocked back the glass.

It was good brandy, but he didn’t ask for another glass. There was no need to go down that
road again, and oddly, the urge to drink himself into oblivion was quiescent at the moment
anyway.

‘Have you thought of any ideas for me?’ he asked after it became apparent that she’d run out
of chitchat.

Granger smiled. ‘Be patient. I’ll come up with something.’

Lucius scowled. ‘It’s October now. I’ve only got three months, now, to come up with
something, as you well know, since you’re the one who has to approve it.’
‘Just a little longer,’ she cajoled gently.

He subsided, because it had been a very nice evening, filled with delicious food and relaxing
talk, and he didn’t really want to spoil it when he was feeling so good for the first time in so
long. He deliberately smoothed his expression, and his mood fell in line.

‘If you don’t mind,’ he began a little hesitantly, ‘I’d like to borrow that book, the next time
you come. I’ve run out of reading material,’ he added, in case she thought he was actually
interested.

Granger’s smile widened. ‘I’ll bring it, then. Next time.’

Next time , he thought, and a little flicker of warmth lit his middle. Perhaps it was just the
brandy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They were still talking over extremely cold cups of tea when Draco finally strolled in,
whistling. He paused mid-stride to stare at them, the whistle dying on his lips. Hermione
looked over her shoulder at him and raised a challenging brow, daring him to say anything.
Lucius mimicked her. Their legs were crossed toward each other, and they were holding
their untouched tea the exact same way. It made her feel extremely, unaccountably smug.

Draco groped for words.

‘Do you two have any idea what time it is?’ he demanded at last.

Hermione tilted her head. ‘Do you ? Where have you been, anyway?’

He sniffed and lifted his chin. ‘Ginny stopped by after work and wanted to go out.’

‘A likely story,’ she said, but she smiled.

Lucius snorted. ‘This is why Muggles have mobile phones. If I were a Muggle, I would
know where you were when you disappeared like that.’

She turned to him so fast she got whiplash. She heard Draco make a soft, choked noise and
knew he was just as shocked.

Lucius looked up, appearing startled by their gaping expressions. ‘What?’

Slowly, she smiled and sat back. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘Whatever,’ said Draco, shaking his head. ‘I’m going to bed.’

She set her cup aside with a sigh. ‘I suppose I should go, too. Since it’s technically
tomorrow.’

‘Yes. You should go. You should not stay up most of the night with my father, alone ,’
Draco added with a pout.

Hermione stood and shoved her hands in her pockets, grinning innocently. ‘Why, what’s the
matter, Draco? Afraid I might steal your father’s virtue?’

She heard Lucius snort and knew at least he was amused. Draco was not.

‘That isn’t funny, Hermione. If people knew about this--’

‘Well, they won’t, if you don’t tell them. Why are you still mad, Draco? I’m sorry I yelled at
you, but you did push me when I was already upset.’

Draco pouted at her, then glanced at Lucius, who nodded his agreement with Hermione. He
released a breath, his shoulders slumping.

‘No, I’m not still mad,’ he said, sounding disappointed. ‘I just…I just wanted to help, you
know?’

Hermione chuckled and walked over to pat his cheek. ‘I know, honey. And I appreciate it.
I’m sorry I blew up at you. I do appreciate your concern, and I promise, if it was something
you could help with, I would tell you.’

He looked at her mournfully. ‘So you’re still not going to tell me?’

She pinched his cheek, grandmother style. ‘No.’

He wrinkled his nose and pulled back, out of her grip, rubbing his cheek. ‘No fair.’

‘You don’t need to know everything,’ she said patiently. ‘If I need help with it, I promise,
Malfoy Manor and its dashing blond men will be my first stop.’

A brief grin flashed across Draco’s face. ‘Dashing? Us?’

‘Oh, yeah. The most dashing.’ She chuckled and stepped away. ‘Good night, Draco. Good
night, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius had risen and watched their exchange with amusement. He shook his head at her.

‘Good night, Miss Granger,’ he said, very soft and very deep.

She smiled and turned away.

‘It’s actually “good morning,” you know!’ Draco called after her.

She laughed and kept walking.

Who knew the Malfoys were so fun when you got to know them? Harry would never believe
her, but…this evening was probably the most fun she’d had in a long, long time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was out shopping for a Halloween costume for Harry’s undoubtedly-garish and
horrible party. The twins had been positively delighted when he announced it, claiming that
there couldn’t be a more perfect location for a creepy Halloween party than Grimmauld
Place. She had already decided to stay far, far away from them at the party.

She was shopping alone, because when she’d gone shopping with Luna, the younger girl had
suggested that she dress as a Crumple-Horned Snorkak, and when she’d went with Ginny,
she’d suggested that she dress as a slutty…anything. It didn’t seem to matter what, slutty
mediwitch, slutty Quidditch player, slutty Unspeakable, slutty hippogriff, slutty pumpkin
patch…. Ultimately, Hermione decided that she’d have more success if she shopped by
herself. Although she had got a chuckle out of imagining what Lucius would say if he saw
her dressed as a Crumple-Horned Snorkak.

‘Wotcher, Hermione.’

She whirled, to find the smiling face of Dean Thomas behind her. His arms were full of
Halloween supplies.

‘Dean! Long time, no see! How are you? Where’s Alicia?’

‘Oh, she’s around here somewhere,’ he said with a shrug. ‘She’s super excited to have some
extra money to spend, finally.’

Her brow furrowed before she could control her expression. ‘Oh?’

He grinned. ‘Yeah, we had a spot of luck, for once. You know we bought that big, expensive
house, and we were going to be paying for it for the next twenty years--well, apparently, there
was some kind of trust involved, and the rest of the mortgage got paid. I don’t really
understand all those loopholes goblins write into their contracts, but Bill Weasley tells me it’s
all pretty straightforward, for goblins anyway, and we don’t need to worry about it anymore.’

‘Oh, my gosh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you guys!’

She really was, because they wanted kids, and after they’d realised just what they’d got
themselves into with the goblins, they’d all but abandoned that dream.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty great,’ he agreed, and he looked his age for the first time in a long time.

‘Dean? Dean, come here, you’ve got to see this!’

They said a quick goodbye and he excused himself to go see to his wife. Hermione stood
there thinking for a lot longer than she intended to, and quickly sought out a costume.

After she’d gone back home, she thought about it some more. There were plenty of people
who’d want to help Dean and Alicia. Despite being absolutely horrible at money
management, they were good, dependable friends and good people. The problem was, the
two of them would never accept help up front, thinking it made them moochers. Well, and
the fact that that mortgage had been huge, even after a year. There weren’t many people who
would have the willingness, the money, and the know-how to pay it off in secret like that.
She utterly rejected the notion that there actually had been a trust. The goblins were odd to
deal with, but they certainly would have mentioned something like that at the time the
mortgage was signed, if it had actually existed.

The Weasleys were out, because they were much better off now, but they certainly didn’t
have that kind of money. Harry was out because while he definitely had the willingness and
the money, she highly doubted that he knew how to hide it like that. The Malfoys had the
money and the know-how, but as far as she knew, neither Draco nor Lucius were on speaking
terms with Dean, so that shot the willingness--Malfoys helped themselves, and a select few
people whom they considered worthy. The Longbottoms were a possibility, though…. She
debated the merits of trying to weasel out a confession from Neville, but ultimately decided it
would only embarrass him, if it had been him.

Besides, she was going to be late for the party if she wasted any more time thinking about
this, so she quickly dressed and put on her makeup. She’d chosen a pixie costume in the end,
because it was the only women’s costume left that wasn’t completely ridiculous, but also
didn’t show her total lack of cleavage.

The party was in full swing when she arrived. Harry greeted her with puppy-like enthusiasm,
although it took her a moment to realise it was him, since he’d chosen to dress as a
bowtruckle, complete with face mask and a charm to alter his voice. Teddy was toddling
after him, dressed as an incredibly adorable twig, apparently making him Harry’s accessory.
Andromeda was trailing after the two of them with an amused look on her face and no
costume.

‘I exercise the right to be the responsible adult at this party,’ she explained when Hermione
expressed curiosity. ‘Molly and Arthur came dressed as centaurs, so clearly they weren’t
going to take up that duty, and someone has to make sure everyone gets home safely.’

Hermione grinned. ‘Fair enough.’

As she moved through the party, she realised Harry had invited pretty much everyone he
knew, which meant that only a few of the creatures and caricatures were familiar to her. Fred
and George had, very tastelessly, chosen to dress up as Voldemort, and everyone was
avoiding them assiduously, much to their apparent delight.

Hermione shook her head and moved away, only to pull up short when a vampire stepped in
front of her. No--on closer inspection, it was Draco Malfoy, dressed as a vampire. The
glamour was impressive, and she told him so.
‘Why, thank you,’ he said proudly, and grinned, which was rather a horrible sight at the
moment, since he’d gone so far as to spell bloodstains onto his teeth and fake fangs.

‘I’m surprised to find you alone,’ she commented mildly. ‘I rather thought you and Ginny
would be tucked into a corner somewhere.’

He shrugged. ‘She bought a wig for her costume instead of just using a glamour, and
apparently I messed it up. She’s gone to fix it, and I spotted you, and here we are. I need to
talk to you, actually.’

‘Oh?’

She hoped it wasn’t trouble in paradise. Getting them together had been as meddlesome as
she was willing to be--she had no intention of mediating any of Draco’s other relationships.
It was bad enough that he now seemed to think it was her job to step in every time he and
Lucius hit a rocky patch.

‘It’s about Father.’

Of course.

Hermione had spent the past month making them meals and discussing The Lord of the Rings
with Lucius (which had been fun, like reading it for the first time again), discussing her
various projects with him, and putting off his increasingly-desperate demands for help on his
final project. On Thursday evenings, he refrained, but only because he was busy being the
gracious, elegant host. Even when they ended up hiding from the Weasleys in the library
together, he remained mute on that subject, talking pleasantly of other things, at least until
this most recent Thursday, when she had opted not to go to the dinner, because she felt too
guilty. The last time she’d seen Lucius, after class on Thursday, he had actually given her
Draco’s patented puppy dog look. Usually, that look just made her annoyed, but on Lucius, it
went straight through her like a lance. She’d claimed she was much too busy to talk just now
and physically shooed him out of her classroom, and then sent Draco a note begging off from
attending the dinner party.

She grimaced. ‘What is it?’

‘He’s driving me mad,’ Draco said firmly, with a little desperation of his own. ‘When are
you going to give him a list of suggestions? You said you’d help him and then you just left
him hanging. It isn’t like you, and it’s making him awful. He’s had more nightmares than
ever, so he hardly sleeps, he’s grouchy and keeps snapping at me, and he barely eats except
when you bring something over. He’s started trying to come up with ideas on his own, and
they’re horrible.’

She started, surprised. ‘Really? Like what?’

‘Like “sixteen different ways to kill a Muggle using only magic.” I told him it was hardly
appropriate for school, let alone a class full of adolescents, and he said it was the only thing
he knows about Muggles, which, by the way, I know for a fact is untrue because he keeps
telling me things about Muggle history that he finds interesting.’
Hermione winced.

Draco glowered, which was a lot more terrifying in his vampire glamour than it would’ve
been on his normal face.

‘So what are you going to do?’

She glanced around, then drew him aside into the hallway, where the only company was
Percy, who was arguing the merits of some tax or other with a painting. She put up a quick
privacy charm.

‘Truth?’

Draco was obviously intrigued by her attempt at privacy before explaining. He nodded,
studying her intently.

‘I’ve been trying to find a way to get Lucius out of the house for a day or two,’ she admitted,
lowering her voice just in case. One never knew with Fred and George. ‘I thought maybe
you could take him out into Muggle London and explore a bit. If he actually saw it when he
wasn’t focusing on finding Muggles to torment, maybe he’d come up with a few ideas of his
own. Plus, he’d get to leave the house.’

He slowly smiled. ‘Typical Granger.’ He paused to allow her snort. ‘Any success?’

She couldn’t contain her immediate grin, despite her attempts. Draco’s eyes sharpened and
his smile widened into a grin of his own.

‘You have had success! Do tell.’

‘Well, since it’s for class, I managed to convince Kingsley that it was absolutely necessary for
Lucius and the Goyles to go out and do some research,’ she said, attempting to sound casual
and instead sounding very smug and triumphant. ‘I wanted to surprise Lucius. The Goyles
got to go last weekend, with me and Harry along to supervise. Lucius’s day is next
Saturday.’

Draco nearly crowed. ‘Leave it to you, Hermione! I swear, you can do anything,’ he cried
joyously.

‘Not anything ,’ she cautioned. ‘It’s only one day. And he has to wear a wristband that will
keep him within ten meters of me at all times. You know he won’t like that.’

He shrugged. ‘He gets to leave the house. I don’t think he’ll care. Does Harry have to go
along to supervise again? Can I come?’

‘No, he doesn’t--he only had to go before because there were two Goyles and only one of me.
And you’ll have to ask your father, it’s his day out,’ she added cheekily.

He stuck his tongue out at her, but was apparently too pleased to take real offense.
‘I’ll bring over dinner tomorrow and we’ll tell him together. That way, he can spend the
week looking forward to it.’

‘Excellent,’ Draco agreed, with another terrifying grin, and then Ginny reappeared and
snagged him.

Hermione shook her head at them and went to find Neville. She couldn’t help but wonder
when this honeymoon phase was going to end.
 Awakening
Chapter Summary

Draco and Hermione break the news to Lucius. Hermione comes to a realisation and is
horrified by it.

Chapter Notes

No Lucius angst this time, Lucius joy! Giving him a break for a while. ;) Instead,
Hermione gets a turn angst-ing.

Hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, you're lovely
people. :)

Something was going on with Draco on Monday evening. He was jumpy and excited and he
kept staring into space with a silly grin on his face. Lucius watched him, trying to decide if
he was ill or if he’d simply fallen head over heels for his Weasley and decided to marry her.
Either way, a call to a healer might be in order.

‘Is there a reason you keep jumping up and checking the entrance hall?’ he finally demanded
when Draco had been home for an hour and showed no signs of settling down.

Draco only grinned and bounced in his seat a little. ‘Hermione is bringing dinner.’

Lucius pursed his lips. That was certainly cause for a little joy (and his rising temper and
upset were soothed at the very thought), but not Draco’s levels of hyperactivity.

Before he could question his son about his sudden inability to sit still for five seconds
together, Granger herself arrived, bearing a covered platter and a face reddened from
cooking.

‘Draco, this is heavy,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Be useful.’

He whipped out his wand and levitated the platter, raising a brow at her. ‘And you should
remember that you’re a witch,’ he said dryly.

Granger was not embarrassed. ‘Unlike you, I have no desire to lose all of my muscle tone
due to disuse. Occasionally, doing things manually is both more fun and more effective.
More importantly, if you drop that, I will bash you in the face with the hot roast.’
Lucius got up to follow them, now very interested. ‘Roast?’ he repeated.

Granger grinned at him briefly. ‘Yes, a roast, with all the usual fixings. It’s been cooking all
day, so it should be tender.’

It was delightfully tender. It was so good he forgot about Draco being strange, and
completely tuned out Draco’s excited babbling. Granger gave short responses, so he assumed
it wasn’t anything important.

After dinner, they settled in the sitting room, where Draco was practically glowing with
nervous tension, grinning like a fool. Granger was more collected, but she turned to Lucius
with a secret smile of her own. He thought he’d learned to read her over the past month, and
he knew now she had something to say that she thought he’d be pleased about.

‘I’ve got you a permit,’ she began slowly, obviously making an effort to remain calm and not
prattle excitedly. ‘It’s a one-day pass, to leave the house with supervision, in order to do
research for your project. You’re allowed to go to Muggle London with me for a day.
Twelve hours, actually. The permit is valid on Saturday.’

Lucius stared at her. It felt like all of his nerve endings had come alive, the hairs all over his
body standing on end as something more animalistic than joy tried to burst through him, out
of him. Freedom . For a day. He would take it. To breathe the outdoors? Even in
November, he would take it. He suddenly felt as if he was going to burst out of his skin,
trembled with it. He tried desperately for some measure of control.

‘This is why you haven’t got back with me about the final project?’ he said, and his voice
was shaking all over the place despite his efforts.

She studied him with a hint of worry. ‘Yes. I thought if you had the opportunity to go out,
you’d take it, and the need to research for the project was a valid excuse.’

A breath of…something--relief? Gratitude? Excitement?--escaped him. He didn’t deserve

this boon. He didn’t deserve her--this friend, who he could finally admit had become one,
over the last month. He didn’t deserve her kindness.

But he wanted it, he needed it, like oxygen, and he would take the great gasp of it that he’d
been offered.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed, blinking furiously because his eyes were welling and Malfoys do
not cry in front of anyone, even each other.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, looking away. ‘It’s only for a day,’ she mumbled.

Lucius opened his mouth to tell her that it was more than he’d hoped for and certainly more
than he deserved, but Draco had had enough waiting and exploded.

‘Can I come with you?’ he asked excitedly, like a little child again.

Lucius sighed. ‘If you’d like.’

He didn’t really want to spend the day entertaining Draco, he wanted to spend it observing
the Muggles and enjoying the temporary freedom, but he felt guilty at the thought of
excluding Draco given his obvious excitement. He didn’t need to add any more guilt to the
pile.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione had never seen Lucius so emotional before. He didn’t seem like he might cry
anymore, but he spent the remainder of the evening wired. She hadn’t realised--she’d seen
his bouts of depression, but that’s all she’d thought they were, just bouts . She hadn’t ever
noticed how his depression seeped into the rest of his life, too, until now, when the clouds
lifted. He looked ten years younger, his face smoothed with joy, his eyes blazing with it.
Before, his movements were graceful but somewhat lethargic, as though it took energy just
to turn his head or wave his hand. Now, he perched on the edge of his seat, gesturing
energetically and talking animatedly, laughing easily. He was still elegance personified,
but….

She couldn’t think of a way to describe it. He was a coil of tension and power, barely
contained by the limits of his body. He was amazingly, beautifully alive, and Hermione’s gut
tightened painfully, her breath stolen as she realised just how beautiful he was. She’d never
seen Lucius Malfoy genuinely, unashamedly happy before, and when he shot her a sincere,
grateful grin, all glowing blond hair and white teeth and impossibly blue eyes, she literally
stopped breathing for a moment.

How had she never noticed before?

She needed to get away, now .

‘I think…I’m going to call it a night,’ she said unsteadily.

They both looked at her with concern.

‘Are you all right?’ Draco asked.

She managed a wavery smile and gestured with her glass, setting it aside.

‘Too much wine, I think.’

‘I’ll walk you to the entrance hall,’ Lucius said gallantly, standing and offering his arm.

Hermione felt her face heat and couldn’t look him in the face.

‘All right,’ she muttered, and gingerly took his sleeve.

She could feel his body heat through the cloth.

They were silent until they reached the entrance hall. Hermione reached for the jar of Floo
powder with a mumbled thanks.

‘Hermione,’ he said softly.

It was the first time--other than the one sleepy mumble a month ago--that he’d called her by
her first name. It sent a spark through her that definitely did not help her current situation.

‘Hmm?’

She turned, and he was standing so, so close again, and this time it wasn’t surprise that made
her belly flutter. She let out a shaky breath and looked up at him with an effort. He was so
pale, like marble. His eyelids were nearly translucent, she noticed when he blinked. His eyes
seemed to bore into her soul despite his lack of skill in Legilimency, yet at the same time they
were soft. She had noted before that he smelled like vanilla and cinnamon--the vanilla was
stronger today. She felt the urge to look at his lips, and that was quite enough.

She put a hand on his chest and deliberately pushed him a step back, pulling in some much-
needed oxygen.

He smirked, apparently thinking she was just startled again. ‘My apologies,’ he said with his
usual amusement.

Hermione clutched her handful of Floo powder. ‘Did you say my name for a reason?’

The smirk faded, and he looked at her intensely again. It was just as effective from this
distance.

‘I wanted to thank you again,’ he said, his deep, smooth voice making her heart accelerate.

‘Don’t mention it,’ she replied tightly. ‘I have to go.’

Lucius frowned, half raising his hand toward her. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

She shook her head stiffly. ‘No, it’s--it’s me, I….’ She swallowed, and thought up a quick
half-truth. ‘I think I’m going to be sick, and I really don’t want to vomit on your floor.’

His expression cleared and he chuckled, relaxed and easy again.

‘Very well, then. I hope you feel better.’

She left quickly.

‘What is wrong with me?’ she asked Crookshanks when she arrived in her sitting room.

Crookshanks merely yawned, as though to say, ‘I have spent many years pondering that very
question. Good luck.’
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione called an emergency conference with Harry at lunch the next day, which was easy
since everyone else they knew had plans. They went to a Muggle sandwich shop, where they
were much less likely to encounter anyone they knew.

‘What seems to be the problem?’ Harry said seriously once they had their food. ‘I haven’t
seen you this upset since Ron left us on the Horcrux Hunt.’

She picked at the crust of her bread. ‘Lucius Malfoy,’ she said miserably.

Harry sat up straight immediately, eyes blazing. ‘What’s he done? I’ll have him hauled off--’

‘He hasn’t done anything,’ she cut in quickly. ‘It’s me.’

He relaxed an inch or so, his confusion evident. ‘What happened? I thought you were
getting along. You’re over there all the time, and you talk about him all the time.’

She felt as though all the blood had drained out of her body. ‘I do?’

‘Well, yeah, it’s always “Lucius said this” or “Lucius said that” or “Lucius thinks” or “you
wouldn’t believe what Lucius did today.” Ron’s started making crude jokes.’

‘Oh, no….’

Harry frowned. ‘Maybe you’d better tell me what’s going on.’

So she did. He listened intently, offering no comments or judgments.

‘That all sounds great,’ he said when she paused after telling him about arranging for
Lucius’s day pass. ‘You’ve always been a good friend to everybody. I’m a little confused by
your decision to make Lucius a friend, even if it did start out with helping him manage his
depression, but if it works for you, then I don’t see a problem.’

Hermione sighed. ‘The problem is that last night, after I told him, he got really excited and
happy, and…I sort of…had a reaction to him.’

She bit her lip and looked at Harry, willing him to understand and not have to have it spelled
out this time.

‘Oh?’ He took in her expression. ‘Oh. Oh !’

She nodded miserably.

‘You’re attracted to Lucius?!’ he said in a raspy, shocked voice.

‘Apparently,’ she said, feeling like the lowest form of pond scum. ‘I had to get out of there
before he noticed anything.’
Harry sat back, scratching the back of his head and considering her. At last, he seemed to
come out of his shock.

‘Again, I personally can’t relate to that particular choice in potential dating partners, but I
don’t see why it’s a problem.’

Hermione resisted the urge to throw her uneaten sandwich at him. ‘He’s not a potential
dating partner !’ she hissed. ‘He’s my student ! I’m his teacher ! More importantly, he’s my
friend! I think. I hope. At any rate, he doesn’t seem to hate me so much anymore, and the
last thing I need is to screw it up by being physically attracted to him!’

He winced with sympathy. ‘Yeah, I can see where that might put a spanner in the works.
And I can also see your point about being his teacher. It’s a position of trust, right?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘He’s an adult who knows how to say no. I was thinking more along the
lines of, if anyone found out I was attracted to him, they would think that either I passed him
so he would sleep with me, or I did his work for him so he would sleep with me. Either way,
it casts suspicion on the legitimacy of Lucius’s work, which could result in them rejecting it
and sending him to Azkaban anyway, and it would be all my fault.’

Harry paled. ‘That’s not good.’

‘No, no, it isn’t. It’s about as opposite from good as you can get.’ She paused, toying with
her napkin. ‘I think Lucius could be a really good friend. We agree about a lot more things
than you’d expect. And he can be really thoughtful when he wants to be. I fell asleep while
talking to him and waiting for Draco one night, and he put me on his sofa and put a blanket
over me.’

Harry’s brows rose. ‘First, he feels guilt, and now he feels compassion for a fellow human
being? What is the world coming to?’ he asked dryly.

‘Shut up, Harry.’

He grinned unrepentantly.

‘I care about him, you know?’ she said softly, and her heart skipped a beat as she admitted it
for the first time, even to herself. ‘I don’t want to lose his friendship over some silly, stupid
hormones.’

Harry looked at her steadily. ‘Then don’t. Just…hide how you’re feeling until it goes away.
I’ve seen you do it before. Granted, it was anger then, but I don’t see how lust would be any
different. A little more difficult, maybe, but it’s the same concept, right?’

She tried to smile. ‘Right.’

He made it sound so simple. Hermione had her doubts, given the strength of her reaction last
night. But then, it had taken her off-guard, and now she was--hopefully--prepared.

She had him in class this afternoon, so she guessed she would find out.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione tried to rein in her nervous anticipation as the minutes ticked down. Lucius always
arrived early, like clockwork, at the exact same minute every class. He didn’t disappoint; he
swept in with his usual flair. He was normal--the same arrogant tilt to the head, the same
slight wrinkling of the nose, like he smelled something awful. He was dressed the same, in
his expensive tailored robes, and he was clean-shaven and his hair nearly glowed, as always.
His eyes were cool and pale, unreadable, until he spotted her, whereupon they became
deeper and bluer, and the faint sneer turned into a flicker of a smile. He nodded politely in
greeting and slid into his seat.

Everything about him was the same--she was the problem. Before, she would’ve just smiled
and shaken her head at his arrogant Malfoy narcissism and gone on with her life. Now, he
offered her a faint smile and her stomach did a somersault.

Not. Good.

She quickly busied herself with paperwork. This was the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush--
she felt completely ridiculous. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the rest of the students
trudged in, and she could distract herself with lecturing.

‘So,’ she began, turning to the class with a smile and avoiding looking at Lucius. ‘Can
anyone tell me about refrigerators?’

The Slytherin girl raised her hand. ‘Um…they keep things cold.’

Hermione’s smile became a little more natural. ‘Very good. One point to Slytherin. Anyone
else?’

‘They’re noisy?’ volunteered a snub-nosed Slytherin boy, with a rather clueless look on his
face.

She considered that. ‘Fair enough. Most Muggle appliances are, though. Anyone else?’

Lucius raised his hand. He somehow made it seem like he was Caesar, raising his thumb,
rather than asking for permission to speak.

She suppressed a sigh and called on him. His answer was long, extremely complex and
contained information not found in the textbook. She almost could have built a refrigerator
out of his explanation. The other students were gaping at him in awe and horror.

‘Thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ she managed to choke out after he’d finally finished, seven minutes
later. ‘Much of that is advanced material, so you won’t be required to know it for the exams.’

The younger students and the Goyles let out the breaths they’d been holding with an audible
whoosh, surprising a genuine chuckle out of her.
‘Let’s talk about what you will be required to know.’

The rest of the class ran fairly smoothly, particularly since she was successful in avoiding
Lucius’s eye for the remainder, and he kept quiet. She didn’t bother to ask him to stay, since
she knew he would anyway.

Hermione turned to him with a smile as soon as the room cleared out, determined not to be
sneaked up on this time. He smirked at her and brought his homework up, still amused even
though she’d spoiled the game.

‘Where did you learn all of that?’ she asked, allowing him to hear how impressed she was.
‘Even I didn’t know that about disposing of a broken refrigerator.’

His cheeks pinkened, just a little, but it still shocked her.

‘Muggle appliances are interesting,’ he said, a little defensively. ‘Draco bought me a book
about them.’

That, too, was shocking. Hermione couldn’t help her grin.

‘You’re not turning into Arthur on me, are you?’ she teased.

Lucius snorted, scowling at the very idea. ‘Hardly. I’m not about to start a refrigerator
collection. Nor am I likely to dye my hair red and go round like this.’

He made a face, his eyes crossed and his tongue hanging out. Hermione was so surprised
that she startled giggling and couldn’t stop. She leaned against the desk, fighting to breathe
again, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lucius smiled triumphantly, rocking on his heels.

‘Arthur….’ She stopped to hiccup another giggle and gasp another breath. ‘Arthur doesn’t
look like that.’

‘Says you,’ he shot back lightly. ‘That was my impression of him on a good day.’

Another chorus of hysterical giggles broke out of her and she swatted the air near his arm.

‘You’re mean,’ she managed, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Anyway, moving on. I think
you’ve more than earned your ten points for the day.’

‘Why, thank you, Miss Granger,’ he said with a little mock bow.

She snorted at him and rolled her eyes, but she’d just opened her mouth to speak when the
classroom door banged open with enough force to rattle the hinges. They both jumped and
turned to see an irate Ginny Weasley storming up the aisle toward them. She stopped and
fumed for a moment, folding her arms and glaring at the two of them in turns.

‘Ginny?’ Hermione prompted cautiously. ‘Is everything okay?’

Ginny ground her teeth. ‘Draco Malfoy is an idiot!’ she shouted suddenly, making them
jump again. She glared at Lucius. ‘Your son is an idiot !’
Lucius blinked at her, leaning away from her slightly, apparently too taken aback to speak.

‘What did he do?’ Hermione asked soothingly.

Ginny turned back to her and stamped her foot. ‘You want to know what he did?! I’ll tell
you what he did! He offered me to live with him!’

Hermione stared. She considered several responses, and finally settled on, ‘He invited you to
move into Malfoy Manor?’

‘Yes!’ Ginny shrieked, throwing up her hands.

She exchanged a glance with Lucius, but he continued to look shell-shocked. No help there.

‘Isn’t that generally considered a positive step in a relationship, and not an idiot move?’ she
asked, very, very cautiously.

‘It’s not what he asked, it’s the way he asked it,’ Ginny groused, scuffing her shoe on the
floor.

‘Um.’ She turned to Lucius. ‘Maybe we should continue our discussion another time, Mr
Malfoy.’

‘I think that would be wise,’ he said quickly. ‘Good day, ladies.’

Then he was off like a shot. Apparently, an irate Ginny Weasley was a bit much for him to
handle. Hermione wished she could escape so easily.

‘Ginny, let’s go to my flat and have some tea, and you can start from the beginning.’

They technically needed to go to the Burrow for dinner, but she felt as though Draco’s life
would be in danger if she didn’t calm Ginny down first. If they were late, so be it.

Once they were settled on her sofa with tea in hand, she nodded at Ginny to start.

‘Okay, so, we were having a late lunch together, because Draco had a meeting that ran over,’
she began, still red with fury, but no longer shrieking, thankfully. ‘I mentioned that I’m
hoping to ease Mum into the idea of me moving out before Christmas. I don’t want to ruin
the holidays, but I want to beat Ron to the punch, since we’re the only two left.’

Hermione smirked, and Ginny grinned evilly for a moment.

‘I was talking about what kind of place I wanted to get, and Draco said, “Or you could just
move into Malfoy Manor. It would save on rent, and then you wouldn’t have to wait to find a
place to move out.” Can you believe the nerve of him?’

Hermione frowned and idly stroked Crookshanks, who’d jumped up for a snuggle. ‘I don’t
think he meant the jibe about the rent the way it came out,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Maybe not, but it gets worse,’ Ginny said stubbornly. ‘I told him I wanted to be out on my
own for a while, since I’ve never had my own place before, and he said he didn’t see the
difference!’

‘Oh, boy,’ Hermione sighed.

‘Exactly. I’m never speaking to him again.’

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and tried really hard not to imagine throttling
Draco. It was like he’d never met a woman before.

‘So what’s new with you?’ Ginny said, abruptly her normal cheery self. ‘Has my dating book
helped you yet? You only ever hang out with me, Ron, Neville, Harry, and the Malfoys .
How do you expect to meet anyone?’

She hesitated. ‘I haven’t had time to start reading it yet, but I will,’ she added when Ginny
scowled. ‘And…actually, there’s a….’

‘A what?’ Ginny demanded, a gleam in her eye.

Hermione bit her lip. ‘You’ve got to swear not to say a word to anyone but Harry. He’s the
only other one who knows.’

Ginny bounced in her seat, grinning; Crookshanks hissed at her and jumped down as he was
jostled by the bouncing.

‘I swear, now tell me tell me tell me!’ she cried excitedly.

‘I’m…having a problem,’ Hermione began, wincing. ‘It’s, well…he’s a friend , and I

shouldn’t feel this way, and…I just started… lusting after him, for no reason. It’s not like I
like him like that , but he’s just…sexy, all of a sudden. I’m afraid it will ruin everything.’

Ginny nodded sagely. ‘Yeah, don’t sleep with a friend. After that you’re ex-friends, and
things get ugly fast. Who is it?’

Hermione shifted. ‘Well, that’s the other complication. I’m his teacher, this year.’

The younger girl blinked. ‘You’re attracted to a student? Isn’t that illegal? Or, like, against
Hogwarts policy?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘ Lucius , Ginny. It’s Lucius. He’s not in any way underage, and he’s
not technically a Hogwarts student, despite attending a class for the year.’

‘Oooooooooh, yeah, he’s hot, isn’t he?’

Hermione choked on her tea and spent a while coughing. ‘What?’ she rasped.

‘Don’t act so shocked, you’re the one who just said you were lusting after him,’ Ginny said
calmly.
‘Yes, but I said it in a bad way.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re hardly the first person to notice that Malfoys are sexy. Draco’s been
on Witch Weekly ’s Most Eligible Bachelor list ever since he turned seventeen, and Lucius
was on it before he married Narcissa. He was on their Hottest Newly Divorced Wizards list
last year, after Narcissa left with her boy toy, but I personally think the editors hadn’t actually
seen him recently, because he was not hot when that issue came out. He looked like an Inferi
in a wig, and smelled like a brewery.’

Hermione frowned. ‘He didn’t look that bad….’ She huffed. ‘Whatever, that’s not the point.
I don’t read Witch Weekly , and it’s all right for everyone else to think Lucius is hot if they
want to! It’s not okay if I think he’s hot!’

Ginny looked puzzled. ‘Why not? You just don’t sleep with him, and then you drool over
him when he’s not looking.’

Hermione let out a noise of frustration that made her sound somewhat like the Hogwarts
Express.

‘Ginny. Seriously. Isn’t there any way to…make it go away? He’ll go back to Azkaban if
anyone finds out that I’m having…those kinds of thoughts about him. They’ll accuse us of
impropriety and ship him off before you can say “Snitch.” Who knows? I might even lose
my job. And all of that is the worst case scenario, never mind what will happen to our
newfound friendship if he finds out.’

She snorted. ‘Knowing men, he would just have sex with you and then forget all about it.’

Hermione held her eye. ‘I don’t want that.’

Ginny studied her for a moment, the glee and amusement fading as she took in her friend’s
seriousness.

‘Geez, you really like him, don’t you?’ she said in an awed voice.

Hermione fiddled with her teacup. ‘He’s not a bad person, once you get to know him. We
have a lot of fun. And he’s very intelligent. I can talk about things with him that I can’t talk
about with Harry or Ron or you, or even Neville. He could be one of the best friends I’ve
ever had, eventually. I don’t want to lose that.’

Crookshanks returned for more snuggles, but avoided Ginny. Hermione scratched under his
chin. At last, Ginny answered.

‘There’s no way to make them go away, Hermione,’ she admitted. ‘You either scratch the
itch or you ignore it. If you want Lucius to be your friend, you’ll have to ignore it.’ She
paused. ‘I didn’t realise you were spending all that time over there because of him, although
I guess I should’ve. You talk about him all the time.’

Hermione’s face heated. ‘I just wanted to help him and Draco out, at first. He’s depressed,
and he was going through a really rough time at first, adjusting to having to go to school
again and dealing with everything he has to deal with. I guess he just grew on me.’ She
smiled wryly. ‘It helps that he doesn’t threaten me or sneer at me. He seems like he really
enjoys my company, sometimes. Or at least my cooking,’ she corrected with a chuckle. ‘I
just keep hoping that it’s not all just for show, that he really enjoys our talks as much as I do.
We could get to June and as soon as I give him a passing mark, he goes back to sneering
down his nose at me. You never know with Slytherins.’

Ginny hummed an agreement. ‘They’re pains in the arse. I don’t think he’s putting on a
show, though. I think you’d have noticed, by now. Nobody’s that good.’

She raised a brow. ‘Believe me, I’ve seen Lucius Malfoy in action. He is that good.’

‘Then I guess you’ll find out in June,’ she said grimly.

Hermione sighed and tried not to feel a little depressed herself.

 Almost There
Chapter Summary

Hermione gets stuck in a meeting and discovers a little about what Lucius has been up
to. Draco seeks Hermione's advice again. Lucius worships the ground Hermione walks
on, and Harry can't--or won't--shut up about it.

Chapter Notes

Last one before the day out, and I'm posting that one directly after this one is up.
Originally, they were going to be part of the same chapter, but the Muggle excursion
ended up being waaaaaay longer than I thought it would be, so I made this bit its own
little chunk. Hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. :)

Hermione was going to be late to her own afternoon class, she realised in a panic. The other
teachers were fidgeting, too, looking at their watches or quietly casting Tempus . Minerva
was tapping her fingers and glaring pointedly, but Mr Proudie, the current head of the
Hogwarts Board of Governors, continued to obliviously drone on. Why he had insisted on
having a budget meeting in the middle of the school day was beyond anyone’s
comprehension. She saw Filius scribbling a quick note and sending it off like one of the
Ministry’s memos; he was undoubtedly asking a prefect or other responsible student to watch
the class for him.

A light bulb went on in her head. She had an adult at her disposal--moreover, he was an adult
who was so well-prepared for class that he could probably teach the lesson himself.
Surreptitiously, she pulled out a quill and parchment and jotted a quick note of her own.

‘ Mr Malfoy--

Am being detained by blathering idiot. Please supervise class--lecture on microwaves. If

they give you trouble, give them detention--I will enforce. Classroom password is Firebird.

I will come ASAP. Owe you big time. Will pay in food of your choice.

--Hermione ’

She folded it and sent it away with a flick of her wand. A weight seemed to lift from her
chest, but she was still extremely annoyed about having to sit and listen to Proudie’s droning.
At least now she knew her students wouldn’t be sitting in the hallway, getting up to who
knew what.

At long last, Minerva glared Proudie into submission. Only a half hour late.

Fuming, Hermione stormed up the stairs as fast as she could. She was one corridor away
from her classroom when a small sound brought her up short.

‘Ooooooh, look at you, you’re so sweet!’ she cooed at the kitten that stepped toward her,
lifting a tiny paw.

She picked it up and scratched behind its ears. It immediately began purring.

‘Mr Tibbs, where are you?’ a familiar voice called.

Hermione smiled. ‘I think your daddy is looking for you, sweetheart.’

The kitten blinked its big green eyes and chirped.

Filch came around the corner and instantly looked relieved. ‘Oh, you found him, Professor.
Thank you. He’s much too small to be out alone yet.’

She handed the little brown fluffball over with some reluctance. Filch’s face scrunched up in
a rather ugly expression of love for the little critter, which licked his nose with equal
affection. She was moved in spite of herself; Mrs Norris had passed away over the summer,
and Filch had been devastated. She knew she would be completely crushed when
Crookshanks eventually passed on. She didn’t even want to think about it.

‘He’s adorable. Did you just get him?’

‘On Tuesday,’ Filch confirmed. ‘Mr Malfoy dropped him off.’

‘Mr Mal….’ Hermione swallowed. ‘Did he owe you a cat?’

‘Hmm? No, we just met in the hall and I told him about Mrs Norris a few weeks ago, and I
guess he felt badly for me.’

‘Oh,’ she said faintly.

Filch excused himself, and she dazedly continued on to the classroom. Lucius Malfoy, feel
bad for a Squib? He’d previously liked to pretend that they simply didn’t exist. She wasn’t
sure what to think of his sudden show of compassion.

She could hear his voice out in the corridor when she arrived at her classroom, slightly
muffled by the closed door. It rang with authority and confidence. He sounded like his usual
arrogant self. She touched the wood, frowning.

Lucius had suddenly presented her with a mental challenge that she wasn’t prepared for.
He’d shown that he felt guilty about a few things, openly, and she’d gleaned more from his
behaviour and a few of his expressions when he thought no one was looking. Still, she hadn’t
known he felt guilty enough to actually do anything about it. She had actually assumed
(rather unfairly, she realised uncomfortably) that his arrogance and feelings of superiority
would convince him that just being sorry about it was penance enough. A little guilt of her
own stung her as she realised how low her expectations of him had been.

And what did he have to feel guilty about toward Filch, a Squib, someone he considered the
lowest of the low?

She could think of only one thing--Mrs Norris had been petrified as a direct result of Lucius
passing Tom Riddle’s diary on to Ginny.

Hermione bit her lip. He felt guilty about that, it was the only explanation. Filch was only
the first person hurt by it. Then there was Colin Creevey, who was dead. She made a mental
note to watch Dennis, waiting to see if he received any gifts or money. After that was Justin
Finch-Fletchley, then…herself, and Penelope Clearwater, and then Harry. Most of all,
though, was Ginny. She tucked the mental list away with a reminder to be vigilant.

Finally, Hermione drew a deep breath and opened the door, quietly slipping inside. A few of
the students glanced up briefly, but most of them kept their eyes on the front of the room.
She smiled at the very sight. Lucius was standing at the front of the room with one hand on
the lectern and one hand on his hip, his head held high and looking very much in his element.
Her stomach tightened and her breathing picked up, and she mentally cursed herself.

‘It is not recommended that you put anything metallic inside your microwave unless you
want to ruin it,’ Lucius was saying calmly, evidently unbothered by suddenly being an
authority on Muggle appliances. ‘Although it does have the upside of providing you with an
impressive light show before it dies forever.’ He noticed her and gave a very small nod.
‘Professor Granger, would you like to take over now?’

He made to move, but she waved a hand and slid into his usual seat.

‘Carry on, Mr Malfoy,’ she said evenly.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded once and continued lecturing, holding the students
completely spellbound. She observed with mingled amusement and growing respect. He’d
really done his research, as his lecture was detailed yet understandable, and he was able to
field all of the questions that a few brave souls dared to ask. He could have been a teacher, if
he’d wanted to.

At the bell, he even announced the homework and dismissed them. Hermione leaned back
and folded her arms, waiting while the students filed out. When the last of them had gone,
Lucius walked back toward her with an expression of uncertainty, stopping with one row of
desks between them.

‘It was very well done,’ she said when he continued to remain silent, watching her.

He let out an audible breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. The uncertainty melted and he
looked at her with dancing eyes.
‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

Hermione smiled. ‘Are you still looking forward to Saturday?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Lucius said enthusiastically, ‘I’ve even had Draco pick up a Muggle suit. We’re
trying out different glamours on my hair, because the textbook has a few pictures of Muggle
cuts. I want to blend in.’

Her smile widened at his eagerness. ‘That’s fantastic.’

He hesitated. ‘Are you looking forward to it?’

‘Of course,’ she said easily, mentally adding that given her difficulty controlling herself, it
was a good thing that Draco was coming along.

Lucius’s eyes brightened a little and he smiled, and for a moment she couldn’t think about her
inappropriate lust or her confused thoughts about him--the only thought she had was that the
Lucius in front of her right now was very much capable of somehow buying a kitten and
hand-delivering it to a Squib.

She blinked the thought away.

‘You are coming tonight, aren’t you?’ he said smoothly and casually, but she’d been around
him enough now to hear the anxious note he was trying to cover. ‘You didn’t last week.’

Hermione grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave you to face the Weasleys and Luna alone this
time.’

‘Thank goodness,’ he said dryly, but she saw his relief.

She stood. ‘I’ll walk you to the Floo.’

Lucius offered her his arm again. She reluctantly took it, and hoped desperately that her face
wasn’t completely red, given that it felt like it was on fire. If it was, then she could only hope
that he would take it as embarrassment over his courtly gesture.

‘What dessert are you bringing tonight?’ he teased after they had walked about halfway in
silence.

‘I’m not,’ she said lightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction.

He whipped his head around to stare at her with an expression of utter betrayal and actually
faltered a step. Hermione laughed, righting herself when his stumble tugged her off balance.

‘I’m coming over early,’ she explained, grinning. ‘I’m making a chocolate soufflé, and they
don’t travel well, particularly not through the Floo. I asked Draco last night if I could horn in
on your kitchen again, and he said it was all right.’

Lucius resumed walking without bothering to hide his relief. ‘That was mean,’ he chided. ‘I
thought I was going to be stuck trying to choke down whatever mess Tibby’s prepared.’
Hermione chuckled. ‘She’s really a good cook, you know.’

‘Her food tastes like hatred and bitterness,’ he said stubbornly. ‘Since that’s how she feels
about me, she probably magically imbues the food with it.’

Another laugh tore out of her and she leaned on Lucius’s arm to recover. He smiled at her a
little proudly, and she realised with relief that for this moment, anyway, she wasn’t feeling
anything inappropriate, just the warmth of the friendship they were cultivating.

‘I somehow doubt that,’ she managed, recovering. ‘If she did that, we would all taste it at the
dinner parties.’

‘Ah--except that it’s not a buffet,’ he pointed out. ‘Each person’s plate comes individually.
She and the other house elves could make all of the food, and then when they dish out my
plate, curse it to taste terrible.’

She shook her head, grinning. ‘I still doubt it, but I have no argument for that one, other than
to say that it’s highly unlikely.’

‘But not impossible.’

‘No,’ she conceded. ‘Not impossible.’

They arrived at the fireplace where he and the Goyles were permitted to Floo in and out. He
bowed to her with a teasing smile.

‘I shall see you shortly, then.’

She smiled back and he left in a flash of green fire. Hermione groaned and covered her face
with both hands.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius followed Hermione to the kitchen as soon as she arrived, taking her bag from her and
padding after her like a lost puppy. His excitement and desperation for her company would
very definitely have bothered him a month ago, but now he was so lonely and bored without
her that he didn’t even try to lie to himself.

Draco had tried bringing a few other people around over the last month, to break up the
monotony, he supposed. His son had sent Molly Weasley around three times a week with her
bland cooking (it wasn’t as awful as Tibby’s, though, so that was something), then brought
over a few Ministry lackeys Lucius had once been acquainted with.

Draco even tried pushing some young blonde researcher from the bowels of the Ministry,
evidently believing that it was just female company in general that his father wanted. Lucius
had soothed the terrified girl with a cup of tea and a conversation about the ethics of various
werewolf laws, before sending her on her way. He had then had a very stern talk with Draco
about the appropriateness of sending women to him for certain…purposes (i.e., that it wasn’t
at all appropriate and he did not appreciate it one iota). Draco had turned a very unbecoming
shade of red and promised not to do anything like that again.

Still, even the ‘normal’ company that Draco had shoved on him had been completely boring
to him. Only Hermione could spark his interest. She was intelligent and humorous, and she
talked to him like an equal, without judgment or condescension, like Molly, or fear, like those
Ministry idiots. Out of all of the people he had to put up with, Hermione had become the
only one he enjoyed spending time with, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it to himself anymore.

And when he was alone…he didn’t like to think about it, but his time alone had become
increasingly horrible, when he wasn’t working toward his atonement.

‘So how do you make soufflé?’ he asked as she unloaded her bag onto the free space the
house elves had left for her.

She flashed him a smile and began to speak. He watched her throughout the process,
listening intently to her explanation even though he never intended on trying to cook
anything himself. She seemed more relaxed in teacher mode, Lucius noted. For the last few
days, she’d seemed jumpy and guilty around him, not wanting to meet his eyes and backing
away when he moved toward her.

Part of Lucius feared it meant that she was failing him and didn’t want to tell him. Another,
darker part whispered that she was afraid of him, and he rather wildly grasped at ways to
distract her, to make her relax around him again as she had before, to prove that part of him
wrong.

‘…And then it has to bake,’ she concluded, sliding it into the oven. ‘Tibby can take it from
there.’

Hermione began cleaning up her supplies. On an impulse, Lucius picked up a towel and
started helping, earning a warm smile that went straight to his middle. He basked in the
glow, not focusing at all on the fact that he was currently engaged in menial labour, for which
he had house elves. Since she’d revealed what she’d done for him, it had become more
important than anything that she think well of him. He wanted her to believe that he was
worthy of the effort she’d gone through to get him the day pass, even if he felt unworthy.

‘Father? Hermione? People are arriving, I could use a little help,’ Draco called down the
stairs.

‘We’ll be right there!’ Hermione called back cheerfully.

They packed away her supplies and Lucius happily followed her back up the stairs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Draco cornered Hermione as soon as everyone had arrived. He looked very glum.

‘Ginny won’t talk to me,’ he mumbled unhappily.

‘Nope, she says she’s never speaking to you again,’ Hermione replied cheerfully. ‘It’s your
own fault.’

He huffed. ‘I don’t even know what I did wrong! How was inviting her to live with me a
bad thing? We’ve been together for a month, so it’s not like it’s too soon, just a little soon.
Why is she so angry?’

She took pity on him, but her eyes were tracking Lucius. He’d been lassoed by Molly, who
was standing there scolding him about how thin he was, totally oblivious to the fact that both
Lucius and Arthur were standing with the same tightly-clenched jaws and white knuckles,
trying very hard not to look at each other even accidentally as she prattled on. Hermione kept
an eye on the situation, watching Lucius for signs of an imminent explosion. She had faith in
him, but Molly could try the patience of a saint.

‘She’s angry because of the way you asked,’ she explained with a sigh. ‘It didn’t sound to
her like an invitation, it sounded like a way to make a comment on her family’s lack of
wealth again. Which, of course, means that you two still have some issues you haven’t quite
worked through yet.’

Draco harrumphed.

Hermione studied Lucius’s waist, trying to see through the robe. Was he too thin? She
couldn’t quite remember how he’d looked before, in his glory days….

‘She’s even angrier at your lack of respect for her desire to have her own place,’ she added.

He huffed again, fidgeting. ‘I just don’t understand what the big deal is! Moving out is
moving out, right? Why does it matter where?’

She snorted. ‘Therein lies your problem. It may not be a big deal to you, but it’s a big deal
to Ginny. Yes, she’s very eager to move out, but unlike her brothers, she’s never had her own
place before. She only graduated last spring, remember? Even Ron went on the road with
us, so he wasn’t living at home all that time. It’s more than about moving out of her parents’
home to Ginny. It’s also about proving her independence. Your offer, while well-intended,
would have meant living under someone else’s roof again. Then you just had to blow her off
when she tried to explain that to you, and now she’s said she’ll never speak to you again.
You are on your own. I can sort Lucius for you, or I can sort Ginny for you, I cannot do
both. I’m only one woman.’

No, Molly was right, he was definitely still too thin, she decided. She needed to ramp up
how many meals she was bringing over, since he apparently couldn’t control himself around
her food.
Draco sighed, slumping with defeat. ‘Fine. I’ll find a way without you, then,’ he said,
pouting.

‘That’s the spirit. Does Lucius look thin to you?’

He did a double-take at the apparent non-sequitur. ‘Uh…I guess? I see him every day, he
looks the same to me. He’s looked the same for over a year now.’

Hermione finally looked at him, but only to glare at him. ‘That’s not good, Draco. He needs
to put on some weight, he looks like doesn’t eat, ever.’

He shrugged. ‘He doesn’t really. I told you, he barely eats unless it’s something you
brought. He eats enough to get by.’

‘Well, why don’t you make him eat more?’ she demanded, scowling fiercely.

‘What, demand that he clean his plate, like he’s a child? I’m sure that would go over really
well,’ Draco said, rolling his eyes. ‘You’re the one who told me to stop lording over him,
remember? He’s an adult, as you keep reminding me. Hopefully, he knows how much he
needs or wants to eat.’

Hermione glowered at him once more, but reluctantly let the subject go. ‘I hear your
preparations for Saturday are coming along.’

‘Sort of,’ he muttered. Then, when she shot him a puzzled look, he added, ‘He flinches every
time I point my wand in his general direction. It messes up the glamours.’

She felt a spike of sympathy in her chest. ‘Can you blame him? You have a wand and he
doesn’t. I’d flinch, too, if you pointed a wand at me when I was unarmed.’

Draco shook his head. ‘No, I mean he bodily flinches. He puts his arms up and everything.
It’s more of a cringe, really. Then I have to get him calmed back down and we try again. We
tried it with him sitting, and he just knocked the chair over backward.’

She drew in a small breath, wincing. ‘That bad?’

‘Yes. He insists we keep trying, though. He really wants this to work.’

‘He could just go without a glamour,’ she pointed out.

He smiled faintly. ‘I said the same thing. Father said it wouldn’t be the same, and he wants
to blend in with the Muggles.’

She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself.

The chime for dinner sounded and they parted ways, each consumed in their own thoughts.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Lucius had been gearing himself up for the horror that was dinner, only to find that Draco had
moved them around. Instead of Ginny on one side and Arthur on the other, he was now
between Luna and Hermione. This was a vast improvement. Neville was directly across
from him, so that wasn’t horrendous, either.

‘Hello again,’ he greeted Hermione cheerfully when she found her new seat assignment.

She smiled at him brightly. ‘Hello again.’

‘I wonder why Draco’s moved things,’ Lovegood piped up dreamily. ‘Probably the Nargles
told him to.’

Lucius wondered, too, although her theory was probably incorrect.

Hermione smiled at them conspiratorially. ‘He wants Ginny beside him so he can try to get
her talking to him again, but he wanted to make it look like she wasn’t the reason.’

‘Ah.’

That made sense. Draco had been mopey and horrible ever since Tuesday afternoon. Lucius
had been relieved to see him go when he went to the Burrow and to Grimmauld Place the last
two evenings.

Lovegood opened her mouth, but fortunately, Ginny was seated on her other side and
engaged her in conversation to avoid talking to Draco. Draco continued to look mopey.

‘So what can I make you?’ Hermione asked with a teasing edge.

Lucius frowned. ‘Pardon?’

She smiled. ‘I told you in the note, I owe you for taking on my class. What meal would you
like?’

‘Oh, that’s right.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Anything I want?’

‘Anything you want that I know how to make,’ she clarified. ‘Which is most things, so
unless you venture into Filipino cuisine or sushi, you should be safe.’

‘Hmm.’ That left a lot of possibilities. ‘May I think about it for a while?’

She shrugged. ‘As long as you want. It’s a standing debt with no expiration date.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Would you like to talk about Saturday instead?’

Lucius looked at her worshipfully. ‘ Yes ,’ he replied intensely, his voice rumbling in his
chest.
Hermione’s cheeks reddened and her eyes went very dark. She turned to her plate, and he
noted with concern the slight tremor in her voice when she spoke.

‘I was thinking we could leave here at eight in the morning and go have breakfast at a
Muggle establishment,’ she began. ‘After that, we can do a little sightseeing until lunch. Is
there anywhere specific you’d like to go?’

‘Parliament,’ he said automatically.

Hermione grinned at him. ‘Gee, a Slytherin who wants to go straight to the seat of power. I
never would’ve guessed.’

Lucius only smiled.

‘All right, we can hit the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, all
the usual tourist hotspots. Then lunch, and after that, I think we should go window shopping.
I’d like you to see Muggles shopping for Muggle things.’

He nodded. ‘That could be interesting.’

‘Then the museum, I think. Afterward, I need to stop in somewhere really quickly, and we’ll
have dinner with my parents’ old friends, the Garrisons, so you can have a more intimate
look at Muggles. If there’s enough time afterward, we’ll check out a Muggle pub or two for
you to observe, and we’ve got to have you back here by eight. Does all that sound all right?’

‘It sounds perfect,’ he said, a slight shift all he allowed himself of the excited wriggle that
wanted to come out.

Most of what she’d mentioned for the morning was outside . He couldn’t wait.

The subject changed to other, less exciting topics, and he happened to overhear Lovegood
mention something that gave him an idea for his next target. All in all, it was an excellent
night--particularly the soufflé part.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione joined Harry for another cup of tea after the party broke up. He kept studying her,
but this time she didn’t want to know what he was going to say. She’d ended up alone with
Lucius again (where he returned Lord of the Rings with marked reluctance, and lent her the
book he’d offered before, Antoine and the Firebird ), but she’d quickly found an excuse to
leave and tailed Harry for the rest of the evening.

‘So, Hermione,’ he said at last, and she tried not to wince. ‘How are things going with
Lucius?’

‘Fine,’ she squeaked.

Harry raised a brow and pushed up his glasses. ‘Which is why you avoided him most of the
evening, and he ended up following us around the sitting room like a duckling after its
mother.’

‘He didn’t,’ she protested, nearly dropping her cup.

‘After Neville left and he had no one else to talk to, he did,’ Harry insisted, smiling.

Hermione sighed unhappily. ‘He’s just really, really excited and grateful about Saturday.’

‘And has therefore become your devoted duckling,’ he added with false innocence. ‘Even
when he was talking to Neville, he kept looking at you. I’ve seen that look before--on you.’

She scowled, feeling defensive. ‘What look?’

Harry grinned roguishly, and for a moment she was reminded of Sirius. She shook it off.

‘The look of an overachieving pupil, desperate to impress that one favourite teacher. I think
he’s your new biggest fan. All you did was pull a few strings and get him a day pass, and
Lucius bloody Malfoy went from tolerating your Muggle-born existence to worshipping the
ground you walk on.’

She shifted uncomfortably, swirling her tea. ‘It will wear off. He’s been under house arrest
since August of ’98, he was bound to get excited about it.’

He raised his brows. ‘ That excited? The Goyles didn’t suddenly turn into Hermione
groupies.’

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated. ‘Lucius is not my groupie, Harry. And it’s different.
For one thing, the Goyles are more emotionally stunted than even Ron , and for another,
they’re at least allowed to go out in their own gardens. Lucius is not.’

His face went slack with shock. ‘ What ? How is that even allowed? That’s…that’s just
inhumane!’

‘That’s what Draco said when they passed down the conditions, but they claim it’s for
Lucius’s safety,’ she said with more than a touch of bitterness.

Harry remained serious. ‘Even Sirius could go out in his garden, as unpleasant as it was back
then.’ He bit his lip. ‘He hasn’t been outside in over a year? No wonder he looks at you like
you hung the moon. I’m sorry, Hermione, I didn’t realise.’

She shrugged, set her tea aside. ‘He’ll go back to normal after it’s over, probably. Or at least
after he realises he’s got another seven months of being trapped inside after a one day
reprieve.’

‘Or he’ll be your devoted fan forever,’ he said, grinning. ‘He’ll bring you an apple to class
every day from now on.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘Shut up, Harry.’

His grin widened. ‘He’ll start a fan club and sell memberships.’

She tried not to laugh and ended up making a very unladylike noise. ‘Shut up , Harry!’

His bright eyes gleamed with mischief. She shook her head in defeat, throwing her hands up.

‘I give up. You’re hopeless. I’m going home to get some sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams!’ he chirped, then laughed when she responded with a rude gesture.
 Muggle London
Chapter Summary

Draco begs off, so Hermione and Lucius go to Muggle London without him. Lucius has
many adventures and interesting experiences, while Hermione tries to hide her feelings.
Hermione meets an old friend, and Lucius is jealous.

Chapter Notes

Oh, boy. This is looooooooong. Or at least it felt that way. But at long last, here it is--
Lucius's classist attitudes, revelations, encounters with tourists, a homey dinner with
Hermione's family friends, oblivious!Lucius and lots of Lucius/Hermione moments.
Particularly since they end up holding hands pretty much all day. :D Lucius is more than
a bit OOC at the beginning, but he's super, super excited, so hopefully it works anyway.
I hope it's as fun as you hoped it would be! I was pretty happy with how it came out, for
the most part. Enjoy!

Lucius was so excited on Saturday that he woke naturally at five in the morning, and spent an
hour and a half pacing around the house, waiting for Draco to wake up. Finally, he pounded
on the door until a very cranky Draco emerged, squinting and scratching his mussed head.

‘Father? It’s six-thirty ,’ he moaned. ‘Hermione won’t even be here for another hour. And
that’s assuming she arrives early.’

‘She’s Hermione, of course she’ll arrive early,’ Lucius said flippantly. ‘Hurry up and get
dressed, I’m hungry! It’s breakfast time!’

Draco stared at him for a moment. ‘Yeah, all right.’

Lucius paced the hallway with restless energy while he waited, and practically ran circles
around his bewildered son when he emerged again and headed for the dining room.

‘We’re going to go shopping,’ he chattered uncharacteristically. ‘And we’re going to a

museum, although I don’t want to go inside some stuffy old museum. I want to go to a park
and be outside. I think I can convince her. Parks can be educational, can’t they?’

He paused to take a breath, and Draco seized the opportunity.

‘Father, will you please sit down?’ he asked, and Lucius decided he was definitely still
cranky. ‘I thought you were hungry. Besides, you’re making me dizzy. I can’t decide
whether you remind me more of a house elf, or a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Either
way, it’s a bit much at this time of morning, and hardly dignified.’

Lucius sat, pouting. ‘You’re cranky,’ he pronounced, ‘and no fun. If you’re going to be like
this all day, then maybe you shouldn’t come.’

He dug into his breakfast with a gusto that was usually absent when it wasn’t Hermione’s
cooking. Draco looked faintly disgusted.

‘I probably won’t,’ he said testily. ‘Ginny still isn’t talking to me, so I need to track her down
and make things right. I thought Hermione was taking you out for a Muggle breakfast?’

Lucius swallowed hastily. ‘She is, but what if I hate it?’

Draco rolled his eyes and gloomily sipped his coffee. He rolled his eyes back and kept
eating. Draco’s mood couldn’t possibly dampen his enthusiasm--he felt as though currents of
fire were flowing through his veins, and he might literally explode from the excess energy if
he sat still for too long.

He finished eating in short order and left Draco to his brooding, retreating to the library. He
paced for a while before stationing himself at one of the windows, fidgeting and drumming
his fingers on the glass. He usually avoided looking out the windows when he could--it
seemed equivalent to being allergic to peanuts and then putting bags of them in every room,
knowing you couldn’t have it--but now he gazed out at their brown, dormant gardens
hungrily, anticipating the sharp, bitter November breeze biting his skin, the weak winter sun
peeking through the clouds to shine on him. He could almost feel it already.

‘Nice suit.’

He whipped around to find Hermione smiling at him from the doorway, Draco sulking at her
shoulder with his arms folded. Lucius ignored Draco, offering Hermione a wide, genuine
grin. She reddened, but he thought nothing of it.

‘Thank you,’ he said brightly. ‘Is it time to go yet?’

She giggled. ‘Almost. You still need your glamour, and then we can go in a few minutes.’

‘I warned you,’ Draco said darkly.

‘I thought you were going weasel hunting,’ Lucius sniped cheerfully. ‘I already checked this
room, there are no weasels or Weasleys here.’

Hermione giggled again, putting a hand over her mouth in a futile effort to squelch it. Draco
was not amused.

‘You’re not coming with us, then?’ she asked, trying to suppress her smile with limited
success.
‘No, I need to find Ginny and grovel,’ he sighed.

Hermione shook her head. ‘Good luck.’

Lucius snapped his fingers impatiently. ‘Glamour time! Let’s get going!’

Draco sighed again and reached for his wand sluggishly. She was much faster; in a blink, she
had her wand out and pointed at him, and Lucius felt a warm tingle pass over him as the spell
hit. She lowered her wand and put it away with a satisfied nod.

Draco gaped, his hand still frozen in the act of reaching for his wand. ‘You didn’t flinch,’ he
said blankly.

Lucius shrugged and walked over to the mirror. ‘No, I guess I didn’t,’ he agreed easily.

The glamour darkened his hair three or four shades and shortened it considerably, leaving his
ears and neck naked. It looked…odd. He was glad to feel his real hair invisible against his
skin.

Draco stormed out abruptly, and Lucius frowned at a very bewildered Hermione.

‘Don’t mind him,’ he said reassuringly. ‘He woke up cranky. I think he’s out of sorts over
his Weasley. I hope he makes up with her today. I’m tired of his sulking.’

Hermione shook her head, then smiled weakly. ‘Shall we?’

He padded after her with puppy-like enthusiasm. He couldn’t remember ever being this
excited about anything before. If he had been, those memories were gone, courtesy of the
Dementors. Perhaps he had been, as a child.

‘You have to wear this on your wrist,’ she explained when they arrived in the entrance hall,
holding up a leather cuff. ‘After I tap it with my wand, it will start timing us. We have
twelve hours, or else we’ll be automatically Apparated straight to a Ministry holding cell
after ten minutes. It will also keep you within ten meters of me--you’ll feel a tug if you get
too far away. Are you ready?’

He held out his arm in answer, prompting a chuckle from Hermione. She put the band on his
wrist, but paused before tapping it with her wand.

‘I almost forgot!’

She dug a money clip out of her beaded bag and handed it to him.

‘Put that in your inner pocket, here,’ she instructed, patting the corresponding spot on her
chest. ‘I’ll pay for everything, but I thought you should have some Muggle money, just in
case.’

He conceded the wisdom of that and tucked the money clip away. She tapped the cuff with
her wand; it glowed blue for a moment. She put her wand away and held out her hand with
an uncertain expression. He hoped it wasn’t uncertainty about being out with him by herself.
‘Ready?’

He closed his hand around hers. It was warm and dry and soft. Her cheeks were pink again
and she wouldn’t meet his eye.

‘Ready,’ he said firmly.

She Apparated.

Lucius stumbled slightly on landing. It turned out to be because he’d landed on the edge of
some curbing.

‘Sorry,’ Hermione said sheepishly.

He didn’t even care. He was busy standing there, blinking and breathing. It was exactly as
he’d imagined it. The sunlight dazzled his unaccustomed eyes--the chill wind was crisp
against his face, through the Muggle suit, sapping any warmth the sun might have offered.
He felt as though every pore of his skin was open, soaking up every particle of free air.

A gentle tug on his hand alerted Lucius to the fact that he hadn’t let go of Hermione’s hand--
he released it post-haste, rubbing his fingers together.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ she said hesitantly.

He snapped his head around, felt his face heating despite the wind. Hopefully she would
assume any pinkness in his cheeks was from the wind.

‘We should get moving.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said quickly. ‘Lead on.’

Her smile became a little firmer and she started walking, leading him out of the alleyway
she’d Apparated them into.

Lucius grabbed onto her arm with both hands and hauled her to a stop as he was assaulted by
a wall of noise and smell. How he hadn’t noticed it in the alley was beyond him. As a Death
Eater, he had worked at night, in mainly residential areas. He had been completely
unprepared for this assault on his senses.

It was overwhelming --a cacophony of motors, horns, voices, footsteps, music, and a
thousand other sounds he couldn’t pick out or name.

Hermione gently steered him back into the alley, out of the way of the hurrying Muggles
bumping and jostling them.

‘Mr Malfoy? Are you all right?’

He looked at her with wide eyes. Her expression was gentle with concern, her dark eyes soft
and not at all judgmental. She gave no indication that she even noticed the death grip he still
had on her upper arm. He loosened his fingers with an effort, but couldn’t quite bring
himself to let go.

‘It’s so loud ,’ he said hoarsely. ‘How do they stand it?’

She reached up with her free hand and patted his hands. ‘Oh, you get used to it, after a
while.’

He made an incredulous sound, but after a few minutes, he had to admit that the noises
seemed to fade into the background a little. It still wasn’t pleasant , but it was more
manageable.

Hermione seemed to sense him relaxing; smiling, she pried his fingers off of her arm and
loosely held his hand. He made no attempt to extract it--in fact, he clutched at her hand
firmly, feeling a little more secure with the contact.

‘I’m ready now,’ he said, even though he wasn’t quite certain that he was.

‘All right, let’s go, then.’

She expertly led him through the whirl of noisy, smelly humanity. Lucius held tight to her
hand and tried not to openly marvel at her as she navigated the masses. She seemed to know
instinctively when to weave or dodge, when to pause, when to go, exactly how fast or slow to
move. It was like a dance he didn’t know the steps to. In Diagon Alley, there were no cars to
manage, there were much fewer people, and the crowds tended to part when they saw him
coming anyway.

Hermione led him through a glass door into a café. He sighed with relief at the reduction of
noise and the presence of elbow room. In here, normal restaurant sounds and smells filled
the air, and he felt able to relax slightly.

A girl in a green polo and a little black apron approached, flipping her ponytail.

‘Morning,’ she said in a clipped, business-like tone. ‘Two, then?’

‘Yes, just two,’ said Hermione politely.

The girl cracked her gum and grabbed two menus from a stack. ‘This way.’

She put them at a tiny round table jammed into the corner where the plate-glass windows met
the wall, and left without so much as a glance. Lucius gaped at her retreating back.

‘What is it?’ Hermione asked when she noticed he wasn’t looking at his menu.

‘She was so rude ,’ he said, dumbfounded.

She chuckled. ‘This is a café, and they’re busy. She’s not our waitress, so she probably
doesn’t see the point in wasting words on us.’

He goggled. ‘This is normal to you?’

‘Well, I don’t frequent five-star restaurants like you do, so yes,’ she agreed with a wry smile.

A fidgety blonde girl in the café uniform green polo rocketed up to the table before he could
formulate a reply.

‘Hi, I’m Emily, I’ll be serving you today, what can I get you to drink?’ she rattled off.

‘A cup of tea and a glass of orange juice for me, thanks,’ Hermione said in the same polite
tone as before. Clearly, she still saw nothing wrong with this situation.

Emily pinned him with her eyes. ‘And you, love?’

Lucius’s mouth dropped open and no sound came out. Had she really just dared to call him
love ?!

‘He’ll have the same,’ Hermione said when he remained silent.

‘Great, thanks,’ Emily fired off, and disappeared again.

Hermione chuckled again, and Lucius’s mouth snapped shut. He glared at her; she twisted
her lips in an effort to stop smiling.

‘What?’ she asked innocently. ‘She smiled, she was friendly--she had to talk fast because
they’re busy, and it looks to me like they’re shorthanded today. She has five or six other
tables to wait on.’

He opened his menu with an irritated snap. ‘That’s no excuse.’

She shook her head and turned to back to her menu.

He recognised a lot of the offerings. Usually, the food seemed to be something familiar but
with some odd twist, like peppers or a strange sauce or something exotic paired with it. The
safest thing appeared to be called a ‘breakfast scramble.’ He was glad he’d eaten before they
went out.

Emily returned with their drinks. Lucius’s cup of tea looked extremely unappealing, but he
schooled his expression to polite curiosity.

‘What can I get you, then?’ Emily said so rapidly he almost couldn’t understand her.

Hermione ordered some strange breakfast sandwich with peppers and ‘asiago’ cheese. He
quickly ordered his breakfast scramble thing, and Emily disappeared.

‘What’s wrong with the tea?’ Hermione asked, smirking.

He should’ve known she would see right through him. Grimacing, he gingerly poked the
handle of the cup.

‘It’s bagged ,’ he said unhappily. ‘And I think this cup may be about three hundred years
old.’
She giggled, setting down her own cup so she wouldn’t spill it. ‘It’s plastic, so I highly doubt
that. And Muggles usually drink bagged tea nowadays. It’s less hassle than loose leaf.’

‘Since when is the easy way automatically the best way?’ he groused, and bravely took a sip.

No. He was not drinking that. He set it down and tried not to gag. The orange juice tasted
good, though, and rather effectively washed out the taste of the so-called ‘tea.’

‘Since never,’ Hermione agreed with a sigh. ‘Sometimes you don’t have a choice, though--
the Muggle world is a lot faster paced than our world. You have to run to keep up, and you
can’t run and stop to make loose leaf tea at the same time. Teabags can be tossed in a to-go
cup.’

Lucius scowled, but he was glad to note the possessive--‘ our world.’ She was a witch, after
all. She should take pride in it--in the world she’d helped save.

‘I don’t want to run,’ he said with a sniff.

Hermione grinned. ‘You don’t have to. We’re only here for the day, and we can go at our
own pace.’

‘Good.’

Their food arrived. Lucius stared at his in bewilderment for a moment. A ‘breakfast
scramble’ was apparently a greasy glob of cheese, eggs, sausage and hash browns all mixed
together and then fried.

‘That looks good,’ Hermione said cheerfully.

He shot her a doubtful glance and picked up his fork. He was really, really glad he’d eaten
before he left home.

To distract himself from the weird mass he was expected to consume, he looked out the
window and around the café at his fellow diners. The people outside strode by purposefully,
some of them holding mobile phones to their ears, others carrying bags or parcels, all of them
on some mission or other. There were a very few people who seemed to be in no hurry,
sauntering through the crowd at their own pace. Those people were generally carrying bags,
and he assumed they were shopping.

The other diners looked no different from he and Hermione, to his surprise. Some of them
were in suits and business attire like himself, despite it being a week-end, and others were
dressed more casually, but either way, they sat and ate and talked no differently. If it hadn’t
been for the clothing and the lack of magic, he could easily have been sitting in a wizarding
café.

‘Seeing anything interesting?’ Hermione asked when he’d been quiet for a long time.

Lucius hummed an agreement, and then frowned at his plate. He’d eaten half of it already
and hardly noticed. He ran his tongue over his teeth and grimaced at the greasy film.
‘How is it?’

‘Disgusting,’ he said, a note of surprise in his voice, ‘but I can’t stop eating it. What is wrong
with this food? If it weren’t made by Muggles, I would swear there was some kind of
compulsion charm on it.’

She laughed. ‘Lunch will be better, I promise.’

He put his fork down and looked at her warily. ‘You’re not going to take me to a fish and
chips stand, are you?’

Her grin broadened and she spread her hands. ‘Cross my heart, no fish and chips.’

He sighed with relief, prompting another giggle from Hermione. He didn’t mind if she
laughed at him, since it meant she no longer seemed ill-at-ease around him.

‘Are we going to Parliament next?’ he asked, sipping his orange juice to wash out some of
the grease.

‘Yep, on to Westminster,’ she agreed, finishing off her sandwich.

‘Are we going to take the Tube there?’

He felt a little eager at the idea--an adventure, and more importantly, a chance to use some of
the knowledge from his textbook--but Hermione’s brow furrowed.

‘Um…I was just going to Apparate us any distances that are too far to walk, and I think we
could probably just walk from here to there anyway,’ she said uneasily.

Lucius pouted. ‘Why do you have it in your book if we’re not supposed to do it?’

‘I meant it more for in cases of emergency….’

His pout grew more pronounced.

Hermione sighed. ‘Mr Malfoy, I really, really don’t think you’re going to like it.’

‘How will I know if I don’t try it?’ he asked reasonably.

She looked a little desperate now. ‘It’s underground. I thought you wanted to be outside?’

He played a card he knew would win. ‘I’m supposed to be looking for inspiration for my
final project, aren’t I? What if the Tube held the perfect idea, and we missed it because you
wouldn’t let me try it?’

Hermione scowled, and Lucius felt very smug.

‘All right, fine,’ she said unhappily. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

She paid their bill and left a tip before leading the way back to the door. He grabbed her hand
as soon as it opened, and she flashed him a reassuring smile, but didn’t try to dislodge him.
 She threaded through the crowd again, back part of the way they’d come, and they followed
the flow of people down the steps into the land under the sidewalk. Lucius might have felt
giddy, but there was a rather off-putting smell that curbed any sense of whimsy or
adventurousness.

‘Why does it smell like--’

‘It’s the Tube,’ Hermione cut him off. ‘It’s a subway system. They all smell like that.’

He wrinkled his nose and tried not to touch anything. She shot him a smug look of her own,
but didn’t say anything.

She showed him how to buy a ticket, and then they passed through a set of gates. There were
people everywhere, going every direction. A voice on a loudspeaker kept making
announcements, echoing in the passageway, and there were brightly-coloured signs
everywhere. It was all very disorienting. He held Hermione’s hand tighter and stayed close
to her. She squeezed back reassuringly, and led him to stand on a platform.

He cautiously looked around, reminding himself that he was supposed to be looking for
project ideas.

‘What are those?’ he asked softly, bending close to her ear.

She looked where he indicated. ‘Vending machines. You put money in them and you get
something back.’

‘Like what?’

‘It depends on the type of vending machine. Most of them dispense beverages or snacks.
Sometimes you can find ones that dispense ice creams, and in hospitals and some businesses,
they sometimes have ones that provide microwaveable meals or sandwiches. There are even
vending machines that dispense office supplies, adhesive bandages, electronics, pregnancy
tests, or even condoms.’

Lucius let out a half-snort, half-giggle that was definitely not dignified at all and turned
bright red. She grinned at him, enjoying his embarrassment, and he looked away.

‘That particular set of vending machines dispenses beverages,’ she added.

Lucius wished he hadn’t looked away, because on the other side of the platform, there was a
man very diligently picking his nose. He looked back down at Hermione.

‘This is disgusting,’ he said matter-of-factly.

She laughed. ‘I told you.’

The train arrived in a cloud of smelly air, noisy and abrupt. The doors snapped open, and
Hermione pushed him on. There was no room to sit, so she nudged him to grab onto the pole
in the middle. He did, but with his free hand. He wasn’t letting go of her hand unless he
absolutely had to.
It was a very strange mixture of people. There were business people, snapping angrily into
their phones or tapping away at the laptops perched on their knees; there were average,
normal people who dressed very similarly to Potter, clutching their purchases and looking
bored; worst of all to Lucius, though, were the grubby, smelly people who looked like they
hadn’t bathed or changed their clothes in years. He’d never seen--or smelled--such
disgusting people.

‘Stop staring,’ Hermione hissed into his ear.

He shot her a surprised glance. She looked extremely disapproving, and Lucius inwardly
shrank away from it, feeling inexplicably cold amidst the crush of bodies.

‘They’re homeless people, Mr Malfoy,’ she explained when she saw his confused
chastisement. ‘They can’t help how they look.’

He blinked. ‘Homeless?’

‘Homeless. They have no home. They have nowhere to live.’

Her eyes were hard, and she looked away from him with an angry set to her jaw. She pulled
her hand out of his grip and held onto the pole with both hands. He struggled to understand--
he didn’t want her to be angry with him.

‘We don’t have those in the Wizarding world,’ he said helplessly. ‘Or at least, none that I
know of.’

She didn’t answer. The train lurched, and Lucius’s stomach lurched with it.

A woman sneezed into her hand and then went back to gripping the pole--with the same hand
. Lucius removed his hand from the pole with alacrity, wiping it on his pants. Hermione
softened, smiling and rolling her eyes at him.

‘Can we get off now?’ he asked pleadingly.

‘At the next stop,’ she agreed.

He nearly fell over when the train jolted to a stop, but Hermione caught him. She quickly
linked their hands again and pulled him through the press of people, back onto the platform.
They moved through the passages, back through a different set of gates, and emerged onto a
different street. He took a deep breath of the much-less-smelly air. She pulled him into a
recess, out of the way.

‘Cleaning charms,’ he insisted urgently.

Blocking the view with their bodies, she obligingly cast a cleaning charm on their hands.

‘You were right, I was wrong,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t want to do that again.’

Hermione smiled and held out her hand. He took it with relief, drawing a breath that felt
much easier now that she seemed to be over her fit of pique.
‘Where are we now?’ he wondered when they’d walked for a while.

‘Charing Cross. We’ll be in Trafalgar Square in a moment.’

He nodded in acknowledgement and then craned his neck, looking this way and that, trusting
her to guide him safely through the crowds.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Well, this is the Palace of Westminster,’ Hermione said, waving a hand at it. ‘Nothing too
exciting, I suppose.’

Lucius thought it was. It was much bigger than the picture in the textbook. It made him
wonder how big the Eiffel Tower in Paris was--on the rare occasions that he’d been to
France, he’d been in Marseille. Personally, he preferred Tuscany. French wizards were so
snobby; Italians were more relaxed.

‘Did you want to tour the Elizabeth Tower?’ she asked, nudging him. ‘I applied ahead with
my MP, so we can if you want to.’

He frowned. ‘No, I want to stay outside,’ he said honestly.

Surely, there were books with pictures of the inside in them.

She only smiled. ‘Fair enough.’

She didn’t rush him, either, letting him wander around the outside of the building, tugging her
along after him, for a half hour.

‘All right, we can go now,’ he said when he was satisfied, and when a group of tourists came
and took over the sidewalk, their cameras raised in unison.

Hermione led him away from the river, and Westminster Abbey was right there. They
walked around to the front of the building, but Lucius didn’t want to go inside there, either.

‘Are you sure? There’s a lot of tombs and relics and things, and some beautiful stained
glass….’

She trailed off, because he was resolutely shaking his head. She smiled wryly.

‘All right then. We’ll just look at the outside.’

He relaxed a little, and peered up at the building curiously. They were interrupted, however,
by an American couple. Lucius shot them a glare as they approached Hermione, but they
were undeterred.
‘Excuse me, I’m sorry to bug you, but we’re lost,’ the man said sheepishly. ‘We keep ending
up here no matter which direction we go.’

Hermione smiled patiently and let go of Lucius’s hand to step over to their map. ‘Where are
you trying to go?’

Lucius tuned them out, scowling darkly at this unwanted interruption. After a few minutes,
though, he had his own problem to deal with.

‘Excuse me,’ a Japanese lady greeted him. ‘Can you take our picture, please?’

He blinked at the camera she was holding out. It didn’t look anything like the cameras
wizards used, lacking the giant flash on top. It looked like little more than a black plastic
box.

‘I….’

There were three ladies, looking at him hopefully.

‘Sure…?’ He hoped he could, anyway.

They grinned and got into a pose. He took the camera gingerly, as though it might explode,
and wracked his brains for everything he’d read about Muggle cameras. It appeared to be on.
He searched for the button on top and found it. It took him a moment to find the viewscreen
and put his eye to it, because it was really tiny. He pointed it in the ladies’ direction and
pushed the button. It made a little snapping sound, but otherwise he couldn’t tell that
anything had happened.

‘I…think it took?’ he said uncertainly.

‘I’ll check,’ the lady who’d handed it to him said, and she activated a glowing screen that was
really quite fascinating. She moved her thumb over a tiny little button and then looked up at
him with a smile. ‘It took. Thank you very much!’

‘You’re welcome.’

They walked away together, arms linked and chattering happily. Lucius turned to find
Hermione standing alone, apparently done with the American couple, smiling at him. She
looked very nice, he thought, her cheeks pink from the wind, wrapped in a scarf and framed
by autumn trees.

‘That glowing screen thing is interesting,’ he said, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. ‘I

wish I’d got a better look at it.’

She held out her hand for him to take. He gladly did so, his gut unclenching as soon as they
touched. He didn’t want to get separated from her in such a crowded area.

‘It’s an LED screen,’ she explained. ‘If you buy the textbook I wrote for the N.E.W.T. years,
you’ll find out all about them.’
‘I will just have to do that,’ he said easily.

Hermione grinned at him and then ducked her head, and Lucius smiled, sighing happily.

They walked to Buckingham Palace, which Lucius thought was kind of a waste of time, all
things considered. It didn’t impress him much, since Malfoy Manor was easily larger, and
the outer façades were very similar. Malfoy Manor was just made from darker marble, and
less emphasis was placed on the columns.

He expressed these thoughts to Hermione, and she laughed and leaned on him, saying, ‘Oh,
you.’ He didn’t know why it was so funny, but it was much better than fear or anger, so he
didn’t mind.

They went to lunch after that, and, as promised, it was a much more upscale establishment.
The teacups were actually ceramic instead of plastic, and there were cloth napkins. Lucius
placed his in his lap with an approving nod.

‘This is much more civilised.’

Hermione chuckled. ‘So glad you approve, Mr Malfoy.’

He frowned. ‘Lucius,’ he corrected.

Her eyes widened and the smile dropped from her face. ‘Um….’

‘You told me I could call you Hermione outside of class, so I think you can call me by my
first name outside of class, too.’ He tried not to fidget anxiously as a thought occurred to
him. ‘We are friends, aren’t we?’

Slowly, she smiled, and the anxiety gradually faded, allowing him to swallow again as it
loosened its grip on his throat.

‘Yes, we’re friends,’ she agreed. After a brief pause, she added, ‘Lucius,’ and he no longer
felt the chill from a morning spent outside in the cold wind.

‘Good,’ he said with supreme satisfaction.

Take that, Draco. I do have a ‘ real ’ friend.

He felt very relaxed as he opened and scanned his menu. He was so pleased with himself, in
fact, that he got brave and ordered a Muggle soft drink (although he did make sure to ask for
a water, too, just in case).

Hermione grinned when it arrived, and Lucius looked at the bubbles curiously.

‘It’s carbonation,’ she explained. ‘It’s what Muggles use to make drinks fizzy, rather than a
charm or magical ingredient.’

‘Ah.’
He took a tentative sip. It was no different in texture than any wizarding fizzy drinks, which
he’d never been fond of. The flavour, though, was very unique and strange.

‘What do you think?’ she prompted eagerly.

He tilted his head back and forth. ‘It’s odd. It’s sweet but…not, at the same time. It tastes a
little like something medicinal.’

She giggled. ‘That’s because it was, once upon a time. When they were first invented,
Muggles used them to cure stomach aches and minor ailments of that nature.’

‘Really?’ He frowned, puzzled. ‘And they drink them for fun now?’

He couldn’t imagine taking a Pepper-up Potion recreationally, just for the taste. Then again,
Pepper-up Potion tasted like licking an ashtray, and also vomit. This soft drink did not taste
like either of those things.

‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly phrase it that way, but essentially, yes.’

He considered her. ‘Do you like them?’

Hermione smiled. ‘My parents are dentists. I wasn’t allowed to have soft drinks--not even
the artificially sweetened kind. I guess I never developed a taste for them.’

Lucius hid a wince at the mention of her parents by looking down at his menu again. He still
felt guilty about that, particularly since Draco had informed him that her parents’ memories
hadn’t been restored, even when Hermione hired professionals, and so they were still in
Australia, oblivious to the existence of their own child. Hermione had got her cat back, and
that was it. It hadn’t been specifically because of Lucius, but he felt more to blame than
most, since he’d actually seen her parents. It was across a bookshop, and he hadn’t formally
met them, but surely the fact that he even vaguely knew what they looked like had been of
concern to her, and a deciding factor in sending them away.

‘Sorry,’ she said darkly, having seen the wince in spite of his attempt to hide it, but evidently
drawing the wrong conclusion. ‘I won’t mention my parents if the fact that they’re Muggles
still bothers you.’

Lucius shook his head. ‘It’s not that ,’ he said tightly.

She looked at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then apparently decided
to drop it. He wondered what she’d seen in his face, but he was so relieved to have moved on
that he didn’t dare ask.

‘What are you going to get?’ she asked instead, her tone deliberately light.

He drew a deep breath. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking about one of these things with
barbeque sauce on them. I’ve never had it.’

Hermione’s brows rose in surprise. ‘You are missing out. Why haven’t you had it?’
‘Narcissa didn’t like it, and wouldn’t allow it anywhere near her kitchen. I guess the house
elves got used to making things without it.’

‘And before that?’

Lucius frowned. ‘Before that? I don’t…remember,’ he admitted.

She tilted her head, wordlessly asking for explication.

‘There isn’t much left of my childhood, since Azkaban,’ he said softly. ‘I guess that means it
was happy. I don’t remember my mother at all. I remember her funeral, but I was quite
young, I suppose….’

She went white, and reached out and touched his hand.

‘I suppose that means I could’ve eaten barbeque before, and I just don’t remember,’ he
added, trying to smile and sound cheerful.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said lowly.

Lucius shrugged uncomfortably and looked down at his menu, the words blurring. She didn’t
let go of his hand, and after a moment he turned the palm up and closed his fingers around
hers, silently seeking comfort. She gave a little squeeze, and he did feel a little better.

‘Probably the ribs, then,’ he said after clearing his throat.

‘I think that’s a good choice,’ she agreed. ‘I might have the same thing.’

‘Copycat.’

She smiled.

The rest of lunch was much less fraught, as Lucius asked about things around him that made
him curious, and Hermione happily explained.

She didn’t let go of his hand, and he was glad.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After lunch, she found a private spot to Apparate them and they began their ‘window’
shopping. At its root, the experience was very similar to Diagon Alley--it was the dressings
that made the whole environment different. There were still cars to watch out for, and there
were bright neon signs and posters and advertisements splashed on every available surface, or
so it seemed to Lucius. People stood outside smoking or holding their dogs’ leashes,
congregating outside of cafés and restaurants. Shops displayed their wares in their windows
just like in Diagon Alley--the wares themselves were the difference.
‘Let me know if you see any shops you’d like to go in,’ Hermione said as they sauntered
down the road.

The pace here was much more leisurely than it had been in the tourist and business areas.
Some people rushed past, but most people seemed content to stroll, particularly since the
wind had died down a little.

‘We could go in here,’ he said, indicating a boutique displaying various baskets and boxes
and oddments, with a sign proclaiming they were all unique and handmade. He couldn’t
quite fathom them being otherwise--he still hadn’t quite grasped the Muggle methods of mass
production. Wizards just didn’t do that.

Hermione glanced at it and shrugged. ‘Sure.’

They wandered in. There were a lot of wicker things. Lucius was bored after a few minutes,
but Hermione saw something for her cat, so he indulgently stood nearby while she looked
over the selection.

‘I’m telling you, you’re crazy,’ he overheard a couple of men saying on the other side of the
aisle. ‘You need to stock up on water and shit. Y-2-K is coming .’

‘Whatever,’ the other man said. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be that big a deal.’

Lucius frowned and edged closer to Hermione. After they were gone, he leaned down and
whispered, ‘Hermione?’

‘Hmm? I’m almost done,’ she said distractedly.

‘What’s Y-2-K?’ he asked anyway.

She looked up in surprise. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I overheard some gentlemen discussing it. What is it?’

She smiled. ‘Y2K is the year 2000. This upcoming year. Some Muggles are worried about
it because they think all the computers will crash and civilisation as we know it will end.’

Lucius snorted. ‘Well, that’s just ridiculous. Even Muggles got along just fine before they
invented computers.’

She shook her head. ‘Yes, but they’ve been depending on them for quite some time. The real
ridiculousness is that they don’t think the people who run things have anticipated this year
coming and compensated for any problems that otherwise might have happened. It will all be
just fine, I’m sure.’

He frowned. ‘I need to learn more about computers.’

‘My advanced textbook,’ she said with a grin. ‘Although, may I recommend that you read
the intermediate textbook first?’
‘Next you’ll be recommending that I finish the beginner’s textbook, and your class, first.’

She nodded sagely. ‘That would make sense.’

He just shook his head.

She made her purchases and they went back out into the street. Lucius took her bag for her,
eliciting a warm smile. He didn’t see any more shops he thought were interesting, but
Hermione wanted to stop in a bookshop, so he waited outside while she slipped inside. She
promised it would be a quick stop, but he glanced at his watch, determined to time her. She
had twenty minutes before he went in and dragged her out.

While he was waiting, he noted two women standing on the corner with a little table and a
box. They were collecting donations, it seemed, and he strained his ears and eyes to try to
figure out what. A charity of some kind, apparently.

Hermione emerged before he could figure it out, bearing another bag. He took it from her
and drew her attention to the women.

‘Oh, they’re collecting donations a little early. If this were around Christmas time, you’d see
them on nearly every corner,’ she said vaguely.

‘Donations for what?’ Lucius pressed impatiently.

She frowned a little. ‘Well, these particular collectors belong to an organisation that caters to
homeless and impoverished children, primarily. They use the money to buy them food,
blankets, coats and shoes. Things that their parents can’t afford to buy for them, if they’re
fortunate enough to have parents, that is.’

She tugged on his sleeve, but Lucius was rooted to the spot.

‘They don’t have shoes?’ he said, shocked. ‘And they can’t just…?’

Hermione let out a breath, her lips set in a thin line. ‘Just what, Lucius? Use a Warming
Charm? Conjure a pair of shoes? Transfigure something into a coat?’

He stared at her, aghast.

‘There is no way in which a homeless wizard in possession of a wand is not still better off
than a Muggle in the same position,’ she said tersely.

He felt about two inches tall. Guilt was an all-too familiar feeling lately, but now it was
accompanied by a feeling of general illness that it took him a moment to understand--the
sudden awareness of his own good fortune, having been born into a wealthy family. He had
never known a winter without the basic necessities (and then some), and fortunately, neither
had Draco. Hopefully, Draco’s children would never know such a fate, either. The image of
the homeless people on the train surfaced in his mind--but instead of finding it disgusting,
this time he was moved to pity. It was not familiar.
Lucius felt for the money clip in his pocket. Hermione watched him with a puzzled
expression.

‘Hermione, is this a lot of money?’ he asked softly.

‘It’s a fair amount,’ she replied, with dawning understanding.

‘I’ll pay you back in Galleons when we get back tonight,’ he said, and took off across the
street.

‘Lucius!’

He didn’t pause, although he did just barely avoid getting plastered into the pavement by a
car. He tossed the money in the box and turned away, fleeing back to Hermione’s side.

‘Thank you, sir!’ one of the women called after him.

He hunched his shoulders and walked faster. Hermione was smiling softly at him when he
reached her. He felt his face heat.

‘What?’ he snapped defensively.

‘Nothing,’ she said gently, and took his hand.

He let out a breath, but he only really relaxed when they’d put a few blocks’ distance
between them and the women and their box.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Hermione?’

‘Yes, Lucius?’

‘I don’t want to go in the museum.’

They were standing outside the Natural History Museum, and Lucius had forgotten to spend
the day convincing her that parks were much more educational. Fortunately, she only
nodded. Apparently, he’d made his aversion to being inside fairly clear throughout the day.

‘Okay. Where would you like to go, then?’

He hesitated. ‘Can we go to a park and watch the Muggles?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Sure. How about Kensington Gardens?’

‘That’s a park?’
‘Yes.’

‘Then all right.’

They walked to another secluded spot and she Apparated them straight into a patch of bushes.
Lucius extracted himself with difficulty, followed by a chuckling Hermione.

‘Sorry,’ she laughed. ‘Usually I can manage behind the bushes. I think my concentration is
off today.’

He brushed his suit off. ‘You come here often?’

‘Often enough. It’s a nice spot to get away from things. Sometimes I find it helps refresh my
mind when I’m out of ideas.’

They linked hands and began to stroll, instantly blending in with the other couples and
families doing the same thing. Lucius tried to remain keenly observant, but he soon found
himself lulled by the quiet, the light breeze rustling through the few remaining leaves on the
trees, sending some of them fluttering to the ground. The sun was a little warmer now that it
was afternoon, and Hermione was a silent, steady presence by his side. Contentment rolled
over him and he thought nothing at all. He saw what she meant by it being refreshing.

They made the rounds a few times, and then found a bench in the sun to sit on. Lucius tilted
his head back and closed his eyes, soaking up the sunlight and the fresh air. Hermione got
out her new book and quietly read, just letting him be. He thought perhaps she was the most
perfect companion in the world.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

For her part, Hermione was only pretending to read. Today had been an exercise in torture
from beginning to end, and she was taking the opportunity she’d been given to rest and
recuperate. For starters, the news that Draco wouldn’t be along to provide a buffer between
them had been a severe blow to her confidence. Then, she hadn’t been expecting Lucius’s
severe reaction to all the noise and smell and unfamiliarity of the Muggle part of the city.
She hadn’t wanted any more physical contact between them than necessary, but she couldn’t
bear the lost, frightened look on his face. After that, he simply seemed to expect that she
would hang onto him and keep him from getting lost, and it did seem quite practical to make
sure they didn’t get separated, so she kept offering her hand, and he kept taking it.

As expected, she’d had to control her expression and reactions for most of the day. His
proximity and his dependence on her had made it more difficult than ever.

She hadn’t expected the emotional roller coaster he’d put her on. He started out the day by
being pitiful and adorable, particularly with his disgust at breakfast. She’d been so outraged
by his elitist snobbery toward the homeless people they’d seen on the train and on the
platforms, but it had been hard to maintain the anger in the face of his helplessness. Then,
she’d hid what remained of the anger, only to find him doing a favour for a stranger,
reminding her of how kind he could be when he wished to, and the rest of her anger had
slipped away. After that, at lunch, the reminder of all he’d gone through--the knowledge that
thanks to a horrific year in Azkaban, Lucius didn’t even remember his own mother--her heart
had ached for him, and she only wanted to cheer him up and make him feel better. His
anxious request for reassurance that they were, in fact, friends, had been equal parts touching
and reassuring for her, too.

Hermione had been fully prepared to be angry again when he asked about the collection box
and the volunteer women, only for him to run across traffic just to donate at the mere thought
of children he didn’t even know going all winter without shoes. Her heart had absolutely
melted, and she was glad now to have a little space to recover and emotionally distance
herself again.

Although that was incredibly difficult when he was sitting there looking all peaceful and
beautiful. Even with the glamour altering his appearance, he was still gorgeous--and
Hermione hated herself for even thinking it. It also made it difficult to distance herself now
that she had his permission--his encouragement --to call him Lucius (to his face). It was a
little too much temptation, but she hadn’t been able to refuse him. She thought it incredibly
weak of her.

Then there had been the moment when she thought he was being disgusted by her blood
status again. It had taken her a moment to see through her own immediate hurt and anger to
realise that it wasn’t disgust on his face, but guilt. She wasn’t sure why a mention of her
parents made him feel guilty, but it was hard to take issue with it, either. She’d actually
ended up feeling a little ashamed of herself for automatically assuming the worst.

‘You’re not reading anymore,’ Lucius mumbled without opening his eyes.

She smiled, surprised. Not even Harry and Ron knew when she was faking, and Lucius
hadn’t even had to look at her to be able to tell. She’d been periodically turning pages and
everything.

‘I’m just thinking,’ she said a little sheepishly.

‘About?’

She hesitated. ‘You, mostly.’

He cracked open an eye, tilting his head to one side to look at her. ‘Oh? What did I do?’

Hermione huffed out a laugh. ‘Why do you automatically assume you did something?’

He shut his eye and shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m a terrible person,’ he said casually. ‘If
something goes wrong, it’s usually my fault, and if someone’s thinking about me or talking
about me, it’s not usually because I did something good.’

Her stomach dropped and she closed her book. ‘You don’t…you don’t really think that?’
‘Most of the time.’ He paused, then cracked open his eye again, peering at her. ‘Not when
I’m with you.’

She smiled, warmth filling her despite her stern reprimand to herself. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He didn’t explain, shutting his eye and relaxing again, and Hermione smiled, opening her
book again, but not yet reading.

‘I was thinking about today and how much fun we’ve had, actually,’ she said, which was
mostly true. ‘See, nothing bad.’

He smiled without opening his eyes and she saw his chest rise and fall in a sigh that certainly
looked content. She turned back to her book and actually started reading it this time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius stood reluctantly when Hermione said it was time to go, automatically snagging her
hand. She didn’t resist.

‘Where do you have to stop in really quickly?’ he asked as they headed back toward her
bushes.

‘Oh, I figured while we’re in London I’d pop in on my parents’ old house, and my rental
property,’ she explained. ‘The renters at the flat block have been complaining about the
heater making noise, and the renters at my parents’ house say there’s a draught in the living
room. I have to check in before I know who to call, and they’ve already said we can swing
by.’

‘You own rental property?’ he said, surprised. ‘Then why do you rent a flat?’

‘Yes, I own a small block of flats--only four, actually. And I rent because I haven’t found a
place I really want to live yet,’ she explained, kicking a rock along the path. ‘I couldn’t bear
to live in my parents’ house after they couldn’t be brought back. It’s hard to shop for a home
with only a cat to ask for opinions, you know? All Crookshanks cares is that we bring his
bed and his favourite toys with us wherever we move.’

He raised his brows. ‘Yes, cats aren’t well-known for their opinions on square footage.’

‘Or the colour of the kitchen tile,’ she agreed. ‘Before I signed the lease on my flat, I asked
Crookshanks what he thought of the green tile, and he just yawned at me. As long as food
comes out of the kitchen and into his mouth, he doesn’t care what colour the floor is.’

They Apparated to a quiet, residential street. The block of flats really was small--almost tiny.
It was actually a home that had been converted into four studio flats. There were four young
people living there, one for each flat, and two of them were male. Lucius instinctively glared
at them before they were even introduced, and they seemed properly intimidated.

‘Lucius, this is Charlie, John, Angela and Tina, my renters,’ Hermione said cheerfully.
‘Everyone, this is my friend Lucius.’

The boys waved tentatively, Angela shook his hand, and Tina blushed and mumbled a hello
from behind her scarf.

‘I’ll just be a second,’ Hermione said to Lucius, and disappeared into the basement.

Lucius and the four young Muggles stared at one another.

‘So…are you from around here?’ Charlie finally got brave enough to squeak.

Lucius glowered. ‘No.’

Charlie subsided with a meek nod.

Angela was still brave, since Lucius wasn’t glaring at her or Tina. ‘Have you known
Hermione long?’

He sighed. Small talk. ‘Since she was twelve.’ With an effort, he forced himself to sound
halfway interested and asked, ‘How long have you known her?’

‘Like, almost a year….’

‘You must be really old, huh?’ Tina giggled.

Lucius stared at the ceiling. Patience, he reminded himself sternly.

‘I am in my forties, if you consider that old. She and my son went to school together,’ he
explained slowly.

‘Oooooooh,’ said Tina, and he lowered his estimation of her intelligence by several more
degrees.

John decided it was his turn and took a deep breath. ‘Um. So what do you do?’

‘I’m a wealthy heir,’ he sniffed imperiously. ‘I do whatever I please.’

The four of them exchanged a glance that he didn’t care enough to try to read.

‘Must be nice,’ Angela commented mildly.

‘It is,’ Lucius said crisply.

Fortunately, Hermione chose that moment to return. She was smiling, so it must have been
good news.
‘I’ll call the heating place tomorrow,’ she told the tenants. ‘It doesn’t look like anything
serious, so hopefully it will be an easy fix.’

They seemed much cheered by that, and also by Lucius’s exit from the building.

‘How do you put up with those idiots ?’ he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot, far
down the sidewalk.

Hermione smiled. ‘They’re not as stupid as they seem. They’re uni students, so most of their
brain power is dedicated to making it through their classes. Also, I don’t have to live there,
so it’s very easy to be patient and tolerant on the rare occasions that I have to stop in like
this.’

He calmed himself with an effort, breathing out slowly. ‘How long have you owned that
building?’

‘Since last December. I had started renting out my parents’ old house in September, and it
was going pretty well, so I decided to expand a little. It gives me a fairly elastic income, with
very little maintenance on my part.’

‘Forgive my curiosity, I’m just surprised. I had no idea you were a woman of property,’ he
said lightly.

She grinned. ‘I own two houses. That’s not exactly a “woman of property.”’

‘It’s property, you own it, and you’re a woman,’ Lucius said reasonably. ‘Two plus two still
equals four in the Muggle world, doesn’t it?’

She laughed, then, her breath visible on the cooling air, and shook her head, not dignifying
that with a response. Lucius felt very content.

They walked down a few blocks, turned a corner, and walked a few more blocks before they
arrived in front of a small, neat little home. There was a little boy sitting on the front steps,
but he ran inside as soon as they turned up the walk. A woman, probably his mother,
emerged a moment later.

‘Hermione!’ she greeted with obvious relief. ‘I’m so glad you could stop by. Michael has
been so, so busy lately that he hasn’t had time to figure it out, and I thought this would be
quicker.’

‘It’s no problem, Janet, I told you, you can call me anytime,’ Hermione said, waving a hand.
‘Janet, this is Lucius; Lucius, Janet.’

Lucius hesitantly offered his hand, but the woman shook it warmly, seeming not at all
intimidated by him as the young people had been.

‘Why don’t you both come in?’

She ushered them inside, and Hermione went straight into the living room, on the hunt for the
source of the draught. Lucius stood in the foyer and looked around cautiously. He couldn’t
quite imagine Hermione growing up here, not with other people’s things all around and other
people’s pictures on the walls. In a way, though, her easy comfort and obvious familiarity
with the house spoke for itself.

‘Can I get you anything, Lucius?’ Janet offered politely, watching him with blatant curiosity.

He shook his head minutely. ‘No, thank you.’

She didn’t go away. He shifted uncomfortably and pretended not to notice her staring at him.
Still, he nearly collapsed with relief when Hermione returned, shaking her head and
frowning.

‘The seal on the window is going bad,’ she explained to Janet, and did not seem to be aware
of what Lucius was doing when he edged behind her, using her as a barrier between the two
of them. ‘I’ll have to call someone tomorrow and get it replaced.’

Janet seemed pleased to have an answer, and they quickly said their farewells. Out on the
sidewalk, Hermione scowled at him; he hadn’t got away with it after all.

‘She was staring at me,’ he said defensively when Hermione opened her mouth to harangue
him. ‘She wouldn’t stop. It was creepy.’

Hermione’s face relaxed into wry amusement. ‘She was just enjoying the view.’

Lucius was confused. ‘What?’

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a very attractive man, Lucius,’ she explained
slowly, still smirking at him. ‘Other people have a tendency to notice when they’re presented
with an attractive person.’

He blinked. ‘Isn’t she married?’

‘Yes, but her husband is away a lot. You can’t blame her for looking,’ she added, continuing
to walk down the street.

‘Yes, I can,’ he sniffed, disgusted.

Hermione shot him a surprised glance. ‘Can you honestly tell me that you never even
glanced at another female in a non-platonic way while you and Narcissa were married?’

He hedged. ‘Not that I recall, although I confess there are gaps in my memory of our married
life. Significant ones, sometimes,’ he added with a grimace. ‘I do know that I did my best to
be faithful to Narcissa in word, deed, and thought. That includes schooling one’s eyes, not
allowing stray glances.’

She still seemed dubious. ‘And you don’t think Narcissa looked at other men while she was
married to you?’

‘Oh, no, I know she did. She looked but didn’t touch. But that was different, she didn’t want
to be married to me anymore.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘Aren’t you faithful when you’re
in a relationship?’

It didn’t strike him as very Hermione-like to stray.

She frowned. ‘I’ve only been in one real relationship, but no, when I was with Ron, I didn’t
look at other men. I was rather focused on making it work with him, so I didn’t need any
distractions.’ After a pause, she added, ‘I’m not entirely convinced that looking at another
person and noting that he or she is attractive counts as being unfaithful, though.’

Lucius shrugged. ‘To each his or her own. I would never expect my partner to show the
same level of commitment, but personally, I try to keep my eyes where they belong--on my
partner.’

It was Hermione’s turn to look at him curiously. ‘You consider that a show of commitment?’

‘It is a show of commitment,’ he insisted. ‘If one is truly devoted to one’s partner, one
shouldn’t need to look elsewhere.’

She appeared to contemplate that, but in the end, all she said was, ‘Hmm.’

They arrived in front of another neat little home, nearly identical to all the others on this
street, but before Lucius could ask if this was the Garrisons’, a plump little woman threw
open the door and enveloped Hermione in a bear hug.

‘Hermione,’ a tall, reedy sort of man greeted her more sedately.

They were both tugged inside, and Hermione rather breathlessly turned to introduce him.

‘Lucius, this is Sam and Linda Garrison,’ she panted. ‘Sam, Linda, this is my friend, Lucius
Malfoy.’

Linda pumped his hand with such enthusiasm that Lucius feared for his wrist.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr Malfoy! Any friend of Hermione’s is a friend of ours! Are
you a coffee man or a tea man?’

Lucius retrieved his hand gingerly. ‘Uh…tea?’

‘Excellent!’ she cried, and disappeared into the bowels of the house.

Lucius stared at Hermione, who turned a very becoming shade of red, smiling sheepishly.

‘Don’t mind her, she’s always like that,’ Sam wheezed, and shook his hand much more
delicately.

‘Have you forgotten about me?’ a new voice said from around the corner, just before a
handsome young man came into view. He smirked at them and leaned against the wall,
folding his arms.

‘Of course not,’ said Sam calmly.

‘Stewart!’ Hermione cried with evident glee, and ran to embrace him. ‘It’s so good to see
you!’

Lucius scowled as they hugged, and cleared his throat after a moment. The hug broke up, but
Stewart’s hand lingered on Hermione’s shoulder.

‘Sorry--Lucius, this is their son, Stewart. He and I used to race our bikes up and down the
street, remember?’ she added, grinning at Stewart.

‘I remember,’ said Stewart. ‘I also remember you repeatedly beating me.’

She giggled. ‘Stewart, this is my friend, Lucius Malfoy.’

Stewart shook his hand, but his distaste was evident. ‘How do you do,’ he said flatly.

‘Pleasure,’ Lucius replied in an equally flat tone.

‘How long has it been?’ Hermione exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. ‘Two years? Three?’

‘Try five,’ Stewart corrected. ‘The last time I saw you, you’d just got out of the hospital after
your accident.’

‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said, a little subdued at the reminder. ‘Anyway, how are you? What
have you been doing with yourself?’

They exchanged news and gossip, and Lucius felt a bit lost. He tried to distract himself by
looking around the house. It was rather fascinating to see all the Muggle items so casually
embedded around him. Unlike in the textbook, where they were separate and almost
theoretical, here he could plainly see the television naturally tucked into a corner, and in the
kitchen, all the various apparatuses lived together in harmony. He wandered into the kitchen
upon spotting the refrigerator, hardly noticing that Sam followed him.

‘Here’s your tea, Mr Malfoy, I was just about to bring it out to you,’ Linda chirruped.

Lucius took the cup distractedly. The refrigerator was coated with colourful magnets, some
of them holding down scraps of papers or photographs. He ran a finger along the top.

‘Is this new?’ he wondered.

Sam huffed out a laugh. ‘No, that thing’s about twenty years old. We’ve been meaning to get
a new one.’

Lucius nodded, mostly to himself, and bent down to look at the vent. It was in desperate
need of cleaning.

‘Are you, uh, interested in refrigerators, Mr Malfoy?’ Linda asked uncertainly.

Lucius straightened and offered them a tight smile. ‘It’s a hobby.’

They exchanged a glance, but then Sam shrugged and they seemed to take a ‘to each their
own’ sort of attitude. Linda excused herself and Sam obligingly answered Lucius’s
questions, even the ones that he evidently thought were pretty stupid, if his expression was
anything to go by. Bitterly, Lucius wished Hermione wasn’t so distracted with her childhood
friend . She never made him feel stupid when he asked questions, even if she might have
thought them obvious.

He managed to thoroughly investigate the refrigerator, the microwave, and the stove before
Linda herded them all into the dining room. Hermione sat next to him, to his relief, but she
was across from Stewart, and he kept smiling at her. Not just any smile--Lucius knew that
smile. It made his hackles rise, though he tried not to show it.

The meal was overly salty, so he didn’t eat much, but Lucius definitely got what Hermione
intended for him to see and understand. Muggles were much more casual than the Malfoys
about mealtimes--there was no real etiquette. Elbows were propped on tables, occasionally
people spoke with their mouths full, interruptions of one another were frequent and treated
jovially, and conversation was lively and not confined. It was very relaxed, but Lucius didn’t
think that necessarily made it better . He, for one, was not a fan of being sprayed with gravy
when someone at the table realised they’d forgotten something they were going to say and
remembered it suddenly, but were too impatient to swallow first before they began speaking.

‘So, what do you do, Mr Malfoy?’ Linda unwisely asked during dessert.

He tried not to sigh. They’d mostly left him alone, and he’d been hoping to escape
unscathed.

‘My son and I run a…chemical supply business,’ he said, fumbling when he nearly said
‘potions.’

‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Sam said with a nod.

‘How do you know our Hermione?’ Stewart pressed, smiling at Hermione warmly.

She’s not your Hermione, Lucius thought venomously. He couldn’t resist showing it in some
way, and covered Hermione’s hand with his own, on the table in full view. Hermione linked
her fingers with his, seemingly without thinking about it, and Lucius smugly watched Stewart
take that in, his expression darkening.

‘She and my son went to school together,’ he said coolly.

These Muggles would never understand. She could never be theirs , not truly, because she
was a witch. He and the rest of the wizarding world would always have most of her. She had
proved that when she hadn’t simply fled with her parents, instead sending them away and
opting to stay and fight herself.

Stewart sneered a little; it was not becoming. He didn’t say anything, though, and the subject
turned naturally to Sam’s work. He was a solicitor, and Lucius found himself interested in
spite of himself.
He was so interested, in fact, that it wasn’t until a half hour after dinner that he noticed that
he, Sam and Linda were alone in the living room. Hermione and Stewart were nowhere to be
seen.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione had been very happy to see Stewart after so long--she hadn’t had many friends as a
child, and it had been a little sad having to let those few go when she found out she was a
witch. It had eventually stopped hurting, particularly after she made some friends in the
wizarding world, but a small part of her was still nostalgic for those simpler days.

However, it soon became apparent to her that Stewart wasn’t merely renewing old
acquaintances. She’d tried to extricate herself from the conversation several times when he
said things that were just a little too… intimate for her comfort, only to have him change the
subject and look at her with big, hurt eyes. She felt bad, so she stayed, but it was making her
more and more uneasy. She didn’t want to date Stewart.

At dinner, she’d been relieved beyond belief when Lucius felt the need for her contact again
and touched her hand. Linking fingers with him had implied to Stewart that they were
together romantically, and fortunately it had made him back off.

She’d stepped out on the back porch for some air, and Stewart joined her not long after, and
this time they talked without any forward remarks or long glances. After a while, though, he
brought up something not from their childhood, looking concerned.

‘Hermione, why are you with that guy?’

Her heart sped up. ‘Lucius?’

‘Yeah, Lucius ,’ he repeated slightly mockingly. ‘He’s so old. He said himself that you went
to school with his kid. It’s creepy. Not to mention that he’s not exactly a nice person. Why
are you with him?’

She swallowed. ‘He’s not old, and it’s not creepy. Malfoy men take longer to mature than
most,’ she joked weakly. ‘If you’d met his son, you’d know what I mean.’

Stewart looked doubtful. ‘Seriously, Hermione. I hope you know what you’re doing. You
know my mum and dad are there for you if you need anything, right? And me, too.’

He handed her his business card. Hermione took it and smiled, shaking her head.

‘Trust me, Stewart, I know what I’m doing,’ she said wryly. ‘Lucius may not seem that nice
to you, but he’s never very comfortable around strangers. Deep down, he’s a good man.’

‘Well, if you’re sure….’

She nodded firmly, and Stewart changed the subject back to memory lane.

‘Hermione!’

They turned, still giggling from some shared story.

Lucius was standing in the doorway, his arms folded. He tapped the cuff on his wrist
meaningfully and then held out his hand.

‘It’s time to go, Hermione,’ he said, and she couldn’t decipher his tone.

She was still grinning. ‘Okay, Lucius, I’ll be right there.’

He shook his head and left.

‘I’d better go,’ she said, patting Stewart’s hand.

Stewart was staring after Lucius. ‘Are you sure he’s really a good person?’

She chuckled. ‘Deep, deep down, sometimes.’

He laughed and bade her goodbye. She made her excuses to Linda and Sam, and followed
Lucius out the front door, back into the night. As soon as she found a secluded spot from
which she could Apparate them home, she cast Tempus . It was 7:49.

‘Hermione,’ Lucius said softly, looking uncertain.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry if I interfered.’

She frowned. ‘Interfered with what?’

He shifted uncomfortably. ‘If you and that boy were….’

‘Me and Stewart?!’ She huffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t think of him like that. Besides, I could
never be with a Muggle. I couldn’t hide half of who I am like that.’

‘You shouldn’t have to,’ he agreed immediately. ‘You should be proud of who you are.’ He
hesitated. ‘ All of who you are.’

Hermione looked up in surprise. She knew exactly what he was saying--and to hear it out of
Lucius Malfoy’s mouth was nothing short of amazing. She considered it a minor miracle,
actually.

‘Really?’ she said hopefully.

This was more progress than she’d ever dared to hope for from him. The corner of Lucius’s
mouth curled up and he looked slightly embarrassed.

‘Really,’ he said, his voice very deep and low.

She looked away, but she couldn’t help a smile. The tenderness she’d felt earlier was full
strength now--she was full of affection for this strange, moody, beautiful human being. She
didn’t feel the cold, now.

‘Are you ready to go home?’ she asked when she was sure she had her voice and expression
back under control.

Lucius shifted unhappily, and she could see the desolation he was trying to cover. It made
her heart ache. She squeezed his hand supportively and he let out a breath.

‘No,’ he admitted in a shaky voice. ‘But I suppose I have to, don’t I?’

Reluctantly, she nodded. ‘It’s 7:56,’ she said quietly.

She could see his eyes shining in the streetlights. He stepped back, looking up. The moon
was out, a barely-visible crescent in the sky. She watched his throat move as he swallowed,
his expression full of heartbroken longing. She wouldn’t be surprised if he moved into a tent
on his lawn when his house arrest ended.

He looked back down at her, his face a mask of resignation and sorrow, and stepped close
again.

‘All right,’ he agreed softly.

She tightened her grip on his hand and Apparated them back to Malfoy Manor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco was waiting for them in the sitting room when they arrived. He looked very pleased
with himself, so Lucius guessed that his Weasley hunt had gone well. It only made Lucius
feel even more tired, the weight that had suddenly gathered on his shoulders heavier than
ever.

‘How was your day on the town?’ Draco asked pleasantly.

‘It was good,’ Hermione said bravely.

Lucius looked at Draco wearily. ‘I owe her money.’

Draco’s brow furrowed. ‘Did you lose a bet?’

Lucius just looked at him, and after a moment, Draco excused himself to go and get their
money box. He didn’t sit down, because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get back up
again. He felt another warm tingle as Hermione removed the glamour and offered her a
weary smile.
She touched his arm, her brow wrinkled with concern. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

He forced himself to nod, but it came out wobbly. ‘Only seven more months,’ he said in
choked and wavery voice.

‘I know,’ said Hermione quietly, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You can make it, Lucius.’

‘I hope so,’ he whispered.

He didn’t feel like he could, right now.

She must have seen something in his expression, because she hugged him from the side,
laying her head on his shoulder.

‘You will make it, Lucius,’ she said, much more firmly this time. ‘I’ll help you.’

His nod was firmer, too, and she pulled away as Draco returned.

‘Here,’ said Draco, still obviously confused.

Lucius counted out a pile of Galleons and handed them to Hermione. She looked at him in
surprise.

‘I know we went over the Muggle money-Galleon exchange rate,’ she chided. ‘This is way
too much.’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘You told the class yourself that the rate changes almost daily.
What if it’s not worth as much tomorrow?’

Hermione smiled and shook her head. ‘Have it your way. Good night, Draco; good night,
Lucius.’

She left.

Draco was staring at him expectantly.

Lucius could not handle this right now.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he said, forcing himself to move in that general direction.

‘But--’

‘Tomorrow, Draco.’

Draco frowned, but accepted that. ‘Good night, Father.’

Lucius grunted in response and kept moving. He barely had the energy to change before he
crawled into bed, utterly wrung out.

He had the nightmare once, toward early morning, but Draco had apparently set up camp in
his room, because he quickly woke him and soothed him back to sleep.
 The Day After
Chapter Summary

Lucius has a setback, and Draco tries his best to help. Hermione and Ginny hang out,
but Hermione has a bad feeling.

Chapter Notes

Poor Lucius, I'm back to being mean to him again. This is actually almost made of
angst. However, there is some setup for some actual plot later in the chapter.
I hope you enjoy! Love to all the commenters, you continue to be made of awesome. :)
Thank you to everyone for reading, as well!

The next morning, Lucius still felt tired and low, although a little less so than last night.
Breathing seemed to take extra effort, and he was a little unnerved by how very terrible he
felt after how good he’d felt yesterday. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to
figure it out and let himself drift. Draco entered shortly after he woke up, bearing a tray.

‘Father?’ he said cautiously. ‘How are you feeling?’

Lucius sighed. ‘Horrible.’

Draco set the tray on the nightstand and sat beside him, stroking Lucius’s hair back and
fussing with the blankets. Lucius sighed again and stared at the ceiling.

‘I think you got over-tired,’ Draco said lowly. ‘Maybe you should rest today.’

Lucius shrugged one shoulder. ‘Maybe,’ he mumbled.

Draco shot him another worried look and reached for the tray.

‘I brought you breakfast,’ he said with forced cheer.

Lucius turned his head aside and said nothing. Draco watched him for a moment before
standing, sighing with disappointment.

‘All right, but you need to eat sometime today.’

Lucius nodded minutely and closed his eyes. He heard Draco quietly slip out, then his
footsteps in the hallway. He heaved another sigh and lay quietly. If he slept, he slept; if not,
it didn’t matter.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione got her calls made early and felt very accomplished. Her tenants would be taken
care of, so she didn’t need to worry about that anymore. She cleaned her flat and finished up
a few things she’d been putting off, and then Ginny called on her for lunch.

‘So?’ Hermione said with a grin when they’d settled down with the sandwiches Ginny had
brought. ‘I saw last night that Draco looked much better, and you look very pleased with
yourself. What happened?’

Ginny grinned devilishly. ‘I got him to admit to being a horrible little worm. I also got him
to explain what he’d really been trying to say when he offered in the first place.’

‘Which was?’

‘Apparently, he was really being sweet deep down,’ she said with a pout. ‘He really wanted
me to move into Malfoy Manor so we’d be together more often, but of course, being a
Malfoy, he couldn’t just come out and say that. His really stupid way of asking me to move
in with him was just his attempt to be cool and nonchalant about it.’

Hermione raised a brow. ‘And instead he sounded like a--well,’ she hedged when Ginny
glared.

Yes, they were officially back together, it seemed.

The redhead subsided with a satisfied nod. ‘Yes, well, that’s all behind us.’

She fed a little scrap to Crookshanks. ‘Are you moving in, then?’

Ginny snorted. ‘Uh, no. Malfoy Manor is okay to hang out in on Thursday nights, but I can’t
imagine living there. There’s no colour ! It makes me wonder if Lucius and Draco are both
colourblind.’

Hermione smirked. ‘No--at least not completely, or they wouldn’t have objected so loudly to
Ron’s Gryffindor sweater.’

‘Didn’t the insignia give it away?’

‘No, they were protesting before he even removed his cloak, and the cloak covered the
Gryffindor patch. Just the colours were enough.’ She poked at her coleslaw with her fork.
‘Besides, I’m sure Draco would let you redecorate if you moved in.’

Ginny looked doubtful. ‘ He might, but don’t you think Lucius would have some
objections?’
She hesitated. ‘Well, actually, I think Lucius has a “hands off” approach to you. He’s trying
to keep Draco happy, and arguing with him about you definitely does not make Draco happy.
Besides, I think Lucius is a little scared of you since you yelled at him the other day,’ she
added with a smirk.

She nearly choked on her juice. ‘Lucius Malfoy? Scared of me ? Pah! What kind of
nonsense is that? Are you on drugs?’

Hermione grinned. ‘No, but think about it--he doesn’t have a wand right now, and you do,
and Draco and I have both mentioned to Lucius on more than one occasion just how
ferocious you can be when roused, particularly with a Bat-Bogey Hex. You were definitely
roused on Tuesday. More to the point, I’ve never seen Lucius intimidated into
speechlessness, and I’ve also never seen him take off like that when given an excuse to
leave.’

Ginny looked quite pleased with herself. ‘Well. You may have a point about who’s in
possession of a wand right now. Also, Malfoys in particular don’t seem to like my Bat-
Bogey Hex.’

‘They are a bit vain,’ Hermione agreed.

She snorted. ‘More than a bit. But speaking of Lucius, how did it go yesterday?’

She heaved a sigh. ‘Just fine, right up until the end.’

Ginny cocked her head. ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, he got really upset when it was time to go back home,’ Hermione said uncomfortably.
‘He’s not looking forward to seven more months of being cooped up. He practically refused
to go inside all day except to eat, and once in a shop he thought looked interesting, and that
was only for a few minutes.’

Ginny frowned. ‘I can’t say I blame him. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t go outside
and get a little fresh air now and then. Or what I’d do for a job, since my job is outside by
definition.’

She smiled faintly in spite of herself. ‘I just wish there was more I could do, you know?’

Ginny sighed and patted her arm. ‘Hermione, I think you’ve done more than enough already.
I never would have thought of the schoolwork excuse to get him out of the house, and we
know Draco didn’t, either, or he would’ve already been working on it.’

Hermione bit her lip, blinking rapidly as her eyes blurred. ‘You didn’t see his face,’ she
whispered.

‘I’ve seen Lucius’s face before, and since he always has the exact same expression--snobby
disgust--I highly doubt it would’ve made a difference if I’d seen it last night,’ she said dryly.

Hermione glared at her, dropping the chip she was holding, which Crookshanks promptly
cleaned up. ‘Lucius has lots of different expressions. Maybe if you didn’t go out of your
way to annoy him, you’d get to see a few more of them.’

Ginny put her hands up in surrender. ‘Whoa, whoa, all right, geez . I forgot about your little
crush.’

‘This isn’t about my having a crush, it’s about Lucius being a human being,’ Hermione
insisted fiercely. ‘Okay, so he’s not always a very nice human being, but nobody’s perfect,
and he’s really trying, lately.’

‘Suuuure,’ said Ginny under her breath, crumpling her empty sandwich wrapper. Then, more
loudly, she said, ‘Why doesn’t he just open a window?’

She grimaced. ‘The Ministry charmed them all shut, according to the paperwork about his
probation. They can be so vindictive.’ She sighed, frustrated. ‘I’ve looked up how to charm
a ceiling, like the Great Hall, but for one thing, it would take about twenty wizards working
together, and for another, it just isn’t the same. It’s about equal to looking out the window.’

‘True,’ Ginny agreed.

Hermione got up and threw away their empty wrappers, feeling more than a little depressed
herself.

‘We need to take your mind off of him,’ Ginny declared. ‘I’m going to look at flats this
afternoon. Come with me, or else.’

She chuckled in spite of herself. ‘I haven’t got anything better to do, I guess….’

‘I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I never knew how much you loved spending time with
me,’ the younger girl teased.

Hermione laughed and went to get her cloak. Maybe Ginny was right.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Father, get up,’ Draco said insistently. ‘You’ve been in bed all morning. It’s time for lunch.’

Lucius didn’t move.

Draco kicked the side of the bed. ‘Up!’

‘I’m not a broom,’ Lucius grumbled, and continued to not move.

His son let out a very long, exasperated breath. His hair was a wreck from his constantly
running his hands through it. He’d spent most of the morning sitting at Lucius’s desk,
working on paperwork, even though Lucius had told him three times to go away and leave
him alone. When he refused, Lucius had turned on his side, facing away from Draco, and
stubbornly pretended that he wasn’t there.

‘Father,’ Draco began again, his tone very stern. ‘You need to eat. If you don’t want to eat
what the house elves have made, I’ll send out for something. I just need you to eat
something, please .’

His eyes were burning. ‘I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.’

‘No!’

He sat up and glared at Draco. ‘Why not?’

Draco folded his arms defensively and tried to glare back, but the worried crease between his
brows gave him away.

‘Because you’re my father. I care about you,’ he enunciated slowly, as to a child. ‘If I didn’t
care what happened to you, I would have gone with Mother to the Caribbean and left you
here to face the Wizengamot alone, if you didn’t drink yourself to death first. But since I do
care, and I’m here, I’m not going to stand by and watch you starve yourself to death, either.’

He scowled, fiddling with the blankets, and dropped his gaze. ‘I’m not starving myself, I just
don’t eat when I’m not hungry, and I’m not hungry right now.’

‘You’re never hungry,’ Draco shot back accusingly.

‘That’s not true!’

Draco ground his teeth. ‘No, you’re right. You’re only hungry when Hermione is here.’

Lucius frowned. ‘Why do you say it like that?’

‘No reason,’ he said, but his tone was still bitter, his eyes hard. ‘You have until the count of
five to get out of that bed on your own, or I’m dragging you out.’

Lucius stared at him, aghast. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

His smirk was very darkly amused, his eyes glittering. ‘One.’

‘You’re evil,’ Lucius complained. ‘Why do you have to be so mean?’

‘Two.’

He threw back the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet dangling.
Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness hit him. He breathed in sharply, putting a hand to
his head.

Draco reached out and gripped his arm. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, just dizzy.’

He snorted. ‘That’s what you get for not eating. Did you even eat anything yesterday?’

‘Yes,’ Lucius said defensively, recovering from the dizzy spell enough to glare at him. ‘I had
breakfast with you, then I had breakfast with Hermione, and then I had a huge lunch, and
then I had a little dinner.’

‘But you haven’t had anything to eat or drink since then,’ Draco pointed out with a trace of
smugness mixed in with his worry. ‘It’s past noon. You need to eat.’

Lucius’s shoulders slumped. He felt very miserable and unfairly put-upon. He propped his
elbows on his knees and rubbed at his burning eyes.

‘But I’m not hungry ,’ he whined quietly.

Draco sighed. ‘Just eat a little toast or something, and have a glass of water. Please? For
me?’

He pouted. That was one request he couldn’t deny. He nodded once and pushed himself to
his feet.

‘Thank you,’ Draco said, nearly breathless with relief.

Draco didn’t force him to dress or anything, and when they were in the dining room, he
talked pleasantly of the latest news, only occasionally nudging Lucius to eat. Lucius nibbled
reluctantly, but in the end, he managed to down two pieces of toast and half an apple before
his stomach clenched unhappily.

‘I don’t want anymore,’ he said pitifully when Draco pushed the other half of the apple
toward him.

Draco sighed, but Lucius looked at him with big, sorrowful eyes, and finally he relented.

‘Well, at least you ate a little,’ he conceded. ‘Are you getting sick and just not telling me?’

‘No.’ At least, he didn’t think he was sick. He just didn’t want to eat, or talk, or move. He
wanted to lie in bed and not think about anything. A part of Lucius was alarmed by this,
because it wasn’t exactly normal behaviour for him, but the rest of him was too tired to care,
and it rather firmly told that part to shove off.

‘Okay,’ said Draco doubtfully. Then he forced a smile. ‘So what should we do for the rest of
the afternoon?’

Lucius hunched a little, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt very cold.

‘I want to go back to my room,’ he said in a small voice.

Draco’s false smile immediately collapsed. He watched Lucius shiver and seemed to come to
a decision. Lucius flinched automatically, sucking in a sharp breath, when Draco’s wand was
levelled at him, but all that happened was a general health spell, and the wand was put away.
Lucius didn’t relax at all until it was out of sight again.
‘You don’t have a fever,’ Draco said with a frown. ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.’

Lucius smiled weakly. ‘Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.’

He was not very convincing, and he knew it. Draco continued to study him closely, making
him feel rather like a bug under a magnifying glass.

‘All right,’ he finally murmured. ‘You can go to your room, but I’m coming with you. I
want to keep an eye on you.’

Lucius took what he could get. He made toward the bed as soon as he was back in his room,
but Draco steered him away from it.

‘I don’t think so, not after how hard I worked to get you out of it,’ he said scornfully, and
refused to back down.

In the end, Lucius curled up in the window seat, staring out at the gardens longingly. It was a
grey, drizzly day, but he still wanted it, wanted it with every fibre of his being. Draco
wrapped a blanket around him and went back to Lucius’s desk to continue working. Lucius
could feel his eyes on him from time to time, but otherwise Draco let him alone. He felt
absurdly grateful for the reprieve.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the end of the afternoon, Ginny had chosen three different flats that she really, really
liked. Hermione had successfully convinced her that a fourth was inappropriate to her needs,
but the remaining three were both beautiful and perfect for Ginny’s current needs. They
returned to Hermione’s flat, where she began preparing a dinner big enough for four.

‘Wow, that’s a lot of food,’ Ginny observed.

Hermione smiled. ‘You said you wanted Draco’s opinion, so I thought we’d just take dinner
over to the Malfoys and eat with them, and you can talk to Draco.’

Ginny raised her brows. ‘And you can check up on Lucius.’

Her cheeks warmed. ‘That is a perk.’

She didn’t know why, but she’d had a nagging feeling all day that something wasn’t right, a
tug in her stomach toward a particular location in Wiltshire. Ginny had told her it was
probably just because of how Lucius had seemed the night before, and she was assuming that
he would’ve got worse today, rather than better from a night’s sleep, and that she was
overreacting and being silly. Hermione was not convinced.

‘You know,’ Ginny began tentatively, ‘if you’re trying to not have more than teacher-student
feelings toward him, you’ve already failed. And if you’re trying not to have more than
friendship feelings, I think you need to be careful. He’s on your mind all the time. I may not
be able to read Lucius’s expressions, but I can read yours--you thought about nothing but him
all day.’

Hermione drew a slow breath, pausing in her preparations. ‘I know. I’m really trying, but
I’m just so worried about him. I’m trying not to let it be anything more than a friend
worrying about another friend.’

She nodded slowly. ‘And that’s okay. Just be careful. I don’t want you to lose your job, or
any of those other horrible things you mentioned. Even Lucius going to Azkaban.’

Hermione smiled. ‘Thanks.’

After the meal was complete, they Flooed through to Malfoy Manor. It was very quiet.

‘Draco! Draco, I’m here!’ Ginny called.

They left the entrance hall, headed toward the sitting room, but Draco came thundering down
the stairs. Hermione shook her head, grinning, and looked away as the lovebirds greeted
each other enthusiastically.

‘I didn’t know you were coming over today,’ he said brightly when they’d detached
themselves. ‘What a pleasant surprise!’

‘It was Hermione’s idea,’ Ginny explained, gesturing toward the casserole dish in Hermione’s
arms. ‘I can’t decide between three different flats, so she thought we could bring dinner, and
you and I could discuss it.’

Draco’s face fell slightly. ‘That’s a great idea. Thank you, Hermione.’

‘You don’t look very pleased,’ Hermione said pointedly.

He sighed. ‘Father is really bad today,’ he admitted, glancing up the stairs. ‘I was actually
going to ask you to come over, if I couldn’t get him to eat any dinner. I couldn’t get him to
eat breakfast, and at lunch all I convinced him to eat was a couple pieces of toast and half an
apple. I barely got him out of bed. I had to resort to threats.’

Ginny glanced at Hermione a little guiltily. Clearly, her gut feeling had been correct.

Hermione frowned. ‘Where is he now?’

‘In his room. I banned him from crawling straight back into bed, so he’s just sitting in the
window.’

Hermione’s heart clenched. ‘Why don’t you and Ginny eat down here so you can have a
break? I’ll take Lucius up some and see if I can’t tempt him.’

‘I don’t see why that would be a problem,’ Draco said with a shrug. ‘He loves your food.’

She was doubtful this time. ‘Usually. Today might be different. We’ll see.’
They executed Hermione’s plan. She put a plate for herself and a plate for Lucius on a tray,
along with a cup of tea for each of them, and carefully crept up the stairs. She was afraid she
wouldn’t remember which door was his, but fortunately, Draco had left it open in his rush to
greet Ginny.

Lucius hadn’t noticed her arrival. He was exactly where Draco had said he was, sitting in the
window seat, staring outside. He was hugging his knees, his chin propped on one of them.
There was a blanket wrapped around him, but his bare toes were peeking out. She could see
that Lucius hadn’t bothered to get out of his pyjamas today, or even brush his hair. He was
pale and still, the only movements his breathing and the occasional long, slow blink. As she
stepped closer, she was shocked to realise that his cheeks had wet streaks on them.

This wasn’t just bad, this was really, really bad.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly.

He jumped, quickly wiping his cheeks and looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

‘Hermione,’ he breathed. ‘You startled me.’

She grimaced. ‘Sorry. I need a little company--Draco and Ginny are discussing the flats she
looked at today. I don’t blame you if you’re sick of me, but do you mind?’

‘No, not at all,’ he said quickly, gesturing at the spot next to him.

She settled in while he continued to try to surreptitiously remove the traces of his tears,
sniffling quietly. She pretended not to notice.

‘Coincidentally, I brought dinner,’ she said cheerfully, holding out one of the plates for him.

He took it with a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you.’

Lucius mostly poked at it, his eyes straying back toward the window, but a bite did make its
way into his mouth from time to time. Hermione tried a couple of different topics, but it soon
became apparent that Lucius was not up for conversation, so she lapsed back into silence.
Her heart ached for him, but she couldn’t think of any way to help, not right at this moment.
She fully intended on seeing what she could do to improve his situation for the future, but
right here, next to him, she had no plan.

After a moment, she kicked off her shoes and swung her legs up, covering his bare toes with
her socked feet. He looked up in surprise, but she just smiled and kept eating, and after a
moment he went back to looking out the window, and this time she thought that maybe some
of the lines had smoothed from his face, just a hint of the weariness alleviated.

It wasn’t much, but she would take it.

Eventually, Lucius finished his food. Hermione didn’t make a big deal of it, just smiling and
taking his empty plate, exchanging it for the cup of tea. She’d had to cast a warming charm
on it, but it was worth it, since his slow, distracted eating had resulted in him actually eating a
full serving. She was determined, now, to find excuses to come and bring him food. The
utter disinterest in food seemed to stem from his depression, and whether it was her cooking
or her presence or both, it seemed to dispel it, at least a little.

He wrapped both hands around the cup, evidently looking for warmth. Hermione had noted
that, despite the blanket, Lucius still shivered from time to time. She agreed that sitting by
the window was a bit chilly, but he seemed to feel the cold more keenly, and she wondered
why. She wasn’t brave enough to ask, though, so she wandlessly whispered another warming
charm in the general direction of his blanket instead.

After a few seconds, he pulled the blanket tighter around him and shot her an unreadable
glance.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

She shrugged, sipping her tea, and casually looked out the window. ‘You’re welcome. It is a
bit chilly in here, isn’t it?’

He grunted an agreement.

There were a lot of things that she was beginning to wonder about Lucius, actually. From
what she could recall, he’d been a very powerful wizard, and Draco had had no qualms about
bragging about his abilities prior to his imprisonment. She didn’t know how much of
younger-Draco’s boasting could actually be believed, but according to him, Lucius had rarely
used his wand outside of battle, easily and casually casting wandless, nonverbal spells as a
matter of course. A wizard who had his wand confiscated but knew how to cast wandlessly
was still someone to be reckoned with, if slightly handicapped, and the Ministry had not
found a way to control the use of wandless magic (or at least not a politically-acceptable way
that they could justify to the populace).

In other words, if Draco had been telling the truth and Lucius had, in fact, been able to cast
wandlessly before, there was no reason he shouldn’t have been able to now--but he couldn’t.
She was absolutely certain that he would have used such an ability if he could have, and he
never had. She was more inclined to believe the younger-Draco’s boasting because the
present, more mature Draco had once offhandedly mentioned to her that his father couldn’t
even do a simple levitation spell or cast Alohomora without a wand anymore, and the word
‘anymore’ implied that he’d been able to do it before. The magic was still there, but he
couldn’t access it without a wand. Dementors were uninterested in a wizard’s magic, so that
wasn’t the problem.

Then there were the gaps in his memory. Now that she knew they existed, Hermione
couldn’t help but wonder just how extensive they were. He’d only been in Azkaban for a
year, but unlike some wizards who came out a little more stable, Lucius had no mental
shielding at all, let alone being an actual Occlumens. Sometimes it was only her own
Occlumency shields that kept her from knowing Lucius’s surface thoughts when they met
eyes, particularly if he was thinking ‘loudly,’ so to speak. Wizards who’d practiced some
level of Occlumency always came out of Azkaban better off than those who hadn’t, but as far
as she knew, no one had actually bothered to find out precisely what that meant. How much
of his life was Lucius actually missing?
She also had to wonder if a large part of his depression wasn’t due to those missing
memories, rather than only because of his house arrest and general powerlessness, as she’d
assumed when Draco first brought Lucius’s problems to her attention. Humans were
naturally predisposed to remember bad things easier than they remembered good things, but
what happened when the ratio of good-to-bad memories suddenly, drastically shifted? For
most people, insanity ensued, at least in the cases of those people who’d been imprisoned in
Azkaban for a lot longer than Lucius. Sirius had only been as mentally stable as he had after
twelve years because of his Animagus form providing him some relief, and because she
suspected he’d had some rudimentary mental shielding of his own even in human form.

She thought in Lucius she was seeing the result when not all of the happiness and good
thoughts had been drained, just as she had with Sirius. Lucius and Sirius had both been
depressed, although they showed it in different ways. The main difference seemed to be that
Sirius had had a purpose, an evil to fight to give his life meaning, even though he was cooped
up in Grimmauld Place. Lucius had no overarching purpose, and very little to look forward
to that he could see, and so he wallowed. She didn’t think he meant to, but he had no
external impetus to make him get out of bed when he was too depressed to move.

It was especially concerning because it seemed to be getting worse. She’d been so relieved to
see him happy that she hadn’t been overly concerned by his manic state over the past week,
but now, she had to wonder if it hadn’t also been a sign that something was off-kilter. Now
came the crash, and Lucius had crashed harder than ever. She’d never, never seen him cry,
and hadn’t ever expected to. She would have thought that he would get better over time, not
worse, and she felt somewhat at a loss.

‘What are you thinking about?’

Lucius’s voice was very soft and timid. It didn’t sound like him.

Hermione smiled at him. ‘You. Naturally.’

The corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes brightened a little. ‘Naturally,’ he echoed
sardonically, sounding a bit more like himself. ‘What about me, in particular?’

She couldn’t tell him the truth, not in his current, fragile state. He wouldn’t take it well that
she was wondering what was wrong with him. His toes wiggled under the balls of her feet,
and she bit back a smile at his impatience.

‘Your taste in décor, mostly,’ she said, and only felt a little guilty because she and Ginny had,
in fact, discussed it earlier. ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you there are colours besides black and
white?’

He sniffed, looking down his nose at her. ‘Black and white are classic and elegant.’

‘And also funereal,’ she said dryly. ‘A little blue trim on the drapes or some green pillows on
the sofa or something wouldn’t be too much.’

He rolled his eyes at her. ‘I shall take that into consideration the next time I redecorate.’
Despite his sarcastic tone, he looked much better already. Hermione smiled, feeling a little
relieved now that this bout seemed to be letting up. He smiled back, and it wasn’t so weak or
tremulous this time.

The moment was broken by voices in the hallway--Ginny and Draco headed their way.
Hermione swung her legs back to the floor and started putting her shoes back on.

‘I’m telling you, the second bedroom is absolutely essential,’ Ginny was chattering as they
entered. ‘Hermione, tell him! Hello, Lucius, you look like shit.’

Hermione shot her a horrified glance, but Lucius only snorted.

‘Thank you, Miss Weasley, it’s lovely to see you again, too,’ he said, his voice dripping with
sarcasm.

She sputtered for a moment before finding her voice. ‘Yes, Draco, the second bedroom is
very, very important. The world will literally end if Ginny doesn’t have a two-bedroom flat.’

Draco grinned.

‘Thanks, that’s very helpful, Hermione,’ Ginny snapped, but she wasn’t really angry. ‘Are
you ready to go yet?’

‘I will be in a moment, go away,’ she said, waving a hand as she struggled with the collapsing
back of her trainer.

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, fine. Bye, Lucius!’

He didn’t bother to respond, as she was already gone, dragging a bemused Draco after her.

‘That’s my future daughter-in-law,’ he mused aloud, sighing.

Hermione straightened and grinned at him. ‘It won’t be that bad. With any luck, she’ll
refuse to live in Malfoy Manor on principle, and you’ll only see her on holidays.’

‘One can only hope.’

‘And even if she does move in, I imagine you’ll get used to her.’

Lucius shot her a wry glance. ‘If I ever “get used” to any of the Weasleys, you have my
permission to kill me and burn my body, as I’ve obviously become the victim of a
possession.’

Hermione giggled. ‘I thought it was cutting off your head and burning your heart for
possession?’

‘No, that’s vampirism.’

She laughed, and Lucius’s eyes gleamed. She couldn’t resist and reached out to gently
squeeze his knee. His eyes tracked her hand and then met hers again, and he almost looked
serene again, as he had in Kensington Gardens.

‘I have to go,’ she said regretfully. ‘Do you mind if I drop by again tomorrow?’

‘You may drop in any time you please,’ he said, very deep and soft, sounding completely
normal again. ‘I’m always here, and I could use the company.’

Something dark shifted behind Lucius’s eyes when he said that last, turning them almost
green for a moment, and Hermione made a mental picture of it to try to figure out what it
was. In the next instant, it was gone.

She said goodbye to both Malfoys and left. Ginny bothered her for a little while longer once
she got home, but then she headed back to the Burrow to admit to her mother what she’d
been doing all day. Hermione did not envy her at all.

It wasn’t until Hermione was settled down in her own bed, Crookshanks snuggled up to her,
that she realised that what she’d seen before was fear, stronger than she’d ever seen it in
Lucius’s eyes.

He was afraid of being alone. Except she didn’t think ‘afraid’ was quite a strong enough
word.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘May I go to bed now ?’ Lucius pleaded for the eighth time that night.

He’d asked right after Hermione and Ginny left, but Draco had pointed out that it was only
seven-thirty and refused. Then he’d asked again at eight, eight-thirty, nine, nine-thirty, ten,
and ten-thirty, and Draco had still refused each time, getting progressively more annoyed. It
was now a little after eleven, and Lucius was getting actively sleepy now, rubbing his eyes to
stay awake.

Draco glanced at the time. ‘All right, but tomorrow you’re getting up and getting dressed! I
can’t be here all day to persuade you to get up.’

‘Okay,’ Lucius agreed around a yawn, gratefully crawling back into the covers.

To his surprise, Draco came over and tucked him in, fussing with the quilt. Lucius was too
tired to object, but he shot Draco a very puzzled look, which Draco ignored.

‘I’m leaving the door unlocked, in case you have nightmares again,’ he said softly.

Lucius shivered at the reminder. ‘Okay.’

Draco hovered for a moment longer before finally leaving, extinguishing the candles as he
went. The door clicked shut, and despite Lucius’s earlier sleepiness, now he was too afraid to
sleep. The dark seemed to close in around him, suffocating. He didn’t want to go to sleep.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he told himself out loud, just to hear something in the silence. ‘I’m a
grown man. I’m not afraid of the dark.’

He was shaking too much to believe himself. He was too proud to light a candle to sleep by,
though, so he laid awake, trying to convince himself that it was safe to sleep. He didn’t
believe that, either.

Exhaustion eventually forced his eyes shut, and the nightmare returned with a vengeance,
only this time, the water wasn’t rising fast enough for him to drown himself to escape being
crushed or having his soul sucked out. He did not want to die either of those ways, but as
always, there was no way out, and the walls and the Dementor both got closer and closer.

He woke Draco with his terrified screams, and when Draco shook him awake, he was still too
terrified to reason with. He launched himself at Draco, clutching at him desperately as soon
as he realised there was someone beside him. The seeping cold feeling didn’t leave him.

‘I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die, help me, please,’ he sobbed brokenly into
Draco’s bicep, trembling violently.

‘Shhhh, Father, you’re not going to die,’ Draco tried to soothe him, petting his hair and
rocking him. ‘You’re here, at home with me, and I won’t let anything hurt you.’

Lucius would not be soothed; he was irrational with fear and exhaustion, and a part of him
was convinced he was still in his cell, that Draco was an illusion, that at any moment the
Dementor would descend.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he wept. ‘I won’t fail again, I promise, please help me….’

Draco held him tighter. ‘Voldemort is dead, Father, he’s not here.’

Lucius flinched at the name, but otherwise did not respond. His breathing was rapid and
shallow as he teetered on the edge of hyperventilation.

‘I’ll do better, I will, please, I don’t want to die,’ he whimpered, burrowing further into
Draco’s shirt. ‘Please….’

‘ Accio Dreamless Sleep.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please….’

Lucius felt Draco’s fingers under his chin and obediently tilted his head up. Draco’s fingers
were warm. That realisation finally made it register that it actually was Draco with him, not
the Dark Lord or a Dementor, and he slowly relaxed, his shaking worsening as the tension
leaked out of his frame.

‘Drink this, Father,’ Draco said lowly, holding a vial to his lips.

He obeyed, but it tasted awful. ‘Yuck.’

Draco smiled faintly. ‘I know, but it will help you sleep.’

Lucius’s lower lip quivered. ‘I don’t want to sleep.’

‘You need to, and I promise, you won’t have bad dreams this time.’

He believed Draco. Sniffling, he burrowed his head back into Draco’s shirt and waited. Sure
enough, sleep slowly washed over him, tugging him down. He whimpered, and felt Draco
stroke the back of his head, and then he was asleep.
 Target Acquired
Chapter Summary

Lucius recovers, and sets his sights on several goals. Hermione discovers something that
invokes her righteous indignation, and Draco gladly teams up with her.

Chapter Notes

Here's some plot-type stuff! Hermione has questions, and as we all know, she will not
stop until she has answers. In other words, now we're getting somewhere. Enjoy!

His mouth tasted like he’d licked a public restroom floor, and his eyes felt like they’d been
glued shut. He wasn’t tired, though, so he supposed that was a plus. With an effort, he
forced his eyes open and stiffly moved to sit up, looking around blearily.

It was late morning, if the level of light was any indication, and Lucius took an unsteady
breath as he realised he’d slept past when Draco left for work-- way past. He’d said last night
that he would get up today, and that meant getting up when Draco got up. Trembling slightly,
he moved to get up, and that was when he noticed the note on his nightstand.

‘ Father--you probably don’t remember, but I gave you Dreamless Sleep last night, so you
won’t be waking up until well after I leave. Please get up and get dressed when you do wake
up, I don’t want to come home and find you still in bed. Love, Draco ’

The anxiety faded. Draco wasn’t angry with him. All he had to do was get up and get
dressed--he could do that. Actually, a bath sounded good.

Shakily, Lucius stood and started his day. Something nagged at the back of his mind, and he
felt oddly vulnerable and exposed, but he tried the best he could to ignore it. He did not
move around with his usual confidence, but there was no one there to notice if he faltered
every now and again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Hermione had only one morning class on Mondays, so she decided to spend the extra time at
home, making a steak and kidney pie for her and Lucius, and doing a little research. She’d
collected a backlog of Daily Prophets for historical purposes (as a record of their bad
reporting, mostly), and it proved useful now. All the way back to June ’96--he was on the
front page.

At the time, Hermione had been recovering from her injury, and had paid very little attention
to the fallout, other than trying to be there for Harry. She’d skimmed the article at the time
and moved on. Now she studied it, and the picture that came with it, closely. The article was
mostly rubbish, going on about how shocking it was that seemingly upstanding members of
the community could secretly be Death Eaters and how one had to be wary of everyone, blah
blah blah. There were very little details about what it was actually supposed to be about--
Lucius’s arrest. It noted his prior accomplishments, his claims of having been under the
Imperius Curse before, the fact that he had a wife and son, and gave credit to the arresting
Auror, Hildebrand Pickett, although the fact that Lucius had been unconscious at the time of
his arrest made that rather less of an accomplishment, in Hermione’s opinion. Nothing else.

She turned to the picture, his arrest photo. They hadn’t wasted any time shoving him into
prison garb. He was on his knees, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was injured or
because the chains binding his wrists weren’t long enough. He’d been put in a neck brace, so
there was at least one injury. One arm was in a sling, and one wrist was bound.

Wait….

She looked closer, frowning. Those weren’t actual bandages--they were rags. The sling was
just a strip of cloth. The neck brace looked old, and it didn’t appear to fit right, like it was
meant for someone else.

The Lucius in the photo stared back at her with mingled defiance and disdain, but she knew
him well enough now to see that there was pain, also, in the way he held himself. There was
no colour in the photo, but she would swear his eyes were shadowed with it, too.

And there was something about the way he held his mouth, although she couldn’t quite tell if
it was because of the ill-fitting neck brace or if it was because there was a swelling on one
side, half-hidden by his hair….

She put the old Prophets back except that copy and grabbed her pie and cloak. She had a
stop to make.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco looked up with annoyance that immediately transformed into relief when she barged
into his office, shutting the door firmly behind her.
‘Hermione--I’m glad you’re here. I was going to stop by after work today, but this is even
better.’ He noticed the pie plate. ‘Is that for Father?’

‘Yes, I’m bringing him lunch,’ she said, sitting down and trying to control her indignation. It
wasn’t aimed at him, after all. ‘Why are you glad I’m here? What’s happened?’

‘Father had the worst night ever,’ Draco moaned, rubbing his forehead.

She listened, horrified, as he described Lucius’s reaction to his nightmare.

‘He thought Voldemort was there? In the room with him?’ she demanded when Draco had
finished, chilled at the very thought.

Draco looked miserable. ‘I think so. He kept saying he was sorry, and once he said he
wouldn’t fail again. It’s the only conclusion I can draw. It took him a while to realise I was
actually me.’

Hermione felt faint. ‘How did you get him back to sleep after that ? He must have been
terrified….’

‘He was,’ Draco agreed, his voice choked with emotion. ‘I made him drink a dose of
Dreamless Sleep. It probably wasn’t a very good idea, but I didn’t know what else to do.
You should have heard him screaming ….’

He covered his face with his hands. Hermione didn’t know how she was going to manage to
eat lunch after this, her stomach was so knotted up.

‘I can’t get the screams out of my head, it’s like they’re imprinted on my brain,’ he said
tightly.

She had a burning desire to never, ever hear Lucius Malfoy screaming.

‘I’ll stop in before I head back to Hogwarts, let you know how he’s doing,’ she said lowly.

He removed his hands from his face and gave her a stiff but grateful nod. ‘I assume you had
your own reason for stopping in?’

‘Yes.’ She grimly placed the old Prophet on his desk. ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’

Draco glanced at it and snorted. ‘Besides everything?’

‘Yes.’

He peered at it again, more critically this time. ‘I don’t know, what’s wrong with it?’

‘Last time I checked, St Mungo’s doesn’t use rags to bind up people’s wounds,’ she said in a
deliberately light tone.

He snatched up the paper and looked at it even more closely. She could see the moment he
saw it, too; a very ugly expression of rage twisted his face, his pale features rapidly turning
red.

‘Before you go marching off to harangue everyone in the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement, we need to confirm,’ she said sternly. ‘I need you to get in touch with St
Mungo’s, get any medical records they have on Lucius. If there aren’t any from the summer
of ’96, then we’ll know for sure that the arresting Auror did not follow protocol and take his
unconscious charge to St Mungo’s for treatment before transporting him to the Ministry’s
holding cells; the Aurors guarding him in the cells did not take him for treatment or contact a
healer, and transported him straight to Azkaban without any treatment; and we’ll know that
after he was in Azkaban, the few human guards did not seek treatment for him. But we need
to confirm it first before we can get the records of his imprisonment. They won’t just hand
them over without any suspicion of wrongdoing.’

Draco nodded tightly, only fractionally calming. ‘I’ll get in touch with St Mungo’s right
away, see what I can find out.’

Hermione nodded back, grim but determined. ‘Good.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had decided to do something productive with his time and had made a few Floo calls
regarding Lovegood. That seemed to be in motion, so after that, he’d gone to the library to
try to work on his final project, writing down questions that he could remember occurring to
him while wandering around Muggle London. Even the memory of being out in the sun had
lifted his spirits a little, making it easier to concentrate and not give in to the temptation to go
lie down somewhere and not move for the rest of the day.

Draco wouldn’t like it very much if he did that, which was the other reason he resisted
temptation. There was a nervous part of him that still anticipated Draco being upset with him
when he returned, no matter how much he tried to calm himself by re-reading Draco’s note.
He’d even signed it ‘Love,’ which he never did, and why would he do that if he was upset?
The nervous part countered that he never did that, so obviously he was upset.

He tensed when he heard footsteps in the hall, but immediately relaxed when a voice called
out.

‘Lucius? Are you asleep somewhere and I’m going to get horribly lost wandering around
your gigantic house for nothing?’ Hermione called, sounding both annoyed and amused.

Apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d called out.

‘I’m in here,’ Lucius called back, and Hermione’s head poked inside.

‘Oh! Hi! Hungry? I wanted some real food instead of eating out, and I’ve got a little extra
time to cook on Mondays, so here I am,’ she said cheerfully.
There was a slight strain, though, in her expression. He couldn’t identify what it was, but
since she was trying so hard to cover it, he assumed it was probably the stress of dealing with
horrible teenagers.

‘I could eat,’ he said, and put his quill down.

She smiled brightly. ‘Great!’

He followed her to the dining room, wondering why she’d needed to come eat with him just
because she wanted to eat real food. If he asked, though, she might leave, and then he’d be
alone again, and he couldn’t bear that. When he was alone, it was harder to fight off the
darkness. Besides, she had asked if she could stop in today, and she hadn’t specified when.

‘I’m working on my final project question,’ he said while she served.

‘That’s fantastic! Any ideas you’re particularly liking so far?’

He hesitated. She might get angry. ‘Homeless people.’

Hermione raised a brow at him. ‘Homeless people? That’s a pretty broad topic, don’t you
think?’

Lucius shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Not if I stick to the basics. Most pure-blood children will
be like me--they won’t even know what that means. In the Wizarding world, even if a wizard
was homeless, whether by choice or not, you would never know it, because a wizard can
simply use cleaning charms on themselves and their clothes, and we have the means to get
food and shelter if we wish, even if the means may sometimes be somewhat…unsavoury.’

She studied him for a moment. ‘Well, it does sound like a solid idea for a topic. There would
be enough material for a paper and a presentation.’ She shrugged. ‘You can use it if you
like; I guarantee that no one else has come up with that.’

He nodded, relieved. ‘We’ll see. If I don’t come up with anything else I like more.’

They ate quietly for the most part, although she did tell him about her frustrations with her
students that morning (as he’d suspected). His stomach allowed it, actually feeling a little
hungry once he smelled and tasted the pie. Hermione seemed less enthused about her own
cooking, picking at her food more than eating it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked when he’d polished off two pieces and she’d barely eaten one.

‘Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about something.’

‘Not me, this time, I hope,’ he said teasingly. ‘Since this time you look mad.’

Hermione smiled. ‘No, not you, this time. And I am mad about it,’ she admitted.

He tilted his head. ‘What’s happened?’

She waved her fork. ‘Oh, nothing that would interest you. I just found out about an injustice
that needs to be corrected, that’s all.’

‘A house elf in dire circumstances?’

That got a laugh out of her. ‘No. Don’t worry about it, Lucius.’

He subsided, feeling a little conflicted--pleased that he’d made her laugh when she was
obviously not in the best of moods, but a little hurt and ashamed that she didn’t feel she could
tell him about her latest crusade. It probably was about a house elf being abused or
something, and since he’d teased her, she thought he’d make fun of her for it. Which meant,
Lucius realised with a sinking feeling, that he might have to…start…being nice …to house
elves.

Ugh .

‘I’ve got to go, do you want the rest of this?’

Yes! ‘Yes, please!’

She grinned.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Anything?’

Draco looked supremely annoyed, but his voice was remarkably controlled. ‘They tell me it
will take two to three weeks to make sure all the records are compiled. Apparently, this is
because house calls and Ministry calls are filed separately from St Mungo’s hospitalisation
and emergency records, with each individual healer having their own filing system.’

Hermione sighed. ‘At least you got the process started.’

He sat back, fidgeting with his quill. ‘How is he?’

She grimaced. The last time she recalled Lucius looking this bad, Voldemort had been living
under his roof. He displayed the same shaky lack of confidence, the same vulnerable
instability. He’d obviously been making a serious effort to pull himself back together again,
tugging at her heartstrings and fuelling her rage toward those idiot Aurors.

‘Fragile,’ she said honestly. ‘Nervous. That nightmare really shook him up. But he’s trying-
-he’s working on ideas for his final project.’

Draco frowned anxiously. ‘Is he dressed? Did you get him to eat?’
She chuckled. ‘Yes, he’s dressed. I think he might have even bathed and shaved. I told you,
he’s trying. And yes, he ate a couple pieces of pie, and kept the rest for later when I had to
leave.’

He breathed out slowly, relief relaxing his tight expression. ‘Good. Will you bring dinner
tonight? Please? I don’t mean to monopolise all of your time, but--’

‘I’d be happy to,’ she cut him off, waving her hand to dismiss it physically, too. ‘If we’re
going to help him get back on his feet, he needs to be well fed. Apparently, he’ll only eat
what I make, and it’s the least I can do.’

He smiled faintly. ‘You’ve already done so much, I just feel like we’re abusing your good
nature.’

Hermione looked at him sternly, raising a brow. ‘You’re my friend. Lucius is my friend.
This is what friends do--we help each other, with no expectation of payment or
reciprocation.’

‘Then you’re the best friend ever,’ he said sincerely.

She smiled and opened the door. ‘I have to go. I have class. I’ll see you tonight.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After Hermione left, Lucius dedicated a solid hour or so to continuing the work on his final
project, but finally he was too cold to sit at a desk anymore. He sat as close to the fireplace
in the library as he dared, wrapped in a blanket, and kept an eye on the time. He needed to
make sure to get up before Draco got home, so he could look busy and productive.

Unfortunately, being warm made him feel drowsy, and it was almost time for him to get up
and look busy when he dozed off, leaning back against the armchair behind him. He only
realised he’d nodded off when he woke to a tickling sensation on his nose. He sneezed and
looked up to see Draco crouching beside him, smiling slightly and holding a quill.

‘Gotcha,’ he teased gently.

Lucius straightened immediately, his heart pounding as anxiety washed away all logical
thought.

‘I got up and did things, I wasn’t sleeping the whole day, I promise,’ he blurted in a rush, and
for some stupid reason his eyes were welling.

Draco sighed. ‘I know, Father, I can see that you’re dressed, and I’ve had a look at your
notes for your final project. You’ll be done before you know it,’ he added with a smile.

He wasn’t quite reassured. ‘You’re not angry?’ he asked timidly, hopefully.

Draco’s expression was pained. ‘No, I’m not angry. After you had such a rough night, I half
expected you’d need a nap or a rest. I just didn’t want you to lie in bed and not move all day,
that’s all.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘So I see.’

Lucius let out a ragged breath and the stupid, weak tears receded as relief replaced anxiety.
Draco watched him for a moment, his lips set in a thin line and his brow furrowed. The
silence stretched, and Lucius resisted the urge to squirm.

‘I’m still not going to leave you, Father,’ he said softly. ‘I said I never would, and I meant it.’

He sniffled, because the stupid tears were back with a vengeance. He couldn’t recall ever
crying or almost crying this much in his life. What had happened to his emotional control?
He wiped his face on his sleeve and couldn’t look Draco in the eye.

‘Now let’s get up off the floor, eh? Hermione is bringing dinner,’ Draco added with a smile.

‘That’s a good reason to get up,’ Lucius agreed, smiling back. It was a little wobbly, but it
was the best he could do at the moment.

He accepted Draco’s hand up and stood.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘What are these?’ Draco asked doubtfully.

Lucius was much more enthusiastic about them. He had no idea what they were, either, but
Hermione had made them, so they were bound to be delicious.

‘They’re chicken quesadillas,’ Hermione said with a grin at Draco’s dubious expression. ‘I
thought you liked trying new things?’

‘Usually, yes, but these look fried and unhealthy.’

‘They’re just quesadillas. It’s not like eating fried chicken. Don’t be such a baby.’

Draco was outraged. ‘I am not a baby!’ he cried in a voice that was considerably higher and
squeakier than usual.

Lucius snickered, which both ended the argument and made Hermione giggle. Draco pouted
but let it go.

‘How was your day, Draco?’ Hermione asked placatingly as she handed out the quesadillas.
Lucius only half-listened, too interested in his quesadilla to pay full attention. It was crispy
on the outside, which made it very pleasant to bite into. He nearly moaned when he tasted it-
-the chicken was juicy and lightly spiced, and it was surrounded with a gooey, hot, wonderful
cheese that he’d never tasted before.

‘Good?’

He nodded enthusiastically; Hermione grinned and turned back to Draco, who was eating
much more cautiously and sedately, still droning on about Percy Weasley and his dratted
budget reports. That young man was in serious need of a hobby.

He mowed through three more quesadillas before Draco said something that caught his ear.

‘Justin Finch-Fletchley still can’t find that book he was looking for,’ he said with an
exaggerated eye-roll. ‘As though it will prove his theory right anyway.’

‘Maybe not, but if he could find the text, it would at least lend support to the idea,’ Hermione
said, frowning in disapproval. ‘Either that, or it would lend support the other way, and he
would know to give up the idea entirely, and he would move on to other things.’

‘That alone would be a blessing,’ Draco muttered.

Lucius didn’t care what Finch-Fletchley’s idea was. ‘What book is he looking for?’ he said,
keeping his tone casual.

Hermione shot him an odd look. ‘ Theories of Locomotion, and the Physicks of Locomotive
Magick ,’ she said, and her tone was normal enough despite the odd look. ‘It’s really old, and
there weren’t very many copies printed to begin with. Even the Hogwarts library doesn’t
have it--Justin and I have both checked.’

Lucius filed the title away in his brain for later. It sounded vaguely familiar, and the Malfoy
collection was a lot more extensive than the library would indicate. Some books were locked
away in storage because of their great age, some because they were too precious to allow
careless hands on them, and still others because they simply weren’t meant to see the light of
day. It was possible that they had it, and Finch-Fletchley was one of the people to whom he
owed a debt. If the book was, in fact, in storage here in the manor, that was a very simple
way of repaying it, and it sounded as though it would mean a great deal to Finch-Fletchley.

Hermione was still watching him, he realised. He deliberately smiled and reached for
another quesadilla, and Draco started talking again, about something else. Reluctantly, she
pulled her gaze away. Lucius sternly reminded himself to keep better control over his
expression.

After dinner, they moved to the library, where Hermione and Draco had tea and biscuits
Tibby had made, and Lucius laid on the sofa with his hands over his very full stomach,
looking lazily at the fire and enjoying his food coma. He felt very full, and warm, and he had
another mission for his list, and Hermione was here, and Draco was here and not angry with
him, and life was very pleasant at the moment. He didn’t want it to end.
Hermione’s giggle made him look up. She was watching him with an amused grin.

‘Are you going to be okay?’ she asked, still chuckling. ‘I think you might have eaten
yourself into a stupor.’

Lucius hummed contentedly. ‘I have undoubtedly done so. That was possibly the most
delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.’

She laughed again, and Draco shot him an amused glance before changing the subject.

‘We need to start making preparations,’ he said importantly.

‘Preparations for what?’ Hermione asked, because Lucius was too drowsy and full to be
curious at all.

‘Christmas,’ said Draco, in a tone that indicated he thought it should’ve been obvious.
‘When I was young, we used to have a Christmas party every year. I was too young to stay
up past the dinner portion, but Mother used to tell me about the dancing and the champagne
and the music, and how much fun all the adults had. I think we should re-start the tradition.’

Lucius did not care. ‘If you want to,’ he said lazily.

Hermione shot him another grin, amused by his torpor. ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea,
Draco. The closest I’ve ever come to seeing a proper pure-blood formal party was the Yule
Ball in our fourth year, and--’

‘The Weird Sisters aren’t exactly in line with pure-blood traditions,’ Draco finished for her,
smiling wryly. ‘Never fear, we Malfoys may not know much, but we do know how to throw
a proper pure-blood party.’

She snorted. ‘You Malfoys know plenty, and most of it is sneaky.’

‘That’s why no one knows we know it,’ Draco confirmed in a conspiratorial whisper.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. ‘You’re utterly hopeless. So, what shall I
wear?’

Lucius roused himself. ‘Formal gown. Not that you need to worry. Potter is the one who
doesn’t know how to dress himself.’

They both grinned at him this time, exchanging an amused glance.

‘I’ll make sure to pick out Harry’s dress robes,’ Draco reassured him.

‘Who will you invite?’ Hermione wondered. ‘Surely not just our usual dinner party?’

‘No, I thought I’d invite them, but also some people from the Ministry, and some of our less-
evil former acquaintances. Also, I’ll probably invite Mother and her husband,’ he added,
glancing at Lucius uneasily.
Lucius waved a hand. ‘Go right ahead. Just please, please let me have one glass of
champagne before they arrive?’

Draco frowned. ‘ One glass.’

‘It would probably be better for everyone if I was drunk, though,’ he said reflectively.

‘Absolutely not,’ Draco said sternly. ‘ One glass, that’s all.’

He pouted a little, but it wasn’t really worth the effort, and he soon settled back into his
pleasant haze.

Hermione shook her head, but opted not to comment. ‘I’m not usually one to go to parties,
but I think this could be fun. And a nice change from the Weasley Christmas party, which I
believe you’ll be experiencing for the first time this year, won’t you, Draco?’

He shuddered. ‘Yes, and I dread what the twins will have in store.’

‘You should. Last year, they set up the centerpieces for Mrs Weasley, and we found out too
late that they were timed to explode. We all got covered in some kind of disgusting green
goo that wouldn’t come off short of peeling it off, and good luck trying to wash your hair.’

Draco tilted his head. ‘So that’s why Harry and Ron had bits of green stuck in their hair
when they returned from the hols…. I just assumed they’d had an accident with some green
bubble gum. Although it was an awful lot of green.’

She nodded sagely. ‘That’s why. I nearly cut my hair off in frustration, but fortunately, Mrs
Weasley made them cough up the serum to remove it before it came to that.’

‘I’m glad I can’t go,’ Lucius put in with a shudder of his own as he pictured it.

‘Yes, you lucky dog,’ she shot back, pouting exaggeratedly.

He smiled.

Draco shifted, frowning at them. ‘If you don’t normally go to parties, what do you do at
Christmas?’

Hermione looked down at her tea, the mirth evaporating from her features. ‘I used to spend
the entire break with my parents.’

The fire crackled. Lucius opened his mouth, but he had no words to express his sympathy, so
he closed it again. Draco looked exceedingly guilty.

She roused herself and offered them a slightly watery smile. ‘We would decorate the tree
together, and bake cinnamon rolls, and go carolling, and ice skating, and build a snowman if
there was enough snow that year, and all sorts of cliché Christmas-y things. And every night
we would curl up under this big quilt together and watch a different Christmas film, although
on Christmas Eve, we watched The Sound of Music even though it’s not a Christmas film.
It’s always been my favourite film of all time, so I think my parents let me choose it on
Christmas Eve when I was little, and then it just became a tradition. Then, on Christmas
morning, we would take turns opening presents, and afterward we’d play a board game, and
have this enormous dinner that made us too full to eat anything but chocolates for the rest of
the day,’ she said, chuckling softly at the memory, her eyes soft and far away. ‘And that
night, we’d curl up and watch It’s a Wonderful Life , because it was my dad’s favourite. Then
I’d go up to bed, and Mum would go read while Dad played “Silent Night” on the piano to
put me to sleep.’

She looked down at her tea again, biting her lip. Lucius felt a physical ache in his chest that
he’d never felt before, but he was too consumed with wishing there was something he could
do for her to be overly concerned for himself.

‘Well,’ she said with a sniffle, deliberately trying to sound cheerful. ‘I’ll just have to make
some new traditions.’

‘Yes, and the first one can be attending our Christmas party,’ he said quickly.

She smiled softly at him and the ache eased.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the next several days, Lucius was energised with having several missions to attend to.
He continued to monitor the Lovegood situation, which was coming along quite nicely, and
he began tearing apart their storage rooms, one at a time, seeking the volume Finch-Fletchley
wanted. He also began helping Draco with the party arrangements for Christmas. And, of
course, he had class to attend and the final project to work on, so he was kept quite busy,
which kept his mind occupied and therefore his mood stayed fairly positive, barring a few
shaky moments here and there. Draco seemed relieved and backed off, but Hermione
continued to drop by in the evenings, bearing some dish or other, ditching the dinners at the
Burrow and at Grimmauld Place. Lucius was grateful, and he was particularly pleased on
Wednesday when she brought lunch again, and stayed a while longer this time. On Tuesday
and Thursday, he’d had to put up with Molly for lunches again, but he supposed it was better
company than none at all.

Now that Draco had brought up Christmas, he was also occupied with trying to decide what
to get for Hermione. He wanted to get her something special, to show how much he
appreciated everything she’d done for him.

The problem was that the only woman he could recall shopping for in his life was Narcissa,
and Narcissa and Hermione were very different people. Narcissa was always pleased with
shiny things and perfumes and new fur cloaks and wraps. Hermione was not vain, so shiny
things and perfumes wouldn’t impress her, and also, he was pretty certain that presenting her
with anything lined with real fur was likely to result in a sound hexing, or at least a very, very
long, angry harangue. What Hermione did love was books. Lucius thought perhaps he could
work with that.
He also gained a little inspiration from his syllabus. The only mention of The Sound of Music
in the textbook was a note that it was a Muggle pop culture icon, beloved by millions, but it
said as much about The Wizard of Oz (which piqued Lucius’s interest by title alone) and a
few other films, so that was exceedingly unhelpful. In the syllabus, however, was a mention
that they would be viewing the film Star Wars over two class periods for the unit on cinema.
That had to mean that there was a way to transfer the Muggle technology of film into a form
that wouldn’t break or go haywire when exposed to magic.

And he knew just who to ask to find out how Hermione had done it. He set his sights on
Potter on Thursday evening, determined to get answers.
 Preparations
Chapter Summary

Harry, Lucius and Draco make a Christmas gift for Hermione. Hermione does
something she regrets, and later goes to bat for Lucius.

Chapter Notes

Thank you, as always, all you lovely readers and commenters! I adore you. :)
Not much to say about this chapter, other than that parts of it were loads of fun to write.
Next time: Christmas!

Lucius was a patient man, under most circumstances. He’d had to be, for many years. First,
he had patiently waited for his political schemes to come to fruition in the service of his Dark
Lord. Then he had waited, biding his time, for his return (barring his somewhat rash move of
passing the diary along to Ginny, in hopes that the Dark Lord could return that way). After
that, more schemes.

So he had a lot of practise. Watching and waiting for Potter to be alone momentarily was as
nothing in comparison.

He hid it well; he’d spent the last two days trying to work on his emotional control, ruthlessly
wrangling his wayward moods back under his command, so he could keep them under a cool
mask, where they belonged. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was much better, and Lucius was
pleased enough with the results of his efforts. It was not, after all, actually having confidence
that mattered, so long as one could maintain the appearance of having confidence.

There was no one better at maintaining appearances than Lucius Malfoy.

At last, Draco moved off to see to Molly and Ginny, and Ron started arguing with Neville,
and Potter was alone. Lucius was at his side in the blink of an eye; Potter very nearly
dropped his pumpkin juice in surprise.

‘Mr Potter,’ he purred, instinctively towering over the shorter wizard. ‘I would like to speak
with you. Privately.’

Potter was no more intimidated by him now than he had been when he was twelve. He
straightened, jutting his chin out at Lucius.
‘What for?’ he asked flatly, his eyes flashing green fire.

Lucius bit back a smile. He’d always been a little impressed despite himself at Potter’s
refusal to be bullied or intimidated. Way back when, it had only made him hate the boy
more. Now, it impressed and amused him, and he felt a little, tiny, miniscule bit of fondness
for the young man.

Of course, it was difficult to hate Potter after he’d saved Draco from being burnt alive. That
alone had rather effectively changed his whole attitude toward Potter, after Draco relayed the
tale, and now, his worldview was changing in general, and he found it hard not to just plain
like Potter. Not that he ever intended to admit that to anyone.

‘It’s about Hermione,’ he said in an undertone, glancing at her side of the room.

She was watching them with a slightly anxious expression, but she was too far away to
overhear.

Potter glanced, too, and then nodded his agreement. They slipped out of the sitting room and
went to Draco’s study. It had once been Lucius’s study, so he had no qualms about borrowing
it long enough to have a private conversation.

He went completely rigid when he turned to find that Potter had drawn his wand, but the
messy-haired wizard only cast a few privacy charms before sheathing his wand. Lucius
breathed again.

‘So. What about Hermione?’ Potter asked, sitting and putting his feet up on the desk.

Lucius frowned at Potter and sat with a great deal more decorum.

‘I was reading ahead in the syllabus,’ he began slowly. ‘It says that we will be watching a
Muggle film.’

Potter nodded, linking his hands behind his head. ‘ Star Wars .’

Lucius’s gaze sharpened. ‘If you know that, then you must know how such a thing is
possible. Magic and Muggle technology do not mix--how did Hermione do it?’

Potter’s eyes narrowed, and he was silent for a long moment as he scrutinised Lucius.

‘Why do you want to know?’ he asked at last, his tone very carefully controlled.

Lucius lifted his chin a fraction, but he suppressed his first instinct to tell the boy to mind his
own business. This was too important to risk offending Potter; he couldn’t do it alone, and he
doubted Draco could help him in this particular matter.

‘Hermione shared…a pleasant memory with me and Draco,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Apparently,
on Christmas Eve, she and her parents used to watch The Sound of Music together.’

‘Really?’ Potter blinked. ‘I never knew that.’

Lucius felt smugly superior, but made an effort not to show it.

‘So you want to figure out how she can watch it on Christmas Eve without leaving the
magical world,’ he said, finally catching on. ‘A very, uh, unique gift.’

Lucius leaned forward. ‘Do you know how she did it?’ he pressed anxiously. ‘If you help
me, I will…owe you a favour.’

Potter snorted. ‘You already owe me a fair few favours, Mr Malfoy. In my opinion,
anyway.’

‘I agree,’ Lucius said quickly. ‘Add another to the list, then.’

Potter didn’t look impressed, staring at him with a raised brow.

‘I’ll pay you,’ he blurted, panicking as it looked less and less likely that Potter would agree.

Potter snorted again, rolling his eyes. ‘I don’t need your money.’

He swallowed his pride and clasped his hands together. ‘Please,’ he begged, quietly but
earnestly. ‘Please.’

Potter’s mouth fell open, and he gaped most unattractively for several minutes.

‘All this for a Muggle-born, Mr Malfoy?’ he asked skeptically when he’d recovered.

Lucius flinched as though he’d been slapped. ‘If you don’t want to help me, I would prefer
you just say so,’ he said coldly, dropping his gaze as his cheeks heated, burning with
humiliation. This had been a stupid, terrible idea to begin with.

‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.’

He looked up sharply. Potter’s expression was neutral.

‘But I would like to know why the fact that Hermione is a Muggle-born seems to have
stopped mattering to you.’

Lucius swallowed. ‘Mr Potter. I nearly lost my son. I did lose my wife. I have lost my
freedom, or at least most of it, with the constant threat of losing the rest of it hanging over my
head every day. I am many things, Mr Potter, but I am not a fool, and only a fool would
persist in clinging to his old beliefs at this point.’

‘Then you don’t hate Muggles and Muggle-borns anymore?’

‘Hardly. Actually, Muggles are quite fascinating. Did you know, Muggles don’t have to go
to the bank every time they need money? They have these machines where they put in a card
and it spits out money.’

He’d just read about them yesterday, and he was still pretty dazzled by the idea. Going to
Gringotts was a pain.
Potter blinked. ‘Uh…yeah. Yeah, I know….’

‘And Muggle-borns sometimes have very interesting perspectives.’ He paused. ‘Besides,

even if I still disliked Muggle-borns in general, Hermione would be the exception. She is…
special,’ Lucius admitted quietly, his face warming.

Slowly, Potter smiled. This was apparently what he had wanted to hear, and Lucius’s gut
unclenched.

‘All right. I’ll help you, Mr Malfoy. I’ll come over on Saturday, and we can get to work,’ he
said, standing and straightening his robe.

‘Thank you.’ He paused with his hand on the doorknob. ‘Will it take a very long time?’

‘It might,’ said Potter, frowning. ‘We should be able to get it done before Christmas,
though.’

Lucius nodded, relieved, and opened the door. Three bodies fell inside, startled by the
sudden opening, and tumbled to the floor.

‘Um,’ said Hermione as she looked up at them from the floor, her face fiery red.

‘Er,’ said Draco, equally red.

‘We just wanted to make sure you weren’t killing each other,’ Ginny said brightly, kicking
her feet in the air as though she’d planned all along to end up on her stomach on the floor.

Potter grinned and extended a hand to her. She took it and hopped to her feet. After a brief
hesitation, Lucius offered his hand to Hermione. She took it and climbed to her feet, too, but
she wouldn’t look at him, and she remained very red. Draco scrambled to his feet on his
own, brushing off his robes and looking like he wished to sink into the floor.

‘We aren’t killing each other, obviously,’ said Potter, still grinning. ‘As you can see, we’re
both alive and intact. Besides, did you really think you could listen in through my privacy
charms?’

Hermione muttered something and walked off. Lucius very much wanted to go after her, and
would have done so, had three pairs of hands not snagged his robes and yanked him to a halt.

‘Hey!’ he shouted, brushing away their hands and trying to smooth his now-wrinkled robes.

‘You don’t want to go after her right now, Lucius,’ said Ginny, and Potter and Draco were
nodding earnestly in agreement. ‘She’s embarrassed, and she won’t appreciate it.’

‘But she shouldn’t be embarrassed,’ he protested, ‘and I want to tell her so.’

‘It’s your funeral,’ Ginny said, shrugging.

Lucius reconsidered his planned course of action and headed back to the sitting room with
them instead.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione managed not to die of embarrassment, somehow. She spent the rest of the night
with Luna; the girl was some kind of walking talisman against any sense of embarrassment.
At any rate, she didn’t seem to know how to feel it herself, and it made Hermione feel a little
better to be around her. Strange, but true.

The next day, she very nearly stayed at Hogwarts for lunch--it wasn’t like the Hogwarts
house elves weren’t ten times the cooks she was, and she loved their food--but then, she
didn’t want to lose too much face with Lucius. Besides, he was still very thin. One week
didn’t make much difference, and his health was more important than her pride.

He seemed relieved when she appeared in the doorway of the library, bearing a pan of
enchiladas, but he made no comment other than, ‘Good afternoon, Hermione.’ They settled
in the dining room, and he made short work of his enchiladas. She smiled and gave him one
of hers, making a mental note that he seemed fond of Mexican cuisine. It still bothered her,
though, and shortly before she had to leave, she mustered enough courage to say something.

‘Lucius, I’m…I’m sorry about yesterday,’ she managed to choke out, but she couldn’t look at
him when she said it. ‘I shouldn’t have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation. It’s
really none of my business, and I should have respected your privacy. I’m sorry.’

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his tone was light. ‘I thought you were trying
to ascertain whether or not Potter or I was committing homicide?’

Hermione smiled in spite of herself and looked up. He didn’t look angry at all, his eyes light
and his expression somewhat impish.

‘Well, that’s what Ginny and Draco were doing. And I suppose I was a little worried that you
two might be fighting, but I trust that neither you nor Harry wants to be convicted of murder.
Mostly, I was just being nosy.’ She bit her lip, her cheeks heating. ‘I can be a bit of a
meddlesome busybody, to be perfectly honest.’

Lucius burst out laughing, full and clear as she’d never heard him laugh before. It was
beautiful, like everything else about him--and she immediately chastised herself for the
thought.

‘You don’t say?’ he teased merrily, grinning. ‘I never would have guessed.’

She blushed a little hotter and looked away.

‘Hermione.’

She turned back, and he was looking at her in that intense way again, his eyes nearly
glowing.
‘I am…glad of it,’ he said, and his smile was softer. ‘You have done me more good than I
can tell you.’

Her heart leapt into her throat, racing at about a thousand miles per hour. She was trapped,
for a moment, in his eyes, and then he touched her hand and Hermione jerked away, tearing
her eyes away from his intent gaze.

‘I-I have to go, I have a class to teach,’ she said tightly, standing quickly and gathering her
things. ‘I’m going to be late.’

‘Hermione.’

She kept moving. He followed her to the entrance hall.

‘Hermione.’

She couldn’t ignore him, especially when he sounded so very mournful.

‘Yes?’

She looked up by mistake, and saw that he looked every bit as sad as he sounded, his eyes
large and sorrowful. She smiled, sighing as he effortlessly melted her resolve.

‘I’m just late, Lucius. I’ll see you tonight,’ she said gently, and reached up to give him a kiss
on the cheek.

Said cheek turned quite pink, and Hermione fled so she wouldn’t have to deal with the
fallout, cursing herself for a coward and a fool for the rest of the day.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius felt warm and content for the rest of the whole week-end, his cheek tingling with the
memory of the light brush of Hermione’s lips. Her approval and friendship had come to
mean more to him than anything, and that barely-there kiss was as close to concrete proof of
her regard as he could have asked for. She seemed jumpy and nervous on Friday night, but
she did eventually relax, and he put it down to stress over whatever injustice she was fighting
that she wouldn’t tell him about.

He wasn’t so bothered by that, now. She was so anxious to respect his privacy--he could
respect hers, too.

On Saturday, Potter arrived early enough to impress Lucius.

‘Harry? What are you doing here?’ Draco said with very blatant confusion when he arrived
in the entrance hall, dragging a battered old trunk behind him. ‘We didn’t have plans I’ve
forgotten about, did we?’
Lucius stepped forward before Potter could even get his mouth open. ‘No--Mr Potter and I
are working on a project.’

Draco looked between the two of them with a comical expression of confusion.

Potter smiled. ‘It’s for Hermione. Your dad thought of a good Christmas present for her.’

‘From all of us,’ Lucius added quickly. He had his own ideas for a personal gift from himself
to Hermione.

‘Oh.’ Draco perked up with interest. ‘What is it?’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ Potter teased, dragging the trunk through to the sitting room, with
both Malfoys trailing after him.

Draco sniffed haughtily. ‘I’m a Malfoy . Of course I can keep a secret.’

Lucius smiled with more than a little pride. Potter shook his head at them both.

‘All right, well, we’re going to attempt to replicate something that Hermione had me help
with once,’ he explained, using a tone that seemed to Lucius to be very similar to Hermione’s
teaching voice. ‘We’re going to try to convert a VHS tape of The Sound of Music into an old-
timey projector reel…thing. Hermione knew the technical term. Anyway, apparently, the
reel thingies are old enough and simplistic enough that they don’t go haywire around magic.
The quality isn’t as good as a VHS, and nowhere near as good as a DVD, but it’s still
watchable, and the sound quality stays pretty much intact.’

Lucius cocked his head, his interest piqued. ‘What’s a DVD?’

Potter rolled his eyes. ‘Have Hermione explain it to you later. Are we going to do this or
not?’

The process was very slow, and Lucius could only help with part of it. First, they had to mix
a potion to soak each frame in (which Lucius mostly did himself, with Draco reading the
instructions off to him). Then they had to cut each frame off individually, soak it in the
mixture for fifteen minutes each, and then Potter or Draco would perform a complicated spell
over it that transfigured it into a larger reel frame. Then, each frame had to be hung up to dry,
and they had to try not to get them out of order or upside down or backward. Once they were
dry, Potter or Draco did a sealing spell to attach it to the growing roll of film on the reel
Potter had provided.

Lucius ended up doing most of the menial labour parts, since he couldn’t very well perform
the spells, but he didn’t mind. It was fascinating, even though it was long and slow.

In the end, they couldn’t quite finish in one day. Potter and Draco had a prior engagement
with Ginny.

‘We promised we’d join her for a little celebratory dinner,’ Draco explained when Potter
made him stop cutting frames. ‘She was supposed to have signed the lease on the flat she
chose today.’
‘Oh,’ said Lucius. A thought occurred. ‘Hermione, too?’

His disappointment carried over into his voice a lot more than he would’ve liked. Potter
laughed until Draco slapped his arm.

‘Yes, Hermione, too,’ Draco said regretfully.

‘Oh.’

Potter was looking at him oddly now, but after a moment, he turned away, shaking out his
cloak.

‘I’ll leave everything here, we can pick up again tomorrow,’ he said briskly. ‘We should be
done by the afternoon, and then we can preview it, make sure it worked. If not, I’ll have to
buy a new tape so we can try again.’

Lucius winced at the thought. He didn’t mind doing it, but he really, really hoped it had
worked this first time around, all the same. He saw Draco and Potter off, and then returned to
rooting through storage rooms.

‘Is Master not wanting dinner?’ Tibby asked, scaring the living daylights out of him.

‘Tibby, you just about gave me a heart attack!’ he snapped, scrambling to catch a stack of
books that he’d nearly knocked over when he jumped.

‘Tibby is sorry , Master, most sorry ,’ but he could tell she didn’t mean it, standing there with
her bulgy eyes narrowed and a smug, sneaky little smile on her ugly face.

Lucius opened his mouth to rip the snotty little elf a new one, but paused. Hermione would
not approve. Swallowing past a bitter taste in his mouth, he attempted to smile.

‘That’s…all right, Tibby,’ he choked out, working against every muscle in his face. ‘And no,
I wouldn’t care for any dinner….’ He winced, and clenched his teeth, and added with an
almost physical pain, ‘…Thank you.’

Tibby stared at him. ‘Oh,’ she said, her squeaky voice gone rather faint, and then
disappeared with a crack.

Lucius resisted the urge to vomit (barely), and went back to his sorting with a shudder. Only
the thought that Hermione would have been very pleased if she’d seen kept him from calling
Tibby back so he could scream at her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On Sunday, they finished in the early afternoon, and Potter said that they had to preview it to
make sure they’d got it right. Lucius eagerly agreed; Draco was a little more dubious.
‘ The Sound of Music ,’ he repeated, his lip curled. ‘The very name is girly.’

Potter rolled his eyes as he adjusted the reel. ‘It’s a musical. Of course it’s girly. It may
have escaped your notice, but Hermione is a girl.’

Draco let out a mock gasp. ‘ Nooo ! Really?’

‘Can we just watch it?’ Lucius interrupted. ‘I don’t think Hermione would appreciate you
saying she only likes something because it’s “girly.” She says it’s discrimination to say that
girls only like girl things and boys only like boy things.’

Potter shot him another one of those odd looks, but Draco openly scoffed.

‘Discrimination? I call it an observation of simple facts!’

Lucius shrugged. ‘Feel free to argue that with her the next time you see her. In the
meantime, can we please watch the film?’

‘If you hit the lights, we’re ready to go,’ Potter agreed, tapping the projector with his wand.

The drapes were already shut. Draco put out the candles with a wave of his hand, and the
film started. They were high up in the mountains, looking down into green valleys and
sparkling rivers. It was a little grainy, but it was still gorgeous. Lucius was quite taken with
it, and wished the whole film was just footage of sweeping vistas.

‘Wow,’ said Draco flatly, sarcastically.

‘Shhh,’ Lucius hissed.

The two younger wizards glanced at him in surprise, and then slid down in their chairs a
little, looking meek. Lucius nodded with satisfaction and turned back to the screen. It was
really just a white sheet they had pinned up on a wall, but it served the purpose well enough.

The wide shots of mountains ended, and they zoomed in on a blonde young woman, who
started singing. She was really quite amazing at it, although Lucius thought the lyrics were a
little too flowery and innocent for his tastes. They were beautiful mountains, but they were
still just very large hills--he didn’t see the need to sing about them being alive.

The story began to unfold, and Lucius thought it was fairly intriguing. Still, the longer it
went on, the less he enjoyed the singing. The woman was extremely talented, and he loved
the sound of her voice, but the songs were just so… happy . Very, very…twee, almost,
particularly when the six million kids were singing about does being deer (female deer) and
rays being drops of golden sun. He just about gagged.

The story was engaging, though, and he thought he could see why Hermione liked it.
Personally, he enjoyed the Captain’s transformation from a tyrannical dictator into a good,
reasonable father and man, as abrupt as it was. The love story was nice, too, with an innocent
young woman falling in love with someone who’d once been hard and bitter. He particularly
enjoyed the dance sequence, which was beautiful, and reminiscent of many wizard dances.
Draco had fallen asleep at some point, and Potter looked bored as it finished.

‘Well, we did it right,’ he said, turning off the projector. ‘All the frames are facing the right
direction, and they’re in the proper order. So now, all you have to do is store this stuff
somewhere that Hermione won’t see it until Christmas Eve, when we will have to sit through
it with her and pretend it’s amazing.’

‘Parts of it are amazing,’ Lucius said, defensive of Hermione’s favourite film on her behalf.
She wasn’t there to speak up for it, after all. ‘The run from the Nazis was exciting, and I
liked how the nuns broke the Nazi cars.’

Potter snorted. ‘Yeah, which didn’t happen in real life.’

‘It’s a musical , Mr Potter,’ Lucius sniffed. ‘I doubt whether any of the random bursting into
song happened in real life, either. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a nice story.’

Potter sighed and decided not to answer. He began to pack up the equipment, leaving only
the projector, reel and sheet. Lucius had a question burning at him, and, as much as he
loathed to ask him, Potter was his only current source of information, and his curiosity knew
no bounds, lately.

‘Mr Potter?’

‘Hmm?’ he said distractedly.

‘What are Nazis?’

Potter turned and looked at him with his mouth open again. His face turned a little red.

‘Um…when you get to that part of the Muggle history section in your textbook, you’ll know,’
he said, seeming uncharacteristically ruffled.

Lucius pouted. ‘In the beginner textbook, it only goes up through the 1600s. I haven’t
purchased the intermediate and advanced ones yet.’

‘Oh. Well, you should ask Hermione. For now, suffice to say that they were really, really
bad guys who were around in Germany in the 1930s and ’40s.’

This was not a sufficient response. He narrowed his eyes at Potter, but the younger wizard
wasn’t moved, as usual.

‘I’ll ask Hermione,’ he said decisively.

‘Good idea,’ said Potter, visibly relieved.

They shook hands before the Boy Who Lived departed, and Lucius carefully stored the
projector and reel before diving back into his search for the book. He was only interrupted at
dinner, when Draco woke and began hollering through the house for him.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius seemed quite happy the next week, which made Hermione wary at first--but this time,
it wasn’t the manic, over-energetic sort of joy. Rather, it was a quiet contentment that
suffused him with an inner glow, one which made it difficult for Hermione to control her
errant lustful thoughts, and he remained fairly still, not fidgeting with that unnatural energy
he’d had before the trip to London. By Thursday, she had stopped being quite so alert about
it, instead becoming preoccupied with something else, something which just so happened to
be equally related to Lucius.

Saturday, November 20 (the upcoming Saturday), was the day that marked 200 days left in
Lucius’s probation. She wanted to do something special for him to celebrate, remembering
how much it had meant to him on day 250, and she was in contact with Draco about it
whenever they could steal a moment alone. This resulted in reassuring Ginny that she did
not, in fact, have designs on her boyfriend, and she was, in fact, still fighting off
inappropriate feelings for the other blond pureblood snob of their acquaintance, but
Hermione thought it was worth it.

She was right, it turned out, because when she arrived and made them breakfast, and Draco
announced that he was staying and celebrating with them all day, Lucius reacted with all the
unadulterated joy of a child on his birthday who’s just been given a much longed-for toy. His
eyes sparkled and his cheeks remained pink the whole day, and he shyly thanked them both
several times over, as though he wasn’t quite certain of his good fortune.

She had brought Monopoly (which she knew would appeal to the pair of Slytherins, since it
was a game of accumulating wealth and power), and they played all day, with a break mid-
day for a lunch of toasted subs. For dinner, she’d made another pot pie as a sort of call-back
to the first meal she’d brought over, and Lucius seemed to enjoy it even more than he’d
enjoyed the quesadillas. She had also made a chocolate cake, and despite trying to restrain
herself, even she was nearly miserable with fullness at the end of the day.

The most interesting thing that happened, though, was also the worst. Lucius had drifted off
on the sofa, full and content, and Draco turned to her with a grim, serious expression, pulling
a stack of papers from his pocket. Hermione knew immediately that St Mungo’s had got
back with him, and they silently crept out of the room.

‘No treatment,’ Draco said without preamble as soon as a privacy charm was up. ‘None, the
whole year he was in Azkaban.’

His voice and expression were both tight with controlled rage. Hermione took the packet
when he held it out and flipped through it. Lucius hadn’t been treated by any employees of
St Mungo’s of any kind, not even their semi-independent healers, since 1993, when he’d been
seen to for some bruising and a minor head injury caused by being flung backward by a
house elf. She smirked slightly, and a little sadly, at the thought of Dobby.

But it confirmed what she’d suspected. None of the Aurors involved had bothered to take
their unconscious prisoner in to be checked over by a healer, as they were required to do.
 None of the guards of Azkaban (the non-evil creature ones, that is; she hardly expected
Dementors to care about the health of their prisoners) had bothered to do more than bind up
his hurts with a few rags and an old neck brace, if they even left those on for longer than the
time it took to snap the pictures.

Hermione took a deep, slow breath to try to control the fury that boiled up her throat.

‘I can’t take it in and ask for the Auror’s reports and the Azkaban records,’ Draco said
abruptly, still tight. ‘I can’t do it. I think I may actually kill someone if I do. How could
they deny him medical treatment? And they say we’re monsters!’

He was shaking with rage by the time he finished, running a hand through his hair as he
fought for calm.

Hermione knew the feeling. ‘You want me to do it?’ she asked lowly.

Draco nodded stiffly. ‘Please.’

She breathed in, then out, then in. She hoped Draco’s faith in her wasn’t misplaced; she
didn’t think she’d ever been this angry in her life. A glance into the sitting room, where
Lucius lay sleeping so contentedly, only increased her wrath as it mentally juxtaposed with
the mental image of his prison photo.

‘Make a copy and I’ll take the copy,’ she said when she was sure she wouldn’t growl at
Draco when she spoke. ‘Keep the original somewhere safe.’

He nodded quickly. ‘Will do.’

‘I’ve got some extra time on Mondays. I’ll pay Kingsley a little visit on Monday.’

Draco smiled darkly. Hermione returned the look, hoping and praying that she could control
her temper.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was doing her best, but judging by the terrified looks on the interns’ faces as she
swept by and the curious, awed looks on the more experienced Aurors’ faces, she wasn’t
doing a terribly good job of not storming to Kingsley’s office on Monday. As she strode up
to his door, his secretary nearly dropped her teacup, sloshing it dangerously.

‘Mi-miss Granger!’ she cried shrilly. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘I’m making one right now,’ Hermione replied darkly, and threw the door open, slamming it
behind her.

Kingsley did drop what he was holding, but fortunately it was only a quill.
‘Hermione, you startled me! How can I help you?’ he asked, and he didn’t sound nearly as
rattled as she would’ve liked.

She levelled a cool gaze at him. ‘I want Lucius Malfoy’s arrest and Azkaban records,’ she
said shortly.

There was no point in beating about the bush.

Kingsley blinked. ‘I can’t just hand those over to someone without--’

She dropped the packet in front of him, cutting him off quite effectively.

‘Every record of every healer visit, St Mungo’s visit, and mediwitch or -wizard treatment
Lucius Malfoy has ever had in his life, including treatment while he was attending
Hogwarts,’ she explained, her tone still clipped. She paused for dramatic effect. ‘There is no
record of Mr Malfoy receiving treatment of any kind after the Battle of the Department of
Mysteries, in spite of the fact that his unconscious state at the time of his arrest was well-
documented at the time by eye witnesses and various publications.’

Kingsley sat back in his chair, frowning. ‘You’re accusing the Auror Department of not
following protocol four years ago?’ he said incredulously.

She did not falter. She was too angry to be put off by simple disbelief.

‘Yes. I am.’

He took in her steady, cold expression and blew out a breath. ‘Hermione…even with this
evidence from St Mungo’s, it will take several weeks to get the proper clearances to release
the records.’

‘Then do it,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t think the failure to follow protocol stopped there, and I
intend to prove it.’

Kingsley raised a brow. ‘To what end?’

Hermione pursed her lips. ‘We’ll see, when I get the records.’

‘You want to see what cards you’ve got before you play your hand.’

‘A little trick I learned from my Slytherin friends,’ she said grimly. ‘Make it happen,
Kingsley.’

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly. ‘I’ll get started on the
paperwork right away.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hermione, softening a little now that she had evidently made her point.

She swept out of the room and headed straight to the Floo center. She arrived at Malfoy
Manor, casserole dish in hand, to find Lucius waiting for her in the entrance hall with a smile
on his face.
‘Hello, Hermione,’ he said cheerfully, holding his hand out to take her cloak. ‘How are you
today?’

And just like that, the rage and the tension melted away.

Hermione smiled, sighing happily. ‘I’m better now. How are you, Lucius?’

His smile widened.

All errant lustfulness aside, this was truly the most content she’d been all day.
 A Proper Pureblood Party
Chapter Summary

Lucius comes to one last realisation on the road to redemption. At the Weasleys'
Christmas party, Kingsley has some results for Hermione. She has an epiphany at the
Malfoys' Christmas party; she, Draco and Lucius spend Christmas together.

Chapter Notes

First of all, a huge thank you to snape_lust for coming up with Lucius's Christmas gift to
Hermione! You are made of awesome.
Second of all, this is the largest chapter yet, but unfortunately, it will be the last until
after the holidays. I will try to write during that time, but I am 98% sure that I won't
write enough to post, so please savor and enjoy this one, okay? :)

Thirdly, I sincerely hope the discussion between Lucius and Hermione about Nazis
doesn't offend anyone. It's a very, very difficult line to walk when comparing fictional
tragedies with real ones, and I did my best not to diminish the real thing. The similarity
between Nazis and Death Eaters is not my own invention--JKR stated that she based the
Death Eaters on Nazis, and I am merely trying to use that. Probably not very well.

I don't think there was a fourth thing. If there was, I've forgotten it. Happy holidays,
everyone, be safe, and as always, thank you for reading and commenting! :)

The week wore on, and on Thursday evening, Luna was all aglow with happiness. She and
Rolf had apparently got a grant that they had desperately needed to fund their project.
Hermione was very happy for her, and the dinner party turned into more of a celebratory
dinner when Draco decided that was a champagne-worthy occasion. He even offered to let
Lucius have a glass, although he declined. Hermione was actually a little concerned about
Lucius’s reaction to the news; his face remained perfectly still, in that way he had when he
was trying to be inscrutable (and generally succeeding). He didn’t seem to be hiding any
upset, though, so she reluctantly let it be. She didn’t need to know every thought that flitted
through his head, after all, just because the nosy, curious part of her wanted to.

The Weasleys and Harry got rather rambunctious after a while from a little too much
celebrating, and when she saw Lucius sneaking out, she decided he had the right idea and
followed him out into the hallway.

‘Hey!’ she called, so he wouldn’t think she was just being a creepy stalker.
He stopped to let her catch up. ‘Library?’ he asked.

‘Works for me.’

Blessed silence fell over them as Lucius shut the door behind them, and Hermione sat down
with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back.

‘Ah, bliss,’ she said breathily.

He chuckled. ‘That was a bit much. I don’t know how we’re meant to handle them at the
Christmas party.’

She lifted her head to eye him curiously. ‘How is that coming, by the way?’

‘Very well. We’ve chosen a date, and the invitations are nearly set to go out.’

‘And…? Do I get to know the date?’ she teased. ‘Or do I just have to guess and show up
whenever I feel like it?’

Lucius smiled and sat very near her, leaning toward her, making her suddenly very glad that
she’d accidentally chosen an armchair to sit in and not a sofa or (heaven forbid!) a loveseat.

‘I should make you wait for your invitation, like everyone else.’

She pouted at him, trying hard to emulate Draco’s puppy dog eyes, and probably not
succeeding, based on his obvious amusement.

‘It is on Wednesday, December 22, Miss Nosy Busybody,’ he teased back, his eyes dancing.
‘Draco was informed by Ginny that the Weasley party will take place on the Saturday before
Christmas, so we chose a date that would hopefully not invoke the Weasel Wrath.’

Hermione giggled in spite of herself. ‘They’re not actually weasels, you know.’

He was serenely unperturbed. ‘Their youngest boy still refers to my son as a ferret; it’s only
fair.’

She hummed noncommittally, opting not to choose a side in the Immaturity Wars. Instead,
she changed the subject.

‘Luna is so happy,’ she commented, partly to observe his reaction.

Lucius leaned back slightly and his face closed, but his eyes did not darken.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly, but there was no anger or disgust behind it that she could detect.

Most curious. She studied him for a moment longer, but there were no more clues to be
reaped, and she let the conversation lapse into silence.

‘Hermione?’ he said after a while.

‘Hmm?’
‘May I ask you something?’ He paused. ‘Well, two somethings.’

‘Sure.’

Lucius hesitated briefly, looking like he was deciding something. ‘What’s a DVD?’

She smiled; from the way he’d been mulling it over, she’d begun to think it was a question
that was either very rude or about something bad.

‘A DVD is one of the ways Muggles store films,’ she explained, sinking into the comfortable
cushions a little deeper. ‘It’s fairly new. They’re trying to replace VHS tapes with them.’

‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes slightly wide as he absorbed this new knowledge. She’d noted
more and more often that Muggle technology of any kind piqued his curiosity, and sometimes
even got him a little excited, if it was interesting enough.

‘Well, for one thing, they’re much sharper quality than a tape, and for another, you don’t need
to watch a DVD once a year like you do with a tape. Also, tapes wear out after a while, and
supposedly, DVDs won’t. According to some of the marketing, anyway, though I don’t
believe it. I believe it probably lasts a lot longer, but everything wears out eventually.’ She
tipped her head back again and closed her eyes. ‘What is the second something?’

There was a long pause, long enough that she opened her eyes again and looked at him. He
appeared to be struggling with this question for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

‘What is a Nazi?’ he asked finally, and hunched a little like he expected her to explode at
him.

Hermione blinked. She was definitely taken off-guard, but she saw no reason to explode at
him. It was a legitimate question from a man who’d spent his entire life in the insular pure-
blood community, deliberately shunning all things Muggle. She did wonder where he’d
come across the term, but then, he had already admitted to doing some supplemental reading
about refrigerators and other appliances, so perhaps he was doing supplemental reading on
other topics as well.

‘Well….’ It was difficult to explain, at least in a way that wouldn’t take four hours and
several graphs and pictures. ‘You’ve heard of the Muggle World Wars, right?’

Lucius thought for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding. ‘They seem to like blowing each
other up.’

She tamped down on her automatic response that wizards were little better, since they liked to
throw a curse at one another that could only be blocked by physical objects, and which left
you dead, dead, dead if you were even brushed by it (the only exception being Harry,
naturally).

‘What do you know about World War II?’

Lucius thought again, chewing his lip. ‘Well…something about atomic bombs. And
submarines.’
She sighed. ‘That’s…not much at all.’

He reddened a little, fidgeting. ‘Well, I never cared what Muggles did with themselves
before. And History of Magic class doesn’t cover anything we weren’t involved in, and we
definitely weren’t involved in their World Wars, since the Statute of Secrecy had been in
place for quite some time by then,’ he added defensively.

‘Fair enough. Okay.’ She rubbed her hands together and sat forward. ‘There is a lot to
World War II, enough that there are still people investigating it and writing books about it and
whatnot, but here’s a rough outline of the salient facts: One, in Germany, there was a very
not-sane fellow by the name of Adolf Hitler. Two, he, through a series of shady events,
became the chancellor of Germany. Three, he was the most likely self-appointed leader of
the Nazi Party, which ostensibly had to do with socialism and things that we’re just not going
to get into because we could literally be sitting here for twelve years. Four, he was an
extremely charismatic speaker, who talked a lot about making Germany great again, which is
what people wanted to hear. Five, he convinced people that A) they should take over the
world, and B) pretty much all of their problems were because Jews.’

‘Because Jews what?’ Lucius said, blinking and looking blank.

‘No, just because Jews. The fact that the Jewish people existed at all was the cause of
Germany’s--of Europe’s, or even the world’s--problems, in Hitler’s view,’ she said, sneering
slightly. ‘I told you he was insane. He also convinced people that being an Aryan--having
pale skin and blond hair and blue eyes, like yourself--was awesome and an obvious indicator
that you were, in fact, a superior being who should be in control of all the other races.’

‘That doesn’t make….’

And then Lucius trailed off, and she could see the wheels in his head turning. Replace the
word ‘Jews’ with ‘Muggles’ and ‘Aryan’ with ‘Wizard,’ and you pretty much had
Grindelwald and Voldemort’s master plans in a nutshell. She watched it click, and Lucius’s
eyes were dark when he looked at her again, the contentment gone from his expression.

‘So what happened?’ he asked lowly.

Hermione sighed. ‘Lots of very bad things. Genocide and war. I really don’t want to get
into it, Lucius, it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened in the history of mankind. I mean
that, I’m not exaggerating or putting you off. You can have Draco buy you a book about it, if
you really want to know.’

But Lucius was not an idiot. ‘Genocide--they killed the Jewish people?’

‘Only, you know, six million of them or so,’ she said tightly, staring very hard at her fingers.
‘I told you, I’d rather not talk about it. There’s a reason I only teach it to my N.E.W.T.
classes, and then on one specific day, when I will teach it, and then go home and go directly
to bed.’

He moved on, but only slightly.

‘What did they do with Hitler and the Nazis after they won?’

She looked up and nearly snapped at him, but Lucius’s face was drawn and grey, and his
brows were knit like he was thinking very hard about something. Curiosity moved her to
indulge him--for now.

‘Hitler killed himself,’ she said shortly. ‘And the other Nazis were given trials. Many of
them were hung as war criminals, or sentenced to life in prison.’

‘Oh,’ said Lucius, and she couldn’t read his tone.

‘They deserved it!’ she snapped defensively, provoked by his unreadable expression.

He just looked at her for a long moment, and she couldn’t take it. The topic was too
upsetting, and she couldn’t tell what side he was on.

‘What?!’ she said, a little more wildly than she’d intended. She made an effort to get a grip
on her emotions again.

Lucius’s lips parted, but it was another long moment before he brought himself to speak. She
used the pause as an opportunity to tamp down her anger, which was partly the result of the
topic at hand, and partly, she admitted to herself, the near-constant tension she had been
feeling since she confronted Kingsley. She hadn’t heard a word from the Head of the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement since Monday, and even though he’d said several
weeks, every day that passed with no news ratcheted up her barely-contained fury and
shortened her fuse yet another notch. It really wasn’t Lucius’s fault, she realised, and felt
guilty for lashing out at him.

‘I don’t know how many people we killed or sucked the souls out of,’ he said at last, in a soft,
choked sort of voice. ‘But I don’t think the number matters all that much.’

He stopped talking, and she waited for a moment, but that was all he said. Hermione
frowned. He had, quite rightly, made the mental connections between Hitler, Grindelwald,
and his own crazy dictator, but now, she had no idea where his mind had leapt.

‘Well, we haven’t actually counted them, and it’s been hard to track down all the Muggles,
since none of you bothered to find out their names before you killed them,’ she said at length,
mostly for lack of anything else to say.

Lucius seemed to crumple a little, then, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

‘It’s not--it’s not the same,’ she hurried to correct.

‘Sort of, yes,’ Lucius murmured, and he got up, moving sluggishly to the door.

Hermione jumped out of her seat and slammed a hand on it, moving between it and him,
glaring with all her might. Her mind had sent out red flags all over the place as she noted the
signs of another one of his bouts of depression, and this time, she wasn’t sure she would be
able to help, since she was the one who set it off. She had to stop it before it got going.
‘It’s not the same, Lucius,’ she said fiercely. ‘The Nazis were much, much worse.’

He looked at her morosely, his eyes gone pale and dead. ‘Yes, they were worse. But we
were simply a different variety of the same breed: we were both groups of bigots and bullies,
easily led by flattery, crushing those whom we deemed unworthy. We are still the bad guys in
the story,’ he said, and she watched his entire belief system shatter in the iris of his eye.

His whole life, he’d been the dashing hero, the perfect example of pure-blood superiority--
only to find that he’d mistaken being born into power and wealth for actually being superior.
Only to look in a mirror and see that he was the villain all along. Hermione couldn’t think of
anything to say, but this time she chose to keep quiet, lest she make it worse.

‘I deserve it, too,’ he added in a shaky whisper.

She shook her head wildly, tears springing to her eyes. ‘You didn’t kill anyone,’ she
protested.

She reached out to him, but he stepped back, away from her, shaking his head, too.

‘Because I wanted to be able to say under Veritaserum that I had never killed anyone,’ he said
bitterly, thick with his own welling tears. ‘Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t
know exactly what we were doing. Not because I disapproved. Because I did, Hermione. I
wanted to hurt those people. I thought they deserved to die. I thought I was better than them,
and my ability to make them suffer was proof. I enjoyed hurting them.’

Hermione ached for him, but he stepped back again when she tried to reach for him a second
time. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t tell him it wasn’t true--it was. He’d been an
awful, terrible person. But he wasn’t like that anymore, and she thought that counted for a
lot--the fact that he had made such great strides, had admitted that he’d done some things
wrong in his life and was remorseful, and even trying to make amends. She didn’t know how
to make him see that the way she did.

Now she wished she’d phrased herself differently. It had been enough for Lucius to realise
he’d made some mistakes in his life. He hadn’t needed to see himself as an irredeemable
monster.

‘Lucius.’

He met her eyes reluctantly, and she could see him trembling.

‘Would you do the same thing now, if you had the chance?’ she asked softly.

His brow wrinkled with confusion.

‘If one of the rogue Death Eaters showed up tomorrow and offered you a wand and a chance
to go torture some Muggles, would you go?’ she persisted.

‘No!’ he said sharply, incredulous disgust flooding his features. ‘I’d stay here and contact the
Aurors!’
‘Then there you go,’ she said with a smile, satisfied.

Lucius was not satisfied. ‘That doesn’t change anything I did,’ he argued, eyes blazing as he
caught what she meant. ‘It doesn’t undo anything.’

‘No, but you’re sorry for all of it,’ she said soothingly, ‘and that makes all the difference.
Most of the other Death Eaters aren’t sorry. Bellatrix Lestrange would never have been
sorry for what she’d done. I mean, she was insane, but still, even the somewhat sane ones,
most of them never cared at all that they’d hurt people. You realised it. You even told me the
other day that you thought you were a terrible person, remember? And you’re trying to be
better. I think you’ve come a long, long way. The fact that we’re standing here having this
conversation at all is nothing short of miraculous, Lucius.’

He did not appear to be moved.

‘I believe in redemption,’ she tried again, softer. ‘I believe in second chances for the truly
remorseful. I don’t think you deserve to be hung or locked up.’ She paused. ‘I know you
bought Filch a new cat.’

His gaze sharpened, and she nodded, smiling a little.

‘He told me. You did it because you were sorry about Mrs Norris, didn’t you? You were
sorry that she got petrified because of you.’

Lucius’s hands tightened into fists and his cheeks reddened, but he nodded slowly. This time,
when Hermione stepped closer, he didn’t back away.

‘A bad guy wouldn’t do that, Lucius,’ she said, ever so softly, not wanting him to be
frightened off now. ‘A villain wouldn’t care. You’re one of the good guys now, because you
care. You’re not a monster, Lucius.’

He choked out a soft, heart-rending sound, and Hermione put her hands on his face, brushing
his cheeks with her thumbs. His eyes were wet as they met hers.

‘You were hurt,’ he said at last, his voice very small and wavery. ‘You were hurt because of
me. Because I was stupid.’

‘I’m all right now.’

He blinked and the tears spilled over. She wiped them away with her thumbs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

Hermione smiled warmly. ‘I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago.’

His lip quivered. ‘I can’t forgive myself.’

‘I’ll help you,’ she reassured him, and kissed his cheek more boldly this time.
When she pulled away, he was still crying but he looked a little stronger, a little brighter,
some of the grey pastiness fading away.

‘We’re friends,’ she said firmly. ‘I won’t let you think of yourself that way, not if I can help
it.’

A flicker of a smile passed over his face, and he looked away to search his pockets for a
handkerchief, sniffling. Hermione released him, still uneasy but a little more confident that
he wasn’t going to go lock himself in his room again.

‘Sorry,’ he said in a wobbly voice as he located a handkerchief. ‘Malfoys don’t cry in front
of people.’

She smiled. ‘I won’t tell anyone. Witch’s honour.’

She trapped her nose between her index and middle fingers for a moment, and Lucius
stopped looking so upset because he was now busy looking very, very confused. Hermione
just grinned.

‘I have never seen any witches do that,’ he prompted, tilting his head.

She giggled. ‘I’ve only seen a few of them. Namely, Samantha, Endora, Clara, and…shoot,
what’s Samantha’s cousin’s name?’

Lucius’s brow wrinkled. ‘Who?’

Her grin widened. ‘Never mind. I’ll explain it to you another time, when we’re not about to
be barged in on. I’d hurry up and finish cleaning up if I were you.’

‘Wha--?’

The door crashed open. Draco and Ginny blinked at them.

‘I told you the library’s always occupied,’ Draco sighed.

‘Oh. Whoops.’

Lucius drew himself up a little, looking at them with cold suspicion. ‘And why, may I ask,
did the two of you require privacy?’

Draco turned red and couldn’t form a coherent response. Ginny seemed confused as to why
this was an issue, and Hermione opted to stay out of it, rather than try to explain.

‘That’s what I thought. Do I need to hire a chaperone for the two of you?’

Draco turned even redder. ‘N-n-no, Father, that’s quite all right, excuse us!’ he squeaked, and
dragged a protesting Ginny away by the wrist.

The tense, close atmosphere was pretty effectively broken. Hermione tried not to smile, and
couldn’t quite succeed. Lucius merely looked smugly content with himself.
‘You don’t really care what they get up to, do you?’ she asked, half teasing and half
genuinely curious about his thoughts on premarital intercourse. His thoughts on infidelity
were pretty strict, after all, so why not everything else relationship-related?

He snorted. ‘As long as there are no pre-wedlock babies, no, but it was awfully fun watching
Draco turn into a tomato, wasn’t it?’

Hermione laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose it was.’

Lucius grinned wickedly, and the conversation thereafter was quite a bit lighter. Still, there
were moments where his eyes unfocused and his expression grew grim, and Hermione took a
moment to warn Draco before she left for the evening.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius turned in his project proposal the next week (and Hermione approved it immediately),
and continued his search for the book. He was almost hoping he wouldn’t find it, because he
needed to keep busy with something for two reasons--the most irritating of which was that
Draco was keeping an annoyingly close eye on him again, constantly bothering him and
asking if he was all right. He was about ready to throw something at his son the next time he
asked.

The second reason was that he didn’t want to have nothing to do but sit and think. Thinking
was bad. Thinking led to remembering what Hermione had said about Nazis, and the
connection he couldn’t help but make between their attitudes and his own (past) attitudes, and
the look of hatred and disgust on her face when she talked about them. He didn’t want to be
the subject of that look, not ever. The idea that even tangentially he was a candidate for such
a look made him want to weep, particularly when he considered that she was probably not the
only person in the wizarding world who thought of him and felt that way. The worst part was
that he’d brought it on himself. He had never cared much about being liked, but the idea of
being hated and reviled was extremely lowering.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about how very alike Muggles and wizards were, and he felt
really, really stupid for ever thinking otherwise. It seemed to him that they made the same
idiotic mistakes, that they were equally hateful to one another, and he felt pretty low for ever
having considered himself above them or better than them when he’d fallen for the same
mental trap as a large, very horrible group of them. It was very easy to look around and see
the problems in the world and decide they were all those people’s fault (whoever those
people happened to be at the time); it was a lot harder to accept that each person, no matter
what group they were aligned with, had to accept some blame, and then actually try to fix the
real sources of the problems.

The real horror of all this was that he had to try to accept the fact that people like the
Weasleys had been right, and he had been wrong. All of his supposed ‘good breeding’ and
his vast wealth hadn’t miraculously gifted Lucius with the ability to see what the Weasleys
had easily seen and accepted from childhood, and his guilt as far as they were concerned
multiplied as he recalled all of his comments, both spoken and unspoken, on their poverty
and breeding and their abilities (or lack thereof) as wizards. Regardless of their actual
magical talent, they were better at being decent human beings than Lucius was, and his
shame knew no bounds.

‘Father? Are you all right?’ Draco interrupted his thoughts.

Lucius roused himself. He was supposed to be eating dinner, but he’d only succeeded in
stirring it into submission, until it no longer resembled stew so much as a muddy mess.

‘Did Tibby put celery in it?’ Draco prompted curiously, a worried furrow in his brow.

He shook his head. ‘No, I’m just not very hungry,’ he said, propping his chin on his hand in
a most undignified pose. He didn’t really care, right now. ‘And I’m fine. Did you buy the
Weasleys Christmas presents?’

Draco’s expression froze, and then slowly turned wary. ‘Yes….’

‘What did you get them?’

He remained wary, in spite of Lucius’s mild tone. ‘Various things…? Why do you want to
know?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘I was just wondering,’ he said morosely, dropping his gaze back
to the stew-ish looking mess.

Draco hesitated for a long moment. ‘I can put both our names on them. Except the one for
Ginny, and I could pick up something for her from you, if you like,’ he offered tentatively.

Lucius considered that. ‘Yes, all right. Although, I think I should also give Arthur something
separate. As sort of a peace offering.’

Draco gaped at him.

‘What?’

‘Uh…nothing. I just…I sort of expected to have to fight you tooth and nail over having the
Weasleys as in-laws, eventually,’ he said with a nervous chuckle, his face going pink.

Lucius winced. ‘Let’s not go that far yet, Draco. First, let’s see if Arthur and I can even
manage to speak to one another without coming to blows, shall we?’

Draco smiled. ‘Baby steps?’

He nodded.

‘Fair enough.’
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The month of December flew by in a flurry of buying, wrapping, and baking. Hermione
barely had time to think, but she found time for Lucius anyway. He seemed to be making a
very, very slow effort to befriend the Weasleys, as one Thursday night not long after their
discussion, she spotted him in conversation with Percy, wincing and sighing as Percy droned
on about his favourite topic--budget reports. The next Thursday night, he actually spoke to
Ron, hesitantly asking him how his Auror training was going. Ron had stared at him, wide-
eyed and gobsmacked, for a solid minute before he managed to reply. Hermione was actually
impressed that he’d managed to respond at all, considering he went around for the rest of the
night looking extremely frightened and confused.

Lucius continued to enjoy her meals as well, eating heartily and thanking her warmly for
each one. Hermione still didn’t believe that Lucius’s plate of food was cursed by the house
elves to taste bad, so one Thursday evening she decided to test the theory.

‘Let me have a bite off your plate,’ she said suddenly, during a lapse in conversation.

Lucius looked puzzled. ‘Why?’

‘I want to see if it really tastes like hatred and bitterness,’ she said, grinning.

He smiled and slid his plate closer. ‘It does, I’m telling you.’

She speared a carrot and a few peas, popping them into her mouth. Lucius looked at her
expectantly, and actually seemed a little crestfallen when her expression didn’t melt into
disgust.

‘It tastes the same as mine,’ Hermione said after she swallowed, trying not to smile.

He pouted. ‘Then they all taste horrible, and no one’s noticed but me.’

A giggle escaped before she could stop it, and Lucius’s pout grew more pronounced. She
patted his hand.

‘Awww, don’t look at me like that. Maybe it’s cursed to only taste like that to you ,’ she said,
and she was partly joking and partly offering him a concession.

He immediately latched on to that idea. ‘Clearly. It’s the only explanation.’

Hermione couldn’t contain another grin, and hid it behind her wine glass.

The invitations for the Malfoys’ Christmas party had arrived on December 1, a few days
before she received her invitation to the Weasleys’ Christmas party. The Weasleys had
seemed unperturbed by the Malfoys’ choice of date for their party, and Hermione was
privately very relieved that the feud hadn’t been reignited. Although the current happy state
of Ginny and Draco’s relationship seemed to ward off any spats that might have broken out
between the various Weasleys and Lucius otherwise--Mrs Weasley was extremely pro-Draco
and Ginny, and not even Fred and George dared to cross that line, not with Mrs Weasley
already picking out which flowers they should use to decorate their wedding.

Ginny invited Hermione to go dress shopping with her the week before Christmas, after
classes had recessed. Neither of them wanted to wear one of the three formal dresses they
owned over to the Malfoys’ yet again, having worn all of them to the dinner parties on one
occasion or another. Well, Hermione had originally owned three evening gowns, but after
suppers at the manor became a regular thing, she’d found herself purchasing more of them,
and now half her closet seemed to be full of elegant attire. It was somewhat disturbing, since
she’d previously been unconcerned with such things, but also a little nice, she had to admit.
She still loved her comfy, well-worn robes and Muggle-clothes, but a part of her enjoyed
getting dolled up for a little while each week. She particularly liked the way a certain
someone looked at her when she was dressed like that, and she hated herself for even
thinking it.

‘Actually, it’s really annoying me,’ Ginny was saying as they idly touched fabrics and pawed
through the cheaper, pre-made dresses. ‘I don’t know why the first time I date someone for
more than a month, it automatically means I’m going to marry him.’

Hermione raised a brow. ‘So you don’t want to marry Draco?’

‘Well, I don’t know! Why can’t we just be having fun and not worry about that stuff?’ Ginny
whined, pouting. ‘It sucks all the fun out of our dates when I’m constantly thinking that he
might be about to propose any second. I just wish she’d stop being so obsessive about it, is
all I’m saying.’

‘I know, but she’s your mum, and you are her only daughter,’ Hermione pointed out
reasonably. ‘You’re the only child of hers who she’s going to see in a beautiful wedding
gown. Hopefully,’ she added, thinking of the twins.

Ginny grinned as the same thought occurred to her. ‘Dress robes are nice, too,’ she said,
snickering.

‘Well. But it’s not the same.’

‘I know, I know,’ Ginny huffed. ‘Do any of these dresses look good to you? I still think you
should’ve got the red one.’

‘Red isn’t my colour,’ Hermione said shortly. It actually looked just fine on her, but Lucius
didn’t like red, and she was just going to kill herself !!!! She sighed with frustration.

Ginny patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find one! Don’t give up hope, we’ve only
been to two places before this, and we’ve only been at it for an hour.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not that, Ginny,’ she said quietly.

Ginny opened her mouth, took in her troubled, frustrated expression, and realisation dawned.

‘You’re still into him,’ she said lowly. ‘Aren’t you?’

Hermione could’ve cried. ‘Yes. It won’t go away.’

‘Well, I couldn’t tell that you weren’t just friends,’ Ginny said bracingly. ‘So you’ve been
doing a better job lately, right?’

She hugged herself miserably. ‘I kissed him on the cheek. Twice.’

The younger witch’s mouth clicked shut, and her expression turned troubled, too. ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh.’ Hermione made another frustrated noise. ‘I can’t get him out of my head! Every
time I turn around, I’m wondering what he’ll think of this or that, and trying to do things and
buy things I know he’ll like, and worrying about how I look! Ginny, I look just fine in red,
but I know he doesn’t like it. I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s taken over my brain, in
spite of my best efforts, and I don’t know what to do about it!’

Ginny studied her for a moment. ‘That doesn’t sound like lust, it sounds like--’

She cut herself off abruptly, pressing her lips together.

‘What? Ginny, what ? What does it sound like?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘Never mind. Let’s just try to focus on dresses, okay?’

Hermione sighed. ‘Okay.’

They browsed for a little while longer. Ginny found a red dress of her own that she
particularly liked, and Madam Malkin kindly offered to tailor it for her. The older witch
noted Hermione’s unhappy expression as Ginny was getting measured.

‘You know, dear, I can make you a dress and put a rush on it, if you don’t see anything you
like,’ she offered kindly. ‘When do you need it?’

‘The twenty-second,’ Hermione replied, trying to sound happier than she felt.

‘Ah, the Malfoys’ party? I’ve had quite a few customers in here getting their old things
tailored and spruced up, or getting something new made,’ Madam Malkin said knowingly.
‘Malfoy parties are rather known for their formality and extravagance.’

Hermione’s stomach dropped. ‘Really? How formal?’

‘Well…for one thing, they are so formal that when you arrive, you’ll receive a dance card,
like the ladies always did in the old days,’ Madam Malkin said approvingly. ‘At least, if it’s
anything like the parties they used to throw.’

‘It’s supposed to be exactly like,’ Ginny put in.

‘Then you’ll also be announced when you arrive.’

Hermione rapidly reimagined ‘proper pureblood party’ as something from Jane Austen. It
was not comforting. She knew how to dance well enough, she supposed, thanks to her
parents paying for lessons, and she hadn’t exactly embarrassed herself in fourth year, but this
was different. This was a whole different world, full of classy, polished, elegant people.
Hermione knew she cleaned up all right, but there was a huge difference between ‘cleans up
nicely’ and ‘looks and acts like a princess.’

‘Maybe I’ll look around again,’ she said faintly.

Madam Malkin nodded, still approving. ‘You do that.’

She paced through the fabrics again, trying not to pass out, and then something caught her
eye. It was a beautiful, satiny fabric that shimmered when it was moved, all sky blue and
silver. She wasn’t particularly certain that she would look good in it, but she was certain that
it was the most beautiful fabric she’d ever seen. She took it up back to where Ginny and
Madam Malkin were discussing the alterations to Ginny’s dress.

‘Oh, Hermione!’ Ginny gasped as soon as she came into view. ‘It’s gorgeous!’

‘Isn’t it?’ Hermione breathed.

Madam Malkin smiled warmly. ‘Would you like to pick out a pattern?’

‘Yes, please!’

Another half hour later, they left, both with assurances that their dresses would be finished
and available for pick-up by December 21.

‘We’re going to look fabulous!’ Ginny crowed, linking arms with Hermione.

‘Yes, right before we fall on our faces,’ Hermione muttered.

Ginny merely laughed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione shielded herself as soon as she stepped out of the Burrow’s fireplace.

Harry chuckled. ‘You’re not going to maintain that all night, are you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ she said seriously.

He thought for a moment, and then his own shield popped into being. He toasted her with his
pumpkin juice.

‘Good point, as always, Hermione.’

She grinned. ‘Why, thank you. Happy Christmas, Harry.’

‘Happy Christmas, Hermione.’

She wended her way through the party, saying her hellos and Merry Christmases (and Happy
Hanukkah, once or twice). There was punch, pumpkin juice, and champagne, biscuits, cake,
and sticky buns, as well as general gaiety. She assiduously avoided the twins, who were
looking wickedly diabolical, and tried not to touch anything they might have tampered with--
which was pretty much everything. She’d been there for several hours (and was laying off
both the punch and the champagne, as her head was getting a bit fuzzy from the sugar and
alcohol) when Kingsley approached her, bearing a serious expression and a packet of papers.

‘Let’s sit down,’ he said, taking in her somewhat cloudy expression.

Hermione was feeling more alert already, but she nodded and followed him to a secluded
corner, where he immediately put up several privacy charms.

‘What have you got?’ she asked, her head clearing as she zeroed in on the packet.

He handed it to her. ‘All the records you asked for.’ He appeared to mull something over,
and finally added, ‘I also have collected a few rumours. I don’t have anything concrete, but
I’ve heard some things I didn’t like. I need to do some more investigating, but if they’re
true….’

Hermione frowned and stopped flipping through the packet for a moment. ‘What have you
heard?’

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably. ‘Beatings. And worse.’ His brow wrinkled. ‘Azkaban is
already cold, and the Dementors made it worse, back then, but there are rumours that certain
guards used to cast Cooling Charms on Malfoy. For fun.’

Lucius was always cold--always. If he wasn’t at least wearing three layers or under a
blanket, he shivered. It was very possible that he’d been routinely subjected to Cooling
Charms. It was also possible that the guards had unknowingly done permanent damage to his
core body temperature. Cooling and Warming Charms were meant to be cast on clothing and
blankets and such things, not human bodies--there were separate, medical charms for that.
Hermione let out a long, slow breath, trying to release the fresh wave of fury that assailed
her.

‘And there’s another thing.’ Kingsley paused, looking like he was struggling with some
anger of his own. ‘This rumour is a little more evasive, but I’ve heard it whispered here and
there that someone performed unauthorised Legilimency on Malfoy, and that they did it more
than once.’

Hermione put a hand over her mouth in honest fear that she might vomit. It made so much
horrible sense that it felt like her whole body wanted to turn inside out from the shock and
horror and terrible, terrible rage.

Draco had once told her that Voldemort occasionally used Legilimency as a punishment, but
he much preferred the Cruciatus, since it was so much more dramatic and theatrical. But
now, thinking back to the time of her capture and torture, Lucius’s total lack of confidence,
his shaky fear of everything around him, his lack of emotional control, these things were
consistent not just with exposure to Dementors, but also to a mental attack of any kind. He’d
only been exposed to the Dementors for a year, so the severity of his condition was
surprising-- unless he had also been attacked with Legilimency by someone who had the
desire to make it torture. It was even possible that Lucius didn’t remember it happening,
although it was equally possible that he did, and simply didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured when she’d regained control of her stomach. She still shook
with contained rage, but there was little she could do about that.

‘I agree,’ said Kingsley seriously. ‘I’m going to investigate the matter. In the meantime,
you’ve got the information you wanted, and if the rumours aren’t true, it’s more than enough
to get just about anything you want, barring total amnesty. I have to say, I was pretty dubious
when you first came to me, but after reading those reports, well…I’ve never had much use
for Lucius Malfoy, but even he didn’t deserve the things I read in there. If the rumours are
true, I may buy him a jacuzzi and a beach vacation on the Ministry’s Galleons.’

She laughed at that, though it was a little strained. ‘Even the packet is that bad?’

Kingsley snorted. ‘In one entry, they don’t specify exactly what he did to deserve it, but they
took away his clothes and stuck him out in the courtyard with a Dementor in the middle of
February, for an hour. All it says is “misbehaviour,” but they don’t explain exactly what that
means. It was approved by the supervisor of the time. Believe me, if those wizards still
work for us, they are so sacked, after I finish my investigation into the rumours.’

And if the rumours were true, they’d probably cast a Cooling Charm on him to boot. The
blood pounded in her veins, red spots dotting her vision. All she could manage in response
was a tight nod.

‘Well, while I’m investigating, you can read through that and decide what you want.
Whatever you want for him, I’ll make sure you get it,’ he said with grim determination.

Hermione tried to smile. ‘Thank you, Kingsley. I knew I could count on you.’

He smiled faintly in return, and then reached into his pocket. ‘In the meantime, I’ve got a
Christmas present for Mr Malfoy.’

She perked up a little. ‘What--?’

Tears sprang to her eyes. In her hands was a three-day pass to access his gardens, valid all
day and night on December 23, 24 and 25.

‘It actually activates on December 22, at eight o’clock, and ends on December 25 at 11.59,’
Kingsley said with a mixture of kindness and smugness in his voice.

She threw her arms around his neck with a little cry. He laughed, deep and rolling, and after
a moment, she released him, wiping her eyes with only a tiny smidgen of embarrassment.
‘Thank you so much, Kingsley, you have no idea how much this will mean to him,’
Hermione said shakily.

‘Now that I’ve reviewed his probation conditions, I have an inkling,’ he said gently.
‘Anyway, I could’ve given it to him myself, but I thought you’d want to tell him in your own
way. He and I aren’t on the best of terms, so it will probably mean more coming from you.’

‘I’ll give you credit, though,’ she said hurriedly. Then, thoughtfully, she added, ‘But I do
have an idea….’

He grinned. ‘I thought you would.’ He patted her hand. ‘You get back to me, after the
holidays, perhaps, and we’ll work out some new probation conditions for Mr Malfoy.’

They parted ways, and Hermione worked through the crowd again to find Draco, eager to
discuss her news with him. Unfortunately, when she located him, he was less than able to
have any kind of discussion.

‘Herminone!’ he blubbered as soon as she came upon him, Ginny and Harry. ‘Herrimone!
You there!’

She curled her lip in disgust. ‘Draco, you’re drunk!’

‘No, I’m happy! I had lots of punch! It was tasty!’

He punctuated this statement with a hiccup. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were
flushed. He swayed back and forth, and probably would have fallen over if Ginny hadn’t had
both arms around him, holding him up.

‘Fred and George spiked the punch, and I didn’t tell Draco soon enough,’ she explained,
sighing as Draco started talking about how pretty her hair smelled.

‘I’m not that drunk, but I didn’t realise it until too late, either,’ Harry admitted sheepishly,
and she noted for the first time his pink cheeks and slightly bleary eyes.

Hermione heaved a sigh. ‘Well, let’s get Draco home first, then we’ll get you home, and
then, I think we’ve all had enough party for one night.’

‘Weren’t we going to take some sugary stuff to Father?’ Draco wondered, pouting.

‘If we were, we’re not now, because who knows what else the twins have tampered with?
Now come on, put your arm round my shoulders.’

‘I don’t like you like that, Hermy,’ he said, and then giggled.

Hermione sighed and took his arm anyway. Ginny got the other side, and Harry grabbed onto
the back of Draco’s robes, and they went out to the Apparation point.

They arrived in Malfoy Manor with a pop, and immediately there were twin groans.

‘Harry, if you puke on me, vengeance will be mine,’ Ginny said fiercely.
He sat on the floor, holding his stomach. Hermione exchanged a long-suffering glance with
Ginny, and they half-carried a very miserable Draco out of the entrance hall, toward the
stairs. Lucius emerged from the library, his head tilted with curiosity, and paused when he
saw Draco half-hanging between the two witches.

Draco groaned. ‘Why’d you stop? ’M gonna be sick….’

‘He’s drunk,’ Hermione explained shortly. ‘Fred and George spiked the punch.’

Lucius’s face cleared as he comprehended, but Draco reared up with a mulish look on his
face.

‘I am not drunk!’ he protested. ‘Why are you mean?’

‘Because we’re girls,’ Ginny said. ‘It’s what we do. And we stopped moving because you
stopped. If you want to get up the stairs, you’re going to have to pick up your feet.’

‘You could levitate me, ’cause magic,’ Draco said helpfully.

Hermione snorted. ‘You think you’re sick now? If we levitate you, you’ll lose your lunch in
a hurry. Are you going to move or not, Mr I’m-Not-Drunk-I’m-Just-Happy?’

Lucius laughed, quickly covering it with a cough, and Draco pouted.

‘Everyone is mean to me. Nobody likes me,’ he said mournfully.

‘Of course we like you,’ she soothed. ‘We just don’t want you to vomit on us. Can you feel
your legs at all?’

‘I think…they are connected to my body, but I’m not sure,’ he said, a bit bewildered.

Lucius stepped forward and picked up Draco’s feet, prompting a ‘Whoooa!’ from the
younger wizard. Hermione and Ginny flashed him a smile, and between the three of them,
they got him up the stairs.

‘Do you need to go to the bathroom?’ Ginny asked.

‘I need to throw up,’ Draco replied solemnly.

Rolling their eyes, they set him on his feet in the bathroom, where he promptly collapsed to
his knees and became very, very friendly with the toilet. Hermione and Lucius excused
themselves to the hallway, leaving him to Ginny.

‘Ginny knew they’d spiked it, but she didn’t tell Draco and Harry in time,’ she sighed,
folding her arms. ‘Harry is sitting in your entrance hall, hopefully not vomiting, although I
make no guarantees. He realised it on his own, so it’s possible that he’s less drunk. At any
rate, he didn’t start butchering my name like Draco did.’

Lucius heaved a sigh of his own. ‘At least Draco’s not a violent drunk.’
‘Ding ding ding, we’ve found the silver lining,’ Hermione said, deadpan, and Lucius
chuckled.

‘Okay, you two, he’s cleaned up, and now we have to try to get him into bed,’ Ginny
announced. ‘He’s lost the ability to stand on his own, I think.’

They wrestled the floppy, dizzy younger Malfoy into bed, and Ginny started wrangling his
shoes off while Lucius closed the drapes.

‘Herm--Hermany?’ Draco slurred.

Hermione sighed. ‘Yes?’

His eyes were large and his lower lip stuck out in a pout. ‘Ginny won’t come over for
Christmas. Will you come? Will you and Harry come and have Christmas with us?’ he
asked, sounding like a very small boy.

‘I think Harry is spending Christmas with Teddy and Andromeda,’ she said gently.

His lower lip began to quiver and he looked at her sadly. ‘But you’ll come, won’t you?
You’ll come on Christmas Eve? And Christmas Day? And Boxing Day? And you can stay
the night, we have guest rooms.’

She hesitated. ‘Won’t your mum be here?’

‘No,’ Draco sniffled. ‘She’s only coming for the party and the day after, and then they’re
going to spend Christmas with Andrew’s family. You’ll come, though, won’t you? Pretty
please?’

Ginny was looking distinctly amused, but she said nothing, tucking Draco in instead.

Hermione sighed, defeated. ‘If you still want me to when you’re sober, and if your father is
all right with it, then yes, I will come over for Christmas. I can’t spend the night unless I can
bring Crookshanks along, though.’

The pout instantly evaporated, replaced by a childlike grin. ‘You can bring Crooks, he’s cute
and fluffy, and you can make Christmas dinner!’

She and Ginny laughed outright.

‘So that’s what you’re really after!’ Ginny giggled. ‘You want Hermione’s cooking!’

Draco was unashamed. ‘Mother used to order some food from some fancy restaurant, so I’ve
never had a home-cooked Christmas dinner, and it sounds tasty.’

Hermione looked at Lucius, who looked equal parts amused and hopeful himself.

‘Well? What do you think, Lucius?’ she asked, grinning.

‘You should come,’ he agreed immediately. ‘And you should bring your cat.’
Her grin widened as she mentally translated that to ‘you should stay the night.’

‘All right, then, I will.’

‘Yaaaaaaay!’ shouted Draco, and turned to Ginny, his brain immediately switching gears.
‘You can’t leave, Hermy can take Harry home, and I want to kiss you!’

Lucius shot Hermione a wide-eyed look and mouthed, ‘Hermy?’ She just rolled her eyes in
response.

‘Right, we’ll, uh, leave you to it,’ she said aloud, beckoning Lucius after her.

Before the door closed, they heard Ginny tell Draco that she wouldn’t kiss him when his
breath smelled like vomit.

‘ Your breath smells like cheese!’ he chirruped back.

Lucius let the door click shut, and Hermione erupted with giggles. He cupped her elbow to
steady her as she started back down the stairs.

‘Is he always like that when he’s drunk?’ she managed to ask between breaths.

‘Draco doesn’t get drunk very often,’ Lucius hedged, ‘but I think I’ve seen him like that once
before.’

She shook her head, calming. ‘Well, if he changes his mind about having me over after he
sobers up, please do have him let me know.’

‘He won’t change his mind.’

She raised a brow, but he didn’t meet her gaze, and then they were in the entrance hall. Harry
was sprawled out on his back, snoring.

‘Oh, boy,’ Hermione sighed.

Lucius snorted. ‘Leave him there. We’ll send him home in the morning.’

‘I can’t do that,’ she protested, grinning despite herself at the notion. ‘Ginny will think I left
him for her to clean up. No, I’ll just have to levitate him.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, shrugging.

Her grin broadened. ‘Good night, Lucius.’

‘Good night, Hermione,’ he said, soft and velvety, and she blamed that tone of voice, and the
champagne earlier, for her slip-up in giving him yet another peck on the cheek before she
took Harry and left.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Hermione and Harry ate dinner before going to the Malfoys’ party. Harry had protested that
a supper was supposed to be the first segment of the evening, after everyone had arrived, to
which she had pointed out that they were going to be wearing dress clothes and sitting with a
bunch of prim and proper, elegant people, and they didn’t want to spill anything, did they?
She intended to nibble enough to be polite, and that was all. Harry bowed to the wisdom of
that, so they ate enough to be mostly full.

Afterward, they separated to get changed. She took longer, naturally, because in addition to
changing her clothes, she had makeup to apply and a bush of hair to tame. Harry was waiting
in the kitchen when she’d finished, and his eyes just about bugged out of his head when she
came down the stairs.

‘H-h-hermione, you look….’

She adjusted her gown self-consciously. She’d gone for a fairly simple, classic style, in the
hope that it wouldn’t look like she was trying too hard to be fashionable.

‘Stop fidgeting, and you look amazing,’ he said, smiling now that he could see she was
nerved up, too.

Hermione smiled shyly. ‘Thanks, Harry. You look good, too.’

He would probably even pass muster by Lucius’s standards, since he’d actually managed to
get his own messy hair to lie flat, for once, and Draco had picked out his dress robes.

‘Thank you. I’m just hoping not to get sneered at,’ he joked, but she could see the underlying
tension.

‘Relax,’ she said, as much to herself as to him. ‘Lucius isn’t going to eat you or breathe fire
just because you’ve got a hair out of place.’

Harry snorted. ‘Says you. Oh, and I have some good news--Molly forbade the twins from
attending, after that little stunt they pulled with the punch.’

She blew out a breath, relaxing just a fraction. ‘That’s a relief. And remember, slow sips for
both of us. Drunken antics will not be as amusing to the Malfoys as they are to the Weasleys,
particularly on an occasion like this.’

He nodded quickly. ‘Right. And I’ll be seeing if there’s any pumpkin juice instead of wine
or champagne.’

‘Good idea.’

‘So, are we ready?’

‘As ready as we’re going to get,’ she said, and her stomach tightened as about a million
butterflies seemed to erupt inside it.
He offered his arm. ‘Let’s go, then.’

They took a deep breath and Apparated. Hermione’s jaw immediately dropped as she was
greeted with the entrance hall--except, it wasn’t its usual black and marble, dreary self. There
were decorations everywhere, and about a million candles floating over their heads in silver
holders that sparkled and reflected the light. They had hired staff, too, as there were white-
uniformed wizards waiting to take their cloaks, and another waiting to escort them to the
parlour, which they had never been in. The explosion of decorations and candles continued
all the way there, and inside the parlour as well.

As it turned out, the parlour was a larger, more elaborate version of their sitting room,
obviously intended for showing off to a large number of guests. There was another white-
uniformed wizard waiting at the door, and several more wending through the crowd of
people, bearing trays of drinks and appetisers.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry’s arm before he could step forward and speak to the wizard at
the door. She wanted a moment to observe the crowd. He seemed to understand.

It was every bit as elegant as she’d expected. The people in this group were so elite, so rich
and high-up, that she didn’t even know most of them. She recognised a few from the
Ministry, here and there, but mostly, this was a social stratosphere with which she was
completely unfamiliar--and they were as classy, as mannered, as graceful as she’d feared.
Luna and Neville stuck out like sore thumbs, standing by the fireplace looking awkward.

The only other person she recognised so far was Narcissa, who was standing with Luna and
Neville, her boy toy husband Andrew standing at her elbow and looking dim but gorgeous.
She had married him for his looks and his money, not his brains, and he was serving his
function perfectly.

Hermione didn’t see Lucius or Draco, but she imagined that they were probably deeper in the
room than she could see. She nodded at Harry, and he stepped forward.

‘Um…hi,’ he greeted the white-uniformed wizard.

The wizard looked bored. ‘I’m to announce you. Your names?’

Harry straightened, putting on his own ‘your existence bores me’ face. ‘Mr Harry Potter and
Miss Hermione Granger.’

The wizard nodded, handed Hermione a dance card to hang on her wrist, turned to the room,
and announced their names with the same bored expression. Everyone in the parlour turned
to look, so Hermione adopted her own cool mask, lifted her chin, and they glided into the
room. She thought perhaps Harry had been practising, and was simply relieved that they
hadn’t tripped and gone sprawling. A few faces that had looked expectantly disgusted turned
approving. Most of the disgusted faces remained disgusted, and Hermione wondered if they
were disgusted by her, Harry, or both.

Lucius and Draco, with Ginny on his arm, materialised from the crowd and came forward to
greet them. It wasn’t like when they were alone, Hermione noted a little sadly. They touched
hands and bowed and curtsied, and said very stiff, formal ‘hello, how are yous.’ Hermione
stopped just short of fleeing to Neville and Luna’s side.

She didn’t like this Lucius. He reminded her of the old Lucius--his expression was cold and
distant, without a flicker of emotion or warmth. It made her ache, and she didn’t want to
know why.

‘Welcome to the party,’ said Neville glumly.

Hermione looked around, hiding her discomfiture with a disdainful expression. ‘It is a bit
frosty, isn’t it?’

Harry wasn’t hiding his own discomfort very well. Only Luna seemed not to have noticed,
lost in her own little daydream, judging by the far-off smile on her face.

Narcissa smiled and stepped in closer. ‘That’s the pureblood way, my dear.’ She extended
her hand. ‘Miss Granger, it’s lovely to see you again. Particularly since the circumstances
are much friendlier this time.’

Hermione hesitantly touched her hand. ‘Yes, likewise, Mrs…?’

‘ Ms Black,’ Narcissa corrected mildly. ‘I chose to keep my own name when I married this
time. Since I’m the last, it seemed appropriate.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘And anyway, you must call me Narcissa,’ she said with a sweet smile that Hermione
couldn’t gauge the sincerity of. ‘Draco tells me you’ve been a darling friend to him, and any
friend of my son’s is a friend of mine.’

She attempted a smile of her own, but her face felt frozen. ‘Then you must call me
Hermione,’ she said, but only because it was the polite thing to do.

Narcissa’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and now Hermione thought the smile might be
genuine. Harry and Neville were murmuring to each other, most likely complaining about
the atmosphere.

‘Draco also tells me that we’ll be dinner partners this evening,’ she said in the sort of tone
that conveyed just how marvelous she thought that was. Hermione suddenly realised that she
was dealing with a master socialite. ‘So we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.’

Hermione’s stomach dropped. ‘Wonderful.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Kingsley, the Weasleys, and half the Ministry trickled in over the course of the next half hour,
until the parlour was filled practically to the gills with people, and then the familiar chime
signalling dinner sounded. They followed the trail into a massive dining room with the
longest table Hermione had ever seen. She was, indeed, seated between Harry and Narcissa,
near the very end of the table. Lucius was seated at the head this time, looking like a pale
king, with Draco at his right, and she could barely see either of them.

It was just as well, she reflected. If they were going to be cold and distant the whole evening,
then she had no interest in interacting with them tonight. She hadn’t realised just how close
to them she’d become, that the disparity between the ‘real’ them and the ‘public’ them was so
large, and she hadn’t expected it to hurt. The less she was around them, the less chance there
was that her own emotionless mask would slip.

Dinner was an exercise in torture. There were seven courses, and through each one,
Hermione tried to nibble as daintily as possible, only to unfavourably compare her awkward
efforts to Narcissa, who was effortlessly dainty and ladylike. Her own consolation was that
she did pull it off better than Harry, on her other side, who’d managed to spill something on
his tie despite his attempts at gentlemanly eating. Well, and then there was Ron, who was
beside Harry on his other side, and who looked like a hog seated beside humans, in
comparison. Hermione sent a wandless cleaning charm at Harry’s tie and continued her own
struggle, half-listening to Narcissa’s stream of empty chatter.

After the dinner finally, finally ended, they adjourned to the ballroom. Hermione had never
seen this room, either, and it was both immense and gorgeous. It was the only room in the
whole house (that she’d seen thus far, anyway) not decorated in black and marble. Instead,
the walls and ceiling were adorned with paintings and intricate sculptures in gold leaf, and a
huge chandelier hung directly in the center, bathing the room in warm golden light. It was
such an enormous room that even with the many, many, many people who’d been invited,
there was more than enough space for dancing.

Draco announced the first dance shortly after they arrived, and the orchestra stuck in the
corner started up. Hermione curiously consulted her dance card. There were blank spaces
beside twenty numbers, at least on the first two pages. She chuckled inwardly at the notion
that she’d fill any of them. She’d be lucky to get a dance out of Harry, let alone being asked
by any of the strangers here.

The floor filled with twirling, beautiful couples, and Hermione led Harry off to one side so
they wouldn’t be in the way. He looked at her guiltily.

‘I’m not much of a dancer, but if you want--’

She shook her head. He clearly didn’t want to, and her toes kind of agreed with him.

‘That’s all right, Harry.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked worriedly.

Hermione smiled reassuringly. ‘Yes, I’m sure. I may be a better dancer than you, but I don’t
think I could keep up with this lot,’ she added, nodding toward the flawlessly elegant
spinning and promenading being performed. It almost looked choreographed, except that she
doubted Mr and Mrs Weasley had been in on it, and they were out there, too, showing a
surprising turn of foot and grace that she hadn’t suspected they possessed.

‘You’ll never know until you try,’ Narcissa said, nearly scaring Hermione into a visible
reaction.

They turned to find Narcissa, Andrew, Draco, Ginny, and Lucius joining them. She tried
very hard not to be too cold while maintaining her indifferent expression and tone.

‘And why aren’t you out there?’ she asked, raising a brow.

‘I’m waiting for the next one,’ Narcissa said with another sweet smile. ‘The initial rush to
show off dies out a bit after the first dance.’

‘And I’m not out there because Draco’s a wuss,’ Ginny said brightly.

This explained Draco’s sour expression. ‘I am not!’

‘Oh, then you’re ashamed of me?’

He turned extremely red, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her toward the dance floor. Ginny
grinned over her shoulder at them, triumphant. Hermione tensed, but Draco was a good
leader, and they managed not to get trampled by the more experienced couples. Barely.

Hermione watched them for a bit, but eventually her gaze unfocused, the individual dancers
become a spinning, whirling mass of colours.

‘Are the two of you planning to not dance at all?’ Andrew suddenly asked, jerking her out of
her trance.

She was rather amazed. She didn’t know he spoke.

‘Well,’ said Harry, reddening, ‘to tell you the truth, um. I’m not a good dancer, at all. The
best I can do is a slow waltz, and then I have to count.’

‘And you still step on your partner’s toes,’ Hermione put in helpfully.

He winced. ‘Right. So, probably not.’

Lucius spoke to her properly for the first time all evening, and Hermione deliberately looked
away when he addressed her.

‘What about you, Hermione? Aren’t you going to dance at all? Surely you’re not as hopeless
at it as Mr Potter.’

His tone was coolly amused, bordering on disinterested. No, she did not like this Lucius at
all.

‘Very nearly,’ she said coldly. ‘Excuse me.’

She’d spotted Neville and Luna sitting on the opposite wall, and made her way over to them
gratefully.

‘Slytherins,’ she sighed when she arrived, sitting beside Neville.

‘Seconded,’ he sighed back.

They sat silently (save for Luna’s distracted humming) until the number ended and the
second dance was announced.

‘Well,’ said Neville bravely, standing. ‘Would you care to try it with me?’

She smiled genuinely for the first time since she’d arrived and accepted his hand up. Neville
had kept in practise after fourth year, so she knew he was a more than fair dancer. They took
a place on the floor and the dance began.

Within three steps, Hermione had completely relaxed. She was in the arms of a friend, she
knew this dance by heart, and she was wearing a beautiful dress, even if only Harry had
commented on it. She didn’t realise when she began to glow with happiness, attracting
attention from her fellow dancers and the bystanders alike.

‘You look very nice, by the way,’ Neville said during a less-strenuous part.

Hermione smiled brightly. ‘Why, thank you. You look very dapper yourself.’

‘Thank you.’

They spun and whirled, easily keeping pace with the graceful figures around them. She was
not aware that they were now graceful figures themselves.

The dance finally came to an end, and she curtsied to Neville’s bow.

‘Thank you, that was refreshing,’ she said, grinning.

Neville didn’t get a chance to answer, because she was suddenly swamped with wizards
asking if they could have the next dance. Hermione was bewildered by this abrupt swarm,
but she did her best to sort them out. In a matter of a few minutes, she’d filled the first two
pages.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Two hours later, Hermione politely begged off from the group of wizards following her
around, ignoring their very put-out dates.

‘Thank you, gentlemen, but I need a rest,’ she said sweetly.

Her feet were killing her and her face was hot and sweaty. Reluctantly, grumbling, they
returned to the witches they were supposed to be escorting, and Hermione snagged a glass of
punch and a chair, nearly moaning with relief.

‘You dance beautifully.’

Hermione jumped, but it was only Narcissa--alone this time. She sat beside Hermione,
smiling kindly.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione sighed.

She was watching Lucius dance with a very tickled Mrs Weasley, she realised, and tore her
gaze away.

‘I wanted to thank you,’ Narcissa said quietly.

Hermione looked at her, surprised. ‘Thank me ? For what?’

‘For looking after Draco.’

She shook her head before Narcissa could continue. ‘That wasn’t me, not really. It was
mostly Ginny and Mrs Weasley.’

Narcissa smiled faintly. ‘But you’ve helped a great deal. He’s very fond of you.’ She looked
down into her glass, her perfectly-shaped brows drawing together. ‘Mostly, I wished to thank
you for helping Lucius. He’s so much better than he was, and it’s helped Draco now that he’s
got that burden off of his mind.’

Hermione stared at her for a long moment. ‘Why did you leave?’ she demanded, but kept her
voice down. ‘How could you leave them the way they were? You left Lucius when he
needed you the most.’

She couldn’t quite keep the accusation out of her tone.

Narcissa winced slightly. ‘I know. I was there, remember?’

Hermione stared at her implacably.

A soft, resigned sigh. ‘You must understand that our marriage was arranged for us by our
parents. We got along and we liked each other well enough, so we agreed to it. It took a long
time for us to build a relationship out of a casual friendship. There were many moments and
shared experiences along the way that made us into the loving couple that we were,’ Narcissa
explained, her eyes distant with memory. ‘Lucius doesn’t remember most of those moments
and experiences. I had nothing on which to rebuild our relationship, because the moments
that I connected with no longer existed for him. He doesn’t remember the birth of his own
son, did you know that?’

Hermione’s heart twisted. ‘No, I didn’t know that,’ she said lowly.
Narcissa shook her head, smiling sadly. ‘He doesn’t remember Draco being born. He
doesn’t remember holding him in his arms, he doesn’t remember crying and promising to
protect him always. I know he still loves Draco, but those precious moments are gone. The
man I married is gone, and I didn’t have the strength to rebuild our marriage from scratch. If
he had still had those memories, then perhaps….’

She trailed off for a moment, and Hermione didn’t interrupt her thoughts, aching for her, too.
She had thought Narcissa had simply looked around, decided it was someone else’s problem
and left. She’d never considered that when Lucius was broken and most of his happiest
memories were stolen, Narcissa had, in essence, lost her husband. He was still alive, but
she’d lost him all the same.

‘But there’s no use in contemplating the what ifs,’ Narcissa said after a moment, shaking her
head as though to shake the thought away. ‘You must also understand that we were all
broken by the end of the war. I had spent too long being terrified--too long suffering,
watching my family suffer. I had no strength left to give. Draco and Lucius were both
looking to me, leaning on me for support, and I was being crushed by it. I know it was
selfish, but I left to save myself.’

Hermione pursed her lips. ‘I…suppose I can understand that.’

She still didn’t necessarily like it, but she could hardly fault her for acting out of self-
preservation. If Narcissa had died or gone mad under the pressure of Lucius and Draco’s
needs, they would have been more without her than they were when she left, so the result was
actually a little more positive.

Narcissa offered another one of those probably-genuine smiles. ‘Anyway, you’ve done much
better with them than I ever could have.’ She nodded toward Lucius. ‘I never thought
anyone could convince him his pureblood dogma was incorrect, let alone convince him to
willingly ask a Weasley to dance.’

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. ‘It’s not me. He’s just…realising some things. He feels
guilty about what he’s done, but not because I made him.’

The smile grew a little sly. ‘Perhaps you didn’t make him, my dear, but it’s still because of
you. He wouldn’t have even tried if it hadn’t been for you.’

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that, but fortunately, a bumbling young wizard
interrupted to ask if he could have her next available dance, saving her from having to try to
dispute that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was able to manage two more dances before her feet started protesting again, and she sat
in a different spot. To her surprise, though, Narcissa wasn’t sitting on the sidelines or
dancing with Andrew, as she’d alternated doing all night--Lucius was offering her his arm.
She watched them move onto the dance floor with a choked sort of feeling. The dance
began, and just like that, they were Lucius and Narcissa again. The divorce, her new
husband, the intervening years melted away, and as they twirled and promenaded, Hermione
could see the young married couple they had been.

They were a matched pair. They were both coldly, flawlessly sophisticated, the very
embodiment of grace, class and elegance. They looked beautiful together--perfect. They
blurred together, black and white, Lucius’s chosen colours for most of the house.

There was a terrible, heavy feeling in her chest, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

‘Hermione? Are you okay?’

Oh, thank every power that existed for Harry. She clutched at his arm.

‘I think I need some air,’ she choked out, and willed the tears not to fall until she made it
outside--where no one else would be, because it was cold. Where Lucius wouldn’t be,
because he wasn’t allowed for another half hour. Not that he knew that.

She had to stop thinking about him.

Harry helped her out of the ballroom, down the corridor to a side door that opened onto the
gardens. There was a bench, thankfully, and she sank onto it weeping, burying her face in her
hands.

Harry crouched down in front of her, putting his hands on her knees. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?
Are you okay? What happened?’

She couldn’t say it out loud. She couldn’t tell him that she’d fallen in love with Lucius. She
didn’t want to say the words, because then they might be true, and then she would have to
obliviate herself and move far, far away to escape her own idiocy. What kind of idiot of a
Muggle-born goes and falls in love with Lucius Malfoy ? She hated herself, and she hated
Lucius, and she hated Narcissa, and she hated love and feelings, and Draco for dragging her
into Lucius’s life.

A small measure of control returned to her, and then another, and she stopped crying. Slowly,
in increments, she mastered herself again. As the initial rush of emotion faded, she was able
to marshal her thoughts as well, and deal with the facts.

Hermione was in love with Lucius.

This wasn’t actually his fault.

He didn’t even need to know about it.

No one needed to know, in fact.

She couldn’t stay for the rest of the party unless she wanted to embarrass herself.
She did not want to embarrass herself more than she already had.

Hermione smiled weakly for Harry’s benefit. ‘I think I just got overheated and tired myself
out,’ she lied, and she had no justification for this one. ‘I think I’m going to go home.’

‘Are you sure?’ he said, concerned, but he helped her to her feet when she started to rise.

‘Yes, I’m sure. I need to lie down for a while.’

‘All right then. Do you want me to see you home?’

She shook her head. ‘No, you stay and have fun. I’ll be fine.’

He helped her to the entrance hall anyway, and scooted off to find the wizards who’d taken
their cloaks. Draco and Ginny slid into the entrance hall a moment later, wearing worried
frowns.

‘You’re leaving ?’ Ginny exclaimed. ‘But the party’s not even half over!’

Hermione mustered another weak smile. ‘I need to go lie down, Ginny.’

Draco sputtered. ‘But you could lie down in one of the guest rooms! You don’t have to leave
!’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’ More than they could possibly understand, since she didn’t want to tell
anyone about the horrible epiphany she’d had. ‘I want to lie in my own bed. I’ll be back on
Christmas Eve.’

He pouted unhappily. ‘ Fine .’

‘Yeah, fine . Be that way,’ Ginny agreed with a pout of her own.

Harry arrived with her cloak then, and they exchanged morose agreements that it was
extremely unfair and they wished she would stay. A more genuine smile lifted Hermione’s
spirits a bit, and she thought of something.

‘I almost forgot--Draco, can you give this to your father?’ she said, unshrinking the package
she’d had in her cloak’s inner pocket and handing it to him. ‘It’s sort of an early Christmas
present from me and Kingsley.’

Draco accepted it hesitantly, frowning in confusion. ‘From you and Kingsley?’

She breathed out a small chuckle. ‘You’ll see when he unwraps it. The scarf is from me, and
the pass to access the gardens is from Kingsley. It activates in about twenty minutes, and
lasts until midnight on the twenty-fifth.’

He looked down at the festive package in awe, then back up at her. ‘A pass to go out in our
gardens? But--don’t you want to give it to him yourself?’
Hermione frowned, her heart clenching at the thought of how his eyes would shine…. ‘No.
You can give it to him. Just make sure he knows the pass is from Kingsley.’

‘I…I will. Hermione?’

He looked very troubled, so she paused before the fireplace, watching him expectantly. All
three of them looked troubled, actually, and she hoped they didn’t suspect something.

‘You’re sure you won’t stay?’ Draco asked at last, a plaintive note in his voice.

‘I’m sure. Thank you for inviting me. I’ll see you in two days.’

She left before they could say anything else. It was a relief to be standing in her own flat
again, and even more of a relief to be out of the gown that she only now realised she’d
bought and had designed in the hope that it would catch Lucius’s eye, and it hadn’t, so what
good was it, and she shouldn’t even be upset about that because she shouldn’t be in love with
him. It was wrong .

She got into her most comfortable pyjamas and snuggled up with Crookshanks. He was a
very good listener, and an even better snuggler, and he licked her nose when she cried.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius asked Narcissa to dance with him out of courtesy, and perhaps a bit for old times’
sake. They had always danced well together--even he could remember that--and it would be
nice to have a talented partner after the last witch had stomped all over his feet. She seemed
a little surprised, but she accepted. It was just as easy with her as it had always been, but he
was going through the motions, rather than enjoying himself as he once had when Narcissa
was in his arms.

‘You’re looking well,’ Narcissa commented mildly. ‘Much better than the last time I saw
you.’

He snorted. ‘It is very easy to look better than the last time you saw me--a bath and a shave
would about do it.’

She chuckled. ‘Fair enough.’ There was a pause as he spun her and drew her back in again.
‘She’s good for you.’

He barely stopped himself from freezing mid-turn, which would have been rather disastrous.

‘Who?’ he said, but he knew exactly who she meant.

‘Hermione,’ Narcissa said patiently, and her raised brow informed him that she knew he was
trying to play dumb. ‘She brings out the best in you. I haven’t seen you be so kind and polite
since--well, ever, if you include the Weasleys, but excluding them, then at least since we were
young. You didn’t even have a snide comment for that last witch I saw trying to break your
toes, even though she would have deserved it,’ she added with a somewhat wicked grin.

He hesitated. ‘Hermione…is very good. Better than I could ever hope to be. She thinks of
everyone. She tries to help everyone. She makes me want to be better when I’m around her,
when I think about her,’ he admitted lowly.

Narcissa looked very deeply into his eyes for a moment, and then nodded, refraining from
making a comment. He was relieved.

Not long after, Lucius saw Hermione leave on Harry’s arm, looking flushed and ill, but out of
politeness he didn’t ditch Narcissa in the middle of the floor, in the middle of a song. He
waited until the dance was over, but by then, they were nowhere to be found. Slightly
confused, he returned to the ballroom, only to find Draco, Ginny, Potter, and Neville standing
in a corner murmuring and frowning. He made his way over determinedly.

‘Where is Hermione?’ he demanded without preamble. ‘I saw her leave with you, and she
didn’t look well. Where is she?’

Potter actually looked a little intimidated by his vehemence this time, but he took no
satisfaction from it.

‘Um, she didn’t feel well. She went home. She said she needed to lie down,’ Potter replied,
stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out.

‘Oh.’ That took the wind out of his sails a bit. ‘Did she say what was wrong?’

Draco spoke up this time. ‘No, but she did leave something for you,’ he said quietly, waving
a small, brightly-wrapped package. ‘An early Christmas present, she said.’

Lucius accepted it when it was handed over, but he suddenly felt very let down and
disappointed. It stung at his eyes, and he did his best to appear coldly indifferent. He didn’t
want a present, he wanted to dance with her--had wanted to all night, in fact. And now she
had gone. He’d missed his chance.

‘Are you going to open it?’ Neville prompted, and for some reason, the four of them looked
at the time.

‘Maybe later,’ Lucius said despondently.

He’d totally and completely blown his opportunity. When he first approached her, he’d been
too nervous, for some reason, to just come out and ask, so he’d tried teasing her instead--
except his tone had been all wrong, and instead of teasing, he’d just sounded mean, and she
got angry and walked off. Lucius couldn’t honestly say he blamed her. Then, before he
could get up the nerve to go over and apologise and ask her properly, Neville had asked for a
dance, and after everyone had seen how beautiful and graceful and alive she was, she’d been
swamped with admirers. He’d been biding his time and hoping to catch her alone between
dances, dancing with others in the meantime, but he’d obviously waited too long.
‘Um, I really think you should open it now,’ Ginny said with a nervous edge. ‘It’s from her
and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she probably had a reason for wanting you to have it now,
don’t you think?’

He looked between the four of them with raised brows. ‘Okay, I’ll open it now…?’

They excitedly ushered him back out into the hallway, crowding him a little in their
excitement over the gift. Lucius reluctantly tore at the paper, trying to ignore how they were
bouncing up and down around him like over-hyper house elves. The softest fabric he’d ever
felt tumbled out into his fingers, and he couldn’t help but run his hands over it in amazement.
It was sky blue, the exact same shade as the gorgeous gown Hermione had been wearing,
although this didn’t shimmer silver when it moved in the light. He unfolded it and found it to
be a scarf, which puzzled him until he picked up the envelope that had fallen to the floor
when he unfolded it.

‘ Dear Lucius,

Kingsley arranged for you to have a three-day pass to go out into your gardens, starting at
eight o’clock tonight and ending at 11.59 on Christmas Day. The pass is inside this envelope,
keep it on you when you go out! You’ll need this scarf, too--it’s cold out there!

Merry Christmas!

Your friend,

Hermione ’

That explained why he had to open it right now. It was only a few minutes until eight.

Oddly, he did not feel as elated as he might have expected to. Instead, there was a hollow
sort of feeling in his chest, like there was something missing.

Lucius forced a smile as he looked up. ‘Well. I’d better go and get a warm cloak.’

There was a flat quality in his voice, despite his best efforts, but none of them noticed. They
practically leapt with joy and excitement, and Draco ran off to get his mother to join them.
Her idiot husband came along, too, and before long, they were all bundled up and headed out
to the gardens.

Lucius wrapped the scarf around his neck and felt a little better, inexplicably, as though
someone had reached out and put their arms around him, and he thought he got a whiff of
mahogany and old books…. But he was imagining things, clearly.

He stepped out into the December chill, and this time, the weight that lifted from his chest
made sense. It was night, so there was no sun on his face, but the twinkle lights were lit, and
he breathed the fresh air, strolling in between being pushed and pulled along by the over-
eager young adults. Narcissa and Andrew laughed at their antics; Lucius confined himself to
indulging their desire to prance around him like children.
He felt better, but there was still something missing, a cold spot on his arm, on his side,
where Hermione ought to have been tucked up against him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius immediately returned to the outside the next morning, bundled up against the cold,
and he stayed out, alternating sitting on a bench and walking the grounds, until Draco came
after him to scold him at lunch.

‘You can’t spend hours out there, you’ll freeze to death,’ Draco snapped as he dragged Lucius
back inside by the end of the scarf.

Lucius’s teeth were chattering, but he protested anyway. ‘But I only have today, tomorrow,
and the day after that! I have to enjoy it while I can,’ he stammered out through his
uncooperative jaw.

Narcissa and Andrew were still around today, but they very wisely stayed out of the
discussion, although Narcissa looked as though she agreed with Draco.

Draco scowled at him. ‘Listen to yourself! Your nose is all red and dripping, your lips are
blue, and I’m pretty sure your eyelashes have icicles on them.’

He snorted, which caused a rather unpleasant spray of mucus, illustrating Draco’s point. ‘D-
don’t be ridiculous.’

‘ I’m being ridiculous?!’ Draco sputtered for a moment before throwing up his hands. ‘I
give up. Come and get warm, Father, we’ll have lunch in the sitting room, next to the
fireplace.’

Lucius obeyed, mostly because he couldn’t actually feel his feet, so Draco probably had a
point. He sat close, thawing out rather painfully, and dutifully ate the soup Draco forced on
him. He had to admit he did feel a bit better, but he had no intention of sitting indoors for the
rest of the day when there was a piece of paper in his pocket allowing him to be out of doors.

Draco sighed, defeated, when Lucius finished eating and immediately began pulling his
winter things back on.

‘All right, but I’m coming out there and checking on you every hour. And after dinner, you
can’t go back out again, okay? It will be too cold and dark by then.’

Lucius pouted. ‘Yes, Mother ,’ he grumbled, which made Narcissa choke back a giggle, and
made Draco look pained.

After his new scarf was wrapped securely around his chin, he marched back out into the
gardens. He didn’t care about a little cold. He cared about being able to see the sun.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius went out again the next morning, but around ten, Draco called out the only thing that
could have made him scamper back for the house as fast as he did.

‘Father, Hermione’s here!’ echoed out to where he was loitering around the frozen fountain,
and he immediately made a beeline for the house.

He had nearly forgotten that it was Christmas Eve, and she would be coming. He skidded to
a halt, his heart leaping in his chest, as it registered that she was standing in their sitting room
again. She was wearing some of those Muggle ‘lying around the house’ clothes that made
her look so comfortable and natural, and her hair was its usual wild self. He smiled at the
very sight of her.

‘Happy Christmas,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Are you feeling better?’

Hermione smiled back, but he thought her eyes seemed a little shadowed. ‘Yes, much, thank
you. Happy Christmas to you, too.’ She paused. ‘Draco tells me you’ve been enjoying your
pass?’

‘Very much!’ he said, unable to tamp down his excitement. ‘Will you thank Kingsley for
me?’

‘Yes, I will do that.’

‘And thank you for the scarf,’ he added, a little shyly, unwrapping it from around his neck.
‘It really is cold out there.’

Her smile became more genuine and her eyes brightened a little. ‘You’re welcome.’

Draco cleared his throat. ‘I am still visible, aren’t I?’ he asked sourly.

Lucius glowered at him, but Hermione smoothly cut off any arguments by asking what they
wanted to eat. They migrated to the kitchen, where the two of them talked while Hermione
baked and cooked and blended and made all sorts of things that smelled and looked delicious.
The first thing she made was a cup of hot cocoa for each of them, which warmed Lucius
through and through. After that, it was a smorgasbord of comfort food and baked goods.

He also met Crookshanks while Hermione cooked, because the cranky-looking feline came
down in search of warmth and tidbits.

Draco nearly leapt off of his stool. ‘Hermione, tell your deranged animal to keep away from
me!’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘He only hissed at you because he was scared. This is a new
place, and he wasn’t ready for you to pet him yet.’
‘Whatever,’ Draco said hotly. ‘He likes me just fine at your house, so the only logical
conclusion is that he’s insane.’

Lucius had been letting the flat-faced cat sniff his fingers while this discussion went on, and
after a moment, Crookshanks must have decided that he was all right, because he leapt into
Lucius’s lap and commandeered it.

Hermione grinned. ‘Looks like you won’t be going anywhere for a while. Sorry, Lucius.’

He was unperturbed, stroking the overgrown orange fluffball. ‘It’s quite all right.’

Crookshanks purred loudly, and Hermione smiled warmly at him. Draco scoffed and
changed the subject, and Hermione turned back to her cooking.

They ate massive mounds of the stuff (and Lucius snuck Crookshanks a morsel or a crumb
here and there) for lunch before retiring upstairs. Crookshanks had vacated Lucius’s lap after
he’d had his fill of tidbits and pets in favour of lounging in front of the kitchen fireplace.

They had only been sitting for a few minutes before Lucius became restless. Draco and
Hermione seemed to know exactly why he was fidgeting, but Draco scowled, and Hermione
smiled.

‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ she asked kindly.

‘Yes!’ Lucius nearly exploded, and leapt up to get his cloak.

Hermione followed a few minutes later with a very reluctant Draco in her wake.

‘But it’s cold ,’ he whined.

‘You can stand it for an hour or so,’ she said patiently. ‘Get your cloak on.’

Draco looked scandalised. ‘An hour ?! A whole hour?! We’ll freeze to death!’

‘We will not freeze to death, and you can go in earlier if you like. Or you can stay behind.’

He pouted immediately. ‘No, I’ll come. I just think it’s crazy.’

‘Go get your cloak,’ she said firmly.

He shot her a sullen look and sloped off. Lucius watched Hermione slide her own gloves and
cloak on, an amused expression on her face.

‘You handle him the same way Narcissa does,’ he observed.

She froze for a moment in the act of wrapping her own scarf (a dark green one, he noted)
around her neck.

‘Do I?’ Her tone was carefully nonchalant. ‘I suppose it’s practise from dealing with Harry
and Ron.’
He hummed an agreement. She looked up at him and her expression froze again, for a longer
moment this time. When her face regained its mobility again, he found that he couldn’t quite
read it.

‘You look good in the scarf,’ she said casually, not looking at him. ‘It brings out your eyes.’

Lucius liked the compliment, but wasn’t quite certain what to make of the way she was
acting, so he simply said thank you and fell silent. Anxiety had climbed its way up his throat
again as he was reminded of the jumpy, nervous way she’d been acting around him for a long
time now. He hoped this strange, standoffish behaviour wasn’t a method she’d come up with
to hide her fear of him, because that would mean she was still afraid of him, underneath, and
he didn’t want that. Hopefully it was something else, something unrelated. He wished he
had the courage to ask, but there was a reason the Hat hadn’t considered him for Gryffindor,
he supposed.

Draco returned, or else he’d been replaced by a scarf monster--Lucius wasn’t sure, although
the existence of a scarf monster seemed unlikely--and they headed out into the gardens. His
chest loosened immediately, and he drew a long, deep breath of cold, fresh air. Hermione
took his arm when he offered it, and it couldn’t have been more lovely unless Draco had
stopped whining about how his nose was already frozen, even though he’d wrapped his
whole head in about eight scarves and a hat.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco went inside after the hour was up, but Hermione stayed with Lucius, since he seemed
reluctant to go back in. She cast several Warming Charms on their garments as the time
passed so he could stay out longer without either of them succumbing to the cold or getting
frostbite. He didn’t mention it, but he shot her several of those warm, worshipful looks that
made her heart ache, so she knew he’d noticed.

After a while, he led her over to a bench near the frozen fountain and they sat. She cast a
Warming Charm on the bench because it was making her bum go numb almost immediately.

‘We can go in, if you’re too cold,’ he said lowly.

She hugged his arm a little tighter. ‘No. Enjoy it, please. I’ll tell you if I’m getting
hypothermic,’ she added teasingly.

He looked down at her warmly again. ‘I suppose we’ll have to go in and eat supper
eventually, won’t we?’

‘Eventually,’ she agreed. ‘When it starts getting dark, I think.’

He smiled and looked out over the grounds. She tried not to jerk away or tense when he
reached up and squeezed her wrist gently. Their breath misted on the air and the time
continued to pass.

This was both sweet bliss and torture for Hermione. She’d been struggling to maintain some
distance between them ever since she arrived, but it was too hard now that Lucius’s frosty,
arrogant demeanour had melted away and he was once again the man she’d grown to care for.
His eyes had been full of hurt confusion every time she backed away or said something in an
indifferent tone, and it tugged at her heartstrings to see it.

But allowing him to be close to her was dangerously tempting, and she knew that she would
have to keep her guard up much more diligently than she had before. Lucius just needed a
friend, and she had to be careful not to read any more into anything he did than that--and she
needed to be mindful to keep her own behaviour within the bounds of friendship, more than
anything.

It was too cloudy to watch the sunset, but as soon as they lost sight of the hedges on the other
side of the fountain, Lucius finally stood.

‘I suppose it’s that time,’ he said, helping her to her feet. ‘I am hungry.’

Hermione smiled. ‘And I’m sure Draco is fit to be tied.’

He snorted and agreed--but when they came back into the house and took off their gloves and
things, he steered her to the sitting room instead of the kitchen.

‘Lucius, what are we--’

She broke off, staring. She’d been set up. Draco had purposely been whining so it wouldn’t
seem suspicious when he went back in the house and put up everything. ‘Everything’ being,
in this case, a tray of cinnamon rolls, hot cocoa, Christmas biscuits, and a large quilt that she
was fairly certain they’d borrowed from the Weasleys, and--and a white screen and a
projector. Draco stood with his hands clasped behind his back, grinning expectantly. Lucius
was watching her with nervous anticipation.

It was the nicest, most beautiful trick she’d ever fallen for.

She promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around Lucius’s neck.

He chuckled in her ear, patting her back. ‘Happy Christmas, Hermione,’ he said.

Draco hugged her from behind. ‘Happy Christmas, Hermione! We know it won’t make up
for not having your parents, but--’

Hermione pulled away, sniffling and shaking her head, wiping at her eyes. ‘It’s wonderful.
It’s the most wonderful thing that anyone’s ever done for me,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘I
think you’re both secretly great big huggable marshmallows inside.’

‘Hmm,’ said Lucius, smiling. ‘You do understand we’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone?’

She grinned up at him. ‘Of course.’

There was definitely no hope for it now--she was completely, totally, head-over-heels, heart-
stoppingly in love with Lucius, and he had just unknowingly sealed it for life.

‘So, who wants to watch a sappy musical about singing little girls?’ Draco asked brightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco fell asleep halfway through, but Lucius stayed awake through the whole thing, despite
her cuddling up to him underneath the quilt, and he actually seemed interested. Although,
she did note that he winced during the cuter songs, like ‘So Long, Farewell’--but she couldn’t
fault him for that, not when they had to nudge Draco several times to get him to stop snoring.
As for herself, she enjoyed The Sound of Music just as much as she always did, if not more
because of the special circumstances surrounding this viewing.

Lucius had divulged that Harry helped them transfer the tape, and she made a mental note to
send him the biggest box of chocolates that Honeyduke’s carried. She was surrounded by
loving, wonderful people, and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

‘I like those nuns,’ Lucius commented after the film was over. ‘I think they might be the best
part.’

She smiled, tapping the projector with her wand to turn it off. ‘Somehow, I’m not surprised
that you like them and their little sneak attack. What else did you like?’

He thought for a moment, his expression turning rather solemn. She wasn’t sure why her
question had caused that and watched him carefully, concerned that he was thinking dark
thoughts again.

‘I liked the dance,’ he said at last, looking at her a little sadly.

Hermione still wasn’t sure why he seemed upset all of a sudden. ‘Uh, yes, the dance is quite
lovely. I learned it for my ballroom dancing class, when I was a little girl. It was always one
of my favourites.’

He hesitated. ‘I…wanted to ask you….’

She waited, her brow wrinkling.

Lucius took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to ask you to dance with me, the night of the party,
but…I wasn’t certain you would wish to be seen with me in public. And then by the time I
decided to ask you anyway, you’d gone home….’

She stared at him. ‘Is that why you were so cold to me?’ she blurted before she could stop
herself.
She’d considered various ideas about why Lucius had seemed so cold and distant, including
that he didn’t want to be seen by his fellow rich pureblood wizards as being too chummy with
a Mudblood, or that a single witch he particularly liked would be there and he didn’t want her
to think he and Hermione were an item, or that it was just the way he was in public. It had
never occurred to her that Lucius might have been thinking of her and her reputation, if she
was seen to be close with a convicted Death Eater. She would have been ashamed of
thinking so uncharitably of him if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed with relief, and so
touched that he had been thinking of her welfare.

He reddened. ‘Partly,’ he admitted. ‘And partly because I was rather nervous.’

Hermione smiled. ‘ You ? Nervous? I don’t believe it. Malfoys don’t get nervous,’ she
teased.

She felt him relax, the muscles in the arm she was leaning against loosening.

‘Well, naturally, we don’t show it, but it’s been known to happen, every decade or so,’ he
joked easily.

Her smile widened, but she didn’t further the joke. She was debating whether or not it would
be safe and within the bounds of friendship to offer to dance with him now. The very thought
made her heart flutter in her chest, and she was desperately tempted to ask, to know how it
felt to be in his arms….

Lucius removed the choice from her. He looked deeply into her eyes until she thought he
could read into her very soul, lightly brushing a finger across her chin, and spoke so softly
that she felt it more than she heard it.

‘Hermione, will you please dance with me?’

She was not strong enough to refuse him.

When Draco woke up from his nap several hours later (joined by Crookshanks, who’d
decided his stomach was a very comfortable location), she and Lucius were still waltzing
gracefully, unaware of the passage of time or the existence of anything else.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The rest of Hermione’s stay passed much too quickly for Lucius. On Christmas Day, they
exchanged gifts and ate far too many chocolates. Hermione had nearly cried again when he
gave her the gift he’d chosen--it was a nearly-limitless bookbag in which she could carry her
entire library, and which logged every book she owned, as well as which ones were currently
out of the bag and if they were in someone else’s possession. He rather thought it was far
superior to the insipid gifts she’d received from her other friends, and she must have thought
so, too, because she carried it with her for the rest of that day and the next.
He was touched by her gift, too--or, more correctly, her gifts, plural. She had given him the
other two textbooks she’d written, as well as a book about Muggle electronics that went into
much greater detail than any of the books he already owned.

Much of Christmas Day was spent outside, since it was the last day Lucius could do so, and
Draco managed to keep his whining about the cold to a minimum, now that he didn’t have an
excuse to play it up. Lucius was grateful for that, and he was also grateful that Hermione
showed no signs of the indifference or standoffishness she’d displayed the day before. She
seemed content to be close to him, and though she was very quiet, it was enough for him, too.

On Boxing Day, he couldn’t be outside anymore, which dampened his good mood more than
a little. Hermione came to the rescue again, though, by making even more mounds of
delicious food that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up. She also found a distraction that
kept him from sulking at the windows--she had brought along Monopoly again, which he and
Draco had both enjoyed immensely the last time, and they spent most of the day playing it.
They ground Hermione into submission with their buying strategies and hotel-building, but
she just laughed and snuggled her cat, content to watch them try to bankrupt each other.
Lucius won, barely, but he smugly pretended he’d expected such an outcome all along,
which made Draco pout and Hermione giggle.

That evening, though, it was time for Hermione to go home. Draco bade her a quick but fond
farewell; it was harder for Lucius.

‘Are you sure you can’t stay a few more days?’ he asked plaintively, giving her the saddest
look he could.

Hermione sighed. ‘I would love to, but I have some things I have to do. Besides,
Crookshanks is about ready to ditch me for you, and I can’t have that,’ she added with a
gentle, teasing smile.

The cranky half-Kneazle had seemed rather fond of him, spending nearly as much time in his
lap as Hermione’s. And he was fond of the scruffy creature, too, though he wouldn’t admit
that to anyone--at least not willingly.

‘You’ll come for New Year’s Day?’ he pressed, since he couldn’t convince her to not leave at
all.

Her smile widened. ‘If you’d like.’

‘I would like,’ Lucius insisted firmly.

‘All right, then, it’s a date,’ she said, and then for some reason, she looked away, her smile
fading.

She reached for the Floo powder with a mumbled goodbye, and he realised she meant to
leave without giving him a kiss--just when he’d been growing rather attached to them. He
grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

‘Hermione.’
She turned, brow furrowing, and he seized his opportunity, expertly placing a light kiss just
below her cheekbone. Her face turned very, very red.

‘Thank you for everything, Hermione,’ he breathed before releasing her and stepping back.

She stared at him with very wide eyes for a moment, and then was gone.
 Azkaban
Chapter Summary

Hermione reads the records of Lucius's time in Azkaban. Lucius's nightmares continue
to escalate, and Draco has a confession of his own.

Chapter Notes

Okay, everyone, this one's really rough. I ran poor Lucius through the wringer. But, on
the plus side, you find out most of what happened while he was in Azkaban, so there's
that. It's just that none of it was good. I'm rambling because I'm a bit nervous about this
one, to be perfectly honest. It was really hard to get out, and I'm still not really happy
with it, but there comes a point when you've got to stop editing before you go crazy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :) As always, thank you to everyone for reading, and
especially big thank you to everyone who left comments. I wish I could give you
cookies, because you deserve them. ;)

Hermione had been avoiding the packet since the Weasleys’ party. Every time she thought
about it, she remembered what Kingsley had said and felt sick to her stomach. It was much
easier to think of Christmas Eve, now, of Lucius’s strong hand resting lightly on her waist,
the other cradling hers delicately, his steady, graceful guidance, the intensity of his eyes, his
breath on her neck….

She shook her head of the memory for the fiftieth time. She’d told herself one dance and
ended up in his arms for a couple of hours, until Draco woke and interrupted them. She was
simultaneously ashamed of her lack of self-control and breathless with a longing for more--
but all she could do was treasure the memory, wrapping it carefully and holding it close.

And she could read this packet of records, as she should’ve done four days ago.

Steeling herself, Hermione curled up in her favourite chair and opened it to the first page.
Most of the first section of the packet was the usual bureaucratic nonsense, but there were
actual pieces of information here and there for anyone patient enough to sift them out.

Hermione was patient.

Pickett’s arrest report was concise and brief, and more notable for what it didn’t contain than
for what it did.
‘Suspect was discovered unconscious in Department of Mysteries shortly after hostilities had
ceased. Suspect was clothed in common Death Eater accoutrements. Suspect remained
unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli while in apprehending officer’s custody. Suspect
was placed in Ministry holding cell and transferred to custody of Auror Ballard.’

In other words, Lucius was out cold, but he was dressed like a Death Eater, so into a holding
cell he went. Even knowing how she’d felt then, how frightened she’d been of Lucius, how
much she’d hated him and everything he stood for, she didn’t think she would have had it in
her to treat him so callously. She’d already known Pickett hadn’t bothered to get him any
medical treatment, but she still felt a flash of anger at how unapologetic Pickett had been
about it. He hadn’t even tried to lie in his report, despite the fact that his failure to fetch a
healer or take Lucius to St Mungo’s was a major breach of protocol. Although, Kingsley had
told her at the Malfoys’ party that Pickett was still with the Auror Department and he hadn’t
found any record of Pickett receiving any kind of censure or discipline at the time, so Pickett
had apparently been correct.

Auror Ballard’s report was longer, but no less concise.

‘22.03: Logged suspect Lucius Malfoy into cell 131C. Suspect Malfoy was not conscious.

23.00: Suspect Malfoy still unconscious.

23.30: Suspect Malfoy regained consciousness. Suspect seemed confused.

24.00: Suspect complained of pain in neck, head, hip, and arm.

24.30: Suspect continued to complain of pain.’

This last line was repeated every half hour, when Ballard evidently checked on Lucius. There
was no change until late morning the next day. She felt another searing flash of anger at the
lack of a trial, but then, none of the Death Eaters arrested from the time of Sirius Black on
had been given trials--at least until the end of the war, when Harry demanded trials for all
Death Eaters and suspected Death Eaters, including those who were already in Azkaban.
That made it more general anger at the cold injustice of the supposed ‘good guys’ than
indignation for Lucius specifically.

‘7.23: Transferred Suspect Malfoy into Azkaban Guard Cooper and Azkaban Guard Porter’s
custody. Cell 131C empty.’

She hoped Kingsley was looking into Ballard, too. There was something wrong with a man
who could listen to someone in pain for seven hours and remain so clinically unmoved.

The Ministry records ended and the Azkaban records began. The bureaucratic nonsense
dropped off sharply. Hermione noted that there were three names that appeared with the most
frequency beside each log entry--Cooper, Porter, and the supervisor, Galloway. There were a
few other names sprinkled throughout, but none of them appeared more than twice. The very
first entry was by Galloway, and it was so instantaneously infuriating that Hermione’s hands
shook and she ground her teeth until they creaked under the strain.
‘Prisoner Lucius Malfoy processed, assigned to cell. Prisoner uncommunicative. Upon
examination, Malfoy suffering from multiple injuries--concussion (minor?), neck
sprain/whiplash, sprained wrist, broken arm, hip injury (indeterminate, probably bruised),
possibly broken jaw, multiple contusions of varying severity. Tended to.’

Yes, sure. ‘Tended to.’ Hermione snorted. Stuffing him in an old neck brace and wrapping
him in some rags was not the same as actually tending him. Also, in Ballard’s entries, Lucius
hadn’t been silent or ‘uncommunicative,’ he’d been complaining, specifically about his neck,
head, hip, and arm. When had he picked up the broken jaw and bruising, and when had his
other arm been injured? She had a sneaking suspicion they happened while he was in transit,
or possibly during the incredibly vague ‘processing.’

His jaw wasn’t possibly broken, either, it was broken, as the next few weeks of entries
proved.

‘Prisoner Malfoy remains silent and does not eat solid food,’ was the major theme of those
weeks. While it was possible he was just sulking or depressed, she was certain that he hadn’t
been broken at that point, and more than likely would have had something to say if he could
have moved his jaw, even if it was only to demand to speak with his solicitor.

She was proved right in the fifth week of entries.

‘Prisoner Malfoy requested to speak with his solicitor. Request denied. Prisoner Malfoy
requested visitation with wife and son. Request denied.’

As he regained strength from his injuries healing, Lucius began to incur punishments--or at
least, punishments that were deserved enough for the guards to feel safe about recording
them. She had no doubt that they hadn’t let him alone while he was healing, either, but since
he had no strength to do anything but lie there, they couldn’t justify it. Now they could,
because Lucius in the beginning was arrogant and defiant and full of life and fire.

He demanded to be released; he demanded to see his solicitor and his family; he demanded
increased food rations. He threw things at the guards; he screamed profanities and insults at
them; he wandlessly cast irritating little jinxes their way; he refused to follow their orders.

Their responses were often disproportionate to the crime, but they were always cruel and
effective. When he demanded more, better-quality food, they starved him--after two days, he
stopped asking for more food, just begging to be fed at all. When he threw things and cast
wandless jinxes, they added more chains to the existing ones until he was completely
immobile and left him that way--after a day and a half, he begged to be let loose and
promised not to throw anything or do any spells, if only they would unchain him. When he
screamed at them, they cursed his mouth shut for three days, not even releasing it so he could
eat or drink--when they finally let him open his mouth again, he apologised and begged for
water. When he wouldn’t follow their orders, they brought a Dementor into his cell with
them to convince him. He began obeying very shortly after that.

And that was only what they were willing to write down. Kingsley was right, even this was
horrifying enough.
By the end of the summer, Lucius had reformed much of his behaviour, and the justifications
for the various ‘punishments’ they fashioned grew thinner and thinner. He stopped asking to
be released or to see his solicitor, but he never stopped asking after Narcissa and Draco, not
even when the guards told him he would never be allowed any visitors and put a
‘compulsion’ charm on him (they would never admit to using the Imperius , but that was
much more likely, given how strong-minded Lucius was) that made him lick the walls and
floor for three hours. The only effect was that he stubbornly switched from asking to see
them to asking to be allowed to write to them. This request was also denied, and they put
him on chamber pot duty for his section for the next month. He kept asking anyway.

Hermione read on, watching the slow process of Lucius’s breaking with horror and sorrow.
Much of it she gleaned between the lines, from the fact that they ran out of excuses and just
started putting ‘misbehaviour’ when they decided to harass him or starve him or humiliate
him. His arrogance was gone by the end of the summer; his pride was gone by the end of
autumn. Any shred of confidence was a casualty somewhere along the way.

Even so, he clung to his family with a tenacity that surprised, touched and impressed her.
Even in the early winter, when they had utterly broken him, when he was gutted by
Dementors, he still asked every day (well, every day that he was able to speak) if today he
could please write to his wife and son. By late winter, he had given that up, but he still
begged, day after day, for even a small scrap of news of Draco--was he all right? Was he
alive? His questions were answered only with more punishment, but he persisted, against all
reason.

Their responses were way out of proportion even compared to the early days by this point.
There was the incident Kingsley had mentioned, and an entire week when they froze
Lucius’s legs and made him crawl. For two days, they took his clothes away and hung him
by the wrists in the courtyard during the hour he and the other prisoners were meant to be
exercising--the notes said they allowed the other prisoners to ‘do as they would,’ with no
explanation as to what that meant. Hermione’s imagination failed her after supplying her
with a visual of Lucius cold and alone and helpless, and she was left with a general sick
feeling that she could only hope was worse than whatever the other prisoners had actually
done to him.

When she came to the spring entries, Hermione discovered why drowning featured so
prominently in Lucius’s nightmares about Azkaban--he very nearly had drowned. His cell
was in one of the lowest levels, below the level of the sea surrounding the prison, and in
March, a bad storm had broken through a sea wall. Water had rapidly begun to fill the five
lowest levels, forcing the guards to evacuate the prisoners to cells above, doubling up some
cells. Cooper and Porter were again assigned to Lucius’s section; they evacuated everyone
else on that level first, leaving Lucius for last. Cooper reported having to use the Bubble-
Head Charm to retrieve him. Lucius was not yet unconscious, but the water had risen beyond
the highest he could swim, since his wrists were always chained to the wall when he was in
his cell. He’d had time to contemplate the rising water, and the limits of his chains. He’d
had time to yell for help, and to realise no one was coming--to take a deep breath, hoping
against hope--to feel the water closing over his head.
Hermione dropped the packet and put her hands over her face, trembling. She was fighting
the urge to go to him, to fly to his side and wrap herself around him, assuring him and herself
that he was all right now. To breathe him in and promise that she would never, never let
anyone hurt him again.

Eventually, she felt more in control. The fierce protectiveness hadn’t faded, but she felt she
could read on without leaping up and running to Lucius--or to his former jailers, to do
something she would most definitely regret.

The lower levels remained flooded for a week, and Lucius was in the same cell as a rather
fanatical Death Eater named Booridge, who’d been killed early on in the war, if Hermione
recalled correctly. The notes were dry and severely uninformative, as always, but she got the
idea--Booridge had taken Lucius’s failure to retrieve the prophecy for Voldemort very
personally, and had made his displeasure known physically, presumably lacking the
intelligence to express it verbally. Apparently, this was possible because Booridge’s chains
‘malfunctioned,’ allowing him free roam of the cell, and they simply hadn’t got around to
fixing them. Lucius was ‘tended to’ again.

There was still a foot of icy seawater in his cell when they returned him to it, but Hermione
imagined that Lucius was relieved anyway. Although, it was also an unpleasant reminder of
his near-drowning, so it was really a toss-up.

The rest of March and April was full of starvation and humiliation, but no more brushes with
death, thankfully. He was released at the end of May, and there the packet ended.

Hermione set it down on the coffee table and lay back, staring at the ceiling, flexing her
fingers and toes. She knew, no. Still not the whole story, but…she knew. She knew why
even at his most arrogant, there was a hint of uncertainty, a chink in the armour that she had
seen even when she hadn’t really known him--the arrogance was fake, now. It had been real,
before Azkaban, but now it was a mask, a defence mechanism he pulled close to try to hide
his vulnerability. And he was, so very, very vulnerable. She knew why he’d cast aside his
notions about blood status and reached for her friendship with both hands--after everything
he’d been through in Azkaban, and everything that followed, to be treated with courtesy and
respect by someone, anyone , must have been like a cool drink of water after years in a
desert.

Kingsley was right; even without the rumours, there was more than enough here to get
exactly what she wanted for Lucius. She would write up a proposal tomorrow and present it
to Kingsley the day after New Year’s.

For now, she was too exhausted. It was early evening, but she took a shower and prepared
for bed anyway. She needed to sleep, and if she didn’t do that, she knew she would head
directly to Malfoy Manor, straight to Lucius, and once there, she would probably wrap her
arms around him and never, ever let go. She doubted he’d appreciate that, so she went to bed
instead.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Hermione was having a lovely but frustrating dream. The kiss that Lucius had planted on her
cheek, the kiss that still burned there despite her attempts to ignore it, had turned more heated
than it had in real life. Lucius’s lips moved to her mouth, her lips parting to meet him, tasting
each other, her body coming alive with the anticipation of pleasure. But as she reached for
him, she found that no matter how many buttons she undid, there were always more
underneath, until she was afraid that he would shrink away to nothing. Still, his hands were
going to very interesting places, places that made her hips rock, and she was just starting to
solve the mystery of the endless layers, she thought, when things got weird. Draco’s voice
horned in, shouting her name, and that wasn’t right. She pulled away from the kiss and
blinked.

When she opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom. Draco really was shouting her name,
though, and he sounded quite frantic.

‘Just a minute! Come on through!’ she shouted back.

She leapt out of bed, throwing on her dressing gown as she heard the Floo flare. She stepped
into the bathroom and quickly splashed some cold water on her beet-red face before she went
out to the living room. Draco was in his pyjamas and dressing gown, too, pacing agitatedly
until he spotted her entrance.

‘You have to come with me,’ he said urgently, his face twisted with distress. ‘Father’s having
the nightmare to end all nightmares, and I can’t wake him.’

Hermione seized his arm and dragged him back through the Floo, the fierce protective feeling
she’d gone to sleep with roaring back as memory returned. As soon as they stepped into the
entrance hall, a blast of sound assailed them. It was the noise she least wanted to hear in all
the world--Lucius was screaming, long, high-pitched shrieks that sent an icy chill straight to
her middle, thoroughly banishing the last tendrils of heat from her dream. Draco spoke as
they sprinted toward Lucius’s room.

‘He didn’t have any nightmares while you were here,’ he panted. ‘And last night he couldn’t
sleep.’

She nodded and skidded to a halt at Lucius’s open door. She hadn’t thought about it, but now
that Draco mentioned it, she realised that it was true--she’d been just down the hall and she
hadn’t heard a sound while she was staying for Christmas.

Now, though, Lucius took a breath and let out another ear-piercing scream, gripping his head
in both hands, curled up in a tight ball against whatever terror he was seeing in his dream.
Hermione climbed onto the bed and pulled him up against her, wrapping her arms around his
quivering, tightly-wound frame without hesitation. He stopped screaming the moment she
touched him, but he didn’t waken and he continued to tremble.

She rocked him, murmuring a few soothing words, and when that didn’t work, even though
she wasn’t much of a singer, she sang a lullaby she dimly remembered her mother singing to
her when she was frightened as a very small child. Slowly, Lucius relaxed, releasing his head
from the wild grip he’d had on it and loosening out of the ball to melt into her embrace
instead, resting his head on her shoulder. He still didn’t appear to be awake, but at least he
was calm now. She finished the song and lightly brushed her lips against his forehead.

His eyelids fluttered. ‘Hermione?’

‘I’m here,’ she murmured in his ear.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a weak smile, and he twisted his fingers in the
loose material of her dressing gown. She kept rocking him until he seemed to settle into
sleep again. Draco was standing awkwardly by the door, but he sprang over to help her when
she met his eyes and nodded toward the bed. They gently laid Lucius down, tucking him in
and prying her dressing gown out of his hand with equal care. He sighed, frowning a little in
his sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir.

Technically, her job here was done, but Hermione lingered, worry and that fierce, loving
protectiveness keeping her at his side. Her gaze wandered around the room; Draco had lit a
candle, probably when he came to try to wake Lucius himself, but there was no other light.
The fireplace was blocked up. It was a pitch-black night, too cloudy for the moon, and she
realised suddenly that she was cold. A shiver passed over her as she thought of how dark it
would be without the candle, as dark as a windowless underground cell….

‘It’s too dark and cold in here,’ she said softly. ‘It probably reminds him…. You should have
the house elves unblock his fireplace and put it back into use. If he had a fire, it would warm
the room, and he would always have some light.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Draco agreed quickly. ‘First thing. Consider it done.’

She nodded absently. She was watching Lucius breathe, how he breathed in through his nose
and out through his mouth so that his lips parted and he made a soft little ‘puff’ sound on
each exhale.

‘I’m staying for tonight,’ she decided aloud. ‘He shouldn’t be alone.’

Draco didn’t argue. ‘If you need anything, I’m two doors down, on the left.’

‘I remember.’

He grimaced at the reminder of his twin-induced drunkenness and excused himself, quietly
thanking her for her help.

Hermione lit another candle and drew one of the cushy armchairs up to Lucius’s bedside,
curling up in it. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and took his hand in hers.
Lucius’s features smoothed and he sighed contentedly. She smiled and settled in to watch
over him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Lucius felt completely safe when he woke the next morning. It was such a unique feeling
that he was actually startled to realise it--it had been a long, long time since he hadn’t felt a
constant, thrumming undercurrent of fear during his every conscious moment, long enough
that he couldn’t remember not feeling it, and it unnerved him with its absence. Being a
sensible man (usually), he sought an explanation for this sudden feeling of safety, and that
was when he realised that there was a slim, warm hand clasped in his own.

He knew it was Hermione before he even opened his eyes.

She was curled up in a chair beside him, her head tilted back and lolled to one side, her curls
fanned across her shoulders and the chair, leaving her neck bare. The morning light spilled
across her, casting her hair in a golden glow; her pink dressing gown; her delicate lashes over
her closed eyes; her pink, perfect lips, pursed in a slight frown. Her brow furrowed slightly
and she shifted, drawing his attention to her wand, loosely held in her free hand, but still he
was unafraid. He could have laid there and looked at her all day, she looked so beautiful and
peaceful--his friend, his protector.

For his strangely twisted nightmare now made so much more sense. It had started out fairly
normally until the Dark Lord arrived, hissing that drowning and crushing were too good for
Lucius. The Dementor had been allowed to remain, frighteningly near, sapping all the
warmth from the cell, which went pitch-black just before the Dark Lord began to ‘discipline’
Lucius. He’d been deaf to anything but his own screams, giving himself over to the pain and
terror--but then the pain had gone, dispelled by a warm, golden light, much like the morning
sun that bathed Hermione now, a light which grew and grew until the Dark Lord was gone,
the Dementor was gone, the cell itself was gone, and Lucius was alone in a warm embrace
that smelled of mahogany and old books. He could hear a familiar, melodious voice singing,
felt a light kiss on his forehead.

‘Hermione?’ he had called, tentatively, in case this was a trick.

‘I’m here,’ she had responded, and his terror was gone as well. She was here, she had saved
him, and he had felt safe in going back to sleep, with her here to protect him.

Lucius sighed contentedly at this proof that--for once--he’d made the right decision. He
could trust Hermione, always. Do-gooding Gryffindor that she was, she would never
abandon him. And he didn’t know how, but somehow, she’d banished the nightmare and kept
it from returning. He probably wouldn’t be able to convince her to come and watch over his
sleep every night, but he wistfully entertained the notion for a few moments anyway. He
hadn’t felt this rested since before Azkaban, and he wouldn’t at all mind waking up to her
every morning.

Hermione stirred with a soft moan, her wand clattering to the floor as she arched, wincing
against the sun in her eyes. He watched her rub her eyes and sit up a little, but she didn’t
release his hand. She squinted at him blearily.

‘Lucius?’ she mumbled.

‘I’m here,’ he said with a fond smile, squeezing her hand.

She smiled reflexively and stretched, still obviously puzzling everything out. She yawned so
hugely that he couldn’t help a chuckle.

‘Sorry,’ she said fuzzily, unsteadily getting to her feet.

He reluctantly let her hand slide from his grasp and followed her example, throwing back the
blankets and swinging his feet to the floor. The stone floor was chilly, but, as usual, his
slippers were missing. On the rare occasions that he could locate them, he wore them around
the house and then, once his feet got warm, kicked them off and nudged them under whatever
he happened to be sitting or lying on, and promptly forgot about them, whereupon they would
be lost again until a cleaning house elf chanced upon them and returned them to his bedroom.
It was a childish habit he’d had for as long as he could remember, and Lucius was equal
parts bemused and ashamed of his seeming inability to break it.

He shook the thoughts away and resigned himself to going barefoot again. At least he
wouldn’t be alone--Hermione was barefoot, too.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ he assured her, standing and stretching. ‘On the contrary,
I believe I owe you a rather large thank-you.’

Hermione dismissed this immediately, seeming more awake by the minute now.

‘It was nothing,’ she said easily. ‘We all need a little help with nightmares sometimes.’

Lucius frowned, and would have asked what nightmares she was experiencing (and a tiny,
jealous part of him wanted to know who was helping her , and more importantly, how ), but
she changed the subject.

‘I’d better go,’ she sighed, re-tying her dressing gown’s sash. ‘I have a lot I need to
accomplish today.’

Well, he had to stop that from happening, or at least delay it for as long as possible. He hated
it when she left.

‘At least have breakfast with Draco and me,’ he said quickly. ‘Feeding you is the least we
can do to apologise for disturbing your sleep.’

Hermione turned back toward him and smiled, and she was still glowing in the radiant
morning light, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

‘In my pyjamas?’ she asked, laughing.

He smiled impishly. ‘I won’t dress, either. Then Draco will be over dressed,’ he added rather
mischievously as he pulled on his own dressing gown.

A bright peal of laughter bubbled out of her.

‘Well, all right, then,’ she said, grinning and her eyes twinkling. ‘As long as I’m not alone.’
‘Never,’ he said, with a little more vehemence than he’d intended.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice, turning toward the door. Lucius was about to follow
when he spied something on the floor.

‘Oh! Hermione, you forgot your--’

He stopped mid-sentence, frozen in the act of reaching for the wand on the floor. A second of
temptation passed. With an effort, he straightened and backed away, both hands raised and
open. He didn’t look at her.

‘Well, that was stupid of me,’ she said sheepishly.

He watched her retrieve and pocket her wand and maintained his position, every muscle
tensed.

‘I didn’t touch it,’ he blurted when she turned toward him, keeping his eyes down.

‘I know you didn’t,’ she said, clearly perplexed.

He slowly lowered his hands, releasing a shaky breath. He still couldn’t bring himself to
meet her gaze. He’d been so content that he’d almost forgotten himself.

Hermione paused, and then padded over to stand in front of him. A gentle hand at his jaw
persuaded him to lift his gaze from the floor--he found only warmth and patience in her face.

‘I’m not about to report you for trying to return something to me,’ she said firmly but kindly.

He trembled. ‘It wasn’t just “something.” It was your wand . I’m not supposed to touch--’

‘And you didn’t. There’s nothing to report, Lucius.’

He searched her expression. ‘But what if I had ?’

Her lips quirked with amusement. ‘I don’t think my wand would agree with you. Ron
accidentally touched it once and got burnt for his trouble. I’ll bet you would’ve dropped it
pretty quickly.’ She turned serious again. ‘And even if my wand had let you touch it, you
were picking it up to hand it to me, because I dropped it and forgot it. It could just as easily
have been a quill, or a book. There still would’ve been nothing to report.’

Lucius was slowly relaxing despite himself. ‘How do you know I wouldn’t have tried to use
it, or keep it?’ he asked warily.

She smiled, brushing her thumb across his cheek before letting her hand drop. ‘I have faith
in you,’ she said simply. ‘Are you still hungry?’

Actually…he was, now. The cloud passed, just like that.

He smiled. ‘Lead on.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco seemed genuinely shocked by his father’s animation and (slightly mischievous) good
humour during breakfast. Hermione couldn’t help but agree--it was surprising to see Lucius
so full of vim and vigour after such a horrible, rattling nightmare. Usually, it took him
several days to recover his spirits and composure after a particularly bad night. This time, he
was even more cheerful and energetic than he’d been the day before, according to Draco.

‘It’s remarkable,’ he said with frank astonishment after Lucius had reluctantly gone upstairs
to bathe and dress. He had pouted significantly, and made Hermione promise not to leave
without saying good-bye before he finally agreed. He had also stuck his tongue out at Draco
when Draco wasn’t looking, seeming to take Draco’s treating him like a child as permission
to act like one. Hermione had hidden her giggle with a cough.

Of course, Draco had only insisted on sending him away so he and Hermione could have a
moment alone, to discuss what she’d read. Lucius had shown no signs of leaving Hermione’s
side voluntarily, so he’d had to play tyrant again. He put up privacy charms as soon as
Lucius was up the stairs.

‘It is,’ she agreed mildly.

‘It makes me tempted to grab you every time he has a nightmare.’ He heaved a sigh.
‘Unfortunately, that would mean dragging you here every night. What did you find out from
the records? What kind of case have we got?’

She quickly summarised. Lucius wouldn’t be gone that long.

‘Our case is strong,’ she concluded. ‘I don’t think we could get him out of having to serve
probation at all, but I think we could severely reduce the restrictions on him. I’m going to
draught a proposal today.’

Draco nodded firmly. ‘Good.’

She hesitated. ‘Would…you like to read the records yourself?’

His expression darkened. ‘No, I…I trust your judgment.’ He swallowed and stared at the
doorway. ‘I think it would only make me feel more guilty.’

Hermione frowned. ‘More guilty?’

‘Guilt ier , whatever.’

‘No, I meant--what do you feel guilty about?’

His lips trembled. ‘It’s just, I-I can never seem to help Father. I couldn’t help with the
nightmare last night, I couldn’t--couldn’t bring myself to kill Dumbledore so the Dark Lord
would like us again and get Father out of Azkaban.’ Draco took a steadying breath, rubbing
at his wet, red-rimmed eyes. ‘And some part of him is afraid of me, or he wouldn’t flinch
when I get my wand out, and--I couldn’t help him after you lot escaped with Dobby.’

Hermione’s gaze sharpened, her fingers clenching around the armrests. ‘Why did he need
your help after we escaped?’ she asked in a strangled voice, but she already knew the answer.

He sniffled. ‘The Dark Lord wasn’t pleased,’ he said, confirming her thought. ‘He tortured
Bellatrix for an hour, and then Father.’ He swallowed with difficulty, his eyes wide with
remembered fear. ‘And-and then he turned his wand on Mother and me. Father begged him
not to hurt us, and--I was so afraid--and Father volunteered to take our punishments, too. The
Dark Lord said fine, it didn’t matter to him, and he tortured Father for another two hours--one
for Mother, and one for me. Mother told me to go to my room, so I wouldn’t have to see or-
or hear. And I did. I went to my room and put a pillow over my ears.’

Hermione reached out, trembling, and touched Draco’s arm, but she couldn’t speak. Her
throat was clogged with sorrow for all three then-Malfoys, and hatred for Voldemort, and
guilt that she and her friends doing what was necessary had caused their family to suffer.

‘Father was bedridden for a day after that,’ he added quietly. ‘He could hardly move.
Mother had to nurse him--and I still didn’t help him. I was angry with him, I thought I hated
him. I hid in my room and wouldn’t even go visit him, not even when Mother came and told
me he was asking after me, asking if I was all right. He didn’t ask me to come, just wanted to
know that I was okay. I was angry, but I was also being a coward. I was afraid to see how
bad he looked.’ He smiled grimly. ‘I still haven’t thanked him. Thanks to him, I’ve never
felt the Cruciatus, and I’ve never even been able to tell him how grateful I am. That was the
biggest example, but that whole year, he was always redirecting the Dark Lord’s attention,
trying to keep his focus off of me and on him instead--protecting me. He was so brave, for
my sake, and I can’t even say thank you.’

He hung his head a little, then, looking truly and genuinely miserable--no pouting. He
sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve.

Hermione squeezed his arm, her heart clenching. ‘I’m sure he knows, Draco--you stayed
with him, rather than leaving with your mother. That’s got to tell him something, doesn’t it?’

Privately, she thought that Lucius very much needed to hear it from Draco, but voicing that
would only make Draco feel worse.

He shook his head, sniffing. ‘It’s not enough.’

‘Hey!’

They jumped and looked up to see Lucius, his hair still wet, standing in the doorway with his
arms folded. Draco quickly wiped his eyes again, dropping the privacy charms.

‘Why did you need privacy charms?’ Lucius demanded, pouting. ‘And why are you both
crying? I leave the room for fifteen minutes and everything falls apart….’
Hermione’s hand flew to her cheek--it was wet. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.
She began searching for a handkerchief as surreptitiously as possible.

Draco rose, shooting Lucius a dark look (mostly to mask his discomfiture, she thought).
‘None of your business. It’s why they’re called “privacy” charms, Father--you use them
when you want a little privacy .’

Lucius’s nose scrunched with disgust, and Draco’s eyes went wide.

‘Not--not that kind of privacy--with Hermione ?’ he squeaked.

Hermione giggled, and only realised when Lucius smile triumphantly that that had been his
goal from the moment he walked in and saw how upset they were. Draco noticed it, too, and
his mortification faded. He shook his head ruefully.

‘Well…I’ve got to go,’ Hermione sighed. ‘I’ll see you both on Thursday?’

They turned to her with twin expressions of shock.

‘ Thursday ?!’ they cried in unison.

Hermione burst out laughing. ‘Oh, boys! It’s Tuesday ! It’s not even two whole days
without me.’

‘But aren’t you coming to the Weasleys’ tonight? And Harry’s tomorrow?’ Draco asked,
pouting. ‘I was hoping to ask your advice on something.’

She shook her head. ‘I already sent them my apologies, but I’ve realised there’s something I
need to look into.’ She highly doubted Lucius was the only inmate to have suffered abuses at
the hands of the guards--and she never could tolerate injustice. ‘And on Wednesday, Neville
asked for my help with something.’

Draco blinked. ‘Help with what ? So he’s not coming, either?’

She winced. ‘I can’t tell you. He sort of…swore me to silence. He’ll be at the Weasleys’
tonight, but not at Harry’s. Please don’t bother him about it, he’s really upset about it as it is.’

Well, ‘upset’ wasn’t exactly the right word. Gregory Goyle had invited him to dinner, and
while Neville had accepted, he’d been a bundle of nerves ever since receiving the invitation.
He’d asked her to come as back-up.

Draco nodded soberly. ‘I won’t. You’ll both be here on Thursday, though?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Well, I shouldn’t speak for Neville, but I’ll be here.’

Draco was satisfied, but Lucius was still looking at her as though she had personally sucked
all the joy out of his life.

‘Lucius….’
‘Draco is taking his We--’ He broke off, his face twisting with shame for a moment.
‘Ginny,’ he corrected quietly. ‘Draco and Ginny are going shopping tomorrow. I was
hoping, perhaps, that you wouldn’t mind….’

He trailed off, looking away. Hermione glanced at Draco and received a confirming nod.
She stood and threw her arms around Lucius’s neck. He stiffened with surprise for about
half a second before returning the embrace, burying his face in her wilder-than-usual hair.
His cinnamon and vanilla scent was particularly strong, enveloping her, and it was very
tempting to just stay like this all day.

She kissed his cheek and pulled away, forcing a smile.

‘Well, I can always make time for a friend,’ she said teasingly. ‘So I will see you at
lunchtime tomorrow.’

She left before Lucius’s blindingly bright expression of joy could dazzle her into staying.
 Fear and Misunderstandings
Chapter Summary

Hermione and Lucius get closer, only to misinterpret each other. Neville and Hermione
dine at the Goyles'. Lucius finally gets the nerve to apologise to Arthur.

Chapter Notes

This one's a rather miserable chapter, too, but it has a few high points. I enjoyed the end,
anyway. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too. :) There's a lot of thinking in this one.

I should probably mention that there's some more very mild Neville/Goyle in this one. I
don't know if that bothers anyone...it's not in the tags because I wasn't planning on it
being in here, it just kind of sneaked up on me! Like I said, though, it's very mild,
they're just talking. You can pretty easily skim over it if it bothers you.

Anyway. Enjoy! :) Thank you for reading, and, of course, thank you to everyone who
commented! :)

Hermione was surprised but relieved that Draco didn’t need her that night. She would’ve
been available, because she was up all night, looking through old Prophets and making a list
of every person arrested as a Death Eater, from the first issue she owned onward. She would
need to find either a list or copies of Prophets from before September ’91 in order to do a full
list. After that, she would have to cross-reference to find out which ones had been killed--
there was little point in advocating on behalf of a dead person. She would much rather focus
her energies on living people who might still be suffering, like Lucius. If the families of the
dead wanted to come forward after she brought this issue to light, they could advocate for
themselves.

It was a lot of work, on top of all the projects she was already involved in, and in addition to
her teaching duties, but she felt very firmly that someone had to do this, and if not her, then
who? Besides, there was no guarantee that just because the Dementors were gone that the
conditions had improved at Azkaban otherwise. Her heart clenched at the thought of the
current inmates who might also be suffering abuse, and she felt that bringing to light the old
abuses was the best way to help them. An investigation was certain to follow, if she could
gather enough evidence before releasing her findings to the Ministry--and the media. A low-
life like Rita Skeeter would pounce on this, which would make her actually be of use to
Hermione for once.
There was a difference between punishing someone for committing a crime and abusing
them. To Hermione, the moral difference was very, very clear--Lucius and everyone like him
had deserved to go to prison for the acts they’d committed; they did not deserve to be starved
and humiliated. She was still having a hard time grasping just what had gone through
Lucius’s guards’ minds, what mental acrobatics made them think that forcing someone to lick
the floor for hours just for asking if he could see his family was okay. It made her furious all
over again just to think about it, so she tried to keep her mind on the task at hand.

She had written the proposal and edited it several times after she’d come home and got
dressed, and she was fairly happy with it. When the Ministry re-opened on the Tuesday after
New Year’s, Kingsley’s office would be her first stop.

Around mid-morning, she ran out of her own copies of the Daily Prophet and dragged herself
out of the mounds of paper to make lunch. Crookshanks was sitting on the windowsill,
twitching his tail and glaring at the mess she’d made all over all of his favourite napping
spots.

‘Sorry,’ she said tiredly, smiling at her grouchy companion. ‘Will some tuna make up for it?’

He considered the offer for a moment before hopping down and trotting after her.

For Crookshanks tuna, and for Lucius and herself, she made hamburger gravy and potatoes,
mostly because it was easy and she felt too weary for anything more complicated. She’d
pulled all-nighters a few times at Hogwarts, but she’d been younger and had house elves
keeping her in constant supply of tea (although in the early days she hadn’t known it was
house elves responsible for the cups that randomly popped up at her elbow). Not that she
was old now, but she was no longer in practise, and she hadn’t thought to make herself any
tea at all. Not to mention the disrupted night of sleep the night before. She’d spent most of
the night watching Lucius for signs of distress.

Yawning, she gathered up both containers and Flooed through to Malfoy Manor. Oddly,
Lucius wasn’t standing there waiting for her. When he wasn’t immediately visible, he was
generally in the library, so she plodded in that direction, widening her eyes deliberately so
they wouldn’t slide shut without her notice.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius was, indeed, in the library. He was trying to work on making an outline for his final
project, but he kept getting distracted--mostly with thinking about Draco. Since he’d walked
in on Draco and Hermione crying about something he couldn’t hear or read their lips to
discern, thanks to the privacy charms, Draco had seemed edgy and moody. He was back to
snapping at Lucius with very little or no provocation, only to shrink in on himself and leave
the room afterward. He had not been sorry to see Draco go when Ginny arrived an hour ago.
On the other hand, Draco had also done something very, very kind for Lucius--something
he’d wanted to ask for himself for the past year, but hadn’t quite dared to, lest Draco get
angry with him again--he’d had the house elves open and repair Lucius’s fireplace. He’d had
a lovely fire in his room all night, which Tibby kept alive, and Lucius had slept very well.
Not as well as when Hermione had been there, but his nightmare had only come once, and it
had been its usual self this time. He’d also had an easier time getting back to sleep afterward,
with the light and warmth of the fire to help remind him that he wasn’t in his cell anymore.
When he thanked Draco, his son had grumbled that it was Hermione’s idea and changed the
subject.

The only theory Lucius had currently for Draco’s unhappiness with him was that something
had come up in the news that reminded Draco and Hermione of some aspect of the war
(hence the crying), and Draco was also reminded of all the reasons he had to hate and be
angry with Lucius. It wasn’t a theory he liked , but it was all he could think of. He’d done
his best to be agreeable yesterday and this morning, but it hadn’t worked, so now Lucius had
decided that the best course of action was to keep his head down until Draco forgot about it
and stopped being angry again. Perhaps an apology or two might help, at the right moment,
although he’d apologised to Draco once before, when Narcissa left, and hadn’t received a
very positive response. Lying low was probably a better idea.

Someday, though, Lucius hoped to get up the courage to say all the things to Draco that he
should’ve been saying all along-- I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I screwed up your life and put
you in danger. I’m sorry I was a terrible father. I’m sorry your mother left because of me.
I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble for you. I couldn’t have asked for a better son. I love
you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you anyway. Maybe someday you can forgive me.

Perhaps hanging around Hermione would help. Maybe some of her Gryffindor bravery
would rub off on him, and he’d get up the nerve to say those things, even if Draco didn’t
want to hear them.

‘There you are.’

He looked up and smiled. Hermione was leaning in the doorway, yawning and holding food
containers. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and her hair was even bushier than
normal, her clothes rumpled and her fingers stained with ink. In other words, she was a
beautiful sight.

‘Hi,’ he said, very originally, and mentally rolled his eyes at himself.

She smiled back. ‘Hi. What are you doing?’

Lucius tapped his fingers on the nearly-blank parchment, frowning slightly. ‘I’m trying to
work on my final project, but my mind keeps wandering.’

‘I see. It probably needs food.’

‘Probably,’ he agreed, grinning and getting up to follow her.

That wasn’t the problem, but he would never turn down Hermione’s cooking.
They ate in the kitchen instead of the dining room, perched on the stools, and Lucius guessed
after watching her for a few moments that she’d chosen this location to help keep her awake.
As it was, she kept nodding off, jerking awake and sitting up just before her face would’ve
landed in her food. She was definitely not up for conversation, but she kept trying, so Lucius
indulged her, smiling inwardly when she lost the thread of the conversation and fumbled to
remember.

‘You were saying that they’re repealing one of the few statutes about werewolves that
actually makes sense,’ he nudged her gently.

Hermione blinked. ‘Oh. Right.’

But then she said nothing further, staring at her plate. Concern tightened his chest.

He tilted his head. ‘Did you sleep at all last night?’

She shook her head, yawning. ‘No, I was researching something and lost track of the time.’

And he doubted she’d got very much sleep the night before, sitting in that chair beside him.
He put her teacup out of her reach; she didn’t even notice. She needed sleep, not a pick-me-
up, so he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

‘Hermione, wake up!’

She jerked awake again, and Lucius had to grab her waist with both hands to steady her. Her
stool had nearly tipped over.

She frowned at the ground and slid off the stool. ‘Maybe I should lie down.’

‘I should say so!’ he snapped, still a little on edge from her near-miss. ‘You could have
cracked your head open if you’d fallen.’

‘Oh,’ she said dumbly, blinking at him owlishly.

He hadn’t let go of her waist, so it was very easy to shift his arms and scoop her up, bride-
fashion.

‘Whoa, easy, tiger,’ she slurred, squeezing her eyes shut. ‘Let’s just take it slow. I could just
take a Pepper-up.’

‘I haven’t got any,’ Lucius said, climbing the stairs to the ground floor. ‘Have you?’

‘No, I ran out and didn’t make any more, or even buy it, but I should’ve,’ she sighed,
sounding a little more like herself now that the dizziness had passed. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to the library. I’m going to keep working, and you’re going to sleep.’

‘Oh, okay.’
He shook his head, snorting. She didn’t move or protest when he settled her on his preferred
sofa and draped a blanket over her. He fussed for a moment, and she only moved when he
straightened to leave, catching his wrist.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her eyes large and dark.

‘For what?’

‘For falling asleep on you. And being bad company. I didn’t realise before I left that I was
so bad off,’ she admitted sadly.

Lucius smiled, idly brushing her cheek. ‘I don’t mind. How many times have I fallen asleep
on you ? If you’re keeping score, I’m in trouble.’

She leaned into the light touch. ‘As long as you’re not upset with me.’

‘No, not at all,’ he murmured, and then wondered what she would do if he touched her lips,
and then wondered why he was wondering that.

She yawned again, letting go of his wrist. ‘If I’m still asleep at four-thirty, will you wake
me? I’m supposed to meet Neville at five.’

‘Of course.’ He paused, watching her eyes flutter shut as she snuggled down into the
cushions. ‘Hermione?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you. For the fireplace. Draco told me it was your idea.’

Her eyes opened. ‘Did it help?’

Lucius nodded. ‘Very much. I’d wanted to ask him for a long time if I could have my
fireplace back, but….’

Her brow furrowed and she immediately seemed more alert. He regretted broaching this
topic now, when she so desperately needed to sleep, but it was too late to take it back.

‘But what?’ she prompted.

He looked away, fiddling with the end of his sleeve.

‘Lucius? But what?’

He swallowed. ‘I was afraid.’

It came out in a whisper. It was a hard thing to admit.

‘Afraid?’ She paused, processing. ‘Of Draco?’

He nodded once, very stiffly.

‘Why?’ she asked, an incredulous edge in her tone.

Lucius hunched his shoulders a little. ‘He gets so angry with me, sometimes, and I don’t
blame him, but I try not to bring anything up that might provoke him.’

There was another long pause. He could feel his face getting hot.

‘Why would unblocking your fireplace provoke Draco?’ she asked, bewildered.

He took a slow breath. ‘Because the Dark Lord is the one who had them all blocked up in the
first place. He only left a few open, mostly in rooms where we held meetings. He liked it
cold, I guess.’

‘And he was crazy,’ Hermione added helpfully, sitting up. ‘But you’re going to have to help
me out here--how would you asking Draco if he would ask the house elves to unblock a
fireplace that the Dark Lord had blocked up be provoking Draco?’

He let out an exasperated huff, scowling at her. ‘Think about it, Hermione. Whose fault was
it that the Dark Lord was even in our house in the first place?’

‘Volde--I mean, You-Know-Who’s,’ she corrected when he flinched automatically.

‘No, it was my fault,’ Lucius insisted. ‘I was the one who joined up as soon as the Dark Lord
came calling in my youth. I was the one who flew back to his side as soon as he returned. I
was the one who got Draco involved. And I was the one who failed the Dark Lord, which
was ultimately why he chose our home as his headquarters.’

She rubbed her eyes and squinted at him, letting out a sigh. ‘I’m too exhausted to be having
this conversation,’ she muttered. Then, louder, she said, ‘You and Draco need to be the ones
talking about this, not me and you.’

His eyes went wide and he reeled back a couple of steps, shaking his head. ‘No, no, no, no, I
can’t talk to Draco, not about this,’ he said rapidly, his breathing picking up at the very idea.

Hermione frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I--’ His throat tried to close up on him, and he had to sit down before he fell. ‘I’m
afraid of what he’ll say,’ he choked out, trying to control his breathing, putting a hand over
his eyes as the tell-tale burn began. ‘I’m afraid--I don’t think I could bear to hear his
condemnation. I deserve it, but I don’t want…. I can’t lose Draco,’ he admitted, very, very
softly.

Draco and Hermione were all he had left. He couldn’t bear to lose either of them. Hanging
onto the mere thought of his son had got him through Azkaban, and knowing Draco and
Hermione were on his side was all that was holding him together now, some days. If either
one of them were to leave, he didn’t think he could go on. The very idea set him to quaking.

He heard her get up, but her tread was so light on the rug that he didn’t realise she was beside
him until her hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up anxiously, questioning.
Her face was grim. ‘Come here,’ she said gently.

Lucius followed. He let her do as she would, so it was with some surprise that he found
himself on the sofa, with her nestled on top and to one side of him, one arm across his chest
and her forehead resting against his cheek. He could feel her breath on his neck.

‘You’re not going to lose Draco,’ she whispered. ‘You’re not going to lose me. Neither of us
are going anywhere, okay?’

‘Okay,’ he mumbled.

She hugged him a little tighter, and he could feel the tension leak out of her body, pressed
against his side, as she fell asleep, finally.

So, he probably wasn’t getting any more work done, then.

He couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed, not when she was so content, and particularly not
when she started muttering incoherent nonsense in her sleep. It was kind of adorable, and
Lucius really, really didn’t like his past self for ever thinking that Hermione deserved to die.

He was also enjoying it for its own sake. It had been a long, long time since he’d been
snuggled (for lack of a better word) by anyone--after he was released from Azkaban, Narcissa
slept as far away from him as she could without actually falling off the bed. She’d claimed it
was the smell the first night, but after that he’d been strong enough to successfully bathe
(with a little assistance getting in and out of the tub), and she still stayed far away. He had
noted that her shoulders often shook before she fell asleep, and he’d concluded that his then-
wife had either been too proud to admit she was crying or didn’t want to burden him further
with her own suffering. Possibly both. When he had nightmares, she woke him and
reassured him that he was at home, and then she retreated back to her side of the bed as soon
as he was calm.

Before Azkaban, they had been fighting a lot. She was nervous about throwing their lot in
with the Dark Lord. She had never cared much either way about blood status, other than to
be openly proud of her own pureblood status, but it was different this time, she said. She
didn’t want Draco mixed up in it, she said. He’d taken offence that she thought he’d do
anything to endanger their only son, and he’d been extremely angry that she expected his
loyalties to be so fickle. He’d pledged himself to the Dark Lord, and he wouldn’t go back on
it. Moreover, he’d thought it was the best thing to ensure Draco’s future--to ensure that he
would have the status and respect to which he was entitled. They’d spent most of that year
sleeping in separate beds, except when Draco was home to see whether they went into the
same bedroom or not.

Of course, Narcissa had been right and he had been wrong. He had endangered Draco. He’d
not only nearly sacrificed their son’s future, but he’d nearly got him killed. It was only
Draco’s own actions that had saved his future, and the actions of Narcissa, Snape, and Potter
that had saved his life.

Narcissa was yet another person he owed an apology (or perhaps a litany of apologies), but
on the very rare occasions she returned, it was usually a holiday, and Draco was always so
happy to see her, it didn’t seem right for Lucius to spoil their happiness by bringing up old
issues. Instead, he tried to be polite and as invisible as possible, fading into the background,
or in the case of Christmas, being completely absent while he took advantage of his pass to
go outside.

Well, and the other two occasions, he’d been completely drunk, so he’d spent a lot of the time
being absent by passing out in his room. Still, the point was that he’d let them enjoy
themselves and stayed out of their way.

Perhaps he could just write Narcissa a letter.

Hermione made an unhappy noise and cuddled even closer, which caused her sleeve to ride
up her arm. The scars there rather effectively killed the remains of his contentment--what
was left, after thinking about the ruin he’d made of his family.

He had already apologised to Hermione once, but he didn’t think he could ever say it enough
to her. Not after all the ways in which he had directly and indirectly hurt her over the course
of their acquaintance.

‘I’m sorry, Hermione,’ he whispered, tracing the scars with one finger.

‘Mmmm, not now, I’m busy,’ she mumbled, still very much asleep.

He smiled. ‘I’ll tell you later, then.’

‘Okay,’ she sighed, and went back to softly muttering incoherent nonsense.

He watched her sleep, stroking the scars with his thumb continuously, as though he could
soothe them away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione woke a couple of hours later, mostly because she had to pee. However, when she
went to get up, she found that one arm was trapped in someone’s grip, and the other arm
planted rather firmly on that someone’s upper arm, which had been underneath her. In other
words, she was quite tangled, and she was inadvertently yanked back down, since the person
holding onto her arm hadn’t known she was about to get up so abruptly.

‘Oof!’ Lucius grunted.

She pushed the hair out of her face and looked at him sheepishly. ‘Oops. Sorry. I gotta pee,
let go.’

He released her with an embarrassed glance. ‘Sorry.’

She waved that away and struggled to get up. She’d sunk down in between him and the sofa
back, so it was like trying to climb out of a pit. A very soft, squishy pit. He let out a brief,
high yowl when she accidentally planted a hand directly on his groin.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ she half-laughed, half-cried, and finally just rolled over him to land on the
floor on her bum, getting up and running for the loo from there.

Lucius was sitting up and cradling his groin with both hands when she returned. She covered
her face when he looked up, trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said around a muffled giggle. ‘Are you okay?’

He looked between his hands for a moment. ‘I hope so. I haven’t had time to examine
everything yet,’ he said dryly, but she could tell he was mostly recovered.

‘Well, that was awkward,’ she said, rubbing the back of her neck, thoroughly embarrassed. ‘I
really am sorry. I’m not used to waking up next to anyone except Crookshanks, and he’s
small enough and quick enough to stay out of the line of fire if I wake up with an
emergency.’

He removed his hands, but he still moved rather gingerly as he stood. ‘Surely it hasn’t been
that long since you were with Ronald that you’ve got out of practise?’ he asked with an edge
in his voice.

Hermione’s face immediately flamed. ‘Oh. Um.’

He raised a brow at her.

‘We never…. I never…. That is, he and Lavender got up to things, and he wouldn’t get
tested to prove to me he was clean, so we didn’t….’ She trailed off at Lucius’s startled
expression. Then, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she blurted, ‘I’m a virgin.’

Her face got even hotter and she clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like she might
actually die of embarrassment.

However, much to her surprise, Lucius didn’t laugh in her face, or make a snide comment
about her appearance, or a joke about how she was probably going to marry a book someday,
like Ron sometimes did. He stared at her with a completely unreadable expression, and his
eyes were suddenly very, very dark. It sent a chill down her spine.

‘Oh?’ he said, in a quiet, velvety voice.

She felt the need to clarify. Now that she’d gone this far, she might as well blab some more,
she thought with a hearty dose of self-loathing.

‘Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything . I know how it all works, and with Ron I did,
you know, use my hands,’ she babbled nervously. ‘Just not anything more, because sexually
transmitted diseases are gross, and at least you can thoroughly wash your hands afterward.
And-and with Viktor, we did a little, uh, experimenting, but he said I was too young, even
though I was fifteen, and I…think I should go kill myself now, good-bye.’
He caught her arm and turned her back around as she spun to flee. His expression had
gradually lightened into open amusement as she prattled, until now his eyes were dancing
and he was smirking at her.

‘Hermione, you’re only twenty,’ he said patiently, despite his continued amusement. ‘And
you’ve no need to explain yourself to me. It makes a great deal of sense--you are, after all,
very responsible, much more so than your peers, and even most of the witches and wizards in
my age group. I’m not going to judge you. I was a virgin until I married Narcissa, so I’m
hardly in a position to cast stones.’

She looked up at him curiously. ‘You were ?’

He went a little pink. ‘My father would have killed me,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘I was so
terrified that he’d find out that I never even kissed a girl outside of wedlock--which only
made them chase after me, I think. My father had very strict ideas about that sort of thing.’

Hermione couldn’t help it--she giggled, relaxing. ‘Was Narcissa a virgin, too?’

He snorted. ‘She was a good deal sneakier than I was, and confident that her parents would
believe her over any rumours they might have heard. She slept with Evan Rosier in our
seventh year. And believe me, she took great satisfaction from holding her superior level of
experience over my head. For the first year, all I heard was “Good, but not as good as Evan
.” She had a lot of fun riling me up. It was a bit less fun for me,’ he added wryly.

She laughed. ‘I imagine. How did you get her to stop?’

Lucius shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think we just got better practised and got to know each
other, and after a while, she forgot about her experience with him, or at least didn’t feel I
compared so unfavourably anymore.’

Her face was hot again, and she was wondering why she’d pursued that line of questioning in
the first place. He was still holding onto her arm, his thumb moving back and forth
unconsciously. It was very distracting.

‘Well. Anyway,’ she said in as steady a voice as she could manage. ‘I am generally alone
when I sleep. And I’m still sorry. Is it any better?’

‘Much,’ he said, and then glanced around as though he felt watched. ‘Um. Could you
perhaps see your way to, uh…not tell Draco about this conversation?’

Her face burned a little more. ‘Do I think I can not discuss your sex life with your son? Not
a problem.’

He looked relieved. ‘Thank you. And perhaps you shouldn’t tell anyone else, either.’

She smiled at this evidence of male pride. Lucius’s pride wasn’t all gone. Either that or it
was making a slow comeback.

‘I won’t tell a soul,’ she promised.

‘Thank you,’ he said with even more obvious relief. Then he looked a little pained. ‘I won’t
tell anyone, about you, if you don’t want me to.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘You can put an ad in the Daily Prophet if you like. Everyone I care
about already knows, now, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.’

He blinked, surprised. ‘You’ve actually told your friends that you’ve never--’

‘Ron is one of my friends, remember?’ she said, bemused. ‘It would’ve been difficult to keep
it a secret, with his blabber mouth. And I wasn’t about to make up a nonexistent sexual
encounter. Besides, it’s not like it bothers me most of the time. Ron doesn’t have any reason
to care anymore, so he only occasionally teases me; Ginny shoves dating books at me and
tells me to dress sexier, but otherwise doesn’t push it; the rest of the Weasleys pretend that I
am sexless, other than Mrs Weasley asking me when I’m going to get married, which suits
me just fine; Draco is either too embarrassed or too much of a gentleman to ever bring it up,
even obliquely; Neville would actually die if he talked about sex openly, I think; and Harry,
well….’

She stopped herself, shrugging. No need to out Harry’s virginal status. He’d been a little
busy trying not to be killed during school, and since then, he hadn’t been interested in dating.
Even if he had, she knew he would wait until he found someone who liked him for himself,
and not for his fame. That could take a long time, if he ever started dating again.

‘Since he seems to think of you like a sister, I would be surprised to learn he broached the
subject,’ Lucius said with a small shudder. ‘And crazy girl is crazy.’

She laughed. ‘Luna’s just…different. She sees the world through kaleidoscopic glasses.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he said dryly.

She couldn’t help another giggle at his tone, but it was getting late, and this line of
conversation was leading her thoughts back around to the friendship-destroying place.
Particularly since he was still holding her arm, and even though her sleeve separated their
skin, his thumb moving back and forth was making certain parts of her brain sit up and take
notice.

‘I should go,’ she said, and her voice was a little husky, which just confirmed that she should
definitely leave now. ‘I need to get ready to meet Neville.’

‘It’s not four-thirty yet,’ Lucius replied, matching her soft, husky tone and leaning in toward
her ever so slightly. His eyes were almost glowing with intensity.

‘That was my absolute latest leaving time,’ she said weakly. ‘I like more time to get ready
than that.’

Her dream flashed through her mind, and Lucius’s eyes sharpened, locking on hers. She
swallowed. She was suddenly very afraid that she was going to do something she would
regret, and she began to tremble, trying to force her muscles to move, to leave.
He saw something in her face, she thought, because his eyes were suddenly shadowed and he
let go of her arm, backing up a couple of paces. Her heart clenched as she watched him shut
down, the contentment gone.

‘I won’t keep you, then,’ he said lightly, but his expression was anything but light.

‘Lucius….’

He backed up another step when she reached out. She let her arm drop with a sinking
feeling.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, and turned on her heel and left.

She had no idea what had just happened, but she was pretty sure it was her fault.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was very easy for Lucius to combine his plan to lie low for a while with his newest reason
to be depressed.

Hermione was still afraid of him. He’d seen the fear in her eyes, and he’d felt her trembling.
Her body language had practically screamed flight.

He had no idea what he’d been doing, holding onto her arm and leaning in close like that.
He’d felt a strange pull toward her, a yearning that was familiar and yet not, but he wasn’t
certain exactly what he’d been yearning for--although he had an inkling that both excited him
and made him feel a little guilty, for it probably would have ruined their friendship. If she
hadn’t been afraid, he was sure the yearning would have turned more recognisable when he
got close enough, confirming whether or not his inkling was correct.

Of course, before that, there was his highly inappropriate physical response to her revelation
that she was technically a virgin. To his immense relief, she hadn’t seemed to notice or
understand if she did, merely looking at him quizzically. That kind of reaction was not
acceptable between friends. It was all the more odd because he’d never cared about
deflowering virgins before--only Hermione’s virginity had ever made him react that way. He
was rather embarrassed by his adolescent response, and only relieved that he’d been able to
suppress it quickly and react in a more appropriate manner afterward.

After she fled from him, he didn’t feel like doing anything anymore. He wasn’t looking
forward to Draco’s return at all, so he relocated to his room. He’d left one armchair where
Hermione had left it yesterday, but the other was by the now-cold fireplace. He sat in that
one, staring at the empty hearth and trying to decide whether he felt like facing yet another
rejection today. He wasn’t sure he could take being ignored by his own house elves, on top
of everything else that seemed to be going wrong.
The worst part of it was that with Draco, he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. At
least with Hermione, Lucius was fairly certain he’d made her uncomfortable by gripping her
arm and leaning into her personal space. He’d obviously triggered her fear of him with his
proximity, and he would need to be more careful in the future, letting her approach him and
set her own boundaries where she would be most at ease. It would be difficult, since he liked
being near her--he felt warm, which was rare anymore, and relaxed when she was close--but
he had enough to control to make it happen. That was fairly straightforward.

It was difficult to fix it or alter his behaviour when he had no idea why Draco was angry with
him in the first place, though, so that bothered him a little more. And then Hermione said
that he should talk to Draco about things? How in the world did she expect that to work
when he couldn’t seem to keep from provoking Draco without broaching difficult and painful
subjects? No, he would stick to the tried and true--keep out of Draco’s way and don’t speak
unless spoken to, until the storm blew over.

Shivering, Lucius slouched down in the chair with an unhappy sigh. Every time he felt like
he was on a little more stable ground, something would happen to mess it all up again. It was
usually his own fault, though, so he felt even worse for complaining about it, even mentally.
Everything he said and everything he did was wrong, had been for almost his entire life, and
although he now recognised the fact, he was at a loss when it came to learning to say and do
the right things. He also was beginning to feel a little like no one was noticing when he did
manage to change something, which was more than a little upsetting. He hadn’t made any
derogatory remarks about Muggle-borns in several months, and had, in fact, been praising
Muggles and their ingenuity for almost as long, but everyone was still acting like he hated
them.

He was very discouraged.

Tibby appeared with a pop that probably took several years off his life. He bit his tongue on
the curses that wanted to spill out of his mouth; surprisingly, it was getting easier with
practise.

‘Is Master wanting his fire lit?’ Tibby asked, and her usual sneer was oddly absent. She was
a lot less ugly when she wasn’t making a horrible face at him.

‘Yes, please, Tibby,’ he said wearily but politely.

He’d continued his policy of being kinder to his house elves for Hermione’s sake, and for the
first time, it actually seemed to be paying off. Tibby wasn’t sneering, and he hadn’t had to
call for her to get her to come and light the fire for him, she had come on her own. That had
never happened before that he could recall.

The fire was soon snapping merrily, the warmth making him tingle as he thawed a little.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, staring into the flames.

‘Would Master like a blanket?’ she asked.

He did a double-take at her nearly-kind tone. Her expression was almost…gentle. Lucius
was very confused now, and beginning to be a little suspicious. Still, he would like a blanket,
and even if she was up to something, he couldn’t think of anything too horrible she could get
up to with just a blanket. He made a mental note to eat with caution at dinner.

‘If…you wouldn’t mind, Tibby, yes, I would like a blanket,’ he said carefully. ‘Please.’

It appeared with a snap of her fingers. There didn’t seem to be any foul play that he could
detect. It was just a blanket. He snuggled down into it unashamedly.

‘Thank you, Tibby,’ he sighed, and shut his eyes.

He would take this bit of kindness at face value, for now. He needed it too much to quibble
over details, like the fact that he felt absurdly grateful to a house elf , of all things.

‘Master is most welcome,’ Tibby said with an unprecedented amount of gentleness in her
scratchy, squeaky voice. ‘If Master is needing anything else, Tibby would be happy to help.’

‘I’m fine now, thank you,’ he mumbled.

He hadn’t felt particularly tired before, but the warmth was making him sleepy already. He
hadn’t realised how cold he was. The crack of Tibby’s departure was much, much softer than
normal, so it didn’t rouse him, and soon he was asleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione stared awkwardly at Mr Goyle from across the table. He stared back, blinking
slowly, like a cow or a sheep. Neville and ‘Greg,’ as he’d insisted on being called (since it
was a social call), were deep in low, murmured conversation, and had been ever since they
got over the initial uncomfortable stages of seeing someone you’d once slept with but hadn’t
seen for a very, very long time in a non-hostile environment. They had started out sitting
normally, but had gradually leaned closer and closer until their heads nearly touched over the
table.

She had an idea or two of where this was probably going. She had no intention of being
around to see it when it got that far. Once was more than enough.

‘This is good,’ she commented, pointing at the lamb.

Mr Goyle grunted. She supposed he was agreeing.

No matter how many times she came over to help them with their school work, Hermione
still couldn’t quite get used to the Goyles. They were slow, and rarely spoke, and not very
intelligent at all. Buckbeak had more brains than the two of them put together, it seemed at
times. She supposed she’d grown rather fond of them over time, the way one is fond of a dog
that has never quite grasped what ‘sit’ means, but she couldn’t see herself ever making
friends with them. Mr Goyle in particular seemed uninterested in her outside of passing her
class, although Goyle, Jr.--Greg--had made a few friendly overtures, asking after her on more
than one occasion. She responded politely and asked after him in turn, and that was about as
far as their non-school-related interactions had gone. Since it meant he was trying to be nice,
and he’d stopped calling her a Mudblood, she was more than satisfied with that level of
friendship, if you could call it that. Although, for a Goyle, ‘How are you?’ was the
equivalent of a ten-page dissertation on the long-term effects of deforestation, so she was
actually quite impressed he managed it on a fairly regular basis.

Hermione thought she could see what Neville saw in Greg, though, now that she was seeing
them together in a non-brain-breaking way. Neville had never been particularly concerned
with high-minded intellectual discourse (he got enough of that at work, and in a subject he
actually cared about), so Greg’s halting, sometimes painfully obvious comments on the state
of Wizarding Britain today were more like soothing chit chat, which was more Neville’s
speed outside of work.

He also had a tendency to get steamrollered during conversations with Harry, Ron, and Draco
(and sometimes with certain girlfriends he’d had), being a more laid-back, quiet type. When
that happened, he would simply fall silent until his opinion was solicited again, seemingly
unbothered. That never happened with Greg, that she could see. He listened intently and
seriously to everything Neville said, frowning with concentration, and then paused a moment
to formulate a response before he spoke. She mostly tuned out their actual conversation, but
she didn’t need to hear it to see their body language, to see that they took turns and listened
attentively to one another. She could also see that both young men were a lot more relaxed
and content than she’d seen either of them, in Neville’s case for a long, long time.

‘Are you dating Longbottom?’ Mr Goyle asked slowly, scrunching up his face with the effort.

Hermione smiled. ‘No. He just asked me to come along for moral support. He wasn’t sure
why he’d been invited.’

Mr Goyle thought about that for so long that she had decided he wasn’t going to reply at all
by the time he actually did.

‘Gregory remembered the other day that they hadn’t had a date in a while,’ he said sluggishly.
‘He can’t take Longbottom out for a proper date again until our probation is over.’

Hermione stared, frozen. Neville hadn’t been aware that this was a date, or he wouldn’t have
asked her along. In fact, as far as she knew, the only not-hostile encounter Greg and Neville
had ever had was the one incident she’d (unfortunately) witnessed, and then Goyle had gone
back to ignoring or harassing Neville for the rest of their school career. Apparently, that
fumbling attempt at intercourse had counted as a date in Goyle’s addled brain, and he’d
considered the two of them a couple ever since. She hoped Neville was okay with having a
‘date’ once every four years, since that had been how long it took for ‘Greg’ to realise they
hadn’t had one in ‘a while.’

She would have to ask Draco or Luci--no, definitely ask Draco if any of this was normal
behaviour for purebloods, or if all of it was just a strange Goyle thing.
Mr Goyle was starting to bristle. She had to wait several minutes to find out why.

‘Is it a problem for you that my son is gay?’ he growled protectively.

She relaxed, relieved. ‘No, it’s not a problem, Mr Goyle. I just didn’t know this was
intended as a date, or I would’ve declined Neville’s invitation so they could be alone.’

He processed, slowly losing the aggressive posture. ‘Oh. That’s okay, then.’

‘Hmm.’

By the time she finished her meal, Neville and Greg were still deep in conversation, and
showed no signs of motion.

‘Neville? I’m going to go now,’ she said loudly and clearly.

He waved a hand in acknowledgement and continued explaining something to Goyle, Jr.,

possibly about bubotubers, but they were so close and he was murmuring so softly that she
couldn’t be sure. Shaking her head with a wry smile, she said good-bye to Goyle, Sr., and
vacated the premises.

Hermione’s first instinct was to go back to Malfoy Manor, to Lucius, to try to apologise again
for hurting his feelings--somehow--she still wasn’t quite clear on what had happened between
them. She knew he was standing very, very close, holding her arm, leaning closer than he
ever had before. She knew she’d been very, very, very tempted to throw caution to the wind
and kiss him, and that was bad . She also knew that his eyes had been almost magnetic in
their intensity, and she wished now that she’d lowered her Occlumency shields, just a little,
just enough to find out what he was thinking as he stared at her and tried to convince her to
stay.

A new fear had wormed its way into her gut, joining the many other fears she had about her
inappropriate feelings for Lucius.

It was this that made her go home instead. She couldn’t face Lucius head-on, with near-
perfect honesty (no need to mention the fact that she was rather desperately in love with him,
to the point that she had actually considered whether or not she would want to change her last
name if they got married, before roundly chastising herself and shoving those thoughts
away), until she had analysed and tucked away this new fear with the other ones.

Crookshanks watched her tidy up from the windowsill, twitching his tail and continuing to
look very put out about the lack of proper napping spaces. Hermione tried to ignore his
judging stare as she put away the stacks of newspapers, considering her newest reason not to
start anything with Lucius.

This fear was a lot more personal, like the fear that Lucius was just playacting in order to get
her sympathy so she would pass him. That particular fear was mostly assuaged by now--she
didn’t think even he could pretend to be soothed out of an intensely horrible nightmare by her
and not Draco. Her new fear was that it was all gratitude. She was there for Lucius, she
helped him in and out of class, she was around and kept him company. She and Draco were
the only ones who were around on a consistent basis (well, the only ones he liked, anyway, as
the Weasleys and Luna didn’t really count). Constant exposure and gratitude could have him
thinking he felt more for her than he really did.

That was actually the most likely explanation, honestly. Lucius had a lot to offer her , with
his inexhaustible fortune, his gigantic manor with matching library, his intelligence and his
ability to hold an interesting conversation, his good looks and suave manner. He made her
laugh, he made her feel as though her presence was very welcome and her thoughts were
important. He made her feel good about herself.

By contrast, she had very little to offer him besides a passing mark in Muggle Studies, and
therefore a release from his probation. She cooked him meals that he liked, too, she
supposed. She couldn’t think of anything to draw his interest if he wasn’t stuck in his current
situation. If he didn’t need her for class, there was no reason for him to want to have any
kind of conversation with her. If he didn’t need her food because he could eat out at a
restaurant he actually liked, he wouldn’t need her to come over.

Hermione wasn’t elegant and polished and beautiful. She wasn’t rich. She was opinionated
and stubborn, and sometimes even rude, when the situation called for it. She wasn’t as
boorish as, say, Ron could be when his temper got the better of him, but she certainly wasn’t
nearly in Narcissa and Lucius’s class when it came to style and grace. Left to her own
devices, she leaned toward the well-worn, ‘jeans you’ve owned for six years but you can’t
bear to part with them because they’re just so comfortable , even if they have got about
twenty holes in them by now’ side. Her hair was a frizzy, bushy, curly mess at all times, even
when she managed to wrangle it into some kind of shape. She had a very plain face and an
equally plain body that might even be considered slightly boyish, by some. She was very
firmly middle class, in both finances and attitudes--while she and Lucius agreed a lot on
Ministry politics, and he had come around on the topic of blood status, there was still a lot
that Lucius didn’t understand or thought beneath him. Once he wasn’t stuck at home, he
could get intelligent enough conversation just about anywhere he pleased, so hers was mostly
of interest to him because he was, essentially, a captive audience. Even on a friendship-only
level, she didn’t see any reason for him to feel so strongly about her once he was free.

And on the relationship level, the forbidden, wistful imaginings she kept trying to banish…
well, before her, there was Narcissa. Hermione compared herself to his ex-wife and found
herself wanting in every way imaginable.

Once Lucius was free, there was no way he would be interested in Hermione, romantically or
otherwise. It was probably the most depressing thought she’d ever had, but there it was.

Sighing, she sat down, hugging a pile of newspapers. Crookshanks hopped down from the
sill and came over to rub against her, now that there was room for him on the sofa. He licked
her knuckles, purring, and proceeded to give himself a bath.

‘You still love me, Crooks?’ she murmured.

He purred a little louder in affirmation.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius woke with a stiff neck and a very dim outlook on life. It appeared to be late evening,
and he could hear Draco moving around down the hall, evidently returned from both
shopping and dinner at Harry’s. He wasn’t certain whether to be glad or upset that Draco
hadn’t come and woken him. He settled on relief instead that Draco hadn’t found a reason to
yell at him. The fire was still burning strong, so evidently Tibby was keeping an eye on it
without being asked again.

He stretched some of the stiffness out, but his neck continued to ache in the spot it had been
strained before. He cursed himself for falling asleep in a chair--he should’ve known better.

Draco still didn’t come, so Lucius readied for bed and slid between the covers, feeling lonely
and a little abandoned. He still wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad that Draco was
avoiding him. He supposed it was better to be lonely than to be snapped at, though.

The rest of his night was disrupted with nightmares. Every time he recovered from one and
tried to go back to sleep, it seemed to return with a vengeance, keeping him awake and
agitated most of the night. And Draco still didn’t come.

Lucius wished for Hermione, but he wasn’t certain she would come if he Floo-called and
asked, and he didn’t think he could take it if she said no, so he did his best to get through
alone.

He gave up on sleep when the sun rose. His neck still ached, making turning his head very
difficult, and he felt tired and nauseated, but he couldn’t take another repetition of sleep-
nightmare-wake up.

Draco barely looked up from his newspaper and tea when Lucius entered, grunting instead of
saying good morning. Following his ‘lying low’ policy, Lucius nodded stiffly, even though
Draco wasn’t looking to see it, and sat as silently as possible. He still felt sick, so it was very
easy to quietly nibble at some toast so as not to disturb Draco any further. He’d been hoping
to ask for a potion for the pain in his neck, if conditions had improved, but Draco seemed
icier than ever, his face set in hard lines, so Lucius abandoned the notion.

After breakfast, Draco locked himself in his study. Lucius moped around in the hallway
outside of it for a while, but there wasn’t a sound from within, so finally he retreated to the
library. He would’ve just gone back to bed, but he didn’t want to get caught out when Draco
was already angry with him.

He was determined to be presentable for dinner tonight, as well, as much as the thought of
trying to entertain the Weasleys made his already-sick stomach clench. It was hard to be
around them for different reasons than it had been before, but it didn’t make it any less
difficult. If anything, it was much more difficult.

His tentative overtures were meeting with varying responses. Percy had been completely
oblivious to the tension from the start, so he had easily and eagerly accepted Lucius’s
listening ear when Lucius had asked how things were at his job (much to his regret). Ron
had reacted with shock and confusion to an equally innocent query, and Lucius thought
perhaps he’d made things worse unintentionally. Ginny hadn’t even noticed Lucius’s
attempts to be polite and ask after her health, partly because she was so completely focused
on Draco, and partly because it was hard to get a word in with her. Molly hadn’t seemed to
notice, either, mostly because Lucius was already polite to her. She’d certainly noticed when
he asked her to dance at the party, though, and her face had remained scarlet for the rest of
the night. He didn’t think the twins really counted. In fact, he was so wary of them that he
didn’t think he should talk to them ever, lest they get ideas in their heads.

Then, of course, there was Arthur. Lucius had been dreading talking to him ever since the
moment he realised he ought to apologise to him. Draco had picked out a book on
automobiles as Lucius’s Christmas gift/peace offering to Arthur, and Draco had delivered
Arthur’s short and to-the-point thank-you note, but that was all that had come of it. He’d had
no indication that any kind of attempt to talk to him would be welcome, so Lucius had
continued avoiding him. He didn’t really want to talk to Arthur alone. He didn’t want to be
tackled, and possibly punched, especially since he wasn’t feeling well today. However, now
was as good a time as any, with Draco angry with him and Hermione frightened off, and he
did deserve whatever Arthur decided to dish out. Might as well pile on a little more misery
and have it over.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was very, very tense as they headed to the manor, but Harry was kind enough not
to mention it. She took several deep breaths and tried to relax, but it didn’t really work.

To her surprise, Lucius wasn’t closed off, as he’d been that day, and he didn’t step away from
her when she stepped closer. Now that her initial fear was proved wrong, she studied him
closer. He looked anxious but cautiously hopeful, under his usual cold, superior mask. His
eyes flickered as she stepped even nearer, brightening just a little. And…she realised that he
was holding his head, neck and shoulders very still, and hunched over slightly, trying not to
show any weakness.

He was hurting.

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was greeting Harry. He didn’t so much as look at Lucius,
not even for a second. She made a mental note to observe further and turned back to Lucius,
who appeared anxious again.

She smiled. ‘Hi,’ she said softly, stepping a little closer still and brushing the backs of her
fingers against his. ‘Sorry I had to go so quickly yesterday.’

His mouth twisted slightly. ‘That’s all right,’ he said quietly, dropping his eyes for a moment.
‘Did Neville’s…uh, project go well?’
‘Oh, it went very, very well,’ she said dryly. ‘Neville was quite pleased. I was mostly there
for moral support, and I ended up being bored. How was your evening?’

Lucius rolled his shoulders in a very careful shrug, but she saw his faint wince anyway. ‘It
was all right.’

She nudged him and they started walking toward the sitting room, following the trail of
Weasleys. She did hang back a bit, though, so that everyone else went inside ahead of them,
and she drew him to a stop just outside of the sitting room, throwing up a quick privacy
charm.

‘Where does it hurt?’ she asked without preamble.

He blinked, surprised. ‘I don’t--’

‘I can see that you’re in pain,’ she said impatiently. ‘Don’t lie to me. What happened?’

He crumpled just a bit, and she could see his exhaustion as his mask faltered. She resisted
the urge to draw him into her arms, but only barely.

‘My neck,’ he admitted meekly, rubbing one side of it. ‘I fell asleep in a chair, and it…
aggravated an old injury. I should’ve known better, but I wasn’t thinking….’

Hermione cringed inwardly. She knew what old injury he was referring to. Fortunately, it
was her policy to always come prepared. Her beaded bag was always on her person, and she
kept it well-stocked with emergency supplies.

‘ Accio ,’ she muttered, and the pain potion shot into her open palm. She held it out to him.
‘Here. I think I need to buy you and Draco your own stock of potions.’

Lucius accepted it hesitantly, uncorking the dose and knocking it back when she made an
encouraging gesture. He made a face at the taste and handed the vial back. Almost instantly,
she could see the tension melting out of his shoulders.

‘Thank you.’ He paused. ‘We have a stock of potions somewhere. Draco moved them and
locked them up around the same time that he locked away the alcohol.’

‘Oh.’

There were probably some dangerous things in their supply of potions, then. She didn’t ask
why he hadn’t just asked Draco for a dose--she had continued to note that Draco avoided
even looking at Lucius, not really acknowledging his existence. She knew Draco was upset
with himself, but he was taking it out on Lucius, whether he realised it or not. She would
have to find a moment to speak with him alone.

He was still hunching over slightly, and though he tried to make the movement casual to
avoid notice, she very plainly saw it when he put a hand over his stomach, the corners of his
eyes tightening in a barely noticeable wince. In the next instant, he seemed fine again, but
Hermione was not deceived.
‘What else?’ she demanded, folding her arms.

Lucius attempted an innocent expression. ‘What?’

She raised a brow, unimpressed. ‘What’s wrong with your stomach? Is it hurting, too?
Because I know you know that’s a different potion.’

He sighed. ‘I can’t get anything past you anymore, can I?’

‘Nope,’ she said smugly. ‘Do you have a stomachache, or are you nauseated?’

He grimaced, hunching a little more. ‘Nausea.’

Hermione got out the correct potion and handed it to him as well, frowning at him with
concern.

‘Are you getting sick?’ she asked as gently as she could.

Lucius drank that potion, too, and handed back the empty vial. He didn’t look very sure of
himself when he answered.

‘I don’t think so?’ he said tentatively.

Her frown deepened. ‘Well, if you still want me to come tomorrow, I’m going to keep an eye
on you, if you don’t feel any better.’

‘Of course I still want you to come!’ he cried immediately, only to shrink back a little,
looking at her uncertainly. ‘If…if you still want to come, that is.’

Hermione nodded, smiling to put him at ease. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I’d like to see if
Draco actually manages to stay up until midnight, or if he ends up coming home early.
Besides, the Weasleys are even rowdier than usual on New Year’s Eve. I’ve already told
them I’ve got plans with you.’

He slowly relaxed. ‘Oh, good.’

‘I guess we’d better get back to the others, before Draco freaks out,’ she teased.

Lucius sighed. ‘If we must.’

She dropped the privacy charm and his cool mask returned, and they joined the group in the
sitting room. No one seemed to have noticed their absence, thankfully.

Dinner went fairly smoothly, although she couldn’t help noting that Lucius was much quieter
than usual, and despite her potion helping (or at least he claimed it had helped), he still didn’t
seem to have much of an appetite. She didn’t comment, mostly to avoid embarrassing him
by drawing Mrs Weasley’s attention to his poor appetite. She also noted that Lucius stared at
Draco mournfully several times, only to continue to be ignored, and he kept shooting nervous
glances at Arthur. Arthur had noticed that part as well, and frowned at Lucius, which only
caused him to get more nervous-looking.
She didn’t get to find out what that was about, though, because as soon as dinner was over,
Neville came over and asked to speak to her privately. She noted with concern that Lucius
was approaching Arthur in small, roundabout steps, but Neville’s anxious expression
persuaded her to let it be, although she remained very curious about what might be about to
happen in the sitting room.

Neville guided her back into the now-empty dining room, and cleared his throat several
times.

‘Neville, it’s okay,’ she said when he still failed to speak. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure you’re
more upset about it than I am.’

He didn’t look like that made him feel any better. ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he blurted,
sticking his hands in his pockets and hanging his head. ‘I pretty much abandoned you at
dinner last night.’

She smiled. ‘It’s all right. I was just glad it went so smoothly. You were so nervous, I
thought they were going to eat us or something.’

He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Well, and I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I wouldn’t
have asked you to come along if I thought it was going to be all….’

‘Date-like?’ she suggested gently.

His ears turned red. ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said kindly, patting his shoulder. ‘I didn’t know, either. Who knew the
Goyles move so slowly?’

He smiled hesitantly. ‘I think it might be us purebloods in general. I’m not exactly a fast
mover, either, and look at how long it took Draco to get around to asking Ginny out, or how
long it’s taking Lucius to ask you out. I mean, he moves so slowly he didn’t even manage to
ask you for a dance before you left the ball.’

Hermione felt as though all the blood had drained from her body. Her lips were slightly
numb, but she managed to speak through them somehow.

‘What makes you think Lucius wants to ask me out?’

Neville tilted his head, puzzled. ‘Well, doesn’t he? I mean, he only has eyes for you, always.
Especially at the ball, though--no matter who he was dancing with, he was always looking
for you. It’s like he doesn’t even know there are other women in the room when you’re
around--scratch that, it’s like he doesn’t know there are other people in the room when you’re
there.’

Her heart was pounding and it took an effort to draw a breath. She tried a little laugh, but it
sounded more like a wheeze.

‘I’m sure he wasn’t looking at me the whole time,’ she said weakly. ‘What about when he
was dancing with Narcissa, for example?’
Neville shrugged. ‘Still looking for you. He just about left her standing there in the middle
of a dance when he saw Harry escorting you out, I thought, but he ended up staying. He kept
looking at the door, though, and he went after you as soon as the dance was over.’

She pulled out a chair and sat quickly. ‘Oh….’

She pressed a hand to her chest, Lucius’s own words echoing back to her-- ‘I do know that I
did my best to be faithful to Narcissa in word, deed, and thought. That includes schooling
one’s eyes, not allowing stray glances.’--‘ I would never expect my partner to show the same
level of commitment, but personally, I try to keep my eyes where they belong--on my
partner.’--‘If one is truly devoted to one’s partner, one shouldn’t need to look elsewhere.’

She physically waved her hand, shaking her head violently. That was different --he was
talking about Narcissa. Just because he looked at Hermione a lot didn’t mean anything.
They were just friends . She couldn’t let it be anything more than that. No matter how much
her heart was aching at the moment, yearning for it to mean what Neville thought it meant.

No!

Neville peered at her worriedly. ‘Are you all right? Do you need a glass of water? I didn’t
mean to upset you.’

Hermione clamped down on her emotions fiercely, using every bit of Occlumency training
she’d ever had. She managed a fair impression of a smile, waited for her heart to calm before
she stood.

‘It’s all right. I’m fine. I think you’re mistaken,’ she added gently.

He did not look convinced. ‘Maybe we should go sit where it’s more comfortable. I still
think you should drink some water.’

‘Maybe,’ she agreed, and let him escort her to a comfortable chair and fuss over her, which,
naturally, got everyone else in the room involved in fussing over her. She passed it off as a
faint spell.

Lucius and Arthur were nowhere to be seen.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius was trembling, he noted as if it was happening to someone else. Odd, that he’d never
imagined a circumstance in his life where he would tremble before Arthur Weasley.

Not that he really had a reason to be so afraid--yet. He had asked Arthur if he might have a
private word with him; Arthur had agreed, albeit suspiciously, and they had retired to the
library. Neither of them had said a word yet. Lucius’s tongue seemed to be glued to the roof
of his mouth, and Arthur was standing by one of the reading tables, studying Lucius’s
Muggle Studies books with keen interest.

‘I….’

Lucius stopped rasping. His throat was completely dry all of a sudden. He tried to clear his
throat, but that didn’t seem to help.

Arthur looked up from the textbooks and watched him coolly. That didn’t help, either.

Another silent moment passed. Sighing, Arthur took a few steps back in his direction,
although he made sure to stop farther than two arm’s-lengths.

‘Lucius?’

He tried not to look as terrified as he felt, but doubted he’d managed it. ‘Yes?’

‘Are we just going to stand here staring at each other all night, or are you going to say
whatever’s on your mind, eventually?’ Arthur asked flatly, folding his arms.

‘I….’ He tried to clear his throat again, but his voice remained thin and raspy. ‘I’m going to
say it, eventually.’

Arthur raised his brows and looked expectant.

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together behind his back to hide their shaking. ‘I
wanted…to apologise,’ he managed to choke out roughly.

Arthur stared at him blankly, his arms dropping to his sides the only sign that he’d heard.

‘I didn’t….’ Lucius coughed, staring at the toes of his shoes because suddenly, Arthur’s stare
was too much. ‘I was wrong. You were right. I didn’t…understand. That I was helping
destroy everything I was trying to save. I…. I’m sorry about the things I’ve said about you
and your family.’ He tried to swallow and his throat made an audible squeak. ‘You’re a
better man than I am, and I’m…. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just wanted
you to know.’

His halting apology ended, and he couldn’t quite make himself to look up to gauge Arthur’s
expression. The silence stretched until he thought he might die from the tension.

‘I’m sorry I tackled you in a bookstore,’ Arthur said at last.

Lucius was so surprised that he huffed out a laugh. When he looked up, Arthur was smiling
crookedly, his cheeks slightly pink. His next attempt to clear his throat was more successful.

‘I didn’t really mind,’ Lucius admitted, smiling wryly. ‘Other than the one book hitting me in
the eye. I hadn’t roughhoused like that since I was a boy. The next time you decide to tackle
me, though, maybe do it where there’s nothing heavy to fall on us?’
Arthur’s smile firmed up. ‘Noted.’ His eyes drifted back toward the reading table. ‘I’ve
been quite jealous of you, you know?’

Lucius started, blinking. ‘Jealous? Of me?’

‘Yes, I’ve been rather jealous that you get to take Muggle Studies and I don’t,’ Arthur
explained, running a covetous hand over one of the books. ‘I would audit it, if I didn’t have
to work.’

‘Oh.’ Well, that definitely made sense. ‘You should ask Hermione if she’ll lend you the
textbooks,’ he suggested, walking over to join him. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind explaining
anything you don’t understand. Or you can wait until I’ve finished the class, and you can
borrow mine.’

Arthur did a double-take. ‘Really?’

Lucius shrugged. ‘Why not? They are quite fascinating. I’ve been reading ahead a bit into
the intermediate textbook, and apparently, the Muggle legal system involves something called
“due process.” Or, a lot of them do, I should say. The different countries all do things
differently. It’s very confusing.’

Arthur nodded absently. ‘Ooooh, what’s that?’

He’d spied the book on electronics.

‘Hermione gave me that for Christmas,’ Lucius said happily. ‘Do you want to look at it?’

‘Do I ever!’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione and Draco were supposed to be helping to search for Lucius and Arthur, but
instead, Hermione was dragging Draco into his study. She wasn’t concerned for Arthur’s
safety, given that she didn’t think Lucius’s intentions were malicious when he approached
Arthur, and she was fairly confident that Arthur wasn’t beating Lucius to a pulp. Fairly. A
little, teensy bit of worry was niggling at her, but mostly she wasn’t concerned. She certainly
wasn’t as riled up as Mrs Weasley and Harry, who were both convinced that Lucius and
Arthur were currently locked in mortal combat. Ginny was helping them look because, as
she said, she wanted to see the Fight in the Bookstore: The Sequel.

It helped settle Hermione’s worries that Lucius didn’t have a wand, and Arthur was a decent
fellow who wouldn’t attack an unarmed wizard unless severely provoked. Anyway, her talk
with Draco was at least as important as what Lucius and Arthur might be getting up to.

‘Okay, ow, that was my arm,’ Draco said, pouting and rubbing the offended limb. ‘What did
I ever do to you?’
She glared at him. ‘Do you really want to go there? And quit being a baby.’

His pout grew. ‘I’m not being a baby,’ he muttered, but dropped it, because while it was all
water under the bridge now, he really did not want to go into all the things he’d done to her in
the past, as she’d suspected. ‘What do you want?’

Hermione got straight to the point. ‘Why are you ignoring Lucius?’

He dropped his eyes guiltily, not trying to deny it.

‘Stop it,’ she snapped. ‘Stop it right now . I know you’re upset about what you told me, but
you’re frightening him.’

Draco’s brow furrowed. ‘Frightening Father ? That’s not possible.’

‘Yes, it is. You know it is. He’s afraid of making you angry. He’s afraid of pushing you
away. With you ignoring him like this, he’s afraid he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t
know what, exactly, which only makes him more afraid.’

He frowned. ‘He told you this?’

Hermione sighed. ‘Not about this situation in particular, but he has told me that he’s afraid to
ask you things or talk to you about certain things because he doesn’t want to lose you.’

Draco’s jaw dropped. ‘ Lose me?! Why would he lose me? That’s just insane!’

She shook her head, perching on the edge of a chair. ‘Not to Lucius, it isn’t. He thinks that if
he makes you angry enough, you’ll leave. I told him he needed to talk to you about
something, and that’s what he told me. And now you’re acting like this and you’re making it
worse.’

He continued to look shell-shocked, gaping at her.

‘The two of you need to talk. Really talk,’ she said sternly.

His face immediately turned red. ‘I can’t,’ he mumbled guiltily.

Hermione scowled. ‘You’re going to have to, eventually. It’s not right that Lucius nearly has
a panic attack every time you look at him wrong.’

Draco looked at the floor glumly. He couldn’t argue her point, but she could see that he still
lacked the courage to actually do anything about it.

‘For now, you need to at least need to start paying attention to him again. Did you even know
his neck hurt and he was nauseated?’

He looked up sharply. She nodded, raising her brows.

‘No, I…I didn’t know,’ he admitted softly, guilt flooding his face.
‘It was bad. Luckily, I had the right potions with me, although who knows how long that has
been going on. His neck was the worst. He couldn’t hide the pain, it was so bad.
Apparently, he fell asleep in a chair. Did you know that ?’ she asked, just a touch snidely.

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

‘Even if you can’t bring yourself to say what clearly needs to be said, you still need to pay
attention so he doesn’t run himself into the ground again.’

He nodded quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to, I just felt so bad….’

She softened. ‘I know. But Lucius needs us both right now. He’s still not quite ready to
stand on his own two feet. He needs to know we’re there for him. I think that alone helps
him.’

Draco nodded again, squaring his shoulders. ‘I’ll do better. Are you still coming over
tomorrow night?’

She grinned. ‘It’s either that or go to the Weasleys’ party with you. Which do you think?’

‘Well, at least I know he won’t be alone,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I suppose we’d better
actually join the search party now.’

She sighed. ‘I suppose.’

They were assailed by Harry and Mrs Weasley (trailed by a much calmer Ginny) as soon as
they stepped out of the study. Both of them looked frantic.

‘We can’t find them anywhere !’ Mrs Weasley cried, wringing her hands. ‘Do you think they
went outside to fight?’

Hermione exchanged a glance with Draco. ‘Lucius isn’t allowed outside,’ she said patiently,
mentally adding Yet . ‘Did you check the library? That’s Lucius’s usual haunt.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, calming immediately. ‘We didn’t think of that.’

Sighing, Hermione led the little procession to the library doors. She had to cover her mouth
with her hand to stifle a giggle, and she pressed a finger to her lips for silence before she let
the others peek around her.

Lucius and Arthur were sitting at one of the reading tables, their heads bent together over a
book. Arthur was explaining the difference between Alternating Current and Direct Current,
occasionally tapping some picture or passage in the book for reference, while Lucius listened
intently, nodding along with an expression of concentration. Neither of them were red or
clenching their jaws.

The little group silently withdrew. Draco, Ginny and Mrs Weasley were completely
gobsmacked, and didn’t speak even after they were back in the sitting room.
Harry just looked bemused. ‘Well, I don’t think they’re killing each other today, then,’ he
said ruefully.

Hermione let out the giggles she’d been holding in. The sight of Arthur and Lucius
voluntarily getting along, alone , was one thing she’d never thought she’d see, and she felt
very light, knowing such a thing was possible in the world. It made her feel very hopeful.
 Tense Relations
Chapter Summary

Hermione and Lucius continue to dance around their feelings--and each other. Draco
grows more hostile--to everyone. After New Year's, Hermione meets with Kingsley;
they improve Lucius's situation, and Kingsley reveals Lucius's secret activities.
Hermione and Lucius celebrate that he only has 150 days left in his probation.

Chapter Notes

This chapter is mostly a bridge, and it was a pain in the butt. It did not want to be
written, lol. The worst offender was the scene where Hermione breaks the news about
Lucius's new probation restrictions. I really could not think of any other way that a
feeling, thinking human being would react, so hopefully it works.

Anyway, here it is. Hermione is protective, Lucius is in a confused state of denial,

Draco's being a jerk, and Kingsley is awesome. I hope you enjoy! :)

Lucius was waiting anxiously when Hermione arrived in their entrance hall, bouncing on the
balls of his feet with a tense expression. He immediately stepped forward to help her with
the armful of goodies she’d brought, though, despite the wary glance he flicked at her face
while he did it. She pretended not to notice.

‘Thanks,’ she said with a smile. ‘Did Draco already leave?’

He nodded tightly. ‘Yes, and you should have told me the Weasleys have a New Year’s Eve
party, I wouldn’t have--’

‘Lucius, remember how crazy I told you they get at Christmas?’

He frowned. ‘Yes?’

‘Multiply that by about sixty for New Year’s,’ she said dryly, setting down her bag on the
nearest end table when they reached the sitting room. ‘Believe me, if you hadn’t invited me
over instead, giving me a very handy excuse to not go to their party, I would have invited
myself over. Last year, Mrs Weasley decided to party like it was 1999, since it was going to
be at midnight, and she broke into the Firewhisky, and I have zero desire to ever see that
again. Plus, the twins go all out at New Year’s. I don’t think I need to tell you that all sane
people head for the hills.’
‘Oh.’ Lucius sat when she did, but she could see he was still puzzling this out. ‘But Draco,
and Potter, and all of your other friends went to the party,’ he said at length, in a very
confused tone.

‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Lucius, but Draco is insane,’ she said with mock sorrow,
patting his hand. ‘I never claimed the rest of my friends were sane. If I were you, I would be
prepared for anything when an--when Draco returns,’ she added, barely catching herself
before she said ‘and if.’ Given Lucius’s paranoia about Draco leaving, that wasn’t a wise
thing to say, even if it was just an expression.

He nodded seriously, his brows knit with some concern. ‘Noted.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure
it’s safe for my son to be dating a Weasley?’

Hermione laughed. ‘I wouldn’t worry. I dated one, and I survived mostly intact. If there’s
anything Draco knows, it’s survival, so he’ll be fine. Besides, Ginny, despite all indications
to the contrary, is actually one of the saner members of that clan. She’ll protect him from the
worst of it.’

He accepted that, although he continued to look faintly concerned for his only child’s
wellbeing, and Hermione decided to distract him with food. This had only failed once
before, and it didn’t fail now. Lucius immediately perked up when she unveiled the feast of
Mexican cuisine she’d brought, going for the spiciest dishes like a heat-seeking missile. He
was less impressed by the bags of Muggle chocolates she’d stocked up on for just this
occasion.

‘Do you really think we’re going to have room for all of this?’ he said dubiously between
bites of burrito.

She smiled. ‘That’s why New Year’s Day is leftovers day at my house. That way I don’t
have to cook. And you may not be interested now, but trust me, that chocolate is going to
start looking pretty tempting around ten o’clock, when the salt and spices have sunk in and
you’re starting to get thirsty and tired.’

He made a face. ‘That’s what champagne is for,’ he muttered.

She shrugged, not bothering to point out that alcohol is a depressant, so it wouldn’t help the
tired part. ‘Sorry, Draco said no. I asked. Apparently, you tried to sneak a second glass at
Christmas?’

Lucius sulked openly, sinking a little in his chair. ‘He should have taken up a career as a
prison warden,’ he said with an edge that could’ve drawn blood.

She couldn’t hide a wince--the packet was still fresh in her mind--but fortunately, he was
scowling at the floor and didn’t see it.

‘He’s just trying to look out for you,’ she said gently. ‘It wasn’t pretty when you were drunk
all the time. I’m still kind of amazed your liver didn’t call it quits on you.’

He snorted, but she saw the flicker of a smile he was trying to hide.
‘So no champagne, but I brought this strawberry soda stuff I saw when I was out buying the
chocolates. I have no idea what it’s going to taste like, so we’ll find out together!’ she said,
grinning.

He looked up then, giving in to the smile, and they were able to relax again while they ate.
They didn’t really talk about anything of real import, just mindless chit chat about this or
that, but Hermione found herself completely engaged in everything he said anyway, even
when all he said was that the real reason he didn’t like the Weird Sisters was because he
couldn’t understand half of what they were scream-singing, the information going
immediately into her brain as though it was a life-threateningly important fact that she needed
to remember, which it was not.

After they had eaten more than any one person should probably put into the human stomach
in one sitting, she busted out another board game.

‘Not Monopoly this time?’ he said, eyeing the box with interest.

Hermione shook her head. ‘Nope,’ she said firmly. ‘I wanted to bring a game I actually
stood a fair chance of winning this time--Cluedo.’

He sat up a little straighter, his eyes sparkling in a most distracting way. ‘You mean you
didn’t enjoy being bankrupted twenty minutes into the game?’ he teased.

She smiled wryly. ‘Oddly enough, no. I don’t actually care whether I win or not, but it’s nice
to know I’ve got some chance, and I don’t have any chance at all playing Monopoly against
you. You Malfoys are too good at making money--even fake money, apparently.’

Lucius preened, looking impossibly smug, and she couldn’t help a chuckle. It definitely
helped his ego that she was easily crushed both times they played Monopoly, and while
Draco put up an admirable fight, Lucius had still won both times. Still, good for his ego or
not, she needed a break from that for a while.

‘Okay, so Cluedo is sort of a detective-ish game,’ she explained as she got out the board.
‘This rich person named Mr Boddy invited over some very suspiciously evil guests, and one
of them killed him, with one of six weapons, in one of nine rooms. The object of the game is
to figure out who, with what, and where--before everyone else does. It’s more fun if you
have more than two players, but trust me, Crooks is very bad at this game. Last time, he tried
to eat Professor Plum.’

He flashed a grin, stealing her breath for a moment. It took more effort than it should’ve to
focus on setting up the game. Lucius listened and watched intently as she set up and
explained each aspect to him.

‘Hang on,’ he protested when she explained the Confidential folder. ‘If you’re the dealer,
how am I to trust you not to peek at the cards you’ve selected before you put them in there?’

Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes. ‘Of the two of us, I’m the one who’s much less likely to
cheat. Gryffindor, remember?’
He didn’t argue that. ‘That was before I destroyed you at Monopoly,’ he said stubbornly,
although his eyes were gleaming with mischief, so she knew he didn’t really mean it. ‘What
if this is your revenge?’

She raised a brow. ‘Do you want to deal?’

‘Now we both know that’s not a good idea,’ he said dryly. ‘I’m pretty much guaranteed to
cheat.’

A slightly incredulous laugh bubbled out of her. ‘At a board game? Is winning really that
important?’

He raised a brow at her, mimicking her earlier wry expression. ‘Slytherin, remember?’

She giggled. ‘Right, sorry. I forgot that you Malfoys love to win at everything , more than a
person probably should. So what do you suggest, then?’

Lucius tipped his head back and forth, mulling it over. ‘Well….’ He frowned a little. ‘We
could always have Tibby deal instead.’

She blinked, shocked into speechlessness for several seconds. ‘You…you want your house
elf to deal the cards for us?’ she said flatly.

She did not know how to react to this.

‘Yes?’ Lucius said tentatively, nervously chewing his lip.

She tapped the cards against the board. ‘Well, how do I know you won’t just have Tibby tell
you which cards they were?’

‘Oh, she won’t tell,’ he reassured her immediately. ‘She’ll want me to lose, so she’d be more
likely to tell you than me.’

Hermione shook her head, sighing, dropping the cards. ‘All right, fine. If it makes you feel
better.’

He called for Tibby, who appeared with a pop, looking at them expectantly. Lucius quickly
explained what he wanted her to do, but Hermione didn’t really hear the words, because she
was busy being utterly shocked by the way he was saying them. He was… polite . Almost
deferent. To a house elf .

And Hermione couldn’t quite keep her mouth from dropping open when he finished with…
please .

‘May Tibby watch afterward?’ the house elf asked with clear interest.

‘Of course, if you’d like,’ Lucius said in a rather friendly tone.

‘Then Tibby is happy to do this,’ she decided, snapping her fingers, and the cards began
moving faster than the human eye could follow.
‘Thank you,’ Lucius said politely.

Hermione stared at him, quite certain that she’d fallen into some kind of alternate dimension
where pigs actually did fly and Hell was most definitely frozen over.

He noticed her stare and squirmed, frowning self-consciously. ‘What?’

She could not let this one go--there was no way. She let a lot of things pass without comment
for Lucius’s comfort, but this--

‘Did you just thank a house elf?’ she demanded, her voice choked and squeaky.

He squirmed again. ‘Yes.’

‘No, I mean you --did you , Lucius Malfoy, just thank a house elf ?’ she demanded again, her
voice growing stronger.

Tibby looked between them, her ears flapping, but didn’t speak even though she’d finished
with the cards.

Lucius’s cheeks were growing redder with each passing second, and he wouldn’t meet her
eyes. ‘The answer is still yes,’ he said lowly and a bit defensively.

She was frozen for a moment, and then she hopped up and around the table, throwing her
arms around his neck with a squeal. He stiffened with surprise again for less than a second
before clasping his arms around her waist and accepting the overly-enthusiastic hug. She
released him reluctantly when she remembered that he would need to breathe sooner or later,
but couldn’t bring herself to leave the circle of his arms, her hip against the armrest, resting
her hands on his shoulders and toying with the end of a lock of his hair. He smiled, tipping
his head back slightly to look up at her.

‘Oh, Lucius, I could just kiss you!’ she said breathlessly, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt.

His eyes darkened with something very different from fear or depression, darting to glance at
her lips, and she might have forgotten herself and kissed the daylights out of him if Tibby
hadn’t chosen that moment to get impatient.

She cleared her throat. ‘Aren’t Miss Hermione and Master going to play the game?’ she
asked pointedly.

Hermione broke out of his arms, her face burning. ‘Oh, yes, of course. Sorry.’ She returned
to her seat and couldn’t look directly at Lucius for a while. ‘So, which character do you want
to be?’

‘Mr Green,’ he said, and she couldn’t read his tone. It didn’t sound happy, though.

‘Great! I’ll be--’ She was usually Miss Scarlet, when she played with Harry and Ron, but
she didn’t think that was a great idea right now. ‘I’ll be Mrs Peacock.’
They both gradually relaxed during the course of the game, helped by Tibby’s curiosity
breaking any tense moments that might have developed. Hermione won, crying out
triumphantly when she revealed that her guess (Colonel Mustard, in the Lounge, with the
Candlestick) had been correct. Lucius toasted her with his strawberry soda (which turned out
to be really weird but oddly good), smiling indulgently, and popped another chocolate in his
mouth. Despite his earlier wariness of them, she’d noted about halfway through the game
that he was unwrapping them and eating them at almost the same pace she was, but she
decided not to comment, figuring she’d embarrassed him quite enough for one day.

‘Another round?’ Hermione asked, grinning.

Tibby bounced excitedly. ‘May Tibby play this time, too?’ she squeaked.

Hermione was surprised, but she shrugged. ‘Sure, it’s all right with me.’

Lucius blinked at Tibby, but after a moment, he shrugged, too. ‘If you would like. What
character would you like to play?’

Tibby considered the board with comical seriousness, one of her ears twitching. ‘Tibby will
be Mrs White,’ she said firmly in her squeaky, scratchy little voice.

Hermione smiled and suppressed an eye-roll and a sigh. It just figured that the house elf
would want to play the maid. Lucius smirked at her, and she knew he knew what she was
thinking. She stuck her tongue out at him, which only made him smirk some more, his eyes
twinkling with amusement.

It was, as she’d noted, better with more than two players, and the game went a little slower
and was more challenging now that Tibby had joined in--particularly since she was extremely
reluctant to show her cards, even though it was occasionally part of the game to share
information. It came as no surprise when she won, since she’d deliberately withheld a vital
piece of information (the fact that she had the Wrench card) that would otherwise have
allowed Lucius to win. Hermione was still stuck on the room at that point.

To Hermione’s surprise, Lucius didn’t get angry or snap at Tibby, merely applauding her and
offering her one of their chocolates, shooting a wink at Hermione. She smiled slowly, her
throat closing as her heart swelled, full of joy and love for the wonderful man before her. She
even teared up, and had to blink them away before they could collect.

Tibby excused herself after that game, losing interest now that she’d ‘defeated’ them, and
Lucius politely declined when Hermione offered to play another round.

‘I can only take losing so many times in one night,’ he said wryly, acknowledging his
competitive nature.

She shot him another tender smile--they both knew perfectly well that he would’ve won the
previous round if Tibby hadn’t cheated--but she didn’t push it, packing the board up with his
help.
‘Now a wizard game,’ Lucius said imperiously, and sat cross-legged on the floor, removing
something from his pocket.

Hermione blinked away the strangeness of Lucius sitting like a kid, on the floor , and joined
him, laughing when she realised he was setting up Exploding Snap.

He merely grinned at her laughter. ‘I haven’t played since I was in school,’ he confided,
somewhat excitedly.

She shook her head, giggling despite her efforts to squelch it. She’d never really liked
Exploding Snap (what was fun about a game that blew up in your face?), but she couldn’t
deny him, not when he was so happy.

‘Neither have I,’ she said, ‘and you might have to remind me of the rules.’

He did so very willingly, and even though she hadn’t learned to like Exploding Snap in the
last eight years or so, she enjoyed watching him enjoy it, which was almost the same. He
won, which made him even happier, and Hermione figured that made it worth getting her
fingers singed a few times.

Lucius was yawning by the time they cleaned that up, so they relocated to the sofa,
occasionally murmuring something or other to each other, but mostly just silently enjoying
the company, watching the fire snapping in the hearth. Hermione was not at all surprised
when Lucius nodded off around eleven; she smiled to herself and rearranged him more
comfortably so he wouldn’t wake up with another neckache. He didn’t stir, and she moved to
one of the armchairs, watching him sleep and trying to convince herself that she was only
watching for nightmares.

A half hour later, Ginny quietly crept in, a bleary-eyed Draco in tow.

‘He’ll never make it to midnight,’ she whispered.

‘Will so,’ Draco slurred, and nearly tipped over. ‘Whoa.’

Hermione shook her head and got up to help put him to bed. He put up a few token protests,
but as soon as they had him horizontal on the bed, he was asleep, his mouth gaping open
unattractively (although Ginny seemed to think it was cute, judging by her expression).

‘Lucius didn’t make it, either,’ Hermione said quietly as they tiptoed back downstairs. ‘He
fell asleep a little while ago.’

Ginny shook her head, frowning. ‘I hope this is not an indicator of Malfoy stamina in other
areas of life,’ she said darkly, and Hermione choked on her own spit and turned bright red,
which, of course, only amused Ginny.

They settled into the library so they wouldn’t disturb Lucius and talked until midnight
(thankfully not about the theorised sexual prowess of the Malfoys, as Hermione had feared).
When the clock struck twelve, she and Ginny kissed each other on the cheek and toasted
with their hot cocoas.
‘Happy New Year!’ Ginny said with a grin.

‘Happy New Year,’ she agreed, smiling.

Ginny set down her empty cup and rose, stretching. ‘I think I’m going to crash here. They
have enough spare rooms.’

Hermione nodded, yawning. ‘Me, too. I’d rather not venture through the Floo tonight.’

She agreed immediately, pulling a face at the prospect, and stumbled off to find a room.
Hermione cleaned up a bit first, and went back to the sitting room to check on Lucius again.

He was partially curled up on his side, as was his habit, and frowning in his sleep, although
his features smoothed when she gave in to the impulse to comb a stray lock of hair back from
his face, gently threading her fingers through and lightly brushing his cheek. He’d had a
death grip on the cushion, and that, too, eased when she touched him.

Hermione wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was simple hunger for any
kind human touch. After everything he’d been through, even a Weasley giving him a gentle
pat might have eased his tension and soothed his fear. It was unlikely , granted, but it was
possible.

It was very hard for her to remove her hand. He was visibly soothed by her ministrations, and
seeing his kindness toward Tibby, a creature he’d disdained completely only four months
ago, had only stoked her growing love for him. She wondered how long he’d been treating
his house elves with a little more care--Tibby certainly hadn’t seemed surprised to be
thanked, which she would have expected if this was the first occurrence. And why had he
changed his habits? To get better treatment from them? To impress Hermione? Did it really
matter?

No, she decided, it didn’t. Whatever his reasons, Lucius had materially and truly changed for
the better, and she did not care why. She loved him so much she could hardly breathe. There
was no room for anything else at this moment, not even the guilt for loving him.

At last, somewhat shakily, she located a blanket and laid it over him (and he snuggled into it
with a little whimper, tugging at her heartstrings), and then she forced herself to go upstairs.

Once up the stairs, though, she faced a new challenge. The door to Lucius’s room was open,
and it was more than a little tempting to ‘accidentally’ choose that room, to curl up in his
sheets, to breathe his scent on his pillow….

Hermione stood frozen in the doorway for five minutes before her better sense reasserted
itself. What if she got caught? Would the excuse of not knowing it was his room hold up?
Probably not. Worse, what if she got caught by Lucius , returning to his bed after waking in
the middle of the night? No, it was a horrible idea.

She continued down the hallway to the guest room that had been hers while she was there for
Christmas, where she changed into the pyjamas she’d brought along just in case and laid
awake for a long time, hugging the extra pillow and staring into space.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius woke because he could faintly hear other voices, as though people were talking in
another room, and also because something smelled delicious. His stomach growled, waking
him up a little more, although how he could possibly be hungry after the ridiculous amount of
food he’d eaten last night was beyond him, and he realised that the voices were echoing from
somewhere, probably the dining room. In the manner of most sensible people, he decided to
listen to his stomach, and sat up. That was when he realised someone had put a blanket over
him at some point; he smiled instantly at the thought that it was probably Hermione.

He felt very rested again, so there was no stumbling or yawning as he followed the voices to
the dining room, although he did have to rub away some sleep-crust from his eyes. Draco
and Ginny both looked in much worse shape than he did when he stepped in the room--Draco
was half-asleep over his plate, propped up on one hand while the other held his fork up, a
neglected piece of ham sitting on it. He seemed more interested in staring at it than eating it.
Ginny wasn’t quite that bad, but she was glowering at her plate as she nursed a cup of what
looked and smelled like very strong coffee, the dark circles under her eyes making the glare
even more ferocious.

Lucius promptly decided he probably shouldn’t talk to either of them unless they spoke to
him first, and he turned to Hermione instead. She was radiant, smiling beautifully at him as
she set a place for him.

‘Good morning!’ she said brightly. ‘I hope you’re hungry, I made enough breakfast to feed
half of Hogwarts.’

‘Good morning,’ he replied, settling into his spot--at the head of the table, he realised
suddenly. She’d somehow convinced, cajoled or threatened Draco into sitting to his left,
instead. He shot her a bright smile. ‘I’m starving, actually. Although I’m not quite certain
how that’s possible. I thought my stomach was going to erupt last night.’

Hermione chuckled, scooping some eggs onto his plate. ‘I thought mine was, too. It’s weird,
but I’m always hungrier the next morning after overeating the night before. I think it
stretches your stomach out.’

He hummed his agreement with this theory because his mouth was full. She merely looked
amused and sat on his right side with her own plate.

‘Which half?’ he asked when he had to pause for breath.

‘Hmm?’

‘Which half of Hogwarts would it feed?’ he asked, smiling and twirling his fork.
Hermione grinned. ‘The girls, naturally,’ she replied, not taking the bait. ‘For the boys, this
would just be an appetiser.’

Lucius chuckled and shook his head, conceding defeat.

‘So what time did you fall asleep?’ Ginny suddenly asked in a half-growl.

He hesitated. ‘I don’t know? Sometime after ten-thirty, I think.’

Draco snored, and Ginny elbowed him sharply. He woke up just before he would have
painfully met the table, but his fork clattered to the ground. Hermione passed him another
without looking up from her food.

Lucius stiffened as Ginny continued to glower at him. ‘I am sorry that I faltered in my duties
as host,’ he said tersely. ‘I hope the two of you were able to adequately entertain yourselves
in my absence.’

He took another bite, dismissing her, and that turned out to be a mistake.

‘Yeah, we entertained each other just fine,’ she said sharply. ‘We played Truth or Dare, and
at midnight, Hermione and I made out.’

He immediately choked on the bite. Draco stared at Ginny with horror, rapidly reddening.
Hermione had been in the midst of taking a drink, and she sprayed the table with orange
juice, turning more than a little red herself.

‘You what ?!’ Draco half-shrieked.

‘Ginny!’ Hermione squeaked, coughing.

Lucius pounded his chest with his fist, coughing on the lodged food. Fortunately, it was only
a bit of egg, so it budged after another moment.

Ginny grinned wickedly.

‘You didn’t!’ Draco cried, and he was definitely awake now.

‘We didn’t,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘She’s just being--Ginny, why ?? I dated your brother,
that’s just gross!’

She smirked into her hash browns, seeming to grow an appetite now. ‘All right, fine, so we
didn’t make out. You should’ve seen your faces!’

Draco scowled. ‘That was mean . You’re just mean !’

She shot him an evil, unrepentant grin, and he rolled his eyes at her.

Hermione sighed. ‘Ginny, you’re the worst.’

The redhead bounced in her seat a little and looked quite pleased with herself. Lucius very,
very cautiously started eating again, although he kept a wary eye on her in case she opened
her mouth again.

His heart rate was only just beginning to settle, and only part of it was from nearly choking to
death. The other part had been stark terror at an idea he had never even considered--that
Hermione might be a lesbian, that he might be reading her signals all wrong, that she could
never return his feelings in the same way. Even if he hadn’t been choking, he still would’ve
stopped breathing for a moment at the idea that he was physically attracted to someone who
wouldn’t ever look at him that way.

Friendship was all well and good, but a very large part of Lucius was no longer content with
that--he wanted more . He just wasn’t sure she reciprocated, and until he passed her class, he
was too afraid to try to find out. At least she seemed to be straight after all, if her reaction to
the idea of making out with Ginny was any indication, so at the very least, the possibility was
still there.

After breakfast, Hermione quickly pulled Lucius into the sitting room, since Draco didn’t
seem inclined to move any time soon, and Ginny was getting her things together to leave.
Hermione seemed to be annoyed with her, but she didn’t express it toward him. She had the
same thing on her mind that he did, apparently.

‘There’s--there’s nothing going on between me and Ginny,’ she said without preamble,
looking over his shoulder instead of at his face. ‘I’m straight. She’s just--she’s not a
morning person, so she can be kind of evil in the mornings, and also, she’s crazy.’

Lucius inwardly relaxed at this confirmation from her--she was straight. Not exactly a green
light for him, but a much better situation than if she had turned out to be gay, with Ron and
Victor being pre-realisation relationships.

‘Yes, I got that,’ he said dryly. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s safe for my son to be dating a
Weasley?’

Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a wry smile. ‘I don’t know, Lucius, I really don’t
know. I think they get crazier with age. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re safe even being
around them.’

‘They must get it from the Prewett side of the family. Molly is insane, too, but Arthur is
fairly level-headed. Most of the time.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, most of the time. Except when Mrs Weasley instigates something.’

‘Then it’s still her insanity, not his,’ he said ruefully. ‘It just sucks everyone in, like a
vacuum cleaner.’

Her smile broadened into a full-fledged grin, and she met Lucius’s eyes, finally. A part of
him that had been tense uncoiled, his own smile coming easier.
‘Well,’ she said softly, ‘I guess I’d better be going. I promised Harry and Neville that I’d
help them recover from whatever havoc the twins had wrought.’

He raised a brow. ‘But not Ron?’

She shook her head, smirking. ‘They’re his brothers. If he hasn’t learnt how to deal with
them by now, then there’s no help for him.’

A prickle of jealousy he hadn’t even realised was there was soothed a bit, although it didn’t
disappear.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said quietly. ‘I haven’t…that was quite enjoyable.’

He bit his tongue before he could blurt out his primary thought-- Please don’t leave. Or if
you do leave, take me with you. He couldn’t, of course, even if she was willing, but he felt a
strong pull to stay by her side, an irrational desire to follow wherever she went.

She smiled warmly, in that new, gentle way she had of looking at him that made his breath
come short.

‘I agree,’ she said kindly. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. They can fend for themselves,
but I need you….

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon, Lucius.’

‘Goodbye,’ he said sorrowfully.

Hermione touched his cheek, just below where she’d kissed it a moment before, and looked
at him in a sad, weary way, like she knew everything he thought and felt and she was sorry
for it all. Then she was gone, leaving only a whiff of mahogany and old books behind.

‘Father!’ Draco called peevishly.

Lucius sighed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was nearly run over by an excitedly bouncing Justin Finch-Fletchley on her way to
see Kingsley on Tuesday.

‘Ow! Sorry!’ he cried, clumsily steadying her with one hand. His other arm was full of
book--one thick, crusty tome that smelled strongly of mould. ‘Oh! Hi, Hermione! Sorry,
didn’t see you there.’
Her brows raised. ‘So I noticed. What’s got you so worked up?’

He clutched the book, grinning, his hair flopping with each bounce. ‘ This --it’s the book I’ve
been searching for! It arrived over the break--there was no note, but someone found my
book!’

‘That’s--’ He was already gone, bouncing down the hallway. ‘Great,’ she finished lamely,
then shrugged, continuing on her way.

Kingsley was expecting her this time, so he greeted her with a smile and an offer of tea
before getting down to business. They settled into the armchairs set up to one side of his
office; she nervously sipped her tea while he read her proposal. His poker face was perfect--
she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.

At last, he set it aside, smiling.

She nearly collapsed with relief. ‘It’s doable?’

‘Oh, it’s more than doable,’ he said amiably, reaching for his own cup. ‘If anyone tries to
give me any trouble, I’ve got a few pieces of information that will shut them up quite nicely.’

Hermione straightened, frowning. ‘Did one of the guards talk?’

He sighed. ‘Not yet. Pickett is blissfully unaware, for the moment, and I’d like to keep it
that way. Ballard was a Death Eater, which probably explains why he let Malfoy suffer--as
punishment for failing--but he was killed in the war. Galloway was neutral, but he was also
killed. Given that he didn’t have strong loyalties either way, I gather that he must have been
some kind of sadist. Cooper was another Death Eater, and he’s in Azkaban. I have a feeling
he’s our best bet for information, given that we can offer him things like extra privileges or
even a commuted sentence, but I haven’t had a chance to pay him a visit and feel him out.
Porter was, apparently, on our side, and he’s currently working as a Ministry security guard--
a step up from Azkaban, and his reward for fighting for our side, from what I understand. I
don’t want to tip any of them off, so questioning any one of them will take some delicacy.’

She nodded her understanding. ‘Then what kind of information are you referring to?’

A wide, toothy smile spread across Kingsley’s face. ‘I’m referring to my information about
what our dear Mr Malfoy himself has been up to.’

Hermione blinked. ‘What…?’

Kingsley looked smug. ‘He’s still pretty sly, but he doesn’t have quite as good connections
as he had before. Still, I probably wouldn’t have known he was up to anything, if he hadn’t
started lining a few pockets and stroking a few egos here in the Ministry--well, as best he can
using only the Floo and an occasional owl. After I figured out he was doing a bit of poking
about, it was easy to trace him.’

She wondered if she should be worried…. ‘What did he do?’

‘Oh, Mr Malfoy has done a great deal. For starters, he’s donated about a million Galleons so
far to the Muggle-born Aid Fund--right under Draco’s nose, if the lack of his signature on
any of the Gringotts receipts is any indication--and he keeps funneling in small anonymous
donations at a steady rate. And by small, I mean thousand-Galleon drops at a time.’

Hermione’s mouth fell open.

‘He also arranged with the goblins to pay off Dean Thomas’s mortgage, secretly created a
grant to pay for Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander’s research, and I have it on good
authority that he is the one who donated the bulk of the money Dennis Creevey raised to start
his wizarding orphanage--disguised as a series of smaller, anonymous donations, of course,’
he said with visible admiration. ‘No one would have ever known, if he hadn’t decided to stop
dealing exclusively with the goblins and started nosing around the Ministry.’

She swallowed with difficulty. ‘What is he up to?’

Kingsley shrugged. ‘He’s mostly focusing on the financial department so far, but I haven’t
figured out what his goal is yet. I’m monitoring the situation, but given that all of Mr
Malfoy’s underhanded dealings thus far have been benevolent, I’m not too worried about it,
just curious.’

Hermione made a vague sound of acknowledgement. She felt as though the world had
shifted suddenly under her feet, and she hadn’t quite recovered yet.

Filch’s new cat, Dean and his wife, Luna and her Rolf, all of it was Lucius--and he’d helped
Dennis and a good charity without any of them knowing. Even Draco--she was sure he
would have said something if he’d known even a hint of it. Although, with Lucius donating
such large sums, he would probably notice the activity in their accounts sooner or later, even
though it would hardly make a dent in their vast fortune. And Justin! She remembered
suddenly the odd interest Lucius had shown when the topic of Justin’s research problems
came up, and she was absolutely certain that he had sought out the book Justin needed and
sent it to him in secret.

Kingsley sat back with a self-satisfied expression, the movement rousing her from her
thoughts. ‘Anyway, all of those little secret, altruistic good deeds will back up Mr Malfoy’s
case quite nicely if I run into any resistance. Not that I expect to--that packet is pretty
damning.’

She nodded solemnly in agreement. The mental images haunted her day and night, ready to
pounce on her if she showed a moment’s vulnerability. She’d had to clear her mind before
sleeping every night since reading the packet.

She forcefully halted that line of thought, drawing her mind back to the topic at hand. She
had already planned her next order of business before she learned of Lucius’s secret do-
gooding crusade, but now she was more determined than ever to protect him in every way
she could. He’d made so much progress--yet he was still so fragile. She could not-- would
not--let him go back to Azkaban now, not for any reason, but especially not over her
inappropriate feelings for him.
‘Kingsley…I have another favour to ask,’ she began haltingly. Her insides were shrivelling
at the thought of losing Kingsley’s respect--but Lucius’s safety was not negotiable. She
would do whatever it took. ‘I’ve been saving copies of Lucius’s homework after I’ve graded
it. I was wondering if you’d have someone look them over and approve them, just in case--if
we were accused of any…impropriety, for any reason, then Lucius wouldn’t….’

He was smiling knowingly. ‘I’ve been expecting you to ask something like that since the
Malfoys’ party. You were talking to me, but looking at him,’ he said with a deep chuckle.
‘Actually, you barely took your eyes off him all night.’

Hermione stared at him in open-mouthed horror, the blood draining from her face, prompting
another rumbling chuckle.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else noticed,’ he said reassuringly. ‘You were pretty
discreet. I’m an Auror, so I’m trained to observe, and I’ve got years of experience. I don’t
think even Lucius himself noticed--I think you’re safe.’

She swirled her now-cold tea glumly. ‘I’d still feel better if you had someone double-check
for me.’

Kingsley patted her arm. ‘Send the copies to my office, and I’ll have someone competent in
the Muggle world triple-check them for favouritism. I’d hate to see you lose your job over
any false accusations.’

She peered at him hopefully. ‘Then you don’t think that Lucius and I--’

He laughed. ‘Hermione, I don’t know or care what you and Lucius Malfoy are or are not
getting up to--I just know you . Even if you were having sex with him on your desk after
class, you wouldn’t allow your personal feelings to interfere with your professional duties--
and you would never accept sexual favours for higher marks.’

Hermione smiled gratefully, warming at the thought that he respected her so highly. ‘Thanks.
If everyone felt that way, I wouldn’t even worry about it, but….’

She trailed off, shrugging. Kingsley nodded his understanding.

‘I also know you like to have every T crossed and every box checked,’ he teased with a fond
smile. ‘Like I said, just send the copies to me and I’ll have it taken care of.’

‘Thanks, Kingsley.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once upon a time, Lucius hadn’t wanted any Weasleys in his house, or any Potters, or
Grangers, or Lovegoods, or Longbottoms. Then he had wanted a particular Granger in his
house, but none of the rest. Then, he’d grown to enjoy some of their company, and tolerate
the rest, and even the ones he didn’t particularly want to see, he enjoyed having in his house,
because for a few hours, the place was full of boisterous talk and laughter (which sometimes
got to be overwhelming for him, but it was still better than being all alone).

Now, he felt like he’d almost gone full circle--he wanted the Weasleys, Potter, crazy girl, and
Neville to leave. He even wanted Draco to leave, because apparently, New Year’s Eve alone
with Hermione had spoiled him. Despite a brief interruption from Tibby, Lucius had had
Hermione’s complete and undivided attention the entire evening. It was rather intoxicating.

But now , it was Thursday, and there were all these people , and they kept talking to
Hermione, drawing her attention away from him. He found himself feeling rather jealous and
sulking a bit as those boys kept talking to her and making her laugh. She barely spoke to him
or looked at him, because they kept her occupied. Even at the table, they kept stealing her
attention. It made him feel uncomfortably like a teenaged boy again, a feeling he did not like
and was not at all proud of, but he couldn’t seem to dislodge the jealous desire to carry her
off to the library and lock the doors so he could have her to himself. He wanted to be the
most important to her.

The worst part of it all was that Lucius wasn’t entirely certain where these feelings had come
from. Friendship had been enough a few weeks ago. He hadn’t felt this primitive, caveman
possessiveness on New Year’s Day, when he’d been sharing her attention with Draco and
Ginny, and that was only a week ago.

Of course, he hadn’t seen Hermione much since then. Classes would be starting again soon,
so she’d been off preparing for the new term. She hadn’t come at all for a few days, and
when she had stopped by, they’d been brief visits to share a meal with him, and then she’d
been off again. Lucius had alternated between moping and pacing the house with a growing
restlessness, a feeling like a spring coiling tighter and tighter taking up residence in his
middle. Draco had snapped at him about it that very morning, but he couldn’t help himself--
it was either pace or go completely mad.

That coiled-spring feeling was still with him now, and he felt oddly tense and feverish as the
night wore on and he continued to get nothing more than a brief smile here and there. He
noted with a strange sense of detachment that his hands were actually shaking.

Hermione took him by surprise, though-- she dragged him off to the library after a few hours,
although she didn’t lock the doors, she just shut them. Lucius deliberately put some space
between them, a little worried about setting her off again. They’d been in the library, alone,
the last time he’d triggered her sometimes-latent fear of him. As crazy and off-kilter as he
felt right now, it would be easier than ever to accidentally startle her.

‘Lucius, look at me,’ she said softly, and he realised he’d been staring very hard at the floor,
clenching and unclenching his hands.

‘No,’ he said tightly.

He heard her take a few steps toward him and backed away until he hit the desk. She didn’t
come closer then, probably not wishing to make him feel cornered. He let out a shaky breath.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been busy lately,’ she said in that same soft, gentle tone.

Like she was calming a wild animal, he realised, huffing out a breathy laugh. Perhaps that’s
what he was, because it seemed to be working--the tension was easing, the feverish feeling
fading. The coiled-spring feeling remained, though, and he had to try to breathe around it.

‘I haven’t been seeing much of anyone recently--which is why everyone’s trying to hog me,’
she added, a smile in her voice. ‘Term starts in a week. Things will get back to normal then.
I promise.’

Lucius stiffened his spine. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he forced out, but he still couldn’t look at her. ‘I’m
fine. I can function without you, you know.’

‘I know you can. But it’s always nicer to have company, isn’t it?’ she said, and he detected a
hopeful note, as though she needed reassurance from him , rather than the other way around.

That eased the last of the tension he’d collected that evening; he breathed out more steadily.

‘Yes,’ he agreed quietly.

It took some effort, but he was finally able to lift his head to look at her, forcing a tentative
smile. She smiled at him warmly, with that new look in her eye that he still couldn’t identify.

‘Besides, this Sunday is all yours,’ she said brightly.

Lucius perked up instantly. ‘It is?’

‘Of course! January 9--it’s 150 Days Left in Your Probation Day, right?’

He chuckled. ‘Oh--I forgot all about that. I suppose you’re right.’

He was actually surprised to realise it--he’d completely forgotten about crossing off the days
on his calendar and keeping count at some point.

Hermione’s eyes twinkled. ‘Well, then, it’s lucky I’m keeping track for you, isn’t it?’

‘Very lucky.’ He watched her cheeks grow pink, and wondered how she was still single--she
was the most beautiful person he’d ever met. ‘Can we have Mexican on Sunday?’

She laughed. ‘Of course, if that’s what you want.’

He wanted a great deal more than that, but he’d settle for Mexican food and her company for
as long as she was willing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Sunday was a lovely, relaxed day full of food and conversation, and the occasional board
game (Hermione had brought Cluedo and Monopoly this time, and Lucius was quite pleased
because he won at both of them this time). The only problem would have been Draco, who
was still acting sullen and snappish around Lucius, but Hermione arrived, took one look at
Draco’s scowl and Lucius’s kicked-puppy expression (not that he’d admit to having such an
expression), and sent Draco off to spend the day with Ginny instead. To Hermione’s surprise,
Lucius actually didn’t seem to mind--in fact, he seemed almost chipper after she returned
from the entrance hall alone and announced that Draco wouldn’t be joining them for the rest
of the day. She worried that it meant Draco had been worse than ever, and made a mental
note to have another little chat with him. Making Lucius fear his presence wouldn’t actually
cure Lucius’s fear of abandonment, if that’s what Draco thought he was doing. If not, she
had no idea what he was thinking.

The best part of the day, though, was after supper, when she gave him his presents. One of
them she’d had to dig around in her closet to find; the other had been given to her by
Kingsley with great solemnity on Saturday morning.

‘You got me presents?’ Lucius said blankly when she set the first little package in front of
him.

She grinned. ‘Only two. And this one’s really nothing. It’s more of a joke than anything
else. Just humour me, would you?’

He raised a brow at her, but obediently ripped off the bright paper and opened the little box.
His forehead immediately wrinkled with confusion.

‘Spew?’ he said, holding up the button.

Hermione giggled. ‘S-P-E-W. Not spew. It’s an acronym.’

Lucius blinked. ‘An acronym for what?’

‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ she said wryly. ‘It was a little activism I
tried when I was in school, after I found out about house elves. It might have been a good
idea, if I’d taken into account what the house elves thought was good for their welfare, and
not been so set on my own ideas. They really start hating you after a few months of trying to
trick them into taking clothes, you know?’

He looked distinctly amused. ‘No, I didn’t know.’

‘Well, trust me, they don’t like it. But I was determined! I even took up knitting.’

He sputtered out a laugh. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘I wish I was,’ she said, grinning at her own youthful foolishness. ‘I made piles and piles of
hats and socks and things. None of them wanted them, but I refused to believe they could
actually be happy without being free. It’s still rather baffling, to be honest, but I’ve learned
to let it go. Anyway, your kindness to Tibby the other day made me think of S.P.E.W. again,
so I found one of the old pins to make you an honorary member,’ she added teasingly.
Lucius shook his head, still looking extremely amused. ‘Well, thank you. I think.’

She noted, though, that he didn’t chuck it immediately. He was probably going to wait to
throw it away until she was gone, and she was probably more touched by that than she
should’ve been.

‘Okay, the second one’s serious,’ she said, forcing her expression into one of solemnity.

She hadn’t wrapped it, just carefully slid the papers into an envelope. He took the envelope
from her warily. She watched anxiously as the wariness faded, replaced by plain shock as he
read the papers.

‘Hermione?’ he choked when he’d read both of them.

His eyes begged her for this to be real, and tears sprang to her eyes despite her stern order to
herself not to cry.

‘It’s real, Lucius,’ she said in a voice that just wouldn’t stop wobbling. ‘Kingsley and I got
the terms of your probation changed. On Monday morning, two Aurors are going to come
and they’re going to remove the wards preventing you from opening the windows, and the
ones that alert the Ministry if you go out in your gardens. As long as you don’t leave the
property, you can go outside whenever you want after they leave. And you can have a pass to
go on unsupervised visits to Hogsmeade or London or Paris or wherever you want to go,
anytime you want, all you have to do is submit a written request ahead of time and a pass will
be delivered.’

He set the papers down. She could see him shaking.

‘So…basically, I’m free of everything except the class and not having a wand,’ he said in an
odd, flat voice she’d never heard before.

She watched him carefully. ‘Yes.’

He looked at her with tentative hope. ‘I can go outside whenever I want, from now on.’

‘After the Aurors take the appropriate wards down tomorrow, yes.’

She’d seen him cry a little once before, but it didn’t at all prepare her for Lucius Malfoy
abruptly bursting into tears--joyful, desperately relieved tears, but still. He covered his face
with his hands, fighting for control of himself, but it wouldn’t come. Her heart overflowed
with tenderness. She’d been prepared for just about every reaction but this one, so she had
no way of resisting the urge to pull him into her arms when it hit. He melted into her and
gave over to the tears, burying his face in her shoulder. He was saying something over and
over again, but it took her a while to figure out what.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,’ he was croaking, over and over and over.

Hermione sniffled and held him tighter. ‘Oh, darling,’ she murmured. ‘Lucius. You don’t
have to thank me. Just restoring a basic human right, that’s all. Nobody should be caged
inside all the time.’
He let out a little sob and stopped talking, trembling against her. The tears dried up after a
little while, but he seemed in no hurry to move, simply lying there in her arms and breathing.
She carded her fingers through his hair and let him be, for as long as he wanted.

That turned out to be a very long time. She’d progressed to idly braiding the hair on one side
of his head (he didn’t seem to mind) before the peace was shattered.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Draco exploded as soon as he set foot in the sitting room.

Hermione glanced at the clock. It was quite late, but really, there was no need for that kind of
explosion. However, Lucius opened his mouth before she could tell Draco so.

‘I get to go outside,’ he said simply, as though that explained everything.

She smiled and started threading her fingers through the loose braids she’d made, shaking
them out.

‘And…?’ Draco snapped, sneering. ‘That called for a cuddle?’

Lucius thought for a moment. ‘Yes.’

Draco could turn very interesting shades of red, she noted. His hands were clenched into fists
and he was grinding his teeth. She thought about telling him that was really bad for his teeth
and jaw, but Lucius seemed to be handling himself, so she decided to keep mum for the time
being.

‘Just because you get to go out for a day or two again is no reason to suddenly start
smothering Hermione,’ Draco snarled. ‘What happened to your sense of dignity?’

Much to Hermione’s amusement, Lucius did not accept that chastisement--instead, he

deliberately snuggled closer to her, making a show of wriggling into a more comfortable
position. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as he wound an arm around her
waist.

‘It’s not for a day or two,’ he said stubbornly, ‘it’s forever and ever, whenever I want. I’m
entirely too pleased about that at the moment to give a damn whether or not I am behaving in
a dignified manner. I can always be embarrassed later. So far, Hermione has issued no
complaints. And finally, what seems to be the matter, Draco? I hardly think walking in on us
cuddling is reason enough for such a violent reaction.’

Draco fumed. ‘This isn’t about me. Get off her.’

Lucius clung to her. ‘ No !’ he said, pouting.

She found it extremely amusing that Lucius had apparently decided to be stubborn just for
the sake of being stubborn, despite his son’s obvious mood. Draco continued to not be
amused, but Hermione cut him off when he opened his mouth again. She didn’t want to risk
him ruining Lucius’s somewhat light and mischievous mood.
‘I’m right here, Draco. Have you heard me voice any protests? If I minded, he wouldn’t be
on top of me right now. So, unless you have some flowers or sparkly objects I can braid into
his hair, please take your sour mood elsewhere.’

Lucius lifted his head enough to grin at her. She smiled back, but the glimpse of his face
made her wonder exactly how blind Draco was--Lucius’s face was still puffy and red from
crying, his eyes slightly bloodshot, with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Upon seeing this
blatant evidence, how had he found it in him to start yelling and being antagonistic? Perhaps
‘have a chat’ would be more like ‘slap some sense into him,’ instead, in this case.

Draco looked for a moment like he might argue, but finally he just made a disgusted noise
and stalked out. Lucius let out a soft sigh and settled back down. Hermione started her
braids over, a little smaller this time.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius murmured after a while.

She paused. ‘Hey, anytime you need your hair braided, I could use the practise,’ she joked.

She felt more than heard his small chuckle, the moist air puffing across her neck.

‘No, I meant for--for helping make him go away,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s been very hostile
lately, and I can’t seem to appease him no matter what I do. I wish he would tell me why he’s
so angry.’

Hermione sighed. ‘Draco isn’t angry with you , Lucius,’ she admitted uncomfortably. ‘He’s
angry with himself.’

A pause. ‘He has an odd way of showing it.’

The hand on her back started moving, the individual fingers making their own circles. She
focused on her braiding as hard as she could.

‘He wants to tell you something,’ she said reluctantly, not really sure she should be saying
anything, but definitely sure that she couldn’t let Lucius go on feeling like he’d done
something wrong, when recently he’d been doing everything right . ‘He just doesn’t know
how to say it.’

She felt it when Lucius started trembling--it would’ve been hard not to, with him lying half
on top of her--and sighed inwardly.

‘Something bad?’ he asked in a whisper.

‘No. It’s not really good or bad. It’s just something the two of you need to talk about,
sometime, and Draco’s afraid he’ll never have the courage to approach you.’ She paused,
frowning. ‘I think he’s got something else on his mind, too--something about Ginny. He’s
been very jumpy whenever she comes up in conversation. I keep waiting for him to tell me
what the trouble is, but he hasn’t. Perhaps he’s tired of her and wants to break up, but he’s
afraid of losing all his friends if he does? I don’t know. I just know it’s making him very
edgy, and somewhat snappish with everyone but Ginny.’ She patted Lucius’s shoulder. ‘So
don’t worry, it’s not just you. He’s just being a bit of wanker right now.’

He huffed out a surprised laugh, and he stopped trembling.

‘Well, as long as it’s not just me,’ he said around a yawn.

‘Nope,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘I would quite like to slap him again, actually.’

He snickered. ‘Go right ahead.’

She smiled and went on braiding. She almost didn’t notice when Lucius fell asleep--she
wouldn’t have, if he didn’t make those soft little ‘puff’ sounds in his sleep. Craning her head
to one side, she could see that his eyes were closed, and she rolled her eyes at herself.
Honestly, would anyone else have managed to end up trapped under a sleeping Lucius
Malfoy? The only other person she could think of was Harry, because Harry got into very,
very strange situations as a matter of course. It was his curse in life. Although, she had high
hopes that he would manage to get through the next few decades without ending up trapped
under Lucius, awake or asleep.

‘Okay, I think you’re out, aren’t you?’ she said, just in case he was only dozing.

Another soft ‘puff’ as he exhaled was her only answer.

‘All right, then,’ she sighed, and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa with some effort,
letting it fall on them. A little more squirming produced the desired effect, and with a mental
shrug, she closed her eyes and decided to try to sleep, too.

She was out before she’d even finished the thought.

 Attack at the Ministry
Chapter Summary

The status quo is broken when Hermione's ominous-note sender reveals himself at the
Ministry. Lucius does something stupid, and both he and Hermione suffer the
consequences.

Chapter Notes

Wow, um...it's been eleven days since I updated.... Sorry about that. You see, I just got
my copy of Case Histories in the mail, so I was spending all my free time watching that
instead of writing. Oops. I loved it, by the way, I highly recommend it.

Anyway, this chapter is exactly what it says on the tin, although we do pick up a little
before the actual attack. We get to that fairly quickly. Remember how I said Lucius was
nearly going to get himself killed? Well, the moment has arrived. The ending of the
chapter is a bit of a cliffhanger, I suppose, but I'm almost done with the next chapter
already, so you won't have to wait eleven days to find out what happens next this time, I
promise. :)

Thank you all for your kind comments! You had me blushing at all that praise. :D And it
encouraged me to get back to writing after I finished watching the series. :) I'm sorry I
didn't have time to respond to you all individually this time. Thank you again, you're all
lovely people. :) Thank you to those of you who read without commenting at well.
Anyway, I'll shut it now--I hope you enjoy! I look forward to hearing what you think.

Lucius was surrounded with warmth, and the scent-mixture he associated exclusively with
Hermione. He moaned softly with pleasure, trying to burrow into the warm solid thing he
was lying on. Which, on further reflection, seemed to be moving. He froze, and realised it
was a body, and the body was breathing. His eyes popped open. He was still in his sitting
room.

‘Hermione?’ he whispered.

Her chest vibrated under his cheek when she chuckled.

‘I’m here,’ she said tenderly, and he felt her hands move into his hair again--probably
removing the braids this time. Hopefully.
He relaxed with a sigh. ‘Oh, good.’ An unpleasant thought occurred to him, marring his
peace. ‘What time is it? Has Draco been up?’

Hermione snorted. ‘He’s been up and gone to work already. He woke me up just so I would
see that he was glaring at me before he left. I stopped him waking you up, though.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. And it’s just after nine.’

Lucius did some quick mental math and forced himself to let go of her and sit up, frowning.
She sat up, too, stretching and wincing.

‘I’ve been crushing you for a little under twelve hours,’ he said unhappily. ‘You should’ve
woken me up and told me to shove off.’

Hermione shook her head, standing to stretch some more. ‘I didn’t mind,’ she said, her voice
strained because she was touching her toes. ‘You don’t get enough quality sleep, and you
seemed pretty content. I was happy to help.’

His frown deepened, but he kept watching her stretch the kinks out. She was very…flexible.

‘You should have told me to shove off before I fell asleep, then,’ he said sternly.

She turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips. ‘Lucius. When was the last time
anyone touched you?’

His mouth clicked shut. He wasn’t sure what response he’d been expecting, but that certainly
wasn’t it. She raised a brow, and he cast his mind back, reviewing his recent experiences.

‘New Year’s Day,’ he said triumphantly. Not that long ago.

Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms.

‘I touched your cheek. That hardly counts.’

‘You hugged me, the night before,’ Lucius countered, somewhat desperately.

She wasn’t impressed. ‘I know what I’ve done. When is the last time someone other than me
touched you? The dances at your party don’t count.’

He shrank back, slumping a little with defeat. ‘Draco…weeks ago. I had a nightmare….’

He trailed off. He’d had a lot of nightmares lately, except when Hermione was around. But
Draco didn’t come anymore. He was alone.

He looked away, swallowing against the lump rising in his throat.

‘And does he ever touch you when you’ve not just had a nightmare?’ she asked lowly.

Lucius shook his head mutely. He had, rarely, before, but not in a long time, now.
‘What about besides me or Draco?’

That was a tough one. A long, long time.

He opened his mouth with an effort. ‘The Dark Lord, I think. Or perhaps the Aurors, after
the battle was over, before Mr Potter spoke for us. I don’t quite remember--it’s all a bit of a
muddle.’

She sighed. ‘A kind touch, Lucius,’ she clarified quietly.

Another pause. ‘After Dobby helped you and your friends escape. I needed….’

His voice failed him.

‘Narcissa, then. Two years ago, almost.’

He nodded once. Hermione didn’t speak again for a long while. He looked up warily, but
she just looked sad.

‘People need to be touched, Lucius,’ she said at last, very gently. ‘Remember how I said
going outside is a basic human right? So is touch. We humans need each other--we need to
be hugged. It seems to me that I’m the only one providing you with any physical contact at
the moment, and you needed it. I don’t care if Draco doesn’t like it--you’re my best friend,
and if what you need is a good, long cuddle, then that’s bloody well what you’re going to
get,’ she concluded fiercely, her eyes flashing.

Lucius smiled, the cold wisps of sadness blown away by the joy bursting in his middle like a
firework.

He was her best friend. Not Potter. Not any of the Weasleys. Him .

She smiled back, reaching out and fussing with his hair again. ‘I missed a braid,’ she
explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners with suppressed amusement. ‘All better now.
Well, mostly. It’s all a bit kinky on that side from being plaited all night.’

He didn’t even care what his hair looked like right now, he was that happy.

‘I’ll live,’ he said lightly.

Her smile widened briefly, but her next words were a phrase he was beginning to hate
wholeheartedly.

‘I’d better go.’

Lucius immediately adopted the saddest expression in his arsenal.

‘Oh, Lucius …. Don’t look at me like that, I’d stay if I could!’ she protested earnestly,
stepping close enough that he had to lean back to look up at her.

‘Really?’ he said mournfully.

‘ Really . I have so much work to do, though.’

‘You could bring your work here,’ he suggested, widening his eyes just a touch, so it would
seem perfectly innocent as he snaked his hands around her waist.

‘No, I really can’t,’ Hermione laughed, her eyes twinkling. ‘I wouldn’t get any work done,
because you’re too distracting.’

He brightened a little. ‘I am?’

She grinned. ‘You’re Lucius Malfoy. Who can ignore you ?’

Plenty of people, nowadays, but the fact that she didn’t think so was quite pleasing. He
puffed up haughtily, which made her laugh again.

‘You’ll be back,’ he said insistently.

Her expression turned serious, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

‘Yes,’ she agreed softly.

‘You’ll be back tomorrow .’

She sighed. ‘Lucius….’

‘Please. Tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Even if you can only come
for lunch.’

She grimaced. ‘Suppose you get sick of me?’

‘Never happen,’ he said automatically. Then he thought of something that would guarantee
victory. ‘Don’t leave me with only Draco for company, not with the way he’s been acting.’

She sighed again, and Lucius suppressed a triumphant grin.

‘All right,’ Hermione conceded with a reluctant smile. ‘I’ll be back for lunch tomorrow, and
the day after, etcetera.’

‘Good,’ said Lucius firmly, and allowed himself a little smirk.

He saw her off, and the Aurors arrived to remove the restrictive wards an hour later. After
they finished their work and left, Lucius spent the rest of the day outside.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione kept her word, because of course she did, and Lucius would have been perfectly
content with life in general, if it hadn’t been for Draco. His son’s mood continued to be less
than ideal, although he took to avoiding Lucius rather than snapping at him. He stopped
dining with him, taking his meals in the study, and refused to answer the door when Lucius
came knocking. On the rare occasions they saw each other, he pretended Lucius wasn’t in
the room at all, and Lucius noted the bags under Draco’s eyes with concern. When he
mentioned it, though, or asked if Draco was sleeping all right, he got the same response--a
total lack of acknowledgement. He gave up trying to talk to Draco altogether, worrying
about him silently, and spent a lot of his time in the gardens, as much to stay out of Draco’s
way as for his own enjoyment.

On Thursday evening, Lucius saw for himself that Hermione was right--Draco was being
edgy and hostile with everyone but Ginny, much to their obvious confusion and concern. He
was also going out of his way to avoid being alone with Hermione.

‘It’s because he knows I want to talk about the way he’s acting,’ she said over lunch on
Friday, her frustration clear. ‘He’s not ready to talk, I guess, but he’s going to be talking
about it whether he’s ready or not if he keeps this up much longer. I’ll enlist Ginny to help
me jump him if I have to.’

Lucius made a mental note not to refuse to discuss things with Hermione for too long.

On Monday, term began again, much to Lucius’s relief and excitement. He was ready and
raring to go on Tuesday, even though Hogwarts was not his only option for getting out of the
house anymore. He’d sorely missed the mental stimulation (although his recent
conversations with Arthur had helped).

However, on Thursday, it all came to a screeching halt.

Hermione was in the middle of explaining the silent film era when a silver stag sprang into
the room.

‘The Ministry is under attack,’ it said with Potter’s voice. ‘We need reinforcements, quickly.’

The stag disappeared. The students leapt up in varying stages of panic, some of them
screaming, but Hermione quickly took control. Lucius was frozen at his desk, his brain
locked on one thought-- Draco !

‘Silence!’ Hermione shouted, and the panicking teenagers stopped and stared at her wide-
eyed, their faces white. ‘Return to your common rooms at once, and stay there. Go, now!’

They grabbed their things, inkpots tipping and papers scattering, and they fled. Hermione
said something to the Goyles that made them start readying to leave, too, and she shed her
teaching robe, sprinting for the door. He heard her cast the Patronus Charm, likely alerting
the rest of the staff, and his muscles unlocked at last. Lucius was on his feet immediately,
pelting after her down the corridor.

‘Hermione!’ he shouted. ‘Hermione, wait!’

She skidded to a halt, tapping her wand against her leg impatiently.
‘What?’ she said tersely.

‘I’m coming with you,’ he burst out as he slid to a stop beside her.

Hermione’s face twisted with outraged disbelief. ‘ What ?! Lucius, don’t be ridiculous! You
don’t have a pass, and you don’t have a wand! Go home , Lucius--I don’t have time for this!’

She took off again. Lucius let out an exasperated growl and ran after her. He wasn’t deterred
by anything she’d said, because none of it penetrated--he was consumed with one thought
and one thought alone-- Get to Draco . He didn’t even pause at the castle doors.

Her mouth dropped open when she stopped outside the gates and spotted him sprinting
toward her.

‘ Lucius !’ she screeched. ‘What are you doing?!’

He nearly fell over when he stumbled to a halt beside her, panting.

‘I told you, I’m coming with you,’ he managed between breaths, his hands on his knees. She
was surprisingly fast.

‘Like hell! You have no way of defending yourself, if you haven’t noticed!’ she shouted, the
colour rising in her face. ‘What you’re going to do is head straight back to the castle and
Floo home!’

He glowered, but she turned away from him, and he had a split second when she raised her
wand, and he lunged, snagging her arm just as she Apparated.

They landed hard in the midst of chaos. The air was filled with stray spells and the stale,
staticky haze they left behind. Wizards in Death Eater attire and wizards in Auror uniforms
and random wizards and witches from other parts of the Ministry were intermingled, all of
them battling fiercely. Something exploded on the other side of the atrium, showering the
combatants in shrapnel.

Hermione whirled and smacked him in the head with her wand.

‘Ow!’ Lucius yelped, and then they both ducked when his cry drew attention from nearby.
The spell whizzed over their heads, but the wizard who’d sent it straightened immediately
after, looking surprised.

‘Hermione? Hermione! Sorry! Didn’t see you there!’ Ron shouted, making his way over.

Hermione put up a shield around all three of them as Ron joined them, and then grabbed
Lucius’s arm in a steel grip, steering him behind a column. They all crouched down,
watching the battle, although Hermione forced him behind the two of them.

‘What is he doing here?’ Ron asked, jerking a thumb at Lucius.

‘Being an idiot,’ Hermione said curtly.

‘Looking for my son,’ Lucius corrected sharply, glaring at the back of her head.

Ron snorted. ‘If your son has any sense at all, he’s barricaded himself in his office, away
from this mess.’

Hermione shot off a spell through her shield. ‘What happened?’

‘Your old friend Dolohov found a contact here in the Ministry,’ Ron explained quickly,
sending a spell of his own out. ‘Thompson or something. He let them know that Kingsley’s
in Japan, settling some kind of tourist incident, so they chose this as the opportune moment to
come. Nobody seems to know who’s supposed to be in charge when Kingsley’s not here, so
nobody knew where every Auror was stationed to call them back, so Harry left them to argue
and started sending out the word to all the old Order and DA members.’

Lucius had been peeking over their heads, and at that moment, he spotted a very familiar
blond head, back to back with a messy black-haired one.

‘There’s Draco!’ he hissed, but Hermione yanked him back down when he leapt to his feet.

‘Are you insane?’ she snarled, gripping his wrist tightly. ‘You’re going to get yourself killed!
Maybe I’m not saying this clearly enough: you don’t have a wand!!! ’

He twisted his arm out of her grip. ‘I know that! But Draco--’

‘Draco is doing just fine defending himself--besides, he’s got Harry. But if you do something
stupid like run out there trying to reach him, you’re going to get yourself killed--or me,
because if you run out there alone, I’m going after you, and it will be much easier to protect
you and myself at the same time if you stay back here!’

That brought Lucius up short as the situation he’d mindlessly plunged into suddenly sank in,
and he crouched down a little lower. He couldn’t risk Hermione’s safety.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh is right. Now stay put, and stay down,’ she snapped.

He obeyed, flattening himself against the wall and making himself as small a target as
possible. This had not been one of his brighter moments, he reflected numbly.

The rest of the living members of the Order and Dumbledore’s Army arrived shortly after, as
well as the rest of the teachers from Hogwarts, severely outnumbering the rogue Death
Eaters, but it seemed to make them fight harder, desperation driving them on. Ron spotted
Ginny and leapt into the fray to join her, leaving Lucius and Hermione alone by the column.
Terror gripped Lucius when he saw Draco and Harry get separated, but Draco merely made
his way to Ron and Ginny, and the three of them formed a triangle, fighting off their
opponents quite effectively. Lucius didn’t see where Harry ended up, and didn’t dare try to
crane his neck around the pillar to find out.

Hermione was defending their position fiercely, but two of the Death Eaters had noticed that
Lucius wasn’t fighting--whether they recognised him or not wasn’t clear--and were worrying
at her from different angles, trying to draw her out.

It was a stupid plan, attacking the Ministry, Lucius thought as he watched Hermione’s
fearless defence. Even with Kingsley away, what had they hoped to accomplish? There had
to be an ulterior motive at work here, something they were all missing.

‘Well, hello, my sweet,’ one of the Death Eaters drawled at Hermione, and even with the
charm to disguise his voice, Lucius knew it was Dolohov. ‘Have you been getting my
notes?’

Like the one that had shaken Hermione up, that Draco and Hermione had quarrelled over,
Lucius was sure of it.

Hermione didn’t respond, entirely focused on her spell-casting. She sent a Stupefy at
Dolohov, but he easily blocked it.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said, chuckling. ‘You remember my favourite spell, don’t you?’

She was sweating, and trying to fight back closer to Lucius. He realised suddenly that they’d
successfully forced her away from the column--away from him, and he was outside of the
shield now. He swallowed hard, looking up at Dolohov. The slimeball had noticed his
position, all right--his wand wasn’t pointed at Hermione anymore.

‘I’m a little out of practise,’ he went on, ‘but I think I can still cast it pretty well. Let’s find
out.’

The end. Game over , Lucius thought in a hollow, cheerful tone that seemed entirely out of
place, given that he was undoubtedly about to die. He’d always tried to think of something
profound to think (or say, provided he could speak) while dying, but none of it would come to
him now.

Hermione Stupefied the other Death Eater a moment too late, and the spell--sickly orange--
was coming at him. Lucius watched it with mild interest; everything seemed so far away
now, as he contemplated bleeding to death from Dolohov’s spell. He was familiar with
Dolohov’s favourite, too. It was a modified Cutting Curse of his own invention. He recalled
being somewhat surprised to learn that Hermione had survived it, when he’d got out of
Azkaban and Wormtail was importantly filling him in on all that he’d missed, particularly
since none of her fellow students were familiar with it, and they hadn’t known how to render
any first aid. It was too late to block it even if he’d had a wand, too late to move--

Hermione crashed into him, knocking him to the side, and was knocked off her feet when the
spell hit her a millisecond later. Lucius stared in shock, dimly hearing Dolohov’s delighted
hoot of laughter, abruptly cut off when he was engaged by an Auror.

He snapped out of it when she moved her head, scrambling to her side in a panic. There was
blood everywhere, it seemed, but then he saw the wound, a ragged line from shoulder to hip
on the left side.
‘Hermione? Hermione, Hermione, I’m sorry,’ he babbled senselessly, shaking her uninjured
shoulder a little. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have listened.’

She moaned, her eyes opening and staring at him with blatant confusion. Lucius calmed
himself with sheer willpower--panicking and babbling like an idiot wasn’t going to help her.
He was no mediwizard, but he knew a few powerful healing spells for emergencies, he just
didn’t have a wand to perform them. Frowning fiercely, he held his hands above the wound
and started incanting one of them anyway. His magic roared up eagerly, ready after such
long disuse--but the spell fizzled when it reached his fingers. He let out a cry of frustration,
but it was no use. It simply wouldn’t work.

There had to be a way-- Muggles ! His mind raced as he tried to remember--there was a
chapter about how Muggles survived injuries--pressure? Yes, putting pressure on the wound
to stop the bleeding! But it was so long, and he only had two hands. He picked out the spot
that looked the worst, over her abdomen, and pressed down, wincing as blood gushed over
his fingers.

‘Lucius,’ she rasped suddenly.

His eyes snapped to her face, twisted with pain.

‘Shhh, don’t try to talk,’ he said quickly, his voice shaking despite his attempts to sound
soothing.

‘Lucius,’ she said again, weak and hoarse.

He realised suddenly that she was holding her wand up--holding it by the tip, the handle
pointed at him. He blinked at it blankly.

‘Take it,’ she said, coughing.

Lucius’s brows knit. ‘Hermione, no ,’ he said, not sure of what to make of this.

‘Defend yourself,’ she commanded, lifting the wand a little higher.

Hesitantly, he reached for it. Perhaps, if he took it and set it aside, she would rest….

As soon as his hand closed around it, she smiled tremulously and passed out. Lucius looked
at the wand, an idea nibbling at the edge of his mind--he still knew those spells, and now he
had a wand. He could heal her, if her wand would cooperate.

Tentatively, he pointed it at the wound and started murmuring the incantation. The wand did
not like him--it bucked in his hand, shooting out angry red sparks. Lucius gritted his teeth
and bore down harder. He had to save Hermione. She couldn’t die, not like this, not because
of him and his crazed moment of stupidity. He couldn’t let her die, he didn’t think he could
go on if she died here, because she was protecting him.

He ducked, shielding Hermione as a spray of debris crashed over them from a stray spell,
then straightened and pointed the wand at her wound again.
‘Come on, come on ,’ he ground out when her wand bucked again, resisting his control. ‘We
have to save her, she’s your master! Do you want her to die?’

‘Malfoy!’

He looked up sharply--it was Potter, a little sweaty and a little messier than usual, but
otherwise no worse for wear. He was looking at Hermione with shock and worry.

‘What happened?’ he demanded, surprisingly with no accusation in his voice.

‘Dolohov,’ Lucius choked out. ‘I’m trying…but, her wand….’

Potter watched it buck again, nodding his understanding. He turned away, raising his wand
and blocking a spell.

‘You keep trying, I’ll cover you,’ he said quickly.

Lucius immediately turned back to his work, concentrating his entire being on his goal.

I want to save her , he silently implored the wand as it continued to resist, forcing him to start
over a third time. Help me!

It didn’t buck this time, sluggishly responding to his magic, and Lucius allowed himself a
short second of relief as he felt the spell, the wand and his own power beginning to
cooperate, threading together reluctantly but securely.

It had to work. It had to. He couldn’t imagine life without Hermione anymore--a future
without her in it was a bleak, harrowing slog toward nothing. He needed her, he wanted her.
She had to live, so he could tell her how sorry he was, so she could forgive him, but mostly--
mostly she had to live so he could tell her that he loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

The spell was working. Lucius finished the incantation and sat back, watching the edges of
the wound draw together, the bleeding slowing then stopping. He wiped his face on his
sleeve, noting with detachment that he appeared to be crying.

Hermione was going to live--she just had to. All she needed now was St Mungo’s, a
professional healer to strengthen the healing already done, maybe a Blood Replenishing
Potion or two, and then she’d be just fine.

Lucius looked around. Potter was walking away, hurrying toward a fallen Auror. It had gone
quiet, at some point. The battle was over. Dead or unconscious Death Eaters lay
everywhere, a few Aurors, too, and others. Lucius didn’t care about any of them but the one
in front of him. He watched her chest rise and fall, his heart in his throat every time there
was even the slightest hitch.
It was probably this utter focus that made him fail to notice the Aurors coming up to him
until he was surrounded.

‘You! On your feet!’

Lucius looked up and sighed at his own idiocy. He dropped Hermione’s wand and put his
hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, shakily getting to his feet.

He needn’t have bothered. One of them shot off a spell that knocked him backward, and
Lucius thought ruefully that he was never, ever putting his hands up to show that he was
unarmed, ever again, because it never worked. His head cracked into the wall and spots filled
his vision; he lay stunned as ropes were magicked around him, blinking to try to stay
conscious as his head swam.

‘ Hey !’ Potter, outraged. ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’

Lucius’s stomach clenched as he was levitated, the whole world seeming to roll and heave.

‘Arresting a Death Eater, what does it look like?’ said a calm, cool voice.

‘He’s on our side--he saved Hermione!’

Hermione--Lucius tilted his head back even though it made him want to vomit. She was still
lying there, but a mediwizard was examining her while Ron stood by, ready to help move her.
She would be safe. He let out a relieved sigh and bit down on his tongue immediately after,
swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut.

The argument was still going on, but Arthur’s voice cut across it, sounding unhappy but calm.

‘Harry, technically he violated his probation. They’ll keep him here in the Ministry until they
schedule a hearing. We can plead his case then.’

Potter grumbled something, but Lucius didn’t catch it, because they were taking him
somewhere, probably a holding cell. He didn’t want to open his eyes to find out, for fear of
being sick.

They took him down a few levels; he heard metal doors squeaking and clanging. Definitely a
holding cell, then. He let out a breath as they set him down on a cold floor, the nausea
settling some.

‘Up.’

Lucius cracked open his eyes, the dim torchlight making them smart, and struggled to a
sitting position, then rolled to his knees. There were two Aurors, neither of them familiar to
him, and he was relieved to see that they didn’t look angry or malicious, merely studying him
with grim professionalism. He would have stood the rest of the way, but the burlier one of
the two put a heavy hand on his shoulder when he made to stand, so he subsided back into his
kneeling position. He tried to control his breathing, keeping a slow, even pace, partly for
something to focus on besides the insistent throbbing at the back of his skull.
‘Hold out your hands,’ said the reedy one, and he was the owner of the cool, calm voice.

Obediently, he held out his bound wrists. He was hoping to get out of this without further
injury, and being cooperative had to help. The reedy Auror put metal cuffs on his wrists,
attached to chains that were anchored to the floor, and then he removed the binding spell--
breathing at all became much easier as the ropes evaporated.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said quietly.

The reedy Auror seemed surprised, but he nodded shortly.

‘Your guard will be in momentarily,’ the burly one said, and the two of them left.

The metal door clanged shut behind them. The cell was small, like all of them, but pretty
standard. Lucius breathed in and out with forced regularity, counting to four for each inhale
and each exhale. It was made a little easier by the fact that there was a tiny barred window in
one wall, letting in a little of the afternoon light, and by the lit torch they’d left behind, and
also by the fact that the Ministry cells were clinically sterile, not made of rough-hewn stone
blocks like Azkaban. It was all grey and smooth and featureless, which was somewhat
grounding. Still, not being here at all would’ve been preferable, and he roundly cursed
himself for failing to listen to Hermione, for letting his all-consuming fear for Draco’s safety
cloud his brain, blinding him to all reason.

This had definitely not been one of his better days on the intelligence front. Or on any front,
really. He’d never acted so Gryffindor in his life. Even when he’d raced through the Battle
of Hogwarts looking for Draco, he’d been with Narcissa, and she’d had a second-hand wand
to protect them with. This time, he would’ve been alone, if Hermione hadn’t decided to take
charge of him, and he had no real plan for what he intended to do once he found Draco. He
would’ve been useless to him without a wand, just gone from being a liability to Hermione to
being a liability to Draco. Neither option was preferable, which brought him back to his
original thought that he should’ve listened to Hermione and stayed behind, much as it would
have pained him.

He needed to stop thinking. His head hurt, and his stomach was still uneasy. Lucius sat back
on his heels and bent over until his forehead was resting against the cold floor, sighing at the
minor relief. It was a little uncomfortable on his arms, since there was nowhere to move
them where the chains wouldn’t be in the way, but otherwise, this position was very helpful,
his head seeming a little clearer and the pain fading a bit.

The door squeaked when it opened. Lucius sat up as quickly as he dared. He completely
froze when the face registered, the blood pounding in his ears, his throat closing up.

No no nononononononononono .

Porter smiled politely. ‘Hello again, Lucius. Nice to see you again. Looks like I’ll be your
guard for the foreseeable future,’ he said, mild, friendly.

The fear spiked into overwhelming terror. Lucius lost control of his stomach and vomited.
Porter’s smile widened.
 Rescuing Lucius
Chapter Summary

Hermione wakes in the hospital and takes charge. First, the gang rescues Lucius from
Porter's clutches, but then they have to cross their fingers that they can keep him out of
Azkaban. Lucius is just glad no one seems to be all that angry with him anymore--
especially Draco.

Chapter Notes

Whew, this was long. And kind of boring at the end, but I didn't want to just say, 'And
then they had the hearing, the end.' However, for the record, trial scenes are hard and
boring to write. They're probably boring to read, too. Especially with all the political
undertones that no one cares about.

Anyway, Lucius perks up pretty fast in this one. Getting away from someone who was
torturing him, then getting some sleep, and then having some real food will do wonders
for a person. Mostly, this is just wrapping up the problem of Lucius going back to
Azkaban, because no one wants that to happen, so that we can move on to other, better
things. I hope you enjoy it anyway. :) Next time ought to be way more fun, at least for
me to write. :P ;)

Thank you, as always, for reading and/or commenting, and putting up with my overly
long notes that no one cares about, either. ;)

Hermione thought for a moment that it was 1996 again, as she woke to a line of fire down her
torso. It took a moment for memory to return--whirling from downing one Death Eater to
find Lucius about to go down to Dolohov’s spell, registering in the half-second she had left
that it was too late to block or shield, if she’d even known what would work against
Dolohov’s modified spell, throwing her whole body against Lucius’s to push him aside. That
hadn’t been very smart. Probably yanking him to the ground would have worked, if she
could’ve done it fast enough. There were about a thousand shields she could have at least
tried …but she couldn’t help it. Lucius had been in immediate, possibly deadly peril, and she
had acted on instinct.

Groaning, she opened her eyes and struggled up, propping herself up on her elbows.

‘Hermione! Maybe you shouldn’t move yet,’ Harry said anxiously, hovering over her.
She squinted at him. ‘How long have I been out?’

Her throat felt like it was full of gravel; she smiled gratefully when Neville rushed to hand
her a glass of water. She did a quick mental inventory--Harry, Neville, Ginny, Ron, Draco.
No Lucius. And Draco did not look happy, in a completely different way than he had been
lately. His face was twisted with worry.

‘Three days,’ said Ginny. ‘The healers said you were lucky, that the curse hit harder this
time, and if it hadn’t been for Lucius, you would’ve bled to death by the time the mediwizard
got to you.’

Hermione sat up the rest of the way. ‘Lucius--where is he?’

They all exchanged a glance. Alarm pushed her to her feet, her heart in her throat.

‘Hermione, you shouldn’t be up yet!’ Harry protested. ‘Let a healer examine you first--’

‘My wand,’ she said curtly. ‘Where is Lucius?’

Draco held out some folded clothes to her, her wand lying on top. ‘The Ministry. They
arrested him and put him in a holding cell straight after the battle. They won’t let me see
him,’ he added lowly.

She snatched the pile and went behind the screen in the corner to dress.

‘They won’t let anyone see him,’ Ron corrected. ‘Dad’s tried to get in several times, and so
have Harry and me, and they say no one can see him until the hearing. Bureaucratic
gibberish, and Dad hasn’t had time to argue them down, what with everything being such a
mess.’

She pulled her shirt over her head with a wince; the wound still ached fiercely, although she
could tell she was past the danger of re-opening it.

‘And when is the hearing?’ she demanded.

‘Not until tomorrow afternoon, two o’clock,’ Neville said.

No way was she waiting that long. For one thing, Lucius was due a very long lecture about
not doing stupid things, particularly after she specifically told him that what he was about to
do was stupid and dangerous and he should not do it. Secondly, she didn’t think Lucius was
probably handling his captivity very well, and she very much needed to see for herself that he
was all right.

‘Is Kingsley back from Japan yet?’ she asked as she emerged, tucking her wand away.

‘He’s been trying to get away ever since he heard about what happened,’ Harry said, falling
in step with her. He’d known her long enough to pick his battles, and even he could see he’d
lose if he tried to get her to stay in bed. ‘Unfortunately, the soonest he’ll have the situation
wrapped up is tonight, so he won’t be here until tomorrow morning.’
Hermione’s brows rose. ‘That must have been some incident.’

Harry grimaced. ‘A British wizard set an important, beloved monument on fire, accidentally,
while completely pissed. The Japanese were not best pleased, particularly since the
monument doubles as a talisman against Yetis in that area.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Yeah.’

Hermione might have smiled at the awed looks she and her little entourage received, if she
hadn’t been on a mission, and a bit put out to boot. They Flooed to the Ministry, marching in
step accidentally, which felt a bit silly. There were cleanup crews at work in the atrium, but
for the most part, she could hardly tell there had been a battle at all. They’d obviously made
significant progress.

‘Did they catch all of them?’ she asked as they turned toward the lifts.

‘Nearly,’ said Ron glumly. ‘They got Dolohov and a new member by the name of Chalmers,
and the two of them appear to have been the brains behind the operation, so they don’t think
the few who got away will try anything. They’re mostly dolts that got away, so they’re
unlikely to do anything but lie low, or maybe flee the country.’

A part of Hermione relaxed to hear that Dolohov had been captured. No more ominous
notes.

Down on the detention level, they were immediately brought to a halt by two guards.

‘Do you have authorisation to be here?’ one of them asked sharply.

Hermione frowned. ‘Authorisation from whom? From what I hear, you’re not letting anyone
past.’

‘Um….’ The two guards exchanged a glance. ‘We’re not really sure. We just know we’re
not supposed to let the general public pass.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘We are not the general public. And may I remind you that prisoners
who have not been convicted of a crime and are awaiting trial or hearing are entitled to
visitation from whomever they please?’

‘Oh, is that what the guestbook is for?’ the other said stupidly.

Harry leaned over to whisper in her ear. ‘I can see why they’re stationed down here.’

She struggled not to smile.

‘Who are you here to visit?’

‘Lucius Malfoy.’
Another exchanged glance. ‘Um… technically , he has been convicted of a crime….’

A long, drawn-out and thoroughly boring discussion ensued wherein Hermione and her
friends tried fruitlessly to convince the two idiots that while Lucius had been convicted, he
was currently serving his probation, and he had not yet been convicted of violating his
probation, which was the crime he was currently being incarcerated for, so from a legal
standpoint, he was still entitled to visitation until such time as he was found guilty and
sentenced. This was much too complicated for the two guards.

She was just getting ready to admit defeat and leave (to do research and find a way round
them, naturally), when she heard a short scream echo down the corridor. It was Lucius’s
voice--she was done talking.

She drew her wand and levelled it at the nearest guard’s face, seeing Harry backing her up
out of the corner of her eye.

‘Out of my way, fool,’ Hermione snarled.

Wide-eyed, both guards stumbled out of her path. She dashed down the corridor, her friends’
feet echoing behind her. She didn’t need to know which cell it was--there was an insistent
tug at the core of her, and she knew beyond doubt when she’d found the right door. She
blasted it open and assessed the situation quickly.

A man with short sandy hair and a rather bird-like aspect was crouched in front of Lucius,
making intent eye contact. Hermione quickly blocked the spell an irate Draco sent at the
man.

‘He’s using Legilimency,’ she explained before Draco could blast her . ‘You could damage
Lucius’s mind if you pull him out too abruptly.’

He calmed himself with a visible effort. They went to the man, who was wearing a guard’s
uniform, and stood on either side of him, pointing their wands at his temples.

‘Remove yourself,’ Hermione snapped. ‘ Carefully .’

She could see when he obeyed; Lucius slumped, his head bowing as he panted raggedly,
making distressed noises on each exhale. The man looked up at them with a calm smile,
slowly rising to his feet.

‘Ah, it’s nice to meet you in person, Hermione,’ he said amiably.

She dug the point of her wand into his neck, eyes flashing. ‘ Do. Not. Call. Me. That . ’

The man was unperturbed, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm. There was
something wrong with this man.

‘Poor Lucius is so very fond of you,’ he said, smiling. ‘It was easy to torment him with you.’

She hissed in a breath. ‘What have you done?’

‘Oh, nothing much. There wasn’t time for anything permanent. But I did have a bit of fun.
It was no less than he deserved anyway.’

Hermione might have knocked him off his feet if Arthur hadn’t arrived, Ginny on his heels.
She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed Ginny was running in the opposite direction when
they all headed down the corridor.

‘Dad!’ Ron burst out. ‘This one--’

‘Randall Porter,’ the man put in pleasantly.

Hermione’s blood ran cold, and she felt nothing but icy calm as she contemplated murder.

‘ You ,’ she breathed harshly. ‘You’re the one from Azkaban.’

He nodded, still smiling. ‘I was proud to do my duty, but the promotion was most welcome.’

‘He was doing Legilimency on Malfoy,’ Ron finished, glowering at Porter.

Hermione had never seen Arthur look so grim. His eyes flicked to Hermione, her shaking
hand holding her wand against Porter’s neck, and he pushed up his glasses.

‘We’ll take care of this,’ he said gently. ‘You two see to Lucius.’

Draco looked ashamed and lowered his wand, moving to Lucius’s side once Harry and Ron
had taken his place. Hermione didn’t move, staring at Porter with ice in her veins. She
wanted to kill him. He deserved to die.

Porter’s smile wavered and she saw a flicker of fear cross his face.

Arthur’s hand closed gently around her wrist.

‘Hermione,’ he said softly. ‘Lucius needs you.’

She allowed Arthur to lower her wand, and reluctantly stepped away so Neville could take
her place. She breathed out slowly as they escorted Porter from the room, trying to expel the
cold rage she felt alongside the carbon dioxide. It worked, a little. Arthur sympathetically
patted her shoulder before following them out.

Once she felt more in control, she turned to the pair of Malfoys. Lucius hadn’t moved,
remaining hunched over with his eyes closed. She knelt beside him, tentatively putting a
hand on his shoulder. He flinched from her touch.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly, but didn’t try to touch him again.

The chains rattled as he retreated from her, cringing as though he expected a blow.
Hermione’s heart ached, and if Arthur and the others hadn’t taken Porter out already, she
would not have used the Killing Curse now--oh, no, that was too good for him. She was
feeling too much, she realised. She was angry and heartbroken and full of love and hate and
protectiveness and a whole muddle of other things she couldn’t sort out right now. Her
emotional state was not what Lucius needed right now.

She nodded at Draco. ‘You try,’ she choked out.

She would try to settle her emotions in the meantime.

Draco shot her an uneasy look, but hesitantly touched his father’s other shoulder. ‘Father?’

Lucius whimpered, but there was nowhere left to go. He was pinned between the two of
them, and had reached the limit of the chains.

‘Father, we’re not going to hurt you,’ Draco said helplessly. ‘We want to help.’

Hermione stood and stepped back, watching with her heart in her throat as he retreated from
Draco into the space she’d just vacated.

Lucius looked terrible. He was ashen with either illness or fear, his eyes sunken and pale and
darting with panic, tremors running through him at random intervals. There was a bruise
forming above his right eye, and she imagined there were more under his clothes. His wrists
were rubbed raw by the cuffs, and dried blood was caked on his hands, flaking off in spots--
her blood? His hair was a tangled mess, his clothes were rumpled and soiled with what
looked and smelled a lot like vomit. She didn’t dare use a cleaning charm, lest she frighten
him further, but he would need to be cleaned up as soon as they could calm him down.

Suddenly, her gaze sharpened on his hair. It wasn’t just tangled--there was dried blood in it.
She moved quickly, causing Lucius to gasp and flinch away at the sudden movement toward
him.

‘Sorry. Hold still.’

He immediately froze.

Draco frowned up at her. ‘What’s going on?’

Hermione tilted Lucius’s head for a better angle and moved the tangled locks out of her way,
threading through until she found the crown of his head. There was blood matting those
locks down, and she gently probed the center. Lucius flinched again, letting out a strangled
yelp.

‘It doesn’t look like his skull is fractured,’ she said, ‘but he got a pretty good knock at some
point. He’s probably concussed.’

Draco scrambled to his feet for a better view. ‘Those bastards,’ he growled.

Hermione privately agreed. ‘Legilimency and concussions do not mix,’ she said, turning his
attention to more urgent matters. ‘He needs a healer, now .’

Draco went pale. ‘I’ll go find someone,’ he said quickly, and ran out of the room at top
speed.
Lucius was staring up at her fearfully, now that they were alone. Sighing, she sat cross-
legged beside him.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’m not angry anymore. Whatever Porter made
you think happened between us, we’ll sort it out later. For right now, I need you to trust me.
Can you do that?’

She watched some of the tension melt out of him, his face softening and his eyes regaining
some colour. He nodded minutely. She blew out a relieved breath, but didn’t dare lose a
layer of caution.

‘Thank you. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take out my wand,’ she said slowly
and gently. ‘I’m going to point it at you, and then I’m going to do a cleaning charm. Then
I’m going to put it away. That’s all that’s going to happen. Is that okay?’

Lucius trembled, but slowly, he nodded. She took out her wand, keeping her movements
slow so he could easily follow. She would have normally cast the cleaning charm
nonverbally, but this time she said it loudly and clearly, so he would hear the incantation
before the spell hit. The smell in the room improved immensely when she’d finished. She
was fairly certain that prisoners weren’t supposed to be denied access to baths and toilets,
regardless of their current status, and she knew Kingsley was going to have a great deal of
work ahead of him. There was no way he would let such incompetents and abusers continue
to work in his department, once he learned the extent of it.

Once the wand was put away again, she sat watching him, trying to decide what, if anything,
she could or should do now. Lucius stared back at her, but he remained silent. She hoped it
wasn’t a side effect of being attacked with Legilimency while concussed--even Legilimency
with consent was not recommended while concussed, as the results were often unpredictable,
and not generally positive.

What she really wanted to do, of course, was to unchain him and take him home, where she
could clean him up and look after him properly, but she doubted the Ministry would look
very kindly on that.

‘Your hearing is tomorrow afternoon,’ she said at last, looking away from him. ‘Did you
know?’

There was a long pause. ‘…No,’ he said, his voice a mere rasp.

At least he could still speak at all.

‘Draco’s got your solicitors ready,’ she said conversationally. ‘So you won’t be on your
own.’

He didn’t answer. She heard movement in the corridor, but it turned out to be the two idiot
guards pacing, apparently thinking that this was an integral part of their duties.

‘I’m sorry.’
Hermione looked up sharply. Lucius was staring at his clasped hands (clean now, thanks to
her charm), flexing his arms slightly so the cuffs rubbed against his wrists. She could see a
little blood beading on one of the many scrapes he’d made, likely in his futile struggle to
escape Porter.

‘Stop that,’ she said, but her tone was gentle.

She reached out and put her hand over his wrist, feeling the heat rising off the agitated skin.
Lucius stilled, but he kept his gaze down.

‘Why are you sorry?’ she asked kindly.

He drew a shaky breath. ‘Because I didn’t listen. You were right. And I almost got you
killed,’ he added, what little voice he could muster nearly choked off.

She sighed. A part of her agreed with him. Lucius had acted with complete disregard for
logic and his own well-being. Part of her was furious with him for acting so idiotically, for
putting himself in danger, in more ways than one. He might have been killed. He could still
go back to Azkaban, depending on how the hearing went. She wanted to shake him and
demand to know what he’d been thinking.

But another part of her understood--he hadn’t been thinking at all, he’d been feeling. He’d
been terrified for his son, whom he loved no matter how dreadfully he’d been behaving
lately, and he had acted accordingly. She couldn’t exactly fault him for loving Draco, even
when it made him do incredibly stupid things. She already knew that about him--during his
sentence in Azkaban, the intelligent thing to do would have been to stop asking about Draco
so the guards would stop punishing him for it, but he had persisted until the day he was
released. Nothing and no one could deter him from loving and protecting Draco, and
Hermione thought of that as one of Lucius’s best qualities. It was certainly one of the few he
had that she could term ‘noble.’ It just so happened to also be a double-edged sword that
made him act completely daft at times.

‘I was the one who put myself in front of that spell,’ Hermione pointed out. ‘Not you.’

He shivered. ‘But you wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t been there.’

She’d considered that already. ‘Dolohov would have found a way whether you’d been there
or not,’ she said reasonably. ‘He’s been sending me horrible notes hinting that he wanted to
kill me for months and months. He’s been looking forward to this. You being there was
incidental, and he used what was available. If you hadn’t been there, he would’ve found
another way. Possibly a way that ended with me dead, rather than just injured, particularly
since Ginny informs me that I only survived because of you.’

He looked up sharply in surprise. She smiled warmly.

‘You knew what to do, and you did it. At St Mungo’s, they told them that if it hadn’t been for
you, I would have died before the mediwizard got to me. So while I do wish that you’d acted
with a little more circumspection, I can hardly be angry with you after you saved my life.’
Lucius opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on, ‘I’m still sorry.’

She patted his knee with her free hand. ‘I know. I just hope you don’t have reason to be
sorrier yet,’ she added with a grimace. ‘I’ll do what I can to help you, but…you did violate
your probation. They may decide against you.’

He shuddered violently. ‘Azkaban,’ he whispered, and there was a lot of white around his
eyes.

Hermione gripped his wrists a little more firmly. ‘Maybe not. You had good motives for
doing it, and you’ve never violated the conditions before, no matter how hateful they were.
We’re going to do everything we can to convince them that’s not necessary.’

He continued to tremble, not comforted. She sighed and leaned forward, pressing her
forehead against his, smelling his stale breath. She was relieved when he pressed back, his
eyes fluttering shut, and he moved his wrists until she got the hint to move to take his hands.
They were cold and unsteady; she did her best to warm them between hers.

She didn’t release him until Draco returned with a mediwizard and an Auror--a friend of
Charlie Weasley’s from Hogwarts, so she knew she could trust her. Hermione stood and
stepped back to let them do their work, even though her whole being wanted to stay at
Lucius’s side.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The mediwizard patched Lucius up very well, healing his wrists with a wave of his wand, and
making him swallow several potions for his concussion, ribs that turned out to be cracked,
and the bruises she’d known were hiding under his robes. Lucius looked better, more alert
with more colour in his face, when the mediwizard had finished, but the old man cautioned
Hermione before he left.

‘His physical wounds will be fine,’ he said quietly after he’d pulled her aside. ‘But he needs
a mind healer. Young Mr Malfoy tells me he was subjected to Legilimency against his will?
Couple that with a concussion, and you could have some serious problems.’

She nodded solemnly. She fully intended on getting him an appointment with a mind healer
as soon as possible, whether he was sent back to Azkaban or not. She also intended to make
an appointment for him to have a full physical--she wanted Lucius gone over with a fine-
toothed comb, to make absolutely certain there were no underlying problems. She still
suspected that his core body temperature had been damaged, for one thing. It couldn’t be
fixed if it was, but if the healers at St Mungo’s said so, then the Azkaban guards would be
required to provide Lucius with extra clothing and blankets, if nothing else.

After the mediwizard had finished and gone, Auror Campbell moved Lucius to a different
cell--one that didn’t smell like stale vomit, and which was equipped with a cot and a toilet
and sink. There were no chains.

‘Better late than never,’ the witch said with an edge of dark humour. ‘At least you’ll be
comfortable until tomorrow.’

Lucius laid on the cot, closing his eyes in bliss and relief. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

Campbell chuckled. ‘No problem. If you need anything, just press your hand to the blue
circle by the door. There’s a chime that will alert me. I’m going to get you something to eat.’

They thanked her again and she left. Hermione turned away while Draco helped Lucius
change into some clean clothes. Lucius immediately returned to the cot when they were
finished, falling asleep in short order, his arms wrapped around himself.

‘Guess I’m brushing his hair later,’ Hermione said wryly, tossing the brush she’d conjured on
the little writing table in the corner.

Draco couldn’t quite meet her eye. ‘Thank you.’

‘Well, you can brush it if you want, it’s not a big deal.’

He huffed. ‘No, I meant--for losing your temper, I guess. We never would have known
anything was going on if you hadn’t bulled your way through.’

Hermione chuckled quietly, mindful of Lucius. ‘Uh, thanks? Any time.’

He snorted, and they were quiet for a while, watching Lucius breathe. Auror Campbell
returned with a tray for Lucius, and Hermione reluctantly went to him, shaking him gently.

‘Lucius? Wake up, love,’ she said ever-so-softly, watching her breath stir his hair.

He groaned unhappily, his face scrunching with displeasure. ‘Don’t wanna,’ he mumbled.

‘It’s time to eat something, and then you can go back to sleep,’ she coaxed, lightly running a
hand over his temple, down his cheek.

He opened his eyes with a reluctant sigh. ‘Okay.’

She smiled and led him to the table, remaining behind him as he ate, threading her fingers
through his impossibly tangled hair and smoothing the fabric of his robes with gentle
brushes. Campbell had wisely chosen to bring broth and crackers--light foods that Lucius
didn’t seem to have too much trouble with.

Campbell informed them with extreme reluctance that they’d have to go after Lucius was
done, and Hermione noted with amusement that Lucius immediately slowed his eating,
darting a surreptitious glance at Campbell. At last, though, he couldn’t stretch it out any
longer, and he collapsed back on the cot, sleeping almost before he was lying down. She was
saddened to see that he curled up tightly, frowning and whimpering in his sleep, and she
hoped it didn’t mean he’d gone back to square one.
Hermione and Draco followed Campbell back out of the detention center, and then began the
walk back to the atrium together in silence--Campbell remained below, evidently replacing
Idiots 1 and 2 on guard duty.

‘You’ve been acting like a real tosser, you know that?’ Hermione said suddenly. ‘I’ve half a
mind to turn you over my knee.’

Draco glanced at her. ‘Can we discuss this back at the manor?’

‘If you mean go there right now and discuss this right now , then yes, that will do just fine.’

He grunted, which she took as assent.

They walked silently and grimly to the Floo center. At Malfoy Manor, Draco led her to the
sitting room, politely offering her tea and a chair by the fire. She accepted both, although she
didn’t really want any tea. It was something to do with her hands besides beat him about the
head.

At last, they were seated across from each other with cups of tea and no other way of stalling.

‘I have been a tosser,’ Draco said grudgingly, staring into his cup. ‘But may I just protest that
I had my reasons and leave it at that?’

She laughed, harsh and mocking.

He grimaced. ‘I thought not.’ He sighed. ‘How about if I explain why?’

‘That might save you from a good caning,’ she said archly. ‘Start explaining and we’ll see.’

Draco shot her an unhappy look, but she was past caring. This had gone on for far too long,
and she no longer had the patience to suffer his attitude. If he had to squirm a little, all the
better, in her opinion.

‘Reason one: I want to ask Ginny to marry me.’

Hermione blinked. ‘So…you thought the best way to get her to say yes was to be a tosspot
so she’d see what a catch you were?’

He sneered. ‘Yes, obviously, it’s a foolproof plan.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m nervous, all
right? I’m not sure whether she’ll say yes, and I’m not sure how to go about it, and I haven’t
been brave enough to ask anyone for advice, so I’ve just been stewing over it.’

She mulled that over. Now was not the time to inform him that he had every reason to be
nervous about Ginny saying yes or not--she wanted to stay on the topic at hand, and anyway,
at the moment, she didn’t feel as though he really deserved to know.

‘Okay. I can buy that. What’s reason two? Nerves alone aren’t a good enough excuse at this
point,’ she added, raising a brow.

He drew a deep breath. ‘Yes, I know,’ he admitted quietly.

Draco paused for a moment, and she allowed him to gather his thoughts, rather generously, in
her opinion.

‘Reason two is about what I told you before, except…I didn’t tell you the whole thing,’ he
said, looking away shamefaced.

She found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. She’d thought that alone was horrid enough.

‘Then tell me now,’ she urged him, her voice strained.

He nodded once, but still couldn’t bring himself to look at her. ‘I…told all of you, back when
we were just becoming friends, about how part of the reason my parents started hating
Voldemort was because he made me use the Cruciatus on disgraced Death Eaters?’

She waited, but he said nothing further, and he still looked ashamed, and it made sense. She
immediately wished that it didn’t.

‘Oh, my gosh,’ Hermione said blankly.

He flinched, covering his eyes with one shaking hand.

‘Oh, Draco, you…he made you torture your own father?’ she realised, and she thought she
might be sick.

Draco nodded stiffly. She set her teacup aside because otherwise she would have dropped it.

‘Only for a few days, after Father came home from Azkaban. Father kept telling me it was
okay, that he didn’t blame me, that it wasn’t my fault,’ he ground out. ‘I had to blame
someone, and I was afraid to even think about Voldemort, so I blamed Father. I told myself
that I hated him, that it was his fault that we were in this position--that he deserved it. I don’t
think I could’ve gone through with it if I hadn’t convinced myself that Father deserved every
bit of it.’

‘And then Voldemort would have killed you,’ Hermione put in lowly.

He sniffed, stirring his tea. ‘Probably. Or had me tortured, too. It doesn’t really matter now.
What matters is that I tortured Father, and some part of me enjoyed it. And after, he still
protected me. He protected me from Voldemort’s wrath, and from my own guilt. And I
haven’t thanked him, or told him how sorry I am.’ He took a shaky breath, looking
everywhere but at her. ‘It’s eating me up, Hermione, but every time I look at him, I…I can’t
speak unless I’m angry. My throat just closes up, and I can’t make it open up unless I make
myself feel angry. So I’ve been either yelling at him or ignoring him, and I’m only hurting
him more and it’s killing me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I…I don’t know what to do,’ he said
in a wavering, small voice, his lips quivering. ‘And now this happens. That daft idiot
dropped everything and violated his probation just to find me, because he wanted to protect
me. Or at least that’s what Ron said.’

Hermione wiped her cheeks. ‘Ron informed you correctly,’ she croaked.
He smiled bitterly. ‘Idiot,’ he murmured fondly, shaking his head. ‘Please tell me you didn’t
let him come willingly?’

‘Of course not. He kept chasing me, I kept telling him to go home and not be stupid, and he
grabbed me as I was Apparating.’

Draco rolled his eyes with a chuckle. ‘Sounds like Father. He’s the most stubborn person
I’ve ever met who wasn’t a Weasley.’

‘Like father, like son,’ she teased.

They shared a wobbly smile and left behind the heavy moment with an effort. She had to
admit that Reason #2 was a perfectly good reason to be acting horribly, although she wished
he’d come to her about it or admitted it at the time, rather than struggling with it alone all this
time. It therefore came as a surprise to her that those weren’t the only two reasons.

‘And…there’s one more thing,’ he added with a heavy sigh, looking slightly embarrassed
now.

Hermione raised a brow. ‘Oh?’

He shifted, biting his lip. ‘Well, it’s…I’ve been….’ He set his teacup down, too, and met her
eyes squarely for the first time in the whole discussion. ‘I’ve been trying to come to terms
with the idea that my father may marry someone my age in the near future.’

She stared in total shock. Draco smiled wryly, rubbing his thighs with nervous energy. She
had not been prepared to defend herself in this discussion, and her mind drew a complete
blank as she raced to come up with a response.

‘I’m all right with it now,’ he reassured her when the silence had stretched for far too long.
‘It was just a bit of a shock at first. I know it’s common for age gaps to happen in the
wizarding world, and I rather expected that if Father ever remarried, he would choose
someone younger, like Mother did, but I wasn’t prepared for him to choose someone I went
to school with, someone I consider a friend. The thought of calling you Step-mother is a bit
jarring,’ he added with a little grin.

Hermione blinked. ‘Please don’t ever, ever call me that, under any circumstances.’

His grin widened. ‘Promise not to be wicked?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘So this is why you’ve been acting nasty every time you find your father
and me alone together? You were having trouble with the concept of the two of us as a
couple?’

‘Essentially, yes.’

She picked up her teacup and toyed with it to avoid looking at him. ‘Well, I don’t think you
need to worry about that. We’re just friends.’
Draco scoffed loudly, startling her into meeting his eyes. ‘My father is not just friends with
you, Hermione. If he was just friends with you, he wouldn’t touch you. He wouldn’t let you
touch him. He’d keep a respectable distance between you at all times. He wouldn’t ask your
opinion about anything, and he would make it clear that unsolicited opinions were
unwelcome. He’d barely make eye contact with you, ever. This is how my father acts with
witches he calls “friend.” It’s not how he acts with you.’

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Best friends, then.’

Another scoff.

‘Draco! I’m just different from any friend he’s had before, that’s all. It’s not like he’s
treating me the way he treated your mother.’

He conceded that with a nod. ‘No, he’s way more openly affectionate with you than he ever
was with Mother.’

She nearly choked on her tea, and not because it was cold.

Draco raised a brow. ‘What? They loved each other, but they had both been brought up in
very strict, cold households. Appearances were to be maintained at all times. My father
thought he was being too openly loving and soft with me when he deigned to pat my shoulder
and say “Well done.” It was only as I got older and we grew farther apart that he started
thinking perhaps Mother had the right idea, and by then it was too late, the patterns of our
relationship were already set. My parents’ idea of displaying affection was to rub elbows at
the dinner table, and kiss each other’s cheeks when they thought I wasn’t looking. The rest
of the time, there was a rigid gap between them, and they tried to be cold and emotionless.
And public displays of affection were nonexistent.’

Hermione mentally reviewed Narcissa’s interactions with Andrew--the few she’d seen, that
is. That sounded about right. She took his arm, and they danced, and the rest of the time
they didn’t touch or look at each other, merely remaining side by side. It was effective at
showing them as a unit, but didn’t appear very loving. She could only recall seeing Lucius
and Narcissa together before the divorce once--at the Battle of Hogwarts, and after. During
the battle, they had run together, which was not an opportune moment for touching or kissing
or anything but accidentally bumping each other. Afterward, the whole Malfoy family
huddled together in the Great Hall, shell-shocked, but Lucius and Narcissa kept Draco in
between the two of them, holding onto him, shielding him.

‘It might be different now, if she hadn’t divorced him,’ she protested. ‘You don’t know.
Lucius isn’t the same person he was.’

‘It doesn’t really matter,’ Draco said, shrugging one shoulder. ‘Maybe he’d be clingy, like he
is with you. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would be, and Mother would hate it and divorce
him anyway. It’s useless to speculate, because they aren’t together anymore, and they don’t
love each other anymore, not like that.’

She studied him, frowning. It was one thing for Neville to observe that Lucius was watching
her a lot, but Draco knew his father better than anyone. It sounded a lot more definite
coming from him, and was therefore a lot harder to refute. That didn’t mean she couldn’t try,
though.

‘And you think he loves me like that?’ she said doubtfully.

‘I know he does,’ Draco corrected. ‘He’s always trying to get closer to you--close is never
close enough. He finds excuses to touch you, even if it’s just brushing your arm or your
shoulder. I never walked in on my parents snuggling on the couch--and I don’t buy that he
was just happy that you and Kingsley worked it so he could go outside. He could’ve been
happy inside and hid it from you, like he does with everyone else. He shows you what he’s
feeling, unguardedly, and I’ve never seen him willingly hug anyone before in my life. He
practically squashed you , and wouldn’t let go for hours. You’re always on his mind, he talks
about you near-constantly. Your opinion is practically solid, proven fact in his view. If he
doesn’t love you, then someone’s got him under the Imperius or some other form of mind
control.’

She couldn’t argue any of those points. Lucius was a naturally cold, standoffish person, and
while she had noted it as odd behaviour for him, she hadn’t taken any special notice of the
fact that he didn’t want to let go of her hand when he had it, that he wanted contact
constantly, that he leaned as close to her as he could when he couldn’t touch her. A part of
her had simply written it off as desperation for a gentle human touch after going so long
without any. It still sounded reasonable to her…except he didn’t act this way with anyone
else. He only seemed to want to be touched by her, or by Draco. And he loved Draco.

She squirmed. ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she insisted thickly, swallowing. ‘He’s just grateful,
and I’m all he’s got besides you…I’m just around too much, and he’s confused….’

Draco frowned at her quizzically. ‘Do you…not love him back?’ he asked slowly, as though
the possibility had just occurred to him.

Hermione flicked her gaze away nervously. She wasn’t a very good liar when she didn’t
have some half-truth or rationalisation to base it on. She said nothing.

He smiled smugly. ‘I knew it. I knew you loved Father.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she muttered.

His smile only grew. ‘But you didn’t say you didn’t , either. You do, you love my father!’

She straightened. ‘Our personal feelings toward each other are irrelevant, Draco,’ she said in
the coldest voice she could muster. ‘He’s my student. I’m his teacher. We can be friends,
but it can’t go any farther than that. And anyway, we have bigger problems at the moment,
like defending your father at his hearing tomorrow.’

He sobered immediately. ‘Now that you’re conscious, I assume you’ll testify? They’re
rather upset about the fact that he was found holding your wand.’

‘Of course I’ll testify. I pretty much made him take my wand, so that wasn’t really his fault,’
she added sheepishly. It had seemed like a good idea when she was half-conscious from pain
and blood loss, but she hadn’t considered the consequences of Lucius possessing a wand
when he wasn’t supposed to so much as touch one. ‘I just wanted him to be able to defend
himself.’

Draco grunted. ‘He didn’t even try, from what Harry tells me. He just started using it to try
to heal you, with very little success at first.’

She stood, uncomfortable with this step back into dangerous territory. ‘Then that’s something
Harry can tell them tomorrow. Meet me at the Ministry in the morning?’

‘Sure. Nine o’clock?’

‘Sharp.’

She went home, but sleep was elusive. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucius
sleeping on his cot, curled in a ball, and worried that he’d have a nightmare, and she wouldn’t
be there to help. Even Crookshanks couldn’t soothe her to sleep, so eventually she gave up
and started working out how she would word her testimony.

She didn’t think about what Draco had said. If Lucius reciprocated her feelings, then she
stood no chance of maintaining her distance anymore, and that could not happen. Draco was
obviously mistaken, and that was that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Kingsley was waiting for them when they arrived in the atrium, having been alerted by
someone or other that they were on their way. His face was a mask of anger and regret.

‘Hermione, Draco,’ he said, falling in step with them and making no move to stop them.
‘I’m sorry about what Lucius had to go through. If I’d been here, I never would have
allowed--’

‘We know, Kingsley,’ Hermione interrupted gently. ‘It was just bad timing. We know you
came as soon as you could.’

Draco was solemn. ‘What’s going to be done about Porter?’

‘He’s in custody, and he seems pretty confident,’ Kingsley said with dark glee. ‘He seems to
think that if he just talks enough and explains himself enough, we’ll see that he was just
doing his job and he can go free. We haven’t disabused him of that notion. So far, he’s
admitted to working with Cooper and Galloway, he claims because even though Cooper was
on the wrong side, they shared the same goal of “punishing” the Death Eaters in custody.
Lucius got the worst of it because he was so high profile, but Porter’s already admitted that
they routinely beat all of the prisoners in their care.’

‘And the other rumours?’ Hermione prompted softly.

He shot her an uneasy glance. ‘He’s confirmed that regular Cooling Charms were Cooper’s
way of amusing himself at Lucius’s expense, so that’s true as well. He hasn’t admitted to the
Legilimency, but since he was caught red-handed this time, it’s a fair bet that that rumour is
true, too.’

She nodded, her lips set in a grim line, and they arrived at the entrance to the detention center.
Campbell opened the gate with a tired smile, letting them pass.

‘Good morning, boss,’ she said cheerfully despite her obvious weariness. ‘Good morning,
Hermione, Mr Malfoy.’

‘Draco, if you please,’ he corrected automatically.

She shrugged. ‘All right.’

‘Your relief will be Danson,’ Kingsley informed her. ‘He should be down in a few minutes.
Use the usual precautions.’

‘Aye, Cappy,’ Campbell said, saluting. ‘Oh, before you go in--Mr Malfoy had a rough night.
I had to cast a sleeping spell on him. I made it a light one, but he was still out the last time I
checked.’

Kingsley thanked her for the information. Hermione winced--sleeping spells weren’t often
used because they trapped a person asleep, regardless of physical considerations or
nightmares. A witch or wizard could still wake up--briefly--to use the toilet if given
Dreamless Sleep, although they wouldn’t be very mentally aware, and they would fall asleep
again right after (sometimes without making it back to bed), but at least they could wake up
to take care of their body’s needs. The ‘dreamless’ portion took care of the nightmares.
Under a sleeping spell, the person couldn’t wake up from their nightmares, forced to watch
them play out, and they wouldn’t waken no matter how urgent the need. Unfortunately,
Dreamless Sleep wasn’t part of an Auror’s normal equipment, and Campbell couldn’t have
abandoned her post to go and request any, so she’d had little choice. Although, personally,
Hermione would have chosen to let him keep having nightmares and waking up, even if it
meant listening to him scream from time to time. It was much preferable, in her opinion--she
hated sleeping spells.

Draco’s nose wrinkled as soon as Kingsley opened the door. ‘I’m glad I brought him fresh
clothes,’ he muttered.

Hermione sighed unhappily. She hoped they could clean him up without waking him, for the
sake of his dignity, if nothing else.

With Kingsley’s help, they managed it, even changing the sheets, but Draco said that while
the cleaning charms were perfectly fine, it would be better if they let him change his clothes
when he woke up.

‘He won’t take kindly to knowing he was naked while unconscious,’ he explained with a
wince.
She could understand that, and with all the cleaning charms done, he’d be none the wiser
about what had happened while he was asleep anyway.

Lucius didn’t look content, though, and for the first time that she could recall, Hermione
hoped he would wake up soon. He was silent, but frowning deeply, looking almost pained,
and the lack of restful sleep had left him with dark circles under his eyes. He remained
tightly curled up, his arms tightly clamped around his torso as though that would protect him,
knees tucked against them. She longed to reach out and touch him, to smooth away the
frown and calm him, but she didn’t dare, not with Kingsley standing there, and not after what
Draco had said last night. She needed to be more careful.

At last, his eyelids flickered and he moaned quietly, stretching. He froze when Kingsley
chuckled, his eyes snapping open. They were pale, nearly translucent with fear.

‘Good morning, Mr Malfoy,’ Kingsley said, pretending not to notice. ‘How are you this
morning?’

Lucius blinked, his face clouding with confusion, and slowly sat up. ‘I’m well, how are you,
Mr Shacklebolt?’ he rasped, his tone perfectly even and polite despite the hoarseness of his
voice.

Kingsley chuckled again. ‘Liar. I’m very well. I just got in this morning, and I wished to
extend my apologies as soon as possible for the ill treatment you suffered in my absence.’

Lucius blinked again, remaining silent. Hermione stilled the urge to reach out to him.

‘I also wished to ensure that you are prepared for your hearing this afternoon,’ Kingsley went
on, unperturbed. ‘As you know, it is within your rights to ask for a postponement if you feel
you are not yet ready, physically, mentally or legally.’

He straightened a little, clearing his throat. ‘I’m prepared.’

Kingsley smiled. ‘Good. Then if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.’

They nodded to each other, all polite, proper wizards, and Kingsley swept out with a wink at
Hermione. As soon as the door closed behind him, Lucius dropped his eyes to the floor,
pressing his hands between his knees. She realised he was trembling, but before she could
think of what to do or say, Draco moved. He stood before Lucius with a cold expression, his
hands on his hips, and Hermione forced herself to wait and see what he was about before
giving in to the fierce protectiveness that had raised its hackles again.

‘Father, look at me,’ Draco commanded sharply.

Lucius flinched and raised his eyes from the floor, staring at Draco’s waist so he was
technically obeying, but didn’t have to look Draco in the face.

‘What,’ Draco bit out, ‘in the seven circles of hell were you thinking ? You could have been
killed!’
Lucius’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. His lips were bloodless, his eyes still almost
colourless.

‘You weren’t thinking, were you? A more boneheaded, Gryffindor move I’ve never heard of!
If you ever, ever worry me like this again, I will ground you, do you hear me? I don’t care
how old you are, I swear I’ll do it!’

Hermione relaxed a little, watching Lucius blink in confusion as the actual words registered.
Draco’s lips were twitching as he fought to keep from smiling. Finally, Lucius seemed to
gather his wits.

‘Who’s the parent here, you or me?’ he said hoarsely, raising a brow.

‘Technically you, but since you seem to have all the sense of a thirteen-year-old Hufflepuff, I
think it falls to me,’ Draco said dryly, allowing the smile to peek out.

Lucius was not cheered up. ‘You won’t have to ground me,’ he said dully, dropping his gaze
again and picking at the scratchy blanket. ‘Since I’ll be in Azkaban.’

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore; she sat beside him, tentatively touching his arm. He
stilled, but didn’t cringe away.

‘We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen,’ she said firmly.
‘I’m going to testify, and Harry, too, and even Ron has agreed to testify on your behalf.’

He made a noise that might have been a grunt if his throat hadn’t been so ragged. ‘Testify to
what? I left Hogwarts castle, which was a violation of my probation. I Apparated--violation
two. I--’

‘No, Hermione Apparated,’ Draco cut in tersely. ‘Which is another thing, you could’ve been
Splinched grabbing onto her like that.’

Lucius shrugged wearily. ‘I went to the Ministry without a pass to visit or an appointment--
violation three. I used a wand--violation four. These are facts. I did all of those things
knowingly and willingly. No amount of testimony will alter what happened.’

Hermione frowned. ‘Like Draco said, you only had three violations--your probation
conditions mentioned nothing about being Side-Alonged. And anyway, your motives--’

‘Do not change that I did what I did while in full possession of my will and wits,’ Lucius
interrupted tiredly, rubbing one eye. ‘I don’t think my motives will matter to the panel
selected from the Wizengamot.’

She exchanged a frustrated glance with Draco, pressing her lips together. Draco shook his
head and held out the stack of clothing he’d brought, changing the subject.

‘Here, I brought you some fresh clothes, Father.’

He looked faintly pleased by that, glad to get out of the ill-fitting prison uniform he’d had to
change into yesterday, even though he certainly seemed convinced that he’d be getting right
back into a prison uniform after the hearing. Hermione was obliged to turn away again while
Draco helped him change. The conjured brush was still lying on the table where she’d left it,
so she grabbed it and turned to Lucius with intent when they said it was okay. He eyed her
warily until he realised she was just holding a brush, not a wand.

‘Thank goodness,’ he sighed, holding out his hand for it. ‘I need that.’

She held it out of his reach. ‘Turn around.’

Lucius looked confused, but he obeyed, and Hermione sat behind him and got to work on the
snarls that had accumulated during his stay. Draco had thought of that, too; he produced a
vial of Lucius’s preferred hair tonic with a smile. Hermione shot him a grateful glance, as it
certainly helped with the tangles, and would make Lucius feel more himself. He relaxed
once she got into a rhythm, and only let out a noise of protest when she accidentally bumped
the wound on his head with the brush. The mediwizard had mostly mended it, but it was still
tender.

‘Sorry,’ she said lowly, and he nodded a little, subsiding.

After she was finished, he looked much more natural, although his eyes remained dull and
flat.

‘Thank you,’ he said hollowly, and offered the most obviously fake smile she’d ever seen.

Hermione sighed and put her chin on his shoulder, leaning against him. She could feel him
quivering, but her touching him first seemed to make him brave--he hesitantly took her hand
and leaned into her, too. Draco sat on his opposite side and began talking about nonsense
that no one cared about, just to fill the silence. Hermione was grateful, because that, too,
made Lucius relax a little as he let Draco’s voice wash over him. He probably wasn’t
actually listening, but Draco’s chatter was a sign that Draco wasn’t angry with him anymore,
and she had no doubt that that was extremely welcome right now. They still needed to talk,
but Lucius was not up to heavy discussions of any kind.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked quietly during a pause.

Lucius shrugged.

‘I brought you some breakfast.’

She’d brought lunch and a snack, too, because she fully intended to see him well fed before
he stepped into the courtroom. He didn’t show any interest until she removed one of the
containers from her beaded bag, his eyes lighting a bit when he realised it was one of her
containers from home. Smiling, she popped the lid off and held out the container and a fork.

‘A waffle and some scrambled eggs with cheese,’ she said coaxingly. ‘Courtesy of the
Granger kitchen.’

Lucius immediately accepted the container and dug in, showing more signs of life than he
had the whole time. He became more animated with each bite, it seemed, and Hermione was
very, very grateful that he’d developed such a taste for her cooking.

Draco grinned and carried on with his mindless chatter, encouraged by this revival of
Lucius’s spirits.

‘So,’ Lucius interrupted when he’d finished, ‘we’re going with the “worried parent”
defence?’

His eyes were blue again, with some light in them, and he was sitting straight now, no more
fearful hunching. Hermione and Draco shared a delighted grin.

‘It does seem like the best approach,’ Draco began, ‘especially since it’s true.’

He began telling Lucius all that their solicitors had planned. Hermione laid back and
watched Lucius listen, intent and serious, occasionally interjecting his own point here and
there. Her wound was paining her, so she didn’t contribute much of anything, content to rest
and let them strategise. Around noon, she interrupted long enough to tempt Lucius with the
sandwich and potato wedges she’d brought, which was not at all difficult--all she had to do
was pop the lid on the container and mention she had made it, and Lucius had it half
devoured before she was finished speaking. It was just as easy to get him to eat the apple and
cheese for a snack around one-thirty, because even though she hadn’t actually made them, it
seemed to be enough for him that she’d been the one who bought them and brought them.

Shortly after he’d finished, Danson came to announce that it was time to start heading out for
his hearing. Hermione watched him carefully, but other than putting on his normal
disdainful, cool mask, Lucius didn’t appear to react in a negative way, even when Danson
regretfully informed him that he’d have to be handcuffed. The food and company had
helped.

Draco and Hermione reluctantly left, headed for the courtroom via the regular entrance,
rather than the prisoners’ entrance. She did manage to squeeze Lucius’s hand before Danson
took him down the opposite hall, though, and offered him a supportive smile. He squeezed
back, but maintained his cool, arrogant expression. It was a defence mechanism he sorely
needed at the moment, and Hermione couldn’t begrudge him that, although she thought the
panel might be a little kinder if he looked more pitiful.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The legal preliminaries were boring, so Hermione spent most of the first hour watching
Lucius. He was sandwiched between his primary solicitor, Franklin Dunn, and the three
others who were allowed to sit with him (she wondered briefly how many were on the
Malfoy payroll, and then decided it could be hundreds and she didn’t care that much). He
didn’t look uncomfortable or small, though--his mask was near-perfect, so that he appeared
that he might have been sitting down to a budget meeting or afternoon tea rather than the
hearing that would decide his immediate future. She was glad they had cleaned him up and
fed him, as it made him look his normal self.

When it finally came time for testimony, the Aurors who had taken Lucius into custody were
permitted to go first, since they had to get back to work immediately after--things at the
Ministry still weren’t considered safe by any means, and Kingsley had suspended all regular
Ministry guards for the time being, leaving the Aurors and Aurors-in-training to pick up the
slack. Neither Auror had much to say, concisely reporting that after the dust had settled, they
and the other Aurors began searching for Death Eaters who were still present and conscious.
They knew of Lucius and the terms of his probation, so when they found him sitting next to
Hermione, holding her wand, they arrested him and took him to a holding cell.

‘Did you see Mr Malfoy cast any spells?’ Dunn asked when it was his turn.

He was a boring sort of man with a boring sort of voice, but he was also a no-nonsense fellow
who liked to get straight to the point. Hermione could appreciate that about him, since she
didn’t want to be here for hours.

Both Aurors answered no, in their turn, and were dismissed.

For much the same reason as the two arresting Aurors, Dunn called first Ron, and then Harry
up next.

Ron’s ears were red, but his expression was serious for once, and he didn’t squirm or quail
after he was sworn in. Nor did he appear to notice the attention he was getting from the
visitors’ seats, or from one of the male members of the five-member panel.

Hermione didn’t know any of the five Wizengamot members who’d been chosen, but she
wasn’t at all surprised, just like she hadn’t been surprised that Lucius’s hearing had been
squeezed into one of the smallest courtrooms available--he was lucky to be getting his
hearing so soon at all, since the main concern of the Ministry at the moment was dealing with
the captured Death Eaters. It was most likely only due to Kingsley that they had fit him in at
all, so a tiny courtroom and low-ranking, unimportant members of the Wizengamot were only
to be expected. Even Rita Skeeter had given Lucius’s hearing a miss, finding the Death Eater
trials more important and exciting. Either that, or she was in beetle form and watching
instead, although Hermione had no idea what the point of that would have been.

‘Mr Weasley, can you tell us the circumstances of Mr Malfoy’s arrival at the Ministry?’ Dunn
droned, his eyes half-lidded and his hands folded over his stomach, as though he didn’t care
at all.

Ron shifted a little. ‘Well…I didn’t see him arrive, but I don’t believe he’d been there long
when I did spot him. He was standing with Hermione, and she’d just whacked him in the
head with her wand. I cast a Stupefy at them before I realised it was them, but it missed,
thankfully.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘I came over and we found a somewhat shielded spot where I could update Hermione on the
situation.’

Dunn yawned. ‘Did Mr Malfoy appear to be armed?’

‘Uh, no. In fact, Hermione kept yelling at him about trying to go out into the fight without a
wand, actually,’ Ron said with a grin.

‘Did he say why he was there?’

‘Yeah, he was looking for Draco.’

‘Why?’

Ron shrugged. ‘He didn’t say, exactly.’

Hermione frowned at that, but it was true, Lucius hadn’t specifically said he was there to
protect Draco--it had just been obvious to anyone who knew him. Still, at least Ron had
learnt not to speculate or editorialise on the witness stand. He’d been scolded for that quite
often during the post-war trials.

‘Was Professor Granger injured when you left them?’

‘No, and Malfoy still didn’t have a wand. I lost track of them after that, since I was with
Ginny and Draco.’

Dunn moved on, cracking his eyes open a little wider. ‘What did you do after the battle?’

‘I went around looking for my friends and family, to make sure they were all right. I knew
Ginny and Draco were fine, so Ginny went off to look for Fred and George and Percy, and
Draco went with her, and I went to find Harry, Hermione, Neville and Dad. I found Neville
helping with the wounded, and then I found Harry and Dad arguing with some Aurors over
Malfoy, who was trussed up, but then I spotted Hermione, and--’

‘Can you describe her condition?’

Ron scowled at the interruption. ‘I was about to. She was all bloody and unconscious, so I
went and grabbed one of the mediwizards who’d just arrived. By the time he determined she
was stable enough to be moved, Malfoy had been taken away, so Harry and I went with
Hermione to St Mungo’s.’

Dunn sighed. ‘And what was Mr Malfoy’s condition, besides “trussed up,” Mr Weasley?’

Ron shrugged. ‘I didn’t get a close look, but he was all dusty and I thought maybe he looked
sick. I wasn’t sure, though, like I said, I didn’t get a good look.’

Dunn shuffled a couple of papers. ‘So, as far as you know, Mr Malfoy came to the Ministry
in search of his son, unarmed, and was arrested?’

‘Well, yeah.’
The speaker of the panel--who also happened to be the wizard with an eye for Ron--
dismissed him kindly without asking any questions.

Harry stepped up, and naturally the whole room was riveted to him. Hermione mentally
rolled her eyes; Harry shot her a rueful, pinched look, feeling as annoyed as always by all the
attention.

‘Mr Potter, when did you realise Mr Malfoy was at the Ministry?’ Dunn began with another
sigh.

Harry straightened his shoulders. ‘When I saw him and Hermione off to one side. I’d been
separated from Draco, who was backing me up, and I’d been looking around either to find
him or a new partner for a while.’

‘What were Professor Granger and Mr Malfoy doing?’

‘Mr Malfoy was staying down, tucked up in a corner, while Hermione tried to defend their
position. They were under attack by two Death Eaters, who were coming at her from two
different sides, so she was having some difficulty. I tried to fight my way over there to help
her, but I got caught up in a different fight and was distracted for a bit.’

Dunn’s eyes opened a little wider again. ‘Was Mr Malfoy armed at that point?’

‘Not that I could tell.’

‘Did you see them again during the battle?’

Harry looked up at her, and she could see his swallow all the way from her seat. ‘Yes,’ he
said softly.

‘What happened, Mr Potter?’

He rallied, readjusting in his seat. ‘Well, I defeated my opponent and immediately started
making my way over again. I couldn’t see them at first because there was a lot of dust and
smoke. When I arrived, one of the Death Eaters she’d been fighting was unconscious, and
Hermione was lying on the floor, unconscious and--and wounded,’ he said, a bit choked.

Dunn offered Harry a faintly sympathetic look. ‘What was Mr Malfoy doing?’

‘He was bent over her, he--he had her wand, but it wasn’t obeying him at all. He was trying
to use a healing spell on her.’

‘How do you know?’ the speaker of the panel put in.

‘Because that’s what kind of spell he used when it finally started working,’ Harry said in a
voice that made plain how stupid he thought that question was.

Dunn cleared his throat, refocusing their attention. ‘You recognised her wand?’

‘Yes.’
‘What did you do then?’

‘I asked him what happened. He said Dolohov--one of the Death Eaters who’d been
attacking her--had got her and he was trying to heal her, but her wand wouldn’t listen. I told
him to keep trying, and that I would cover them in the meantime.’

‘Why didn’t you perform the healing spell yourself and have Mr Malfoy cover the two of you
instead?’ the speaker asked, tilting his head. ‘If the wand wasn’t obeying him, then didn’t it
seem unlikely he would succeed?’

Harry openly rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t reverse our positions because the wand wasn’t
obeying Mr Malfoy,’ he said with open annoyance. ‘If it was already resisting him while
trying to do a healing spell, I wasn’t about to risk our safety to him trying a battle spell, even
a defensive one. If I had switched with him and the wand had continued to refuse him, then
all three of us might have died. With him trying the healing spell and me defending, I knew
at least Mr Malfoy and myself might make it out alive. I didn’t want Hermione to die, either,
but she could have died either way.’

Dunn looked annoyed at this second interruption, shooting the speaker a glare, but he moved
on without comment.

‘Did you see Mr Malfoy cast any other spells besides the healing spell?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Harry said firmly. ‘And I don’t think he cast any before I came over, because the wand
wouldn’t have let him.’

‘What happened after the healing spell was complete?’

‘The battle ended. Mr Malfoy sat with Hermione, so I figured she was in good hands and
went off to help with the wounded. When I looked over to check on them, I saw Auror
Farnby blast Mr Malfoy off his feet, even though I could see Mr Malfoy wasn’t holding
Hermione’s wand anymore and was clearly holding his hands up in surrender,’ Harry said
angrily. ‘He smacked into the wall--it looked like he hit his head pretty hard, so I charged
over and started arguing with them that he didn’t need to be arrested. They took him away
anyway.’

Dunn was not prepared to deal with the other aspects of Lucius’s arrest today--although
Draco had told Lucius that the solicitor was already preparing their case against Porter, since
they had every intention of pressing their own charges against him alongside the Ministry’s.
He was also preparing their case against Cooper and Pickett, and the Ministry in general.

‘So every time you saw Mr Malfoy, he was either doing nothing, or he was actively helping
someone in need?’

‘Yeah, that about sums it up.’

There was more legal garbage, so Hermione left for a while. She needed a little fresh air.
She hadn’t thought, when she was charging to Lucius’s rescue, about how worried her
friends must have been about her --about how near death she’d been, and how that might
have affected them. She just went into protector mode and stormed off to save the day again.

And…sitting in that same position for a long time was making the sharp ache in her wound
flare up. She paced and carefully stretched for a while, waiting out the pointless cross-
examining. They would never ask Harry anything deliberately hostile, either because they
themselves worshipped him or because they knew the populace at large did, and asking, ‘Are
you sure you saw what you think you saw?’ was pointless.

Harry finally emerged, though, looking quite pleased with himself.

‘They’re ready for you in there,’ he said with faint satisfaction. ‘I think the fact that I’m on
his side is going to do the trick, but you can stick the final nails in.’

She wasn’t nearly as confident. ‘I’ll try.’

When she re-entered the courtroom, she was immediately ushered into the witness chair and
sworn in. She sat stiffly and stared straight ahead, trying not to jostle her wound too much, or
give away how much pain she was in.

‘Professor Granger, can you tell us how the events started?’ Dunn asked kindly.

She cleared her throat with an effort. ‘I was teaching my third-year Muggle Studies class
when Harry’s Patronus arrived in my classroom and announced that the Ministry was under
attack and reinforcements were needed. I dismissed the students to their common rooms and
headed out of the castle, sending a Patronus to alert the other teachers, just in case Harry
hadn’t sent them one as well. Mr Malfoy,’ she said, and inwardly winced, because she had
called Harry by his first name, but it was too late now, ‘was in my class, so he heard the
message, too, and his son Draco works at the Ministry. He followed me, announcing his
intention to accompany me.’

She paused, swallowing thickly.

‘What was your response?’ Dunn put in.

She huffed out a half-laugh. ‘I told him he was being ridiculous--that he wasn’t allowed to
go and he didn’t have a wand anyway, so he should go home. I thought that was the end of it,
so I continued outside to the Apparation point. When I arrived, I realised Mr Malfoy had
followed me, and I again told him to go home. Instead, he grabbed onto me as I was
Apparating.’

She stalled out, shutting her eyes briefly as the pain spiked a little, shifting uncomfortably off
of her left side as much as she dared.

‘Professor? What happened then?’

Hermione mustered a wan smile. ‘When we arrived at the Ministry, we drew Ron’s attention-
-accidentally--and he came over to help us out. We found a decent enough spot to hunker
down, and Ron and I shielded and tried to defend it. Mr Malfoy kept looking for Draco, and
tried to go to him when he spotted him, but I prevented him and convinced him that he was
just going to get himself killed if he persisted. He did as he was told after that.’

‘And what did you tell him to do?’

‘To stay down and stay put. Ron went to help Ginny when he spotted her, so it was just Mr
Malfoy and myself. Then we were attacked by Dolohov and another Death Eater--’

‘You’re sure it was Dolohov?’ the speaker cut her off, his eyes narrowed.

Ah. Another person who viewed her as a threat because she had dated Ron.

‘Yes. He’d been sending me anonymous notes for over a year, and he taunted me with them.
Plus, we have…history.’

She waited, but the speaker didn’t try to refute that. She grimly thought that was a good
thing--save the real grilling for Dolohov’s trial, when she would undoubtedly have to testify.

‘The two of them managed to manoeuvre me away from Mr Malfoy, and Dolohov tried to
attack him. Mr Malfoy was unarmed, naturally, so I disposed of the other Death Eater as
quickly as I could and blocked the spell physically,’ she said with an edge of shame. She was
still upset with herself for reacting so instinctively, rather than thinking first. ‘I was injured.
Dolohov was going to press his advantage, but he was engaged by an Auror and drawn away
from us.’

Hermione fell silent. This was the important part, but she didn’t know how to explain herself
now, long after the fact.

‘What happened then, Professor?’ Dunn prompted, a little impatiently.

She cleared her throat. ‘I was injured, as I said, so Mr Malfoy attempted to perform a healing
spell wandlessly. It failed.’

‘What do you mean?’ the speaker asked sharply.

She flicked her eyes to him briefly. ‘Exactly what I said. He incanted a healing spell without
a wand, and it failed. It did not function. The magic just stopped.’

Dunn snorted. ‘It’s irrelevant, Mr Dukes. Please continue, Professor.’

She felt sweat trickle down her spine. She wanted to go lie down. She took a shallow breath.

‘After that, he tried to apply what he had learned in my class,’ she said with a faint, fond
smile. ‘He attempted to use the Muggle method of staunching blood flow--he applied
pressure to the wound. Meanwhile, I was less concerned with myself and more concerned
with the fact that he was now essentially alone and unarmed. I offered him my wand.’

The room fell completely and utterly silent for a moment. No one even shifted. This was a
detail they had been unaware of--and there was a major difference between taking a wand off
an unconscious witch, and taking her wand when she freely offered it. Not to mention that
offering one’s wand to another wizard was kind of a big deal.

‘You offered it to him,’ the speaker repeated tonelessly, blinking with shock.

‘Yes. He refused.’

This caused a rustle of confused murmuring, so Hermione raised her voice and hurried to
continue.

‘Mr Malfoy said no, so I commanded him to take it. I told him to defend himself. He finally
took it, and I lost consciousness.’

When she darted a glance at Dunn, he looked very pleased. She didn’t dare look at Lucius.

‘You were aware that even touching your wand would be a violation of Mr Malfoy’s
probation?’

She licked her lips. ‘Yes, I…. I just wanted him to be able to defend himself.’

The speaker cleared his throat. ‘If you offered him your wand, then why did it resist him so
strongly?’

That made her smile. ‘It didn’t, Mr Dukes. Actually, it was fairly cooperative.’

He started to scoff.

‘Clearly, you don’t know my wand, Mr Dukes. Its core is unicorn hair, and it is very loyal.
The last person who touched it accidentally without my permission got burnt. Literally. You
may ask Mr Ollivander if you don’t believe me, but I assure you, my wand is simply very…
attached. It does not wish to be parted from me, even with my permission. The fact that Mr
Malfoy eventually convinced it to work for him at all is proof enough that the wand was
freely offered.’

Dukes frowned. ‘Then weren’t you concerned that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself
with it anyway?’

‘Of course not. As I believe I mentioned, I was injured. I was bleeding quite heavily, and
wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. My only thought was to give him a way to defend himself--
at the time, it did not occur to me that that might not be possible regardless.’

‘Mr Malfoy is a former Death Eater, known to harbour anti-Muggle sentiments,’ Dukes
pressed. ‘Why would a Muggle-born such as yourself trust him with something so
potentially dangerous? He could have taken the opportunity to finish you off.’

Hermione sighed. ‘The key word there is “former,” Mr Dukes. Mr Malfoy has made great
progress in my class, and shows greater enthusiasm for the subject of Muggle Studies than
any of my other students. He formerly harboured anti-Muggle sentiments, but I have felt no
ill-will from him toward myself in many months, now. If I’m not mistaken, that was the
point of the Wizengamot making him take my class in the first place, was it not? For him to
gain an appreciation of Muggle-borns?’

Dukes’s frown deepened and he abandoned that line of thought. ‘Professor Granger, why do
you believe Mr Malfoy was so insistent on accompanying you?’

She looked at him coolly. ‘Speculation, Counselor.’

Another ripple of amusement passed through the crowd. Dukes was not amused, but Dunn
clearly was, if the chuckle he tried to turn into a cough was any indication.

‘We will note, for the record, that this is merely opinion,’ Dukes said testily. ‘But you
apparently know and trust Mr Malfoy enough to offer him your wand. Was he rejoining his
fellow Death Eaters?’

‘ No ! He would never do that!’ Hermione snarled, with a whole lot of emotion and not a
whole lot of thought.

Dukes’s brows rose, and he smirked faintly. ‘You’re that sure? Then why did he go with
you, knowingly violating his probation and endangering you and himself?’

She very nearly growled, skewering Dukes with her glare. ‘Because he loves his son, Mr
Dukes. He loves Draco more than anything else in the world, and the mere thought that he
might be in danger knocked all the sense out of Mr Malfoy’s head. He did what any parent
would do when they learnt that their child was in the midst of something like that.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Dukes sneered.

She looked at him coldly. ‘You asked for my opinion, Mr Dukes, and you have it. Mr
Malfoy insisted on coming with me regardless of the personal cost because he wanted to see
with his own eyes that his son was safe. I hardly think he can be faulted for that.’

Another ripple ran through the spectators, and this one felt like approval. Dukes must have
sensed the change in the wind, the sympathy Lucius was receiving now, because he
immediately backed down. He sat one of the elected Wizengamot seats, after all. The crowd
clearly held her opinion of Lucius in high regard after her revelation that she had willingly
offered him her wand.

‘Very well,’ Dukes said, scrambling to sound polite now. ‘If there are no further questions,
then you may step down, Professor Granger.’

Dunn indicated that he didn’t have any, so Hermione stiffly stood and limped back to the
stands. Draco met her halfway and helped her to her seat, his brow wrinkled with concern.
While Hermione wasn’t happy to be in pain, she was at least pleased to note that this
reminder of the injury Lucius had healed seemed to increase the other spectators’ positive
feelings toward him, if the approving looks directed at him were any indication.

Lucius was looking at her with his lips parted and his expression unreadable, though she
could detect a faint furrow in his brow.
‘Are you all right?’ Draco whispered.

She forced a smile. ‘I’ll be fine.’

He didn’t look convinced, but then his attention was drawn away as the last testimony was
about to begin--Lucius was being sworn in.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius made every effort not to appear as discomfitted as he felt. In truth, he was actually
quite terrified--although Hermione’s food and constant presence at his side for most of the
day had helped immeasurably. The fact that Draco no longer seemed to be angry with him
(aside from being more than a little put out about him risking his life so foolishly) was also a
comfort to him, because at least if they sent him to Azkaban anyway, he would go knowing
that he and Draco were on speaking terms again.

‘Before we begin, let us establish the salient facts. Mr Malfoy, you knowingly left Hogwarts
castle and set foot on the grounds without permission, correct?’ Dukes began immediately,
not letting Dunn get started at all.

It wasn’t protocol, and Dunn was clearly annoyed, but this time Dukes did what he pleased.

Lucius didn’t see the point in trying to lie his way out--he’d obviously done these things.
There was also really no point in pretending to be arrogantly confident, as he was very
definitely not confident that he would get out of this without another turn in Azkaban.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said quietly, letting his shoulders droop just a little, dropping his eyes.

‘And you knew it was a violation of your probation?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You also entered the Ministry of Magic without a pass to enter the area, and without a
previously established appointment, in full knowledge of the fact that it also was not an area
open to you under the terms of your probation. Is that correct?’

He suppressed a sigh. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Lastly, you not only held but used another person’s wand, which is also a violation of the
terms of your probation, correct?’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’

Dukes smiled smugly. ‘Good. Now that we’ve establish the three violations and the fact that
you admit to your guilt in the matter…. You may proceed, Mr Dunn.’
‘ Thank you, Mr Dukes,’ Dunn sneered. His tone was a great deal more polite when he
addressed Lucius. ‘Mr Malfoy, why did you go to the Ministry?’

‘Because I heard the Patronus message from Mr Potter, and I knew it meant that Draco might
be in danger,’ he said honestly. ‘I didn’t consider anything else at the time.’

‘So it only occurred to you after the fact that you were in violation?’

Lucius grimaced. ‘ Long after the fact. I didn’t realise what I’d done until Her--Professor
Granger and I were already in the midst of the battle. And even then it took a while to sink
in.’

‘Your son was the only thought on your mind?’ Dunn prodded.

‘Yes.’

Lucius could read a crowd--they’d been pleased and approving ever since Hermione’s
testimony, and it only increased now.

‘What happened when Professor Granger was injured?’

The memory of her lying there flashed across his mind. It was difficult to swallow, suddenly.

‘She was awake, at first, but seemed confused. I was familiar with the spell modification that
Dolohov favoured, thanks to our previous…association,’ he said, and even saying it brought
a bitter taste to his mouth. ‘I know a few healing spells for emergency situations, so I chose
the one that I knew would be most effective against that particular modification.
Unfortunately, I was unable to perform it without a wand, so I resorted to the emergency first
aid I had learnt in Professor Granger’s class. There’s a whole chapter about surviving various
injuries using Muggle methods.’ He frowned. ‘That wasn’t really working, either, though,
because the wound was so long that I could only apply pressure to one section of it.’

Dunn made a slightly impatient noise. ‘Is that when Professor Granger offered you her
wand?’

The possession of the wand seemed to be the major point against him, rather than his
showing up at the Ministry at all.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly.

Lucius was still coming to terms with her somewhat impassioned defence of him--and only
when she said it had it occurred to him that she knew exactly what it meant in pureblood
circles for one wizard to offer his wand to another, and she had done it anyway. It was all a
little too much to deal with right now, between that revelation, his own realisation that he was
in love with her, and the muddled state of his mind, courtesy of Porter. Then there was his
worry for her--she hadn’t looked well. He wanted to get through this so she could get help if
she needed it, and not stay here waiting to see what happened to him.

‘You refused it?’

‘Yes, I….’ He hesitated. ‘I didn’t know what she wanted me to do, and I knew I wasn’t
supposed to touch it.’

‘But you accepted when she told you to take it. Did you plan to defend yourself, like she told
you to?’

‘No. I thought if I set it aside, she would rest. Then she passed out, and I realised that it was
an opportunity to try to heal her again.’

Dunn almost looked excited, for once. ‘So you never had any intention of using it to attack
or defend?’

He tried not to sigh aloud. ‘I didn’t have any intention of using it at all, at first, and then
afterward, I only thought of healing Professor Granger, so no, I never had any intention of
using it for battle.’

‘Thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ Dunn said, looking very self-satisfied.

Dukes opened his mouth, but the approval radiating off the spectators was nearly palpable by
now, so he reluctantly closed it again, and had the witch at his side dismiss Lucius back to his
place. The panel members put a privacy bubble around themselves and talked for a solid
twenty minutes. Lucius spent the time watching Hermione--she was sweating and pale,
holding her left side. Draco murmured in her ear occasionally, and she nodded without lifting
her eyes from her knees. Lucius willed her to be all right.

At last, they emerged from the bubble, and Dukes was looking sour. This was a good sign for
Lucius, and he perked up a little in spite of himself.

‘Mr Malfoy, we have decided that the punishment for your violations is to be confined to
your home for a period of one week.’

That was… incredibly light, and not at all what he’d expected. He listened, light-headed, as
they explained that he wouldn’t be allowed in his gardens for the week, and that he would
also be barred from attending class for the week. Considering that he’d been steeling himself
for another stint in Azkaban, that seemed like nothing.

Kingsley personally came over to remove the handcuffs, smiling widely. Lucius had no idea
when he’d got there, because he hadn’t seen him the whole entire time, but he was too
relieved to quibble anything right now.

‘Congratulations, Mr Malfoy,’ he said, slapping Lucius on the back.

Lucius righted himself and tried to smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Shacklebolt.’

‘Mind if I escort you home?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, and ignored his confusion over Kingsley’s sudden interest in him.

Hermione and Draco joined them in the hall outside, Hermione leaning heavily on Draco’s
arm. Lucius quickly nudged him out of the way so Hermione was leaning on him instead;
Hermione smiled tiredly at him and said nothing, while Draco merely raised his brows and
shook his head as though he despaired of them.

It wasn’t long before they were back at Malfoy Manor. Lucius busied himself making
Hermione comfortable, settling her on the sofa in the sitting room and fussing over her. She
seemed bemused by the attention, but didn’t protest at all, remaining quiet and cooperative.

‘Draco, bring her a pain potion,’ he commanded when he’d determined that it was her wound
hurting her.

Draco did as he was told without comment; clearly, he’d noticed Hermione’s state, too.
Kingsley even looked concerned when he looked at Hermione, but he didn’t interfere.

Hermione drank the potion when it came and relaxed into the cushions a little, sighing.
Lucius sat on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa and holding her hand.
She didn’t seem to mind.

‘I can see you have something on your mind, Kingsley,’ Hermione said at last.

Kingsley nodded seriously. ‘Yes, but nothing terrible. I wanted to warn you ahead of time,
Mr Malfoy--you’re going to have to testify against Porter.’

Lucius gave a slightly wobbly nod, unsurprised but not pleased. ‘I assumed so. I assume I’ll
be doing a lot of testifying.’

He sighed. ‘Almost all of us will, I’m afraid. These preliminary trials don’t require many
witnesses, but sooner or later, they’re going to need everyone who was in the atrium to testify
against the Death Eaters we caught. You, and you, Hermione, are going to be particularly
key in the case against Dolohov.’

Hermione’s hand tightened around his briefly. ‘I thought that might be the case.’

‘And…we’re going to need testimony against any other guards who might have been
abusive. All the way back to 1996, at least,’ he added pointedly.

Lucius paled, but he nodded stiffly. He wondered if there was a way to testify against Porter
and the rest without actually having to be in the same room as them.

Kingsley stood. ‘Just so long as you’re all prepared.’

He excused himself shortly after. Silence fell as Draco contemplated the fire in the hearth,
Hermione contemplated the ceiling, and Lucius contemplated Hermione. All the things they
needed to say hung heavy in the air between them, but all three of them seemed to be in
agreement that they were too exhausted for any serious conversation. They needed to rest
and recuperate before they even attempted to clear the air.

‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend your class this week,’ he said at last.

She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t count it against your three non-medical absences.’
‘Thank goodness,’ he said dryly. ‘I was really worried about that, you know.’

Her smile brightened, and Lucius sighed, resting his cheek against their linked hands. He
was quite content at the moment, so it wasn’t surprising when he drifted off to sleep.
 Conversations
Chapter Summary

Lucius and Draco have a long overdue heart-to-heart. Hermione mediates where
necessary, and afterward, tells Lucius of their plans to schedule him a couple of
appointments.

Chapter Notes

This one's mostly a recovery chapter, with some necessary setup. I thought poor Lucius
and Hermione needed a breather, and it was past time for Draco and Lucius to patch
things up a bit.

Not much to say this time, otherwise. Thank you all for reading and/or commenting! :)

Lucius woke with a crick in his neck again, but this time it was worth it, because he’d hung
onto Hermione all night this way. They must have dropped off not long after him, because
she was still on the sofa behind him, loosely gripping his hand and making soft hums when
she exhaled. Draco was still in the armchair, fast asleep, with his thankfully-empty teacup
dangling dangerously from one finger. Lucius took a moment to feel smug about being the
first one up for once and stood stiffly from the floor--not his brightest idea to date, as his
body promptly informed him. Wizards didn’t age quite as fast as Muggles did, but forty-five-
year-olds still had no business sleeping sitting up on the floor.

Hermione stirred as soon as he released her hand, frowning and reaching for him with her
eyes scrunched shut, muttering an incoherent protest. He smiled fondly and couldn’t resist
the urge to bend down and press a kiss to her temple. She sighed, settling back into sleep
immediately. He quietly crept from the room, headed for the kitchen.

He still felt muddled, having been much too exhausted yesterday to exert any energy even for
mental tasks. Even though he knew they weren’t real, it was difficult separating the images
of Hermione rejecting him and condemning him in his cell from his emotional state. He
knew that Porter had manufactured those moments--Hermione had been unconscious at St
Mungo’s the whole time--but they still produced an ache he couldn’t seem to shake. Porter
had known exactly what button to push to cause Lucius the most anguish.

Then there was the humbling realisation that Hermione had offered him her wand . It hadn’t
occurred to him at the time, and he’d been a bit busy being beaten and mentally tortured for a
while after, but it had sunk in at the hearing exactly how much that meant. How much
Hermione trusted him, believed in him. Offering another wizard the use of one’s wand was
tantamount to pledging fealty to them, down to the soul--which was part of why it had been
so hard to give his own wand to the Dark Lord when it was demanded of him. He’d no
longer had such unshakeable faith in the Dark Lord, and giving him his wand was the last
thing he’d wanted to do at that point, and his family’s continued survival had been the only
reason he’d done it. Since his wand was destroyed shortly after, he’d never know if it would
have responded to him the same way again. It was a little disturbing, because the wand’s
reaction would have told him exactly how willing he’d been at the moment he handed it over,
regardless of appearances or lies he’d told himself. Although, perhaps it was for the best that
he hadn’t ever touched it after the Dark Lord had, leaving his oily aura upon it.

He was curious to know how Hermione’s wand would react now, but he didn’t think he really
had the right to ask, after she woke up. He forced the thought from his mind and back to his
own troubles.

Hermione’s offer juxtaposed with the fake images Porter had planted, leaving his head
spinning a bit. Add in his still-undealt-with realisation that he’d fallen in love with Hermione
at some point, and he was in serious need of some time to think and sort through his
emotions.

But not today. Today, he wanted Draco and Hermione close to him. He needed to reassure
himself that they were both alive and safe, now that he didn’t have the worry of going back to
Azkaban hanging so urgently over his head and the dust had settled.

‘Tibby?’ he called tentatively as he came down the stairs.

The other house elves froze and then turned themselves invisible, but Tibby rocketed at him,
and Lucius found himself with an armful of distressed house elf. He was knocked back a
couple of steps, and grunted a little as Tibby’s tight grip around his torso made his ribs send
notice that they were still a bit tender, and would appreciate a little care and consideration,
thanks very much. Therefore, it took him a moment to realise that the horrendous noise he
was hearing was coming from Tibby, and that the front of his robes were getting damp--she
was crying against his chest, giving great, wailing sobs.

Lucius blinked down at her in confusion, but it didn’t look like she was going to stop any
time soon, and he had had a reason for coming down here. Still, he couldn’t just toss her off.
Stiffly, he reached up and patted her shoulder.

‘There, there,’ he said awkwardly.

She let out a particularly loud wail and lifted her head, looking up at him with huge wet eyes,
her wrinkly little face even wrinklier than normal and reddened with her distress.

‘Oh, Master!’ she cried. ‘Master is back! Tibby worried about Master for days! Young
Master was upset, and Master was gone! Where was Master?’

Lucius cleared his throat, feeling oddly touched and embarrassed. ‘I was in jail, and I didn’t
have a Get Out of Jail Free card.’
Tibby let go of him, hopping onto the counter and wringing her hands. ‘Tibby would have
brought Master one, if Master had called!’ she sniffled, looking genuinely hurt.

He sighed. ‘It was a joke, Tibby. I don’t think Get Out of Jail Free cards exist outside of
Muggle board games--remind me to ask Hermione to teach you how to play Monopoly
sometime.’

She gave a little bounce, her ears lifting as she perked up. ‘Tibby would like that very
much!’

‘Hmm,’ he hummed, wryly thinking that she would enjoy beating them all with her
underhanded tactics. ‘Well, anyway, I’ve been in jail, and Hermione’s been in St Mungo’s--’

‘Miss Hermione was hurt?!’ Tibby cried with renewed distress.

He suppressed another sigh. ‘Yes, and she’s still in a bit of pain, so I was wondering if you
wouldn’t mind--’

‘Tibby and the others will get breakfast started right away!’ she shouted, glowing with
excitement, and bounced away faster than the human eye could follow.

‘Thank you,’ he said, although he didn’t think she was listening anymore.

It was a bit dizzying, actually, watching them all speed around, so Lucius retreated from the
kitchen as quietly as he could, lest Tibby attack-hug him again. Draco and Hermione were
still sleeping, so he went to the entrance hall to place two Floo calls. The first was to Draco’s
assistant, to let her know that Draco wouldn’t be in today. The young lady’s eyes shot wide
and she quivered with fear at the very sight of his head in the flames, but she nodded and
thanked him for informing her.

The second was to Minerva McGonagall, and while Lucius didn’t quiver in fear, he did
swallow hard and found himself fidgeting a bit under her narrow stare.

‘Lucius Malfoy,’ she said in a tone that made it clear exactly where he ranked on the list of
people she’d like to be contacted by. ‘To what do I owe the honour?’

‘Honour’ was uttered with implied quotes.

He ducked his head a bit. He’d been intimidated by her as a student, and had never outgrown
it. She still made his insides turn to mush, made him want to confess that yes, it had been
him who’d switched out the Gryffindors’ Muggle, regular-flavoured jelly beans they’d
received in care packages from home with some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans that he’d
made certain were all nasty-tasting ones, back in his second year. She’d never quite believed
it was that fourth-year Hufflepuff he’d sweetly, innocently implicated.

‘I just wanted to inform you that Professor Granger is still feeling unwell,’ he said, struggling
not to mumble as she continued to pin him with her gaze. ‘She is resting at the moment, and
I thought that it might be wise for her to take today off?’
He couldn’t help the uncertain, questioning lilt at the end. McGonagall was twenty times
more unnerving to him than Dumbledore had ever been, because he felt like she could see
straight through him without even trying.

Her face didn’t soften, but her tone was fractionally gentler when she replied. ‘Ah. Actually,
I was hoping to speak with Hermione myself, but perhaps you can be trusted to tell her that I
would like her to take today and tomorrow off to recover,’ she said, quirking a brow at him.
‘I would also like you to inform her that I wish to speak to her on Thursday morning, before
her first class, if you would be so kind.’

‘Of course, Professor,’ he said politely.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and turned her attention to a parchment on her desk.

Dismissed, Lucius ended the call, sitting back on his haunches and trying to get his nerves
back under control.

‘Arranging our lives for us?’ an amused voice said.

Lucius jumped. ‘Draco! Don’t sneak up on me like that,’ he scolded, climbing stiffly to his
feet. ‘You don’t know who I was calling. It might not have anything to do with either of
you.’

Draco just smiled, folding his arms. ‘You only get that look on your face when you’ve just
seen Professor McGonagall, so at the very least, you were sticking your nose in Hermione’s
business.’

He peered around Draco, but the hallway was empty.

‘She’s still asleep,’ Draco confirmed.

‘Oh.’ Lucius rubbed at the ache in the side of his neck absently. ‘I suppose I was being a bit
interfering. I let your assistant know that you’d be gone today.’

Draco’s brows lifted with distinct amusement. ‘I see.’

‘I did just call Professor McGonagall,’ he admitted, ‘but that was the extent of my
interference there. I was informed that Hermione will be taking today and tomorrow off, and
asked to deliver the message that the good professor would like her to come to see her on
Thursday before Hermione’s first class.’

He smirked, but his amusement was fading as his eyes tracked Lucius’s rubbing. ‘Messenger
boy,’ he teased. ‘It’s a good title for you. You could make a career out of it.’

Lucius harrumphed with feigned annoyance, smiling despite himself.

‘I’ll get you a pain potion,’ Draco added. ‘And I might as well get Hermione one as well.
You shouldn’t have slept on the floor like that.’
He hunched his shoulders, dropping his hand too late. ‘It isn’t like I meant to, any more than
you meant to fall asleep in your chair,’ he said defensively.

Draco just gave him a look and went to fetch the potion. Lucius wandered back to the sitting
room, smiling as Hermione’s incoherent muttering reached his ears. He sat cross-legged
beside her, watching her expressions change, and all his muddled emotions and thoughts
were pushed aside for a while.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Father? Tibby says breakfast is ready.’

Lucius waved a hand in Draco’s general direction, not looking up from his intent study of
Hermione.

‘We’ll be there in a moment.’

He heard Draco sigh. ‘Okay. There’s a pain potion for each of you waiting next to your
plates--may I suggest that you both take those first?’

He gave another careless wave and heard Draco leave. He propped his chin on the edge of
the couch and lightly blew on Hermione’s nose. The adorable, faintly freckled, slightly
upturned nose immediately crinkled, her eyelids fluttering as she made a noise of protest.

‘It’s time to wake up,’ Lucius whispered.

Her eyes cracked open a tiny slit and she stretched. ‘Lucius?’ she said fuzzily.

‘I’m here,’ he said, and made no attempt to mask the fondness in his voice.

Her eyes opened a little more, and he could see the instant she became fully awake. ‘Oh,
good,’ she said, and patted the top of his head with a cheeky grin.

He chuckled and drew out of her reach, climbing to his feet once more. ‘It’s time to take our
medicine and eat our breakfast, before Draco grounds both of us.’

‘He’s welcome to try,’ Hermione groused, but she accepted his hand up. She winced when
she stood, pressing her hand to her side, but waved off his concern with a strained smile.

Draco was waiting for them in the dining room, drumming his fingers on the table, but he
perked up when they sat and downed the pain potions first thing.

‘So, Hermione, I don’t know if Father has filled you in yet,’ he said cheerfully as they all
started eating. Lucius had to admit that it actually tasted passable for once, although it was
nowhere near as good as Hermione’s cooking. ‘But apparently, you and I are taking the day
off.’
Hermione looked up in shock, the egg she’d been balancing on her fork hitting the plate with
a splat. ‘What? But I haven’t asked--’

‘The headmistress of Hogwarts has commanded it,’ Lucius said wryly, shuddering a bit at the
reminder. ‘I called her this morning. She must have known about your injury already--she
told me to tell you that you’re off today and tomorrow, and that she wishes to see you before
your first class on Thursday.’

She subsided. ‘Oh.’

Draco shot Lucius an amused glance over his orange juice. ‘He plays coy now, but he was
going to ask if you could have the day off anyway. He went ahead and informed my assistant
that I wouldn’t be in today.’

Hermione’s lip quirked upward. ‘Well. I suppose it’s just as well. We’ve all had a rough few
days--we probably do need some time to relax.’ She paused. ‘Has anyone bothered to check
on Crookshanks while I’ve been indisposed?’

‘Harry’s been feeding him every day,’ Draco quickly assured her. ‘Don’t worry, none of us
wanted you to wake up only to find your dead cat at home.’

‘Thanks, that’s much appreciated.’

The morning Prophet arrived for Hermione, and naturally, the Death Eater trials were
plastered all over the front. Much to his surprise, though, his hearing had made it into the
paper, too, on page four.

‘Do I even want to know?’ Lucius asked glumly when Hermione announced it was in.

She skimmed it with a serious expression. ‘It’s nothing bad. Since we were there, it’s mostly
a bore. There is quite a bit of praise for your paternal instincts, though, so if you’d like to a
good ego stroking from a low-ranking Prophet reporter--’

Lucius snorted. ‘Pass.’

Honestly, he didn’t exactly understand why people’s attitudes in the courtroom had done such
a swift turnaround anyway. Yes, so he’d been concerned for Draco’s safety, to the point of
acting like a complete idiot--that didn’t actually make him a good father. He’d utterly failed
at parenthood, and he didn’t really believe that trying to keep Draco alive made up for all the
many mistakes and bad choices he’d made. He’d been trying to do better by Draco, but it
hardly made up for all the years before. Draco was an adult now--there were no do-overs
when shaping a child’s life.

They finished breakfast and headed back to the sitting room at Hermione’s suggestion.
Hermione settled into one of the armchairs with a contented expression, but Draco had
turned solemn on the short walk from dining room to sitting room. Lucius watched with a
mixture of curiosity and worry as Draco frowned at the fireplace, shifting agitatedly from
time to time. When he looked at Hermione, she gave a little shrug to indicate that she didn’t
know what had got into him, either.
The silence sat. It itched at Lucius, gnawed and clawed and aggravated him until he thought
he might scream. Draco wasn’t going to say anything, clearly, and Hermione had opened her
paper again, working away at the crossword puzzle with her tongue clamped between her
teeth. It was adorable, but Draco was too distracting for him to enjoy watching her in peace.

Bravery. Hermione would just demand to know what Draco’s problem was, if she’d been
paying attention. And Ginny would bully and nag Draco until he admitted it. They were
both bull-headed, stubborn Gryffindors--but their relationships with Draco were generally a
lot smoother than his was. When they did have a problem, it was dealt with a lot quicker and
with no outside interference, usually. Lucius and Draco couldn’t seem to get along for more
than a few days without Hermione around to interrupt and smooth their ruffled feathers.

Perhaps they had the right idea. Perhaps the best way to clear the air was just to face Draco
head on and demand answers.

Lucius’s insides shrivelled at the very thought. What if Draco was angry? What if he went
back to pretending Lucius didn’t exist? What if he moved out and left Lucius all alone?

He ground his own mind to a halt, forcibly tamping down on the panic. This was ridiculous .
He could ask a question, couldn’t he? Surely Draco wouldn’t be that angry over a question?
He’d never thrown Hermione out of their home over a question, or broken up with Ginny
over any of her blunt statements. True, Lucius was a completely different matter than either
of them, but he still thought a question was no reason to fly into a terrified frenzy. He could
do this.

Especially since Hermione was here to protect him, if Draco did blow up.

Lucius took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. ‘Draco, is there something on your mind?’
he asked as evenly and firmly as he could.

Draco jumped, looking up at him with wide eyes. Even Hermione glanced up with a little
surprise, but she was smiling approvingly, which staved off any cowardly weakening of will
he might have felt. She quickly turned back to her puzzle, or appeared to--Lucius could tell
she was still attuned to them, merely pretending to be engrossed to offer them the illusion of
privacy.

Draco cleared his throat, blinking away some of his shock. ‘Um. I….’ Then he seemed to
get hold of himself, straightening. ‘Actually, yes, Father. Two somethings, actually.’

He relaxed just a fraction. No explosions so far.

‘Very well. What is the first thing?’

His son blew out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair and dropping his gaze
again. Lucius tilted his head, wondering what could possibly be so hard to say, and almost
certain that it had to do with Draco’s unbearably awful mood these past weeks. He’d almost
given up and was about to say something encouraging when Draco finally responded.
‘I tortured you!’ he blurted loudly, and then covered his mouth with both hands, staring at the
rug with a wild sort of expression.

Lucius blinked. ‘Yes…? I told you then that it wasn’t your fault. I haven’t changed my
stance on the subject.’

He’d rather deserved it, actually. While most of him had been hurt--literally--there had been
a small part of him that felt relieved, like he was offering Draco a little retribution, like it
absolved him of just a tiny bit of the guilt for all the harm he’d done Draco.

Draco’s hands dropped, revealing that his mouth was hanging open. ‘How can you say
that?!’ he demanded, and his voice was as wild as his expression. ‘You know to perform the
Cruciatus you have to want to--you know that! I wanted to hurt you! How can you say that it
wasn’t my fault?’

‘Because I somehow doubt you’d have cast an Unforgivable on me, or anyone else, if the
Dark Lord hadn’t forced you to,’ he said dryly. ‘No matter how much you wanted to.’

His son couldn’t counter that, because they both knew it was true. He grimaced, conceding
that point with bad grace.

‘I still did it,’ he insisted stubbornly. ‘You can’t just excuse me from any responsibility when
you know that I wanted to hurt you enough to make the curse work.’

Lucius shrugged a little. ‘All right. You tortured me. You’re sorry. I forgive you. Do you
feel better now?’

Hermione made a soft, choked noise and lifted the paper higher to hide her smile, but not
before Lucius glimpsed it. Draco did not share her amusement, gaping at Lucius with
dismay.

‘ No , I don’t feel better! What is wrong with you?’ he cried.

He sighed. ‘Many things. None of them alter the fact that I don’t feel you tortured me of
your own volition, or that it was undeserved, and therefore I don’t hold you accountable. If
you still feel responsible, that is your issue, not mine. I have never once blamed you for that,
Draco,’ he added, more gently. ‘I wish you would accept it as an unfortunate incident and
put it from your mind.’

Draco’s mouth worked for a moment. ‘An unfortunate incident,’ he repeated blankly.

Lucius wished he knew the right words to make this okay, but he was not practised at talking
about emotions and emotionally-charged situations, and his political smooth-talking abilities
were of no use here. He didn’t think Draco could be negotiated, bribed or threatened out of
feeling guilty--if he was still five years old, maybe. Those had been good times, when
Draco’s tantrums and upsets were easily settled with the promise of a Chocolate Frog or a
box of Ice Mice, or even a new toy, if candies weren’t enough. Narcissa had never approved
of his using bribery to control their young son’s moods, but she hadn’t been able to argue
with the results, either--a quiet, contented little boy and a peaceful household. She was right,
though, of course, as Lucius found out when Draco got older and the demands got larger,
until he was old enough to start demanding items like racing brooms in exchange for good
behaviour.

Hermione had once mentioned to him that Muggles had manuals to help them parent. He
rather wished he’d had one of them when Draco was born, and then maybe he wouldn’t have
made so many mistakes.

‘I can’t just put it out of my mind,’ Draco said scornfully, his brows drawing together.
‘Especially not after what you did for me.’

Lucius waited, but Draco did not elaborate, staring at the fire and grinding his jaw. He
racked his brain, but he didn’t have a clue what Draco could possibly be referring to.
Seeking him out and almost going to jail for it? Seeking him out during the Battle of
Hogwarts? On neither occasion had he been successful, at least not until after it was too late
to be of any use, and it was nothing compared to all Draco had been through.

‘What I did for you?’ he echoed.

Draco scowled. ‘Don’t play dumb.’

‘I’m not,’ he protested earnestly. ‘I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Hermione peered over her paper at him with narrowed eyes for a moment. ‘He really
doesn’t, Draco,’ she confirmed, and went back to her paper.

Draco’s hands clenched into fists. ‘You volunteered to be tortured in my place,’ he said
lowly.

Lucius remembered that well enough. Three consecutive hours of Cruciatus was nothing
he’d ever experienced before, and he had no desire to ever experience it again. It wasn’t
something that could be easily forgotten. He felt a faint echo of remembered pain in his chest
just thinking about it. He had been lucky to come out of it sane.

‘Oh, that,’ he said flippantly.

Draco stared in disbelief, his mouth hanging open again. ‘ Oh, that ?!’ he squeaked.

Even Hermione abandoned all pretence of working on her crossword puzzle, the paper falling
into her lap as she gaped at him.

‘What? You’re my son,’ Lucius said gently. ‘It’s my job to look after you, to protect you, no
matter how old you are. I haven’t always done a very good job at being your father--frankly,
I’ve been pretty rotten at it most of the time. But I have always done my best to keep you
safe. And I will continue to do so, at any cost. I haven’t always succeeded, and most of the
choices I’ve made for our family have ended up putting you directly in danger, even though
that’s what I was trying to avoid…but your life and well-being has always and will always
come first. If I had to endure a thousand Cruciatus curses for you, I would.’
Draco bit his lip, his chin quivering, and Hermione quietly hid behind her newspaper again.
Silence reigned for a few moments, and then, for the second time that day, Lucius found
himself being squeezed around the middle by something crying. Draco wasn’t wailing,
though, thankfully, just quietly sniffling, his tears soaking the front of Lucius’s robes--again.
He’d just been drying off from Tibby’s crying attack.

He patted Draco’s shoulder, but ‘there, there’ didn’t quite seem to cover it in this case. He
wished again that it was easy as it had been when Draco was small--waving a lolly in front of
his face would have dried the tears right up.

‘I’ll just get some tea,’ Hermione mouthed, rising from her chair as quietly as possible.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius mouthed back.

She padded silently from the room, and Lucius was left awkwardly patting his weeping son.
After a moment, he tried petting Draco’s head, and that seemed a little more effective, as
Draco’s shoulders slowly quit shaking. He still didn’t let go, though, hiccuping and sniffling
pitifully into Lucius’s chest. It seemed a little easier, now, to say what he’d wanted to say for
quite some time, and he doubted he’d ever get another opportunity like this. He drew a
breath, steeling himself, and forced himself to speak.

‘I have been a terrible father,’ he said, very quietly to hide the waver in his voice. ‘I’ve failed
you in so many ways, and I’ll never be able to make it right. I’m sorry--so very sorry, for
everything. And I’m proud of you, even though I have no right. I don’t deserve a son as
good as you. I’m sorry I don’t say it or show it enough, but I do love you, Draco, don’t ever
doubt it.’

Draco let out a little sob and clutched tighter to him. ‘I love you, too, Father,’ he choked out,
and burst into fresh tears. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shh, it’s all right.’

Lucius didn’t mind the crying so much this time, basking a bit in the relief of having said
what he wanted to, and a bit in awe of the even bigger relief of not being rejected, but rather
reassured that his son still loved him. That was nothing short of a miracle, in his view, and he
was humbled by it.

Still, he was glad when Hermione returned with a tea tray, breaking the moment. Draco
pulled away but stayed sitting beside him on the sofa, sniffling and wiping his face on his
sleeve until Lucius patiently handed him a handkerchief. Hermione played mother for them,
and it was a comfort to have a cup of tea to focus on instead of all those pesky emotions,
even though he didn’t really want any tea. Although the finger sandwiches were very
welcome--he shouldn’t really be hungry, but Hermione had made them, he could tell on the
first taste, and that made them irresistible. Besides, it had been a little over an hour since
breakfast, so he told himself it was all right.

Draco zeroed in on the biscuits and cheered up immediately--perhaps he hadn’t changed

completely since he was a little boy, Lucius reflected, trying not to smile.
‘Did you boys get everything sorted out?’ Hermione asked kindly, settling back into her chair
with her own cuppa.

‘Not sorted , exactly,’ Draco said huskily. ‘But we’ve made a good start.’

Lucius nodded his agreement, and Hermione appeared satisfied by that.

‘I don’t think I can talk about that anymore right now, though,’ Draco admitted. ‘If that’s all
right. I mean, I don’t think the subject is closed, but maybe we can table it for now?’

‘Fine by me,’ Lucius agreed quickly.

He had no desire to cause Draco further distress, so if they could move on to a subject that
wouldn’t end with him in tears, that would be good.

‘Then I think I should tell you the second something.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to ask
Ginny to marry me.’

He cringed afterward, clearly expecting an explosion.

Lucius sipped his tea. ‘Are you going to use one of the heirloom rings from our vaults, or are
you going to buy her a new ring?’

Draco’s jaw dropped for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘You’re not angry?’

He frowned faintly. ‘Why would I be angry?’

Hermione made a disbelieving noise. ‘Lucius, did you not just hear what he said? He wants
to marry Ginny. G-iiiiih-nny . As in Ginny Weasley . Who is a Weasley, in case that wasn’t
clear.’

‘Believe it or not, I have met Ginny on more than one occasion,’ he said dryly. ‘I am aware
that she’s a Weasley. I assumed you were going to wish to marry her at some point, and I
believe you’ve mentioned it before. When are you going to ask her?’

Draco’s mouth flopped like a goldfish’s for several moments, making choked little noises.
‘Valentine’s Day,’ he said at last, hoarsely. ‘I’ve booked a reservation at Sir Gawain’s….’

Lucius snorted. ‘Cliché. People have been proposing there since I was a boy, if not before.
You should choose somewhere that means something to her .’

A bright smile blossomed on Hermione’s face. ‘Oh, yes, Draco, he’s absolutely right! You
could still take her to dinner there, but don’t propose there--propose later, in a special spot.’

Draco blinked dazedly. ‘Like where?’

‘Well, we’d hardly know, would we? You’re the one who’s been dating her,’ she teased.
‘You’ll have to think of somewhere.’
‘Oh.’ He continued to blink owlishly. ‘I’ve bought a new ring for Ginny--I don’t think she’d
be flattered to receive a Malfoy family heirloom,’ he added dolefully.

Lucius had to concede that. ‘Probably not.’

Hermione’s smile had slowly faded, a furrow appearing between her brows. ‘Draco…have
you considered the possibility that Ginny might not accept?’

‘Of course I have!’ he snapped immediately, shaking off his daze. ‘Why do you think I’ve
been such a wreck? I just…can’t…. I have to know, and how will I find out if I don’t ask?’

She grimaced, and Lucius wondered what Ginny had told her, for she clearly knew more than
she was willing to say.

‘Just so long as you’re prepared for that possibility,’ she said carefully.

Draco snatched up another biscuit with marked agitation. ‘Can we change the subject now?’

‘Certainly,’ she said, but her aspect remained grim, and Lucius stiffened when she turned to
him. ‘I think you need a healer.’

He nearly upset his teacup. ‘But I’m fine--it was just a neckache--’

She heaved a sigh. ‘No, I mean I think you need a full physical. Head to toe, no stone
unturned, checking-the-lint-in-your-navel physical. You’ve never been properly checked
over since…since Azkaban,’ she said, wincing slightly.

Lucius froze for a moment, then slowly set his cup down, pressing his fingers together to hide
their trembling. He couldn’t deny that, and the trouble he’d had with his neck was proof that
he probably did need to have a more thorough examination than the emergency one he’d
received at the Ministry. That didn’t mean he liked the idea.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.

Hermione blinked. ‘Okay?’

His mouth curled up in a wry smile. ‘Yes, it means sure, fine, all right--’

She snorted, rolling her eyes. ‘I just wasn’t expecting you to cooperate so easily. You’re
suspiciously agreeable today.’

Lucius nodded, pretending to consider that. ‘Yes, it almost makes one think that I’m up to
something, doesn’t it?’

‘You’re always up to something,’ Draco put in with a smile.

He shot Draco a brief grin, pleased that he seemed to be recovering. She remained serious,
though, unamused.

‘Also, I think….’
She hesitated, exchanging a glance with Draco. Lucius’s wariness increased considerably
when Draco’s expression turned somber as well and he nodded in accord with whatever she
was about to say. He looked between the two of them anxiously.

‘Draco and I are going to schedule you an appointment with a mind healer,’ Hermione said at
last, meeting his gaze squarely.

Lucius’s stomach dropped. ‘No,’ he said immediately, automatically.

Draco blew out a breath, but looked to Hermione. Her expression turned pained. He was
glad he’d already set down his cup, because he was trembling so hard he would have dropped
it now.

‘Lucius…you didn’t consent to have Porter use Legilimency on you,’ she said patiently.
‘Even if you had, you know that Legilimency while concussed is dangerous. You need to be
examined by a mind healer.’

Instinctively, he hunched in on himself. ‘No,’ he repeated, more meekly.

‘Father, we’re not asking this time,’ Draco said, gentle despite the words. ‘This is something
that has to happen, no matter how any of us feel about it. Who knows what kind of damage
Porter did? The sooner you’re examined, the easier it will be to fix.’

‘No,’ again, his voice wavering. He felt trapped, closed in. He didn’t want it. He felt sick.
His pulse was pounding in his teeth and his tongue felt too large for his mouth, his throat
clogging and his eyes stinging.

Hermione sighed. ‘Lucius, what if he left a trigger behind, where someone says a certain
phrase and you go crazy and start murdering everyone? Or what if the phrase makes your
mind shut down and you die? And those are just things he might have left behind
intentionally. A mind healer or an experienced Legilimiser could find all of the damage, both
intentional and not, and fix it. Don’t you want to have your brain back to normal?’

‘I don’t want any more strangers wandering around in my head!’ Lucius exploded, and curled
in on himself, swallowing repeatedly to try to hold back the bile burning his throat.

They exchanged a glance and then looked at him with sympathy. He didn’t want their
sympathy--he wanted them to say it was okay, that he didn’t have to see a mind healer if he
didn’t want to.

‘If there was an alternative, we would gladly--’

A thought struck him like a lightning bolt, and he cut across Hermione’s platitudes rather
desperately.

‘One of you could do it!’

They exchanged another glance, and looked rather blank.

‘Both of you are trained in Occlumency, surely one of you could….’

Lucius trailed off, because Draco was shaking his head, grimacing.

‘Being a trained Occlumens is not the same thing as being a trained Legilimens,’ he said
regretfully. ‘It’s sort of like knowing how to shield but not how to attack, so to speak. They
are very similar, and talent in one does indicate probable talent in the other, but the training is
mutually exclusive. I’ve never trained in Legilimency beyond a basic level. I’d be risking
making it worse rather than helping. I’m sorry.’

Lucius inclined his head with a grimace of his own. He and Draco turned almost as one to
Hermione; she smiled wryly, clasping her hands with a soft sigh.

‘I have trained extensively in Legilimency,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘To help Harry and Ron
practise Occlumency for their Auror training.’

Lucius leaned forward, every muscle tensed. ‘Then you could do it.’

Hermione hesitated. ‘In theory. There is still a difference between extensive training and
less than a year’s worth of experience versus a certification and a career’s worth of
experience. I still think a professional mind healer would be a better idea.’

He shook his head obstinately. ‘No. No, I will not have any more strangers messing about in
my head. It’s you or no one,’ he added firmly, the nausea fading as determination steeled his
nerves. Besides, while the idea of a mind healer digging around in his psyche was terrifying,
the idea of Hermione entering his mind was almost a comfort--he knew she wouldn’t do
anything to hurt him, would soothe the hurts already there. He trusted her implicitly.

She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon, but she nodded slowly. Draco’s brows were raised
and he kept looking between the two of them, but he remained silent.

‘Very well,’ she said grudgingly, her brown eyes dark with unspoken dissent. ‘But not today.
We’ll wait until we’re both more rested--perhaps tomorrow, if we’re feeling stronger.’

‘Well,’ Draco interjected, deliberately cheerful, ‘if you’re to regain your strength, then we’d
all better be having some lunch soon. I’ll see if Tibby’s willing.’

Tibby was very willing, of course, so they quietly ate lunch. Lucius was quiet because he
was tired, and he was afraid he’d upset Hermione. Hermione appeared to be thinking, a
furrow remaining between her brows even when she smiled at him. Draco seemed to be
being quiet because they were being quiet.

After lunch, Hermione said the Dreaded Words again: ‘I’d better go.’

‘What? Why?’ Lucius protested immediately.

Draco tilted his head, frowning. ‘In this instance, I have to agree--shouldn’t you stay and
rest? You can’t possibly think to get any work done today.’

Hermione stood anyway, at least having the grace to look reluctant. ‘No, but I’d like to have
a bath and some fresh clothes, and check on Crookshanks. After that, I’ll probably be resting
and letting Harry and Ron fuss over me for the rest of the day.’
‘They could come here,’ Lucius said hopefully.

She smiled faintly. ‘They could, but they won’t, otherwise they would have been here at the
crack of dawn. They won’t want to disturb you while you’re resting--which is what you
should be doing with the remainder of your day as well, if you want me to try tomorrow.’

He subsided, spinning his empty teacup dejectedly until she reached out and stilled his hand,
exchanging an amused glance with Draco.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow, whether we’re feeling up to trying it or not,’ she assured him sweetly,
and bent down to kiss his cheek.

Lucius warmed. ‘Well. I guess it’s all right, then.’

‘Good.’

They saw her off, and Draco insisted that Lucius try to rest, as she’d said. He spent the rest
of the day lounging on the sofa while Draco worked, dozing off and on, with a brief interlude
for dinner.
 Visible Change
Chapter Summary

Hermione attempts to heal Lucius's mind, and makes a discovery she can't ignore.
Lucius has several things restored to him. Minerva is concerned for Hermione.

Chapter Notes

A little present for you for the weekend. ;) Hopefully, this will come off making sense. I
could picture it all in my head, but that doesn't necessarily mean it translated to being in
written form very well. Some of it's a bit...abstract, which I'm not very good at. Also,
hopefully it's not terribly cheesy or cliché. Basically what I'm saying is, I hope you
enjoy. :)

Thank you all for reading and/or commenting, as always. Readers are lovely,
commenters keep me motivated, but you're all lovely and deserve cookies.
Unfortunately, all I have to offer is another chapter. ;)

Hermione’s day had gone exactly as she’d said, with Harry and Ron even insisting on tucking
her in when she said she was going to bed. The next morning, she took the day off as an
opportunity to sleep in again, and rose a little after seven-thirty.

She wasn’t looking forward to heading to Malfoy Manor, but she had basically promised that
she would, and Hermione tried never to break her promises. Besides, it really did need to be
done, and if Lucius would only allow her to enter his mind, then she had to try. He needed
help and healing badly. She only wished that she could have convinced him to see a
professional. It had been quite clear that his mind was made up, though, and she’d ached to
see him so upset--he’d gone white as a sheet at the very mention, folding in on himself so
that he appeared a mere husk, dimming until the light from the fire and the windows didn’t
seem to touch him.

She had no excuse not to try, either; she felt much better, more rested, the wound mostly
quiescent. She ate a good breakfast and meditated for a while, strengthening her shields and
the image with which she kept her mind organised.

It was nearly nine when she roused herself and went through to the manor. Lucius was
waiting for her with obvious anxiety, bounding forward to meet her.
Hermione smiled to calm him. ‘Did you eat breakfast?’ she asked without preamble, leading
the way to the library. The sitting room would be more comfortable and more intimate, but
the library put her more at ease, and would help her keep her mental image (and therefore,
her shields) intact.

‘Yes, Draco made me,’ Lucius said quickly. ‘Is that important? Should I not have--’

She laid a hand on his arm and guided him to the armchair. ‘No, you should have. If you
hadn’t eaten, I was going to make you eat something.’ She settled across from him, scooting
the chair closer until their knees touched. ‘And we’ll need to eat hearty after we’re through.
This will be more in-depth than any Legilimency I’ve ever done.’

And wasn’t that a harrowing thought. She drew a shaky breath, clasping her hands between
her knees and staring at them intently.

‘Did Draco go to work today?’ she asked, mostly for something to distract her.

‘Yes. He said he ought to have gone yesterday, but he wanted to keep an eye on us,’ Lucius
said lowly. After a pause, he added, ‘You don’t have to do this.’

She looked up with an uncertain smile. ‘Yes, I do, because you won’t see a mind healer on
your own,’ she said pointedly. ‘I can’t let this go, Lucius.’

He grimaced, gripping the armrests until his knuckles were white. ‘Then let’s get it over
with.’

Hermione forced her hands to loosen and touched his knee. He jumped a little--he was
wound tighter than she was.

‘Not like this,’ she said gently. ‘We both need to relax. Breathe with me.’

He looked at her like she was being ridiculous, but he ran through the breathing exercises
with her anyway, and both of them were quite a bit calmer when they’d finished. She kept
her movements slow and her voice soft and even to help maintain the quiet, intimate
atmosphere, to keep him calm.

‘Okay, now look at me, Lucius. Meet my eyes.’

He hesitated, and she was watching him so intently that it was impossible to miss the flicker
of fear before he made eye contact. He tensed briefly, but her gentle expression seemed to
soothe him right away. She put her hands on their knees, her palms on her own knees and her
fingers on his, to make a physical bridge between them in addition to the mental one they
were about to have. It wasn’t actually necessary, but she’d found it helpful when she helped
Harry and Ron.

‘Breathe, Lucius,’ she reminded him, and then incanted the spell. ‘ Legilimens .’

Hermione was accustomed to Harry and Ron’s minds. They weren’t anywhere near expert
level yet, but they’d been working at developing Occlumency shields for a while before they
asked for her help, so they had some rudimentary beginnings. One of the most effective
ways to maintain Occlumency shields at all times was to project a mental image, maintaining
it with a combination of magic and willpower. Hermione had had hers for so long that she
barely noticed it anymore, unless she was deliberately concentrating on it to strengthen it.

Her particular mental image was a vast library, made up of many rooms. Each thought, each
memory, each bit of knowledge, was a book on one of the shelves. It was guarded with a set
of heavy oaken doors with a thick silver lock, each room with its own smaller locked door.
All of this was metaphorical, of course, but it was how Hermione defended her mind and
kept it organised. When she cast the spell, she unlocked the heavy front door to Lucius,
letting him into her front room, where her surface thoughts and emotions lived. She had
worked very hard to shut her feelings for him away from here this morning, so all Lucius
would feel was her friendship for him, her fondness for him, and her worry for him. He
wouldn’t see her love--it had been very difficult, but it had been worth it to suppress it to that
level.

Ron’s mental image was still in progress, but she had not been surprised in the least when he
developed it to the point that she began to recognise the Burrow. He’d always been destined
for a kind of ‘organised chaos,’ lacking the strict discipline to form, say, a bank or a
department store, and he’d always felt safest at home with his family.

Harry’s was further along than Ron’s, but it had taken her a lot longer to realise that he was
building Hogwarts castle. She wasn’t certain he realised it, either--sometimes it wasn’t a
conscious choice--but it wasn’t exactly surprising whether he’d chosen it deliberately or not.
Hogwarts was Harry’s first true home, and while it was incredibly ironic to say it was the
place he’d always felt the safest, it was undeniably true.

She’d often wondered what Draco’s mind looked like, since he was an even better Occlumens
than herself, according to Kingsley, but she thought it would be rude to ask for a peek.

Lucius had no shields at all, not even rudimentary ones, so she was taken off-guard by how
easy it was to sink into his mind. It was an amorphous blob, to her, although he seemed to
understand himself well enough.

But what really knocked her off her (metaphorical) feet was what was directed from his mind
directly at her. It was warm and powerful and constant, a glistening green light that wrapped
and wove itself around her. Her first thought was jealousy, because it was green, but jealousy
would have felt uglier, harsher--this was soft despite its immense power, and she had to
firmly forbid herself to react when she realised what it was. Lucius didn’t even seem to
realise he was projecting it at her, constantly, so she did her best to ignore it, focusing on the
rest of his mind instead of the constant sensation of green light pouring over her, into her.

She took a moment to get her bearings while he marvelled at her little entrance hall.

That is what successful Occlumency shields are supposed to look like, she thought ‘at’ him
absently. Not necessarily a library, but some system of compartmentalisation that makes
sense to you.

She felt his amusement as a wave of sparkling silver light washing over her front room.
Leave it to her, he thought, apparently unaware that she could ‘hear’ him.

She allowed him to feel her own reaction of amusement, and his embarrassment followed
immediately after, darkening the room with sickly gloom.

It’s quite all right, she assured him. It takes some getting used to, and honestly, who didn’t
expect me to choose a library?

His presence in her mind lightened again. She thought she was somewhat accustomed to his
strange, formless mind, made up of mostly light and colours, it seemed, so she nudged him
out of her front room, following him back into the cloudy mess of murk and light that was his
mind. This simply wouldn’t do, she decided. How was she to see where the damage was if
she had no idea what she was even looking at? This was why he’d needed a professional--
she’d never done this before, had no idea where to even begin, and she was just going to have
to wing it.

She felt his despondency and realised that he’d grown accustomed enough to her to follow
her train of thought, and made an effort to create a small shield around herself so he wouldn’t
pick up her every surface thought.

We just need to clean up a bit first, she said kindly. I need some kind of help sorting through
it. It might help if you tried to envision something like what you saw in my mind. If there’s a
representation of your thoughts that makes sense to me, then I’ll be able to navigate better.

She felt Lucius’s hesitation. I have always failed at Occlumency whenever anyone tried to
teach me.

The memories flashed by--Narcissa, then Draco, each spending a few days before giving up
in disgust--Lucius’s humiliation at their obvious feelings that he simply wasn’t smart enough
or disciplined enough.

They’re not very good teachers, she said with more than a little annoyance. You ought to
have sought out a professional. They were too impatient with you, and didn’t try to show you
an example of what you should be striving for. Nor did they try to help.

Help? he questioned hopefully.

Rather than explain, she demonstrated--she sent out a mental net, collecting his current
thoughts and feelings--he was afraid, mostly--and envisioned a corner, where she stacked
them like sheets of paper.

See? she said.

A burst of understanding and excitement flashed in both of their minds like a firework, and
the corner became a desk, instead. The sheets of paper remained. It wasn’t a fully fleshed
out desk--it lacked colour and substance, like a faint sketch, but it was undeniably there. His
pride was red, and hot, like a summer day. She acknowledged with a feeling of warm
congratulations--and a little pride of her own, that he was such a good student in any subject,
that he was so easy to teach. He felt that, too, and this shy embarrassment wasn’t sickly or
gloomy, more of a warming feeling than an actual colour.

Narcissa and Draco just suck at teaching, she said with some satisfaction.

His amusement was stronger this time, but it faded after a moment as he turned his
concentration toward organising more. She let his consciousness wander away from her,
deeper into his own mind while still maintaining the tether of their connection. She let him
organise while she sorted through what he’d already envisioned as sheets of paper.

It was here that Hermione found the false memories Porter had planted--her, standing in
Lucius’s cell, condemning him for everything under the sun. Spewing hatred at him. Even in
the memory, she could feel Lucius’s brokenhearted despair, even as he maintained a
background awareness that this wasn’t real--couldn’t be real, because Hermione was
unconscious in St Mungo’s. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him for realising it on
some level even as it was happening to him.

For herself, there were telltale signs that it was faked. Unlike a real memory, it had no
texture--real memories were associated, however loosely or fleetingly, with minor
impressions, background details that the mind had decided were important enough to keep,
scents, sounds, sometimes even a memory of temperature. Real memories were three-
dimensional, in other words. A talented Legilimens could fake a memory on every level,
leaving virtually no trace that it hadn’t happened. Porter was a Legilimens, but not a
particularly talented one, and these fake memories were paper-thin, with no background
information, only the presence of the cell, and the only sound was her voice. His rendition of
her was somewhat accurate, since he’d drawn from Lucius’s real memories of her, but that
was the best he could do.

That would make her job easier, at least in one aspect.

She vanished the false memories easily. It was as though they’d never been, and if she
wasn’t imagining things, that alone made Lucius’s mind seem just a little brighter, some of
the murk receding a bit.

She followed him when she felt him stop moving--way in the back, deep in the murk. That
was where she sensed it for the first time. It was so dark, and cold here. Instinctively, she
wrapped Lucius’s consciousness in the only form she could seem to take in his mind--a warm
golden light.

Did you make that? she wondered after he was shielded.

No, he said simply.

He was frightened, she realised. He burrowed into her shields, metaphorically speaking, so
Hermione strengthened them and turned her attention to the black box they had found. It had
Porter written all over it--it had no texture, it was simply black, and a box, with a simplified
vision of a lock attached. It would be easy to break into.
She held off. A lot of the bleak murkiness around them seemed to be leaking from that box,
and a lot of the cold feeling. It was hard to say what was inside.

Lucius--I’m going to cut myself off from you. Stay here.

Before he could protest, she slammed down walls and a floor and ceiling, until she was a
formless golden light in a room with a black box. She didn’t want the contents to spill out
into the rest of Lucius’s mind, if this was a trap Porter had laid. The murk and cold continued
to seep out, curling back when it reached the boundaries she’d constructed.

She missed Lucius’s green light-emotion, which couldn’t reach her in here.

Since she couldn’t take her human form in his mind as she could in her own, it was difficult
to ‘pick’ the lock, but she managed it. Steeling herself, Hermione popped the lid with great
care.

A blast backward hit her, and it took her a moment to realise that the box and the cold and the
murk in her little cage had disappeared--it was the box itself causing those things, which she
felt was part of Lucius’s depression, it wasn’t the contents of the box. The contents of the
box were cause for joy, she realised.

Here were a good number of Lucius’s missing happy memories--not all of them, but a hefty
chunk of them. The Dementors hadn’t stolen all of them; Porter had taken some and locked
them away where Lucius couldn’t find them.

His childhood was still gone, she realised, rifling through them rapidly, and she didn’t see
many Hogwarts memories, either. The Dementors must start with early memories and work
their way forward. Or they had with Lucius, anyway.

But here was most of his married life. Porter must have been trying to both torment Lucius
and get him to shut up about his family at the same time. Hermione filled to bursting with
joy for him, and sorrow for herself, as she glimpsed each special moment with Narcissa
and/or Draco, tinged in green light that glistened and sparkled on its own, or a blue light for
Draco. One memory, though, not just tinged but pulsing with blue light--that one ground her
search to a halt, and even though she felt guilty, she held it up and immersed herself in it.

Lucius and Narcissa’s bedroom. The midwife was packing her things. Narcissa was on the
bed, looking sweaty and pale and exhausted, but so, so happy as she gazed down at the little
bundle in her arms. Lucius hovered near the door, uncertain what to do with himself. The
midwife left with little more than a grunt for him, and normally he would’ve stopped her,
demanded more respect, but he was afraid he’d wake the baby.

He didn’t know what to do. His father had told him how important it was for the mother and
child to bond, especially at first. He didn’t want to interfere with the natural course of
things--get in the way. Uncertainty did not come naturally to him. He didn’t like it.

Narcissa looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Lucius, come here,’ she said breathlessly.
He obeyed, coming closer until he could see the red, wrinkly little face. If it had been anyone
else’s baby, he would have said it was ugly--but it was his, so his throat closed and he felt his
heart swell with love and protectiveness.

‘Look at our son,’ Narcissa said in a soft, strangled little voice, fighting back her emotional,
exhausted tears with an effort. ‘Look at what we did.’

Lucius made an aborted move to touch him. ‘Draco,’ he breathed, and the little infant
seemed to stir, making a little whimper that went straight to his heart. His lips wouldn’t quit
trembling. ‘May I?’

Narcissa smiled warmly and nodded, sniffling, lifting the babe toward him.

As soon as Draco was in his arms, Lucius couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t crying anymore,
even though he could feel Narcissa smiling at him, even though it wasn’t dignified. He wasn’t
thinking about pure-blood tradition and carrying on the family name, as he’d been when he
and Narcissa were planning their family. No, all he could think was how it couldn’t be
possible that he had had a part in making something so tiny, so beautiful, so perfect.

‘I’m your daddy,’ he wept quietly, so Draco wouldn’t waken. ‘I love you more than anything
in the world. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll make everything perfect for
you. I promise.’

He had to sit and hand Draco back to Narcissa. He felt like he might burst or collapse from
all the emotion he was feeling. He’d never felt so strongly--any emotion at all--in his life.
Even his vaunted control couldn’t handle it.

‘I love him so much it hurts,’ he choked out, still crying, and he wondered if it would ever
stop. ‘I didn’t know it would feel like this.’

Narcissa just smiled tearfully, and reached out to take his hand. They watched Draco sleep,
content in this perfect moment not to think of anyone or anything else.

Hermione retreated, humbled and guilty for having viewed such a private moment. She
should have stayed out, never mind her curiosity.

She reviewed the rest quickly, and after she had determined that there were no traps, she
bundled them together and dissolved the walls. She was immediately blasted with green, and
with Lucius’s worry--worry was deep, deep, velvety purple that seemed determined to wrap
around her and scoop her up. She waved the worry aside.

These belong to you, she said gently, setting the bundle loose. Porter locked them away from
you.

His joy when he recognised them was a nearly palpable thing, buffeting her around. The
memories, once set loose, began to drift back toward their appointed places, and Hermione
could see that there was some organisation in his mind. It was like there were holes in the
cloud of his mind, and each memory fit into one. There were still a large number of empty
holes, but she was satisfied to see how many had been filled. A lot of the murk faded away,
and for the most part, Lucius’s mind became a silver cloud. It was much warmer, much more
hospitable.

Come on, she said, gently tugging his consciousness away from where he was reviewing the
restored memories. You can take them out and look at them any time you wish, now. I’m
getting tired, though, and we need to search for any other traps or surprises he might have
left us.

Lucius was getting tired, too, so he didn’t resist much, allowing her to rifle through his mind
at a much faster pace than before. She particularly focused on following any cold or dark
patches she found. They seemed to be made up of bad memories, but she kept searching
anyway. A few of them weren’t memories, but pain--he was currently feeling pain, from a
few spots, at least some background pain, and she was more determined than ever to get him
a full physical.

There were also some cracks--stress fractures, she would have called them if she’d been
looking at a tooth or a bone. These were undoubtedly the damage caused by repeated attacks,
particularly the ones while he was suffering from a head injury, and she had to marvel at how
strong Lucius was mentally. The cracks were small, and never ran through anything vital, as
though he’d been able to defend the most important parts of his mind despite lacking any
training. Every time she came to a crack, Hermione sealed it back together, observing the
resulting relief and lightening in Lucius’s mind with satisfaction.

A lot of the tension he’d been carrying around was lifting as they worked, allowing her to
notice the background thrum of fear that ran through everything. That was a genuine feeling,
though, not a result of tampering or damage, and it was something Lucius was going to have
to deal with on his own. Much as it pained her, she left it alone.

She was also surprised to find that the green light Lucius was constantly, unconsciously
sending at her hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. She’d been afraid that once she released his
memories of Narcissa back to him, it would fade, at least a little. If anything, it seemed
stronger.

Hermione paused in her search when she found one particularly cold spot, hovering over the
memory at the edge of her thoughts.

Lucius was cold, and helpless….

She was knocked back just as the image of a courtyard flooded her mind, the image yanked
away almost immediately.

Don’t!

Lucius, she realised. And, belatedly, she realised that he had knocked her back--he had
thrown up a wall between her and the memory. Sickly, dark humiliation surrounded them,
pulsing with Lucius’s self-loathing.

Well done, she said neutrally. My apologies.

Remorse was not a colour or a light--it was a texture, an oozing, thick, cold liquid-y feeling,
like slime dripping down her hands.

You didn’t hurt me.

None of the feelings faded, and Lucius remained silent, so Hermione moved on without
further comment, working under the yoke of Lucius’s emotions, still including the green
light, undimmed and untouched by anything else.

She was just about ready to call it quits when she realised there was a…fold. Clouds didn’t
have folds. Curiosity prompted her forward, feeling along the edges. It was small, and the
parts around it dealt with Lucius’s knowledge of magic.

This was surprisingly subtle for Porter--probably because it was relatively simple. It was
much easier to simply hide something from the rest of the mind than it was to construct
memories wholesale, or lock away large chunks of real memories. This was one little slip
that could only contain one, or maybe two bits of knowledge at most.

Tentatively, she raised some shielding around her and the fold, to keep Lucius from any
backlash that might occur, but she doubted there was a booby trap here. She could still feel
him worrying at the edge of the shield, so she quickly but carefully smoothed the fold out,
simultaneously feeling a relaxation in the rest of Lucius’s mind, like a held breath finally let
out.

Wandless magic, she realised, pleased. Lucius couldn’t perform it anymore--because there
was a block, put there by Porter when he was undoubtedly trying to get Lucius to stop
harassing them with little wandless spells. When he tried to cast the healing spell on her, it
had fizzled out because he didn’t know how to get the magic past his skin anymore, out into
the air, without a wand as a sort of transceiver. Now he knew again--or would, as soon as she
lowered the shield around it. She immediately released the shield, letting him feel her
satisfaction.

The humiliation and remorse he’d been toting around all but vanished, along with his worry,
as he discovered what she had. Fiercer joy than any she’d felt from him so far bore her up
and crushed her against his consciousness, the little core of bright silver light that was
Lucius. The green light was so strong it was nearly suffocating, too, and Hermione struggled
to get loose, or at least to maintain the boundaries of her own mind without hurting him.

I knew you could do it! he thought wildly, elated. I knew you could fix me! You’re amazing!
You’re the most wonderful witch who ever lived!

His exultations continued despite her little nudges, so finally, she drew him back into her
front room, taking on her fake human form and sending waves of calm at him, in a way that
would make sense to him--calm was pale blue yet warm, a smooth, unruffled surface.
Slowly, the joy released her, settling back to normal levels.

The green light, however, was unstoppable. It was his love for her--romantic love, which she
could no longer pretend did not exist, because the proof was being beamed directly into her
brain from his constantly, for as long as they were connected.
I’m going to put you back in your mind, and then I’m going to release you from the spell, she
said gently.

Yes, all right. But--Hermione? he said tentatively.

Yes?

Lucius’s gratitude felt the same as stepping out into one of the first days of spring--cool yet
warm at the same time, bright and fresh and colourful. It wasn’t just one colour, it was all the
colours at once, and it enveloped her, putting her in mind of a giant hug. It retreated after a
moment.

That seemed more effective than trying to tell you, he said somewhat sheepishly. And this
way you know I mean it.

Hermione sent him a wave of friendly feeling--the mental version of a smile. I would have
believed you out loud, too, but--thank you. It was…a privilege, to feel it firsthand.

It was. No one else in the world had probably ever felt it, direct from Lucius’s mind.

Gently, with little nudges, she scooted him safely back into the borders of his own mind, and
carefully unlinked the two of them, shutting and locking her mental library doors.

It took her a moment to blink Lucius into focus. He was having much the same trouble, if his
rubbing his eyes was any indication. She felt completely wrung out, but a glance at the time
told her that she’d been in his mind for a longer consecutive amount of time than she had
ever attempted before.

‘So much for lunch,’ she said hoarsely. ‘It’s nearly dinner. Draco will be home soon.’

The memory she shouldn’t have seen flashed across her mind. She blinked it away.

‘How are you feeling?’

He smiled wearily. ‘Exhausted. You?’

‘Same.’ She stretched a little, stiff from sitting in the same position so long, but she was too
tired to give it much effort. ‘I think we’ll have to crawl to the dinner table,’ she half-joked.

‘I don’t even have the energy for that,’ he said flatly, laying his head back and closing his
eyes. ‘They’ll have to deliver it in here.’

‘Mmm, I like that idea….’

They fell silent for a while. Hermione had nearly fallen asleep when he spoke again.

‘That was weird,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t know our minds looked like that. I can’t stop
seeing it.’
She struggled to rouse herself. ‘They don’t, not really. It’s more of a visual metaphor. The
human mind isn’t naturally designed for telepathy, so we have to create constructs to make it
comprehensible. Your mind appeared to me as just a big mess, before we started visualising
so I could understand. That’s how my mind would have appeared to you, as a big mess,
before I developed my mental library. It’s all just a metaphor that allows us to understand
one another, and which allows me to keep my thoughts organised and protected. If you keep
working at it, you could eventually have a system like that, too. You wouldn’t even have to
keep working with the desk and papers--you seem to have a somewhat workable system of
your own started already.’

He perked up a little, surprised. ‘I do?’

‘Yes. It’s all a bit formless, but everything has a designated spot anyway. Like when we
found the memories Porter had hidden--they went back into the places where they’d
originally come from. I would characterise it as “organised chaos,” in that it all seemed a bit
bewildering to me, but you know where everything is. Which is as it should be anyway.
You’re really only lacking a shield around it all to protect you.’

‘Oh.’

Hermione lifted her head enough to see that he was smiling a bit dazedly, looking pleased.

He was in love with her.

She tried to blink the thought away, but it would not go. She couldn’t look at Lucius without
knowing, now, without it teasing in the background of her thoughts--he loved her. It was a
pressure in her chest, a constant urge to fling herself at him, a tickle on her tongue to blurt it
out, to declare herself to him.

And she had to ignore it.

Her conversation with Kingsley had settled her mind on the subject of any unfounded
accusations of impropriety, but she couldn’t be certain that it would be enough if she and
Lucius actually did anything that might be considered untoward. They were already walking
a dangerously thin line as it was--and she would not risk Lucius’s safety and sanity for a few
kisses. There was nothing she feared more than him being sent back to Azkaban, particularly
after the close call he’d just had.

Then there was the fact that Lucius hadn’t seemed at all aware of the love-beams (for lack of
a better term) he’d been sending her way from the moment their minds connected. If he
wasn’t aware that he loved her, a declaration might not be received very positively. He
needed to realise it on his own, first.

No, it was better to keep on as she had, all round. The risks were too many and too great.

Draco woke them when he returned from work (they’d drifted off to sleep in their chairs),
and had Tibby bring them their dinners where they sat. He helped Hermione get home, since
he claimed she was too tired to navigate the Floo properly, but he put Lucius to bed first,
despite his mumbled protests that he wasn’t sleepy.
‘Did it go all right?’ Draco asked as soon as they arrived in her flat, but he kept steering her
toward her bedroom.

‘Yes,’ she said around a yawn. ‘I think he’ll be much better now.’

‘Good. Good night, Hermione.’ He paused. ‘And thank you.’

She waved him off and fell asleep before he was out of the room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was rather nervous when she presented herself at the headmistress’s office the next
morning, but Minerva greeted her with tea and a smile, so she soon calmed. Mostly, Minerva
just seemed to want a chat, after reassuring her that they’d simply cancelled her classes while
she was away, and inquiring after Hermione’s health.

‘I’m much better now,’ she’d said quickly, and Minerva smiled and moved on.

It was mostly true. She still got a bit of a twinge when she twisted wrong, and it ached
sometimes, but the wound was healing well. She’d had a quick follow-up examination that
morning before coming back to Hogwarts, and the mediwitch had been very pleased with her
progress.

Toward the end of the conversation, though, Minerva turned serious.

‘I wanted to explain why it took so long for me, and the other professors as well, to arrive at
the Ministry,’ she said soberly, setting her cup down.

Hermione blinked. ‘I just assumed you had to take the time to make certain the students were
under control.’

‘Well, there was that, too.’ She drew a slow breath. ‘At first, though, there was confusion,
because I wasn’t absolutely certain the Patronus message was genuine. We briefly
entertained the notion that it was a ruse to draw us away from Hogwarts.’

Hermione felt cold at the thought. It very well could have been. There had to have been an
ulterior motive behind the blatantly suicidal move of attacking the Ministry. Even Voldemort
had been hesitant to do that, so how a ragtag group of rogues had expected to take it over via
open attack was beyond her. Either they were all intensely stupid, or it was a distraction.

But the more pressing matter--

‘Why wouldn’t my Patronus be genuine?’ she wondered aloud. ‘Is it even possible to fake a
Patronus? And how many people have otter Patronuses, anyway? Not many, I wouldn’t
think, so the chances of any of us being evil are fairly remote.’
Minerva pressed her lips together, looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘It wasn’t an otter,’ she
said quietly.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Hermione clutched at the armrests of her chair as the
world seemed to tilt. Patronuses sometimes changed after major life events, like a death or a
trauma or…falling in love. Like Tonks’s had changed to a werewolf after she fell in love
with Lupin.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

Minerva still looked grim and uncomfortable when Hermione came back to herself.

‘Hermione,’ she began carefully. ‘I know you’re an adult, and I don’t want to seem
interfering or suspicious, but I have to ask if you’re sure you can handle this situation with
Lucius Malfoy. I have known him since he was a boy, and he’s always been a charming little
snake--he seems perfectly harmless until he strikes. I just don’t want you to find yourself in
over your head after it’s too late.’

Hermione might have bristled if it had been anyone else, but Minerva had always seemed like
a second mother to her, and her tone was so obviously concerned and caring that she couldn’t
take it as anything other than genuine worry on her behalf, rather than simply spite toward
Lucius. Therefore, she gave careful consideration to her response, restraining herself from
lashing out in defence of Lucius.

‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said with a fond smile. ‘Really. And I know it’s hard to
believe--but I do truly believe that Lucius has changed. It would have been difficult for him
not to, after all he’s been through. I don’t think he would ever intentionally hurt me.’

Minerva shook her head. ‘A leopard can’t change its spots. I’m sorry to say, but I have
known Lucius for a lot longer than you have. I’ve seen him in action too many times. He is
more than capable of appearing perfectly innocent when he wishes, and this would not be the
first time that he has pretended to follow along with the attitudes that are currently popular.
He did just that when Voldemort disappeared the first time--pretending he’d been under the
Imperius Curse, and playing nice for five or six years until he got back the prestige and
power he’d had before. Only then did he start waving the pure-blood banner again,
influencing people back in the direction he wanted.’ She paused. ‘To be honest, I couldn’t
care less if that’s what he’s doing again. I just don’t want to see you hurt, if it turns out he’s
only toying with your affections to appear politically acceptable. Marrying a Muggle-born
would go a long way toward restoring his public image,’ she added darkly.

Hermione had thought of that before. It was one of the many possibilities she’d discarded
when trying to justify Lucius’s obvious attachment to her. She’d discarded it because, while
he would need to win her over in private in order for such a scheme to work, he made an
effort to appear detached from her where the wizarding public could see--the Christmas party
came to mind. Also, at his hearing, he’d followed her lead and referred to her as ‘Professor
Granger,’ which did not imply a deeper connection. Calling her ‘Hermione’ on the stand, in
front of all those people, might have lent weight to the idea that he was merely using her, but
instead, he’d referred to her by her professional title, maintaining the public appearance that
they were no more than teacher and student.
Of course, all of that was before she’d touched his mind. The green light of his love still
shimmered and curled around her, having somehow taken up permanent residence in her
mental library. It almost seemed to have a life of its own. She had to work not to smile as
she felt its bolstering presence, giving her strength.

‘Yes, it would. But Lucius hasn’t proposed anything of the sort. My feelings for him aren’t
necessarily welcome,’ she said, forcing a grim note into her voice. It wasn’t technically a lie,
because she was keeping her feelings for him to herself and had no idea how he would react
if she told him.

The implication hit home, and Minerva sat back with a sympathetic expression.

‘Ah. I see.’ She sucked her teeth for a moment, staring into space. ‘He’s not giving you any
trouble, then?’

Hermione shook her head quickly. ‘No, he’s a consummate student. The top of the class, in
fact.’

That made Minerva smile--just a tiny flicker, but undeniably there. ‘I will give Lucius that--
he was always a bright, dedicated student. Not like his son. He could very easily have paid
some of the other students to do his work, or expected to skate by on Abraxas’s reputation,
but he never did. He was almost always found in the library, hard at work--when he wasn’t
on the Quidditch pitch, that is,’ she added with distinct amusement.

Hermione grinned. She could very easily see that. ‘He played, then?’

She wasn’t at all surprised. Draco had to have got his Quidditch-craziness from somewhere,
and Narcissa had looked just as bored as she when the conversation at the dinner table turned
to Quidditch.

She also wasn’t surprised to hear that Lucius had been so dedicated to his studies, given how
much supplemental reading he’d been doing for her class. He definitely knew how to over-
achieve.

It was also amusing to be reminded of Draco in his younger days. Draco had been fairly
dedicated, in the beginning, and while he remained second in their year for the entirety of
their school careers, his inability to best her had seemed to take some of the joy out of
learning for him, and after a while he’d just stopped trying. Oh, he still took the second-best
marks after her--he undoubtedly hadn’t wanted to be shamed any more than that--but he
didn’t dedicate himself to his studies the way he had in their first two years, sometimes
paying or bullying other students into writing his essays for him, and milking Lucius’s
reputation for all it was worth. By fifth year, he really only worked hard in Minerva’s class,
since she was the only one unintimidated and unimpressed by the Malfoys’ power and
wealth. Then, of course, his final year had been rocky and horrible, and he didn’t like to be
reminded that he’d probably only got such high marks because the school was in Death Eater
hands at that time.

‘He was a Chaser,’ Minerva confirmed. ‘And a damned good one, too. If he’d been just a
little faster, he probably could have played professionally. Personally, I think he was too
worried about messing up his hair to fly to his full potential.’

That surprised a laugh out of Hermione. ‘Oh, goodness. That does sound like Lucius.’ A
glance at the time had her sighing and out of her seat. ‘Well, I’d best be off. I have a class in
fifteen minutes, and my room’s probably in quite a state.’

Minerva walked her out, kindly wishing her luck. Hermione headed back, smiling and
thanking the students she passed who cheerfully welcomed her back.

As expected, her classroom was exactly as it had been left--probably on Minerva’s orders--so
she quickly put it to rights, cleaning up the scraps of paper and overturned, dried-up inkpots
the students had left behind in their rush to leave. A few chairs had been toppled, and one
desk was cock-eyed, so she fixed those as well.

Lucius’s school things were still at his desk, too. Even his cloak was still hanging off the
back of the chair. Hermione threw out his ink, since it was a dried-up mess, too, and
carefully put the rest in his bag, stowing it and his cloak in her office for the time being.
She’d return it to him tonight so he could continue to work on whatever homework he hadn’t
completed already. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d completed up to the end of the
year, actually.

After all of this, she still had five minutes left before her first class would arrive. She had
time for a little experiment. Chewing her lip anxiously, she wandlessly locked the classroom
door and took out her wand, studying it.

She hadn’t had any need for her wand since the battle. These days, she could cast most
simple spells without it. She’d touched it the day she woke in St Mungo’s and went to
Lucius’s aid, but she hadn’t touched it in a quiet moment since then, at least not for more than
transferring it from holster to nightstand, and nightstand to holster. This was the first time
she was really sitting and concentrating on it.

It felt…odd. Hermione held it firmly and ran her other hand over it, frowning in
concentration. It still felt warm and welcoming in her hand, a willing, fiercely loyal partner,
as it had always been. But now, there was something else, too.

It was familiar, too, she realised, just not coming from her wand. She’d felt it when she was
in Lucius’s mind. There, imprinted into her wand, was a faint shadow of Lucius’s love--he’d
poured it into and through the wand, to heal her, to save her.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. Only three minutes, and she wanted to see her new
Patronus. She would miss her otter, but she needed to know, so she could warn the others
that in an emergency, it wouldn’t be an otter anymore, it would be…whatever was about to
come out of her wand.

Summoning every bit of concentration she had, she forcibly ejected her confused emotions
into a different compartment of her mind, bringing forth the happy feelings required to cast
the Patronus. The memories attached to them were less important, to the point that she didn’t
even think about them anymore--it was just that it was usually easier for beginners to
summon up that happy feelings if they were thinking about a good, strong memory.
In her case, she was practised enough that the feelings came first, and a memory flashed
through her mind afterward. Usually, it was her with her parents as a young child. Not this
time, and not, she recalled, when she had cast it on her way out of the castle. No, this time it
was her and Lucius in his library, just being together quietly.

She cast. And stood there staring at the silver cobra coiled before her, hissing as it looked
around for enemies. Not seeing any, and not receiving a message, it stopped hissing, its hood
folding, and looked at her briefly before dissipating.

She didn’t move until the students started knocking on the door.

Her mind was distracted for the rest of the day. She couldn’t stop focusing on Lucius’s court-
mandated empty desk, and the agitation she felt at memory of the cobra Patronus.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On, off, on, off, on, off.

‘Father, stop that.’

On, off, on, off, on, off.

A sigh. ‘Father! For the fiftieth time , stop it! Our guests will be arriving soon, and I think
they’d prefer not to have the lights flashing on and off while they’re trying to eat.’

Lucius stifled a delighted giggle as he waved a hand again, the candles flashing back on at his
mental command: Lumos . He’d spent most of the day wandering around the house, locking
and unlocking doors, levitating small objects, really just casting any little spell that came to
mind for which he could find a target. Draco had been less than amused when he returned
home and was immediately hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx.

He just couldn’t help it, though. He was so very, very ecstatic to be able to cast wandlessly
again that he’d had to let his magic loose in any way he could. It sent a thrill through him
every time it worked. This morning, after Draco left, he’d been unable to restrain himself
from jumping and letting out a whoop when he successfully levitated a quill on the first try.
He felt like a first year student again, overly excited about the simplest spells, but he
couldn’t help that, either. He’d been so long without any magic at all that each little spell
was a wonderful gift that left him a bit awestruck. The feeling would undoubtedly fade soon
enough, so he felt no need to force it away just because it annoyed Draco.

He hadn’t even been upset about not being allowed to go to class today, although he had
missed it, and he’d felt a little teensy bit guilty, since it felt a little like playing hooky, what
with all the fun he was having. It was supposed to be a punishment, after all, but here he was
enjoying himself.
‘Father, why don’t you go upstairs and get ready?’ Draco suggested with obvious irritation.
‘Unless, of course, you want the Weasleys to see you in bare feet and shirtsleeves.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said cheerfully, looking around for something new to play with.

Draco glared at him.

‘Oh, fine,’ he conceded, pouting. ‘Killjoy.’

He started up the stairs with a bounce in his step anyway.

‘And don’t get distracted by the candles again!’ Draco shouted after him.

When he came downstairs, Draco did a double-take, blinking at his robes in confusion.

‘Why are you wearing a badge proclaiming your love of vomit?’ he demanded shortly.

Lucius sniffed imperiously. ‘No, not spew , S-P-E-W. It’s an acronym.’

And he took great satisfaction out of refusing to explain further or remove the pin, thoroughly
enjoying Draco’s frustration.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry and Hermione were the first to arrive this time, much to her surprise.

‘I wonder what’s got into Mrs Weasley?’ she asked Draco in an undertone.

He shrugged a little, but she could see he was concerned, too. Mrs Weasley was usually very
punctual. She turned to say something to Harry, only to find that he was staring at Lucius
with his mouth hanging open. Lucius looked very confused, and after a moment, he waved a
hand in front of Harry’s face. Harry blinked, coming back to himself.

‘Oh, erm. Sorry,’ he said, reddening. ‘Hi, Mr Malfoy.’

‘Hello,’ Lucius responded, bemused. ‘Have you hit your head recently, Mr Potter?’

Harry turned a deeper shade of red. ‘No, I haven’t. I just got distracted, that’s all.’

Lucius hummed an acknowledgment, quirking a brow at Hermione as though asking for an

explanation for her strange friends. She shrugged, equally bewildered, and fortunately, that
was when the Weasleys started arriving. This time, Fleur and Bill were along, and there was
an immediately obvious explanation for the Weasleys’ tardiness in the form of Fleur’s baby
bump. The air was soon filled with feminine squeals around Fleur and back-slapping for Bill.

‘She’s been hiding it until they were sure,’ Ron told them when he finally escaped from the
excited throng. ‘She’s due in late April or early May. One good thing, though--Mum’s over
Ginny moving out, now. At this point, even I might be able to get away with moving out,
since she’s got a grandchild to look forward to.’

Hermione smirked, but inwardly cringed a bit. She didn’t want to tell Ron, but she actually
did feel a bit sorry for him. As the last one still living at home, he’d been smothered by Mrs
Weasley, to the point that they hardly saw him anymore outside of work (well, Harry saw him
at Auror training, anyway) and the weekly dinners, and he was actually starting to complain
about having to eat his mother’s cooking, which had never happened before.

Then Ron did a double-take, his mouth dropping open, and Harry bounced on his toes,
wringing his hands.

‘See? I know, right?’

Hermione turned to see what he was talking about, since that made no sense to her. Ron was
staring at Lucius, who was politely extending his congratulations to the happy couple. Then
he reached forward to shake Bill’s hand, and she saw it--a small, circular flash on his robe as
the pin reflected the light.

‘I thought he threw it away,’ she said blankly.

Lucius was actually wearing the S.P.E.W. button she’d given him. On his dress robes . Like
he was proud of it.

Her boys looked at her wide-eyed.

‘You gave him that?’ Ron asked in a strangled voice.

She nodded faintly. ‘He thanked his house elf, so as a joke, I gave him one of the old badges
I still had in my closet….’

Ron’s brows rose. ‘And you explained it to him, yet you’re still alive? And he’s wearing it?’

She nodded again, thinking that both of those things were plainly true, since she was
demonstrably still alive, and his wearing the button was the whole reason they were having
this conversation.

Harry suddenly grinned. ‘Marry him, Hermione. He’s clearly the one.’

Ron choked on his own spit and went into a coughing fit. Hermione felt the colour rise in her
cheeks and said nothing, biting the inside of her lip so her grin wouldn’t escape.

She quite agreed with Harry.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Dinner was loud and jovial, and the high spirits didn’t lower even after dinner, the sitting
room filling with loud, excited chatter on any subject under the sun. Well, almost any.
Hermione found herself firmly on the male side of the room, as on the female side, every
single witch was crowded around Fleur--even Luna ! They were taking turns touching her
stomach and swapping stories about pregnancies and myths they’d heard. Mrs Weasley was
particularly popular, as she had six separate firsthand pregnancies to talk about, one of them a
set of twins, so the girls listened with awe as she related stories from them. Even Ginny was
enraptured, her eyes slightly misty with baby fever, just like the rest of them.

It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t interested in having children. Eventually, having a baby was
something she’d very much like to do--perhaps only one, perhaps two. Two had always been
her ideal, before she’d seen real footage of a woman giving birth in a documentary,
whereupon she’d decided that perhaps she’d better go through it once first, and then decide if
she ever wanted to do it again. Even once was a bit terrifying. She’d never been a fan of
pain.

Still, the subject grew wearisome after a while. She didn’t see the need to beat the topic to
death, particular since Fleur had around three more months left in her pregnancy, so there was
plenty of time to spread the stories out some. No need to discuss them all in one night.
Hermione understood being excited, but privately thought they were going just a bit
overboard. She vowed not to let Mrs Weasley harangue her for so long in one sitting, if and
when she ever got pregnant.

In the meantime, the wizard side of the room was running the gamut of topics. Even Lucius
was caught up in the atmosphere, talking freely and animatedly with Bill and Arthur about…
something. It had to do with the Ministry and politics and a proposed law, but it had
something to do with housing, so it was a bit out of her range of expertise--and interest. Odd,
for Lucius, so she hovered nearby and made an effort to skim the conversation, trying to
understand what he was so passionate about.

She had just decided it was some kind of concession for wizards of limited means (rather
amazing her that Lucius had continued to interest himself in the plight of those less fortunate
than himself), when Draco touched her elbow, distracting her.

‘Hmm?’ she said, her brow wrinkling.

He looked around, wincing, before leaning close. ‘What’s spew?’ he whispered.

She couldn’t help it--she barked out a laugh, temporarily drawing attention to them and
causing lulls in the various conversations. Draco looked pained, but she merely waved a
hand, and they immediately went back to their own talk. Only Lucius looked at her for
longer, eyeing the two of them suspiciously, but her grin seemed to convince him that all was
well, and he turned back to Arthur, picking up the thread again easily.

‘It’s not spew ,’ she began.

‘I know, I know, it’s an acronym,’ Draco cut her off testily. ‘An acronym for what?’
‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ she said, trying very hard not to laugh in
his face again.

He stared at her for a moment. ‘Very funny,’ he said flatly.

She allowed herself a tiny giggle.

‘I did want to thank you for something else, though,’ he added, frowning. ‘Now I’m not sure
I should.’

Hermione raised a brow at him. ‘I’m sorry if it offends--’

He shook his head. ‘Not that. You fixed Father’s ability to cast wandless magic.’

‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘And you were going to thank me before, but now you’re not?’

Draco shifted agitatedly. ‘He’s being so irritating! He’s like a kid with a new toy, he just
won’t stop playing. When I got home today, he hit me with a Jelly-Legs Jinx!’

She had to cover her mouth to stop the laughter that wanted to come out.

His lips quirked. ‘Well. That was kind of funny, I guess. I didn’t fall or get hurt or anything,
and he giggled about it for a good ten minutes. It was nice to see him enjoying himself.’ He
grimaced. ‘But then he kept turning the candles on and off--for over an hour ! Oh, my gosh,
I could have strangled him!’

The laughter escaped anyway, muffled by her hand. She had to bend a little to keep from
falling over.

‘It’s not funny! It’s annoying !’ Draco protested.

She couldn’t stop grinning, wiping the tears from her face. ‘Agree to disagree. I think it’s
hilarious.’

‘You wouldn’t, if he was doing it while you were trying to read,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes, I would. And I would just light my wand so he could keep playing with the candles,’
she said, still a bit breathless from laughing.

Draco heaved a sigh.

‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ she said, nudging his shoulder. ‘The novelty will wear off soon
enough. Just let him play--as long as he’s not overdoing it, I don’t see what harm it could be.
Lucius deserves a little happiness for all his hard work, don’t you think? And it may be
annoying, but it’s not actually hurting anyone.’

He conceded that. ‘The minute he knocks me over, though, he’s grounded,’ he said
haughtily.
Hermione just smiled, wondering how Draco would ever enforce a ‘grounding,’ if he could
even come up with such a thing on top of all the Ministry restrictions. What was he going to
do, lock Lucius in his room? Highly doubtful. Disallow him from casting spells? Good
luck! Ban him from playing Monopoly for a while, more likely, and she would just teach
Lucius a new game instead. She still had Battleship, Guess Who?, Risk, The Game of Life,
and Candy Land. He’d love Risk, she thought, and her smile widened.
 Popular Culture
Chapter Summary

Lucius has his physical and sees the Star Wars trilogy. Meanwhile, he grapples with his
newfound feelings for Hermione and how to win her affections.

Chapter Notes

I'm really sorry about the long...long...LONG delay between chapters. Apparently,
February is not a good month for me in real life. But yaaaay brand new chapter! See, the
other reason this took so long to get to you is because it's so long. I felt it was important
to cover all of this stuff. Plus, Star Wars, so that took a while to get it all down.
Hopefully, that bit will live up to expectations. I'm sorry if parts of Star Wars are out of
order.

Oh! And if you haven't seen Star Wars: SPOILERS!! And mild spoilers for Peter Pan, if
you've been living under a rock.

Thank you all for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoy! :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Lucius kicked his heels against the medical bed, blowing out a slow sigh. He had no idea
why they insisted on making these beds taller than a person’s legs were long (when sitting,
anyway). It made him feel like a little boy waiting for his vaccination potions, which was not
a feeling he enjoyed. It also didn’t help that they’d made him change into a hospital gown
before leaving him to wait in an examination room, and he felt unbearably exposed, and more
than a little chilly. His toenails looked purple and he had goosebumps.

‘Why do they make appointment times and then make you wait for an hour when you arrive
on time?’ he asked testily.

‘It hasn’t been an hour,’ Draco huffed, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s been forty-three minutes.’

He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring at the clock.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Lucius. ‘You would know.’

Draco had insisted on coming along to St Mungo’s when he learned Hermione was going.
Technically, neither of them needed to come--Lucius had legally obtained the pass, which
had been approved immediately since it was for medical purposes anyway, so he was allowed
to go alone. Draco claimed he was going to make sure Lucius would actually go to St
Mungo’s and actually attend the appointment, but he was certain Draco was regretting that
decision now.

Hermione had decided to come along first, because she said he might need support. Lucius’s
ego had protested mildly, but the rest of him was glad of any excuse to have her around and
cheerfully told his ego to stuff it.

Of the two of them, Hermione’s company was much preferable, and not just for the obvious
reasons. Mostly, it was because Hermione had been making conversation for most of the
forty-three minutes, asking him questions about his housing proposal and talking about the
progress she and Draco had made on the Wizarding Studies project. Draco, on the other
hand, had been sulking and staring at the clock. He hated hospitals, which is why he
shouldn’t have come, but when Lucius said so, he continued to insist that he couldn’t be sure
Lucius would go to the appointment if he didn’t. He seemed convinced that Lucius and
Hermione required a chaperone to go to an appointment with a healer.

‘I think they just always get behind,’ Hermione said, still shaking her head at Draco. ‘They
schedule a certain number of appointments, and most of them take longer than the time
allotted. And it is the end of the day.’

Lucius conceded that with a grimace. He’d tried to get a morning appointment, but they were
all booked up, and he hadn’t wanted to wait a month to get this stupid physical out of the
way. He didn’t really want to be here at all, but he supposed that agreeing to the physical was
the best way he could make it up to Hermione for refusing to see a mind healer.

He had to bite down a smile at the mere thought of the experience of touching Hermione’s
mind. Her mind was positively luminous, and she was a beacon of warm golden light. He
had been tempted to forsake his physical body and take up residence in her cosy, welcoming
library forever. It felt like he belonged there, and he had never felt so whole as when
Hermione wrapped herself around him, blanketing him in her affection.

The best part was that he felt so much better now--even setting aside his restored ability to
cast wandless magic. It was like a months-long headache he hadn’t even realised he had was
gone; it was so much easier to think, now, and to get out of bed in the mornings, since he no
longer felt crushed by the weight he’d been unknowingly carrying. Just breathing was easier.

There were downsides, too, of course, though they were very few. Now that his head was so
clear, the fear he always felt during his every waking moment was much more noticeable. At
random moments, it overtook him, setting his heart to pounding and making his breath come
short until he could regain control of himself and push it back again. It was worse when
other people were around--except for Hermione, naturally. When she was nearby, it receded
until it was nearly nonexistent--and when she touched him, even just to pat his hand, it
vanished as though it had never been.

Not a downside, but an unexpected realisation for him had been that the remorse and altered
thoughts toward Muggles and Weasleys had not been a result of the damage to his mind,
since they hadn’t gone away once the damage was mended. When Hermione insisted he
needed a mind healer, he’d half expected to be back to his old snobbery and arrogance the
moment she left his mind. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened, and he was still himself--his
new self, that is.

‘I’m going to see what’s taking so long,’ Draco huffed, and left the room.

Hermione raised a brow when the door slammed behind him.

‘He hates hospitals,’ Lucius explained, wincing. ‘Ever since he was little.’

‘He should have stayed home, then,’ she said, snorting.

‘That’s what I said, but he doesn’t listen.’

‘To you, or to anyone?’

Lucius tilted his head, considering. ‘To me, I suppose.’

She sighed. ‘Are you two always going to be butting heads? I thought you’d made a start on
talking things out.’

He smiled. ‘Oh, we have, and we’ve talked some more since that day, but I think we’re too
alike to ever really get along. I’ll be happy if we can just avoid any really serious fights that
result in him pretending I don’t exist in the future.’

She chuckled. ‘Fair enough.’

A few more minutes passed. Hermione leaned forward, squinting at an informational poster,
and Lucius watched her contentedly. He’d had time to assimilate, now, and it made perfect
sense to him that he was in love with her, after he’d given it five minutes of thought. She was
the kindest, smartest, most capable, most generous person he’d ever known, and she’d
decided to bestow her friendship on him , of all people, even knowing all the things he’d
done, even after he’d personally victimised her and the people she cared about. She’d
forgiven him and helped him in more ways than he could count. It seemed inevitable, really,
that he should have fallen in love with her. It had been coming from the moment she showed
up with a pot pie and a little courtesy and concern. The only thing that amazed him now was
how long it had taken him to realise it.

This was one of the few downsides, however. With no haze to blur his thoughts, he found it
hard to hide his feelings for her. More than once, he’d caught himself staring at her dreamily
and had to force his thoughts to mentally reciting Muggle traffic laws to distract himself.

And he had to hide it from her--at least for now. He was a Malfoy, after all. It wouldn’t do
to be sitting at lunch with her and blurt, ‘I love you, marry me?’ He needed to plan. The
setting, the timing, the mood--all of it had to be perfect, to sweep her off her feet so that the
only possible response to ‘Will you marry me?’ would be ‘Yes.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry about the wait, Mr Malfoy,’ the mediwizard said as he barged in, startling
Lucius into jumping, Draco on his tail. ‘We’re rather busy around here this morning. It
seems a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product is fooling parents a little too well…. Anyway, I’m
Healer Kipling, you may call me Kipling, Healer Kipling, or Kipper.’

Lucius rubbed his knees anxiously, trying not to sneer to cover his discomfort. Before they
left the manor, Hermione had told him not to sneer today, at least not here, although she said
she understood it was his defence mechanism.

‘It might make the healer take against you right away,’ she’d said reasonably, ‘and you don’t
want the person responsible for your health to have an attitude against you.’

This made sense to Lucius, so he did his best to control his expression.

Kipling smiled. ‘I believe in a balanced approach, so I hope you don’t mind if I use a few
Muggle techniques to begin with. Let’s get started, shall we? Open your mouth, please.’

Lucius obeyed that and every other command he received. He stuck out his tongue, looked at
the ceiling with only his eyes, held his breath, and did every other silly thing Kipling could
think of, while Kipling listened to his chest or rubbed under his jaw and ears or looked at his
eyeballs or did some other thing Lucius could only guess at the purpose of. After that,
Kipling got out his wand, and he was poked and prodded and scanned and tutted over for
more than an hour, mostly because Kipling’s scans involved his wand, naturally, and he
couldn’t help his instinctive flinch, which messed up the precise medical spellwork being
performed. Finally, Hermione gripped his shoulder and he was able to stare down Kipling’s
wand without moving, though every muscle remained tensed, ready for evasive manoeuvres
if necessary.

‘There we are,’ Kipling said cheerfully. ‘Much better. Thank you.’

He pointed his wand at a blank parchment, where writing began to appear. All three of them
craned their necks to peer at it until Kipling stood in front of it, looking amused.

‘I’ll read it to you, shall I?’ he said when it had finished recording. ‘Or at least the most
important bits. I’ll make a copy for you to take home if you like.’

‘I would like,’ Lucius said anxiously, and Hermione’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly.

‘All right, here we are.’ Kipling squinted at the sheet, humming to himself tunelessly for a
moment. ‘Okay. So, it looks like you’re going to need a few corrective potions, Mr Malfoy.
Your arm was broken several times, yes? It looks as though it was healed incorrectly, so
you’ll need a potion to repair the damage. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to remove the
bone and give you some Skele-grow instead. I’d much prefer to go this route, though, as I
think it’s better for everyone to have their original bones when they can, so we’ll try the
corrective potion first.’

Draco made a face at the mention of Skele-grow. Lucius shared the sentiment.

‘Fine by me,’ he agreed quickly.

‘Your leg has a similar problem, but we’ll take care of that the same way, if we can. It’s not
as bad off as your arm, so I don’t think it should be difficult. Your hip, however….’ Kipling
clucked his tongue. ‘It was broken, too? A hairline fracture, it looks like. It wouldn’t be
anything serious, except that it seems to be resisting healing at all, probably due to your low
core body temperature.’

‘My what?’ Lucius interrupted, bewildered.

‘Your core body temperature,’ Kipling said calmly. ‘Most full-blooded humans--that is,
those without any giant or goblin blood, and not werewolves or other alternate humanoid
forms--naturally hover at around 37 degrees, although there are some for whom it is normal
to be a little colder. According to the baseline statistics we have in your files, however, 37
degrees is normal for you. My scans show that your body temperature is vacillating between
36 and 35 degrees, generally remaining on the low end. My scans can’t show the cause,
however. Would you happen to know if there’s any reason for your body temperature to be
so low, or have I perhaps confused cause and effect--’

‘I do know.’ He swallowed with some difficulty. ‘I was…repeatedly subjected to Cooling

Charms at a time when I was unable to defend myself,’ he admitted quietly. ‘I would assume
that that is the cause.’

He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him and didn’t dare look at her. Her hand didn’t leave his
shoulder.

Kipling looked sympathetic. ‘Ah. That would do it. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can
do to correct it, in that case. At least nothing permanent, that is. I would recommend a
treatment regimen that might help, however. Particularly in the wintertime. If you take a
Pepper-up Potion every morning, and as needed, the artificial warmth should help boost your
body temperature for most of the day. I can’t recommend taking it too close to bed, or before
bed, because then you’ll be up all night, and a proper amount of rest is also essential. Dress
warmly, and avoid staying outside in the cold for too long at a time.’

Draco shot him a very pointed look. Lucius pretended not to see it.

‘I would also recommend hot beverages, so if you’re a coffee addict, you have an excuse to
indulge,’ Kipling said with a wink.

‘And that’s it?’ Hermione asked, an edge of disgust in her tone despite her attempts to
modulate it. ‘You’re saying he’s just going to have to live with being hypothermic for the
rest of his life.’

Kipling sighed a little. ‘Unfortunately, yes. Blankets, warm clothes, hot beverages, Pepper-
up in the mornings, and staying inside near a heat source are all I can really recommend at
this point. Spell damage to the core body temperature is generally reversible, except when it
is caused by too many Cooling Charms cast directly on the body, but such cases are so rare
that no real research is being done to find a cure.’

Lucius looked up and saw that Hermione had set her jaw, a familiar look of stubborn
determination on her beautiful face. He would wager that research on that problem would
start sometime very soon.

‘However, I can prescribe a strong healing potion to nudge that hip along,’ Kipling went on,
getting back on topic. ‘The more of these little breaks and bothers we take care of, the more
likely it is that your body will be able to help keep itself warm, since its, uh, “attention” won’t
be divided anymore.’

Hermione was nodding along in agreement with that, so Lucius assumed Kipling knew what
he was talking about.

‘You also have some badly healed soft tissue damage in several different spots, but most
especially in your neck. I imagine you’ve been having some problems with that, given the
severity?’

He nodded shortly.

‘I’ll prescribe a potion for that, too. You’ll have to take the potion for your hip and the
corrective potions for the badly healed bones for eight weeks, but the soft tissue damage is a
little more resistant, so you’ll need to take that potion twice a day for twelve weeks. I’d like
to see you for a follow-up after that, just to check that the potions all did their jobs.’

‘But other than those issues, he’s all right?’ Draco put in anxiously.

Kipling scratched his balding head. ‘Oh, yes, other than those things and the damage to his
body temperature, he’s quite healthy. It looks as though you’re kept well fed and well looked
after, Mr Malfoy, so if you take your potions, you should be nearly right as rain in no time.’

They thanked him, and Draco followed him out to collect the potions Lucius would need. He
practically fled behind the screen in the corner and got dressed in his own, much warmer
clothes again. Hermione didn’t even look amused when he emerged fully clothed, just
sympathetic.

Once Draco returned, they walked down to St Mungo’s large entrance hall, watching people
Floo or Apparate in and out while Lucius counted the potions. His nose wrinkled as he did
the math.

‘ Nine potions every morning? That’s ten potions a day! Eleven if I have to take a second
Pepper-up. My tongue is going to go on strike,’ he very nearly whined.

Hermione shrugged. ‘I have to take ten potions a day for my injury. Granted, they’re spread
out throughout the day, rather than taken all at once, but still. Actually, taking almost all of
them in the morning and getting them over with sounds good to me. I think you’ll live.’

Lucius stared. ‘ You have to take ten potions a day? For how long?’

He hadn’t realised the extent of the treatment needed for her injury, since he’d never been on
the receiving end of Dolohov’s curse.

‘Two months. I’ll be better in March. I’ve done it before, it’s really not a huge problem.
Anyway, my point is that you’ll survive it with most of your taste buds intact,’ she added,
amused.

He harrumphed. ‘We’ll see.’

She merely smiled. ‘So what now?’

‘Now we go home,’ Draco put in.

‘Why?’ she asked innocently. ‘Lucius’s pass doesn’t expire until midnight. I think he
deserves a treat for behaving at the doctor’s, don’t you?’

Lucius grinned, and Draco seemed to lighten up for the first time all afternoon, his expression
easing.

‘Well. I suppose. He’s a bit too old for a lolly, so I suppose dinner out will have to do,’ he
said lightly.

‘That’s the spirit,’ Hermione said cheerfully. ‘Now, where should we go?’

They bickered good-naturedly for a while, but when Lucius interjected that he’d really
missed Amortentia (the restaurant), they immediately accepted that and headed toward an
Apparition point.

Amortentia (the restaurant) was a high-end establishment, but not so high-end that their semi-
casual robes weren’t permitted. Still, it seemed to dazzle Hermione a bit, and he enjoyed her
curiosity.

She caught him watching her and blushed. ‘The only wizarding restaurants I’ve ever been in
are the Hog’s Head, the Three Broomsticks, and the Leaky Cauldron,’ she admitted. ‘This is
really quite fascinating.’

Lucius looked around for a moment. It was no different than any other wizard establishment
to him, so it was hard to see what was so fascinating from her point of view.

‘Well, I suppose it is, compared to those three…restaurants,’ he conceded anyway, although

he hesitated to call them restaurants, as the food was barely edible, in his opinion. Pubs that
happened to serve food, really, although if one were starving and desperate….

She smiled at his polite tone, as though she knew what he was really thinking (which, he
reflected, was entirely possible), and turned to listen with great interest as Draco began
relating the story of his own first visit to Amortentia, for his eighth birthday.

The meal passed much too quickly for Lucius’s liking. Draco and Hermione were both lively
and cheerful, sharing stories that Lucius mostly wasn’t familiar with, although he’d been
there for a few of Draco’s, and corrected some of his wilder embellishments with patient
amusement. He offered up a story of his own to rapt attention from both of them, and wished
briefly that he had more memories of his childhood and youth left to choose from.

He did note that they got some stares from about half of their fellow patrons. Some of them
were just curious, while some were glaring daggers at Lucius. He dismissed them easily, but
it was harder to brush off the few who were glaring at Hermione --those people made him
bristle, and he glared back at them ferociously. Once they noticed his attention, they
inevitably paled and turned quickly to their food. He settled down with a satisfied sniff.
Undoubtedly, those diners who disliked Hermione were bigots of the sort he’d been not too
long ago, offended that a Muggle-born would dare to enter ‘their’ territory. He hated them all
the more because he’d once been one of them.

‘Are you all right?’ Hermione asked softly, touching his wrist.

He smiled. ‘Perfectly.’

She glanced over her shoulder at the pale and quivering wizards and witches who were now
staring intently at their plates. ‘Were they bothering you?’

‘ Were is the operative word,’ Lucius said haughtily. ‘Now they don’t exist to me.’

She went through several expressions before settling on a smile and a sigh, shaking her head
slightly.

Otherwise, they passed a lovely evening, and headed home. To Lucius’s delight, Hermione
accepted his offer of some tea and cakes, settling down beside him on the sofa in the sitting
room. With the intimate fire and quiet atmosphere, it would probably have been an
opportune moment to confess his feelings, if not for Draco, who parked himself in an
armchair and refused to leave no matter how many hints Lucius dropped.

Finally, Hermione took one of his hints for herself, claiming she was tired. After she was
gone, Lucius returned to the sitting room and glared at Draco.

‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded sharply. ‘I was going to--’

‘I know what you were going to do,’ Draco said, frowning.

Lucius blinked. ‘You do?’

‘You were going to ask Hermione to marry you.’

Another blink. ‘How do--?’

Draco snorted. ‘I know you too well. You moon over her every time you see her. But I
called it first!’ he insisted, pouting. ‘I was planning to ask Ginny to marry me way before
you decided to ask Hermione to marry you , so you can’t ask first! It will ruin the surprise
with Ginny!’

‘Oh.’ He considered that. ‘All right, I suppose I can wait,’ he agreed, sighing.

‘It’s only fair.’

He looked around thoughtfully. ‘I really need to plan better than this anyway. She’s more
comfortable in the library. And I don’t even have a ring yet.’
Draco shook his head. ‘You don’t need one. Hermione says diamond rings are supporting…
um. Well, I wasn’t exactly listening, but she says they’re bad. People get killed, or
something. I got a whole big lecture when I showed her the ring I picked out for Ginny.’

Lucius shrugged. ‘Then I’ll get her a ring without a diamond in it.’ His eyes unfocused for a
moment as he mentally reviewed their heirloom collection. ‘We might already have one
without a diamond….’

He stared, nearly tipping his teacup and only correcting a second before he would have got a
lapful. ‘You’re going to give her one of the rings from our vaults?’ he said, shocked. ‘Isn’t
that…. Don’t you think that’s a bad idea? I mean, they are Malfoy family heirlooms.’

Lucius frowned. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a Malfoy. If she dislikes the ring because of the
family attachment, she’d likely say no even if I purchased her a new ring anyway.’

Draco paled. It took a moment for him to understand why.

‘Oh. Draco…Ginny is different,’ he said quickly. ‘I know you’re a Malfoy, too, but she
doesn’t seem to see you that way. She just…thinks of you as Draco.’

His son did not appear to be comforted. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said hoarsely, setting his cup
down. ‘Good night, Father.’

‘Good night.’

Lucius winced when Draco was gone, knowing he’d made a mess of that. Hopefully, Draco
would sleep on it and be over it in the morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The problem, Lucius reflected, with promising to wait was that one had time to think things
through, and therefore one began to lose one’s nerve as one realised all of the many reasons
the object of his affections had to say no. In the exhilaration of realising and accepting that
he loved her and wanted to marry her, Lucius had quite conveniently overlooked many
factors. He found himself perversely grateful that Draco had refused to budge that night,
preventing him from making a fool of himself.

There was his status as a convicted Death Eater--the end of his probation wouldn’t suddenly
mean that the world forgot about all the things he’d done. It wasn’t exactly fair of him to ask
her to spend her life with him when it was likely that he’d be the subject of a great deal of
(well-deserved) hatred and spite for the remainder of his life. He didn’t want any of that to
extend to her, simply for agreeing to marry him. He felt selfish for even thinking it.

Then there was the age difference. While twenty-five years was fairly commonplace in
wizarding society, thanks to their extended lifespans, and it didn’t even make Lucius blink, he
hadn’t considered the fact that Hermione had been raised in the Muggle world, where twenty-
five-year age gaps between spouses were bound to raise eyebrows and draw comments. Now
that he’d stopped to consider it, though, it was possible that she would be disgusted by a
marriage proposal from someone who was old enough to be her father--had, in fact, fathered
one of her peers. Unless, of course, she didn’t think of him that way, which brought him to
the factor that was bothering him the most.

First and foremost, he’d overlooked how Hermione felt, which was rather important. When
they had been in each other’s minds, he’d felt only the affection one might expect toward a
close friend. Any romantic feeling or passion or deeper love had been conspicuously absent,
which more than likely meant that his feelings were unrequited. Not that he didn’t think
Hermione was talented enough to hide those things from him if she did feel them, but why
would she? He couldn’t think of any reasons, as depressed as that made him.

However, he did have rebuttals, weak as they were. For the first point, his convicted Death
Eater status might be a problem for her even if they remained friends, although obviously it
would be more intense if she were to become his wife (a chill ran down his spine just
thinking the words). It hadn’t seemed to bother her so far, though, and her own status as a
war hero would protect her to a certain extent. As he’d seen at the restaurant, there were still
a few bigots in the world to harass and annoy Hermione, but he’d also realised that his regard
for her could protect her from them, at least a little. He was Lucius Malfoy, after all--were
the anti-Muggle factions really going to stand up to him just to make Hermione’s life
miserable? He doubted it. The most powerful bigots had become Death Eaters, like him, and
they were all either dead or in Azkaban. The rest were cowards who were brave enough to
glare in a restaurant, but no more than that. He could easily handle them, and make
Hermione’s life just a little less stressed.

The answer to the second two points was obvious: get her to fall in love with him. That was
where the thought process stalled, however. He knew how to court in the traditional pure-
blood fashion (naturally). He knew several Muggle courtship rituals, now. He’d seen how
Draco approached Ginny, which was evidently the modern approach--talk, go to lunch, and
snog. He discarded all of them as unworthy, and unusable.

Hermione wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t think she would be won over by
flowers, and gifts of baubles and furs, and pretty promises. She definitely wouldn’t be won
over by the traditional pure-blood promise that he wouldn’t hold her lack of a dowry against
her, or the Muggle promise that they could have what they called a ‘prenuptial agreement.’
Neither was very romantic at all, and he felt annoyed and disgusted just thinking about them.

That left Lucius at somewhat of an impasse. He had no idea what would win her over. He’d
won her friendship, but he really had no idea how. Mostly, it just seemed like kindness on
her part, rather than any worthiness on his part. He supposed he had a clever turn of phrase
every now and then that either impressed her or made her laugh. They talked on every
subject they could think of, and she always seemed engaged by what he had to say. Those
were all well and good, but if they hadn’t made her fall in love with him by now, he somehow
doubted they would do the trick anytime soon.

It didn’t help that a large part of him wanted to simply fall on his knees and beg--beg her to
love him, promise her everything her heart could desire that Galleons could buy, promise to
do whatever she wished for the rest of eternity if only she would agree to look on his suit
kindly. Lucius still had his pride, so he wasn’t willing to go that route. At least not yet.

‘Father, you’re not wearing that ridiculous joke badge again, are you?’

Lucius roused himself from his thoughts with an effort and smirked at Draco. ‘It’s not a joke,
and yes, I am.’

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Whatever. I am going to wait in the entrance hall, you may
join me if you wish, Frankenstein.’

He supposed this jab was because he had spent most of the day staring into space, thinking
hard about how to make Hermione fall in love with him. Draco had been annoyed by the
lack of conversation, probably.

‘Frankenstein was the scientist,’ Lucius said, sniffing disdainfully as he trailed after Draco.
‘The monster was just the monster, or the creature.’

Draco sighed, looking upward for a moment. ‘I’m going to ban Hermione from lending you
any more books.’

‘You’re welcome to try,’ he shot back gleefully. ‘She’s supposed to be bringing me Peter
Pan tonight. I fully intend to root for the pirates.’

‘They lose.’

‘Spoilsport.’

Molly and Arthur arrived first again, undistracted by any breaking news, and Bill and Fleur
had evidently decided to start joining in the weekly dinners--at least part of the time, anyway-
-because they arrived immediately after. Neville and Lovegood broke the pattern of
Weasleys, and Lucius nearly did a double-take when they removed their cloaks, a slow smile
spreading over his face.

‘Welcome back, Neville, Miss Lovegood,’ he said with more sincerity than he’d ever
managed before. ‘I trust you’ve been well?’

Crazy girl hummed in response and wandered off after smiling and touching his elbow, which
was weird, but he thought perhaps he was slowly getting used to her, because he shook it off
a lot faster than he had in the past.

‘Very well, thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ Neville said, his cheeks pink and his smile shy. He was
very definitely happy about something.

‘Lucius, if you please,’ he corrected. ‘I think it’s been quite long enough. I get tired of being
“Mr Malfoyed” all the time.’

Neville’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, Mr--uh, I mean, okay. Sure, Lucius.’

He scurried off shortly after, leaving Lucius free to notice the twins’ arrival. They, too, were
of interest after they removed their cloaks. He nodded to them cautiously, and they replied
with grins and thumbs up before (thankfully) moving in the opposite direction. Draco looked
quite bewildered by it all.

Percy arrived with a blissful smile on his face, but he didn’t seem inclined to share just yet.
Lucius thought he already knew what had the young man in such a stupor, if everything had
gone according to plan, and so he was indulgent about Percy’s slow responses, which didn’t
always match the question posed.

It wasn’t long after that Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Potter arrived, Hermione bearing a food
container again. Ron, Ginny and Potter took one look at his badge and grinned, removing
their cloaks to show that they, too, were wearing their S.P.E.W. badges, as had the twins,
Neville, and Lovegood.

Hermione looked at them, looked again, and burst out laughing.

Draco immediately skidded over. ‘What is going on? What are these stupid things, and why
does everyone else have one and I don’t?’

‘I told you,’ Hermione gasped between giggles. ‘It’s the Society…the Society for….’

‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ Potter said, grinning quite wickedly.

She waved a hand. ‘Yeah, that.’

Draco pouted. ‘Well, I didn’t know you were serious ! Why don’t I get to have one? I let
my house elves have the day off!’

Ginny was laughing openly at him, while Lucius tried to follow Harry and Ron’s example
and suppress his smile, although none of them were having much success.

Hermione calmed with an effort, still very red. ‘I can get you one next time. In fact, it looks
like I’d better get one out for myself, too. It doesn’t look very good for the founder of the
society to neglect to wear her badge,’ she added lightly.

That satisfied Draco, and he led them into the sitting room with a minimum of grumbling.

There was a twinkle in Hermione’s eye that Lucius had never seen before, and she nudged his
shoulder on the way to the sitting room, offering him one of her new warm smiles. He
basked in it so hard he nearly walked into the doorframe.

‘Be careful!’ Hermione half-scolded, half-giggled.

He wasn’t even embarrassed. ‘I’ll try,’ he said serenely.

Dinner started off smoothly, but about halfway through, it became a rowdy Weasley-style
party again when Percy finally announced his big news--he had been promoted at work.
There was immediate whooping and backslapping and teasing, but for some reason,
Hermione looked at Lucius, and he tried to look surprised. He wasn’t certain whether she
bought it or not, but she did finally look away, offering Percy her congratulations.

‘Thank you, Hermione,’ he said cheerfully. ‘The best part is my new co-worker. Her name is
Audrey, and she’s….’ He blushed. ‘She’s quite capable.’

A lot of knowing looks were exchanged, but for once, even the twins abstained from teasing
Percy about his new crush, instead focusing their efforts on teasing him about budget reports.

The rowdiness only increased, so eventually, Lucius and Hermione made eye contact across
the room and quietly slipped away from their respective groups, retreating to the library for
some peace and quiet and sane company. Hermione had brought Peter Pan , so he returned
Frankenstein .

‘I quite enjoyed it,’ he said brightly. ‘And the references make so much more sense now.
Although I hope this has less horror in it.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re probably familiar with it through cultural osmosis anyway.’

Lucius blinked. ‘Cultural what?’

She smiled. ‘Osmosis. I’ll explain what that means another time, but “cultural osmosis”
means you’ve picked up bits and pieces from popular stories without ever reading them or
seeing them yourself, because parts have become common knowledge. It’s sort of like how
you and Draco both knew that Frankenstein’s monster was a zombie-like creature made up of
parts from different dead bodies, reanimated, but you hadn’t actually read it yet. You had a
vague idea because it’s become common knowledge over the years--even, to a limited extent,
to wizards.’

He considered that, frowning. ‘But parts of what I thought I knew about Frankenstein’s
monster were wrong.’

‘Well, that’s probably because of the various adaptations,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Muggles
have made a lot of films and stories and cartoons about Frankenstein’s monster, so they’ve
changed a lot of the details or interpreted things differently, so some of that bled into the idea,
replacing the original concept. You’ll see more of that with Peter Pan --you already know
about Peter, and Wendy, and Captain Hook, right?’

Lucius tilted his head. ‘In the sense that I am aware they are characters that exist.’ He
paused. ‘And Peter can fly,’ he added with a touch of excitement and wistfulness.

He hadn’t flown in ages--didn’t dare, in case there was an arbitrary distance above the manor
where the wards ended.

Hermione grinned. ‘Yes, exactly. You picked that up through cultural osmosis--from hearing
other people discuss it or reading references to it elsewhere, without even realising it.’

‘Oh,’ he said brightly, pleased with this new knowledge. Then another thought occurred,
making him frown. ‘Draco says Captain Hook and the pirates lose .’
She shook her head. ‘I’m going to hit him, I think. Way to spoil it.’

His frown deepened. ‘So they do lose? I wanted the pirates to win.’

That made Hermione giggle. ‘Why did you want them to win? Pirates are evil and nasty.’

‘Well, they’re pirates,’ he said, because obviously the pirates should win. ‘Pirates may be in
dire need of an education on hygiene, but they also know how to swashbuckle. That alone
means they should win.’

She giggled again, delighted. ‘Sorry. Captain Hook and his crew are the villains, and the
heroes win this time around.’

Lucius scowled. ‘Having a hook for a hand automatically means he should win,’ he
grumbled, ‘if only for style points.’

‘Well, I think you’ll only end up wishing he’d win even more, once you start reading,’ she
said, grinning and patting his hand. ‘Just try not to be too heartbroken when he doesn’t.’

He harrumphed, but couldn’t prevent a smile from blossoming. The subject changed, mostly
because Lucius wanted to know what ‘osmosis’ meant when it wasn’t hooked up with
‘cultural,’ and Hermione obligingly explained, and the conversation flowed from there. They
were deep in discussion about the long-term environmental effects of carbon emissions when
Draco poked his head in the room.

‘You two do realise it’s after two in the morning and everyone else has gone home?’ he
interrupted, his brows raised pointedly.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Hermione, wincing. ‘Um, I’d better go, I have classes tomorrow.’ She
hopped up and kissed Lucius’s cheek. ‘Bye!’

‘Bye,’ he said, bemused, because she was already gone. ‘We just lost track of the time.’

Draco’s expression didn’t change. ‘Clearly. Anyway, I’m for bed.’

‘So am I,’ Lucius agreed around a yawn.

He didn’t have any nightmares. He hadn’t, since Hermione fixed his mind. He hoped it
meant they were gone for good.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He did have a night-time disturbance that Sunday, after spending a frustrating week-end
trying not to let Hermione catch him staring while also trying to figure out how to attract her
notice in a romantic way. Talking about things she liked didn’t work, because they always
did that, so she just smiled when he steered the conversation in directions she enjoyed.
 Staring intently into her eyes while she talked didn’t work, either, because she got that look
about her that meant she was going to be afraid in a moment, and Lucius wanted more than
anything to keep her from being afraid of him, ever again. He thought his heart would crack
in his chest and he might actually drop dead where he stood if she ever fled from him again.
He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

But, it seemed, after two days of being tantalisingly close to her, his subconscious had got a
few ideas, because he began to dream, and Hermione was there. Her smile was coy and her
eyes were bright and her lips were soft, her skin creamy and smooth under his hands. He
groaned loudly when she touched him with her perfect, warm hands, igniting a fire under his
skin, and he kissed his way down her body, worshipping every inch with mouth and tongue
and hands, and he was nearing his goal when--

‘Father!’

Draco. Well, that rather spoiled the mood.

Lucius opened his eyes. Draco looked very worried, and the harsh words that had leapt to the
tip of his tongue died. He’d only thought he was having a nightmare and been concerned. It
made sense. Lucius couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erotic dream, whereas he’d
been having nightmares almost nightly for the past two years--nearly three, actually. Draco
had never seen or heard him in the throes of an erotic dream, that he knew of, so he could
hardly be expected to tell the difference between groaning and panting from fear and pain
versus groaning and panting from…. Well. He didn’t even want to think it with Draco in the
room.

Cautiously, he sat up, bending his knees so that the blankets lifted, hiding the evidence of
his…excitement, although it was quickly withering on its own, now. He cleared his throat
once, then again, feeling the warmth of his cheeks was like a beacon, telling the world what
he’d been dreaming, but the words wouldn’t come.

He knew the instant Draco understood, because his son took three large steps backward, his
face turning redder than a Weasley’s hair. He looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the
fire in the grate--anywhere but at Lucius. Lucius didn’t mind, because he was having quite a
bit of trouble looking at Draco, too.

‘Oh. Um, I’m sorry,’ Draco squeaked. ‘I thought you were having a nightmare, I heard you
make a noise….’

He turned even redder, if that were possible, shoving his hands into the pockets of his
pyjamas and shuffling his feet.

‘No,’ Lucius said with forced lightness, his own voice a bit on the squeaky side. ‘No, not a
nightmare this time.’ He cleared his throat again, but the squeakiness remained. ‘Thank you
for your concern, though.’

‘No problem,’ Draco eked out, and edged a little closer to the door. ‘I’ll just go, then. See
you in the morning.’
Lucius pasted on a smile, nodding slightly, but still couldn’t look Draco in the face. ‘Yes, all
right.’

Draco spun and fled, and Lucius collapsed back on his pillows, blowing out a sigh.

‘Well,’ he said to the empty room, ‘that was awkward.’

He was agitated now, his heart still pounding, so it took him a while to get back to sleep, and
once he did, he couldn’t recapture the lost threads of the dream.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘All right, class,’ Hermione said, smiling. ‘Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for.’

‘ Star Wars !!’ a couple of the boys shouted, whooping.

One of the girls let out a shrill whistle, too, pumping the air with her fist. Most of the rest of
the class just looked confused by their excitement.

Lucius wasn’t confused at all. In fact, he was looking forward to this film a lot, so if he’d
been just a decade or so younger, he probably would have whooped and whistled right along
with the students. As it was, he tried to suppress a grin and wriggled down in his seat,
settling into a more comfortable position. Hermione had told him that this was a lot more
action-oriented than The Sound of Music , and--best of all--there was no singing!

‘That’s right,’ Hermione said calmly, but her eyes were dancing and he could see the corners
of her mouth twitching as she tried to suppress a smile of her own. ‘ Star Wars time. This is
one of the most important pieces of Muggle culture you will ever learn. For one thing, once
we’re finished with the second film, you’ll understand “Luke, I am your father,” which is
pretty important, I think. Either way, whether you enjoy this trilogy or not, I think you’ll be
glad you saw it. It’s a very large phenomenon in the Muggle world, so it’s a very big part of
understanding some of your classmates better. There are prequel movies being released, so
some of your peers will be excited about that--after you’ve seen these movies, perhaps you’ll
have something to talk about with them. But I honestly think you’ll enjoy them. After we
watch all three films, next week we’ll talk about why they were so hugely important to
Muggle cinema, and go on from there. Let’s get started!’

She walked down the middle aisle to the projector and tapped it to start it, and nodded to
Lucius, who waved his hand, extinguishing the candles with a grin. Nope, still wasn’t old.
She smiled back and settled into the chair she’d set beside his desk. She was so close that
his fingers itched to reach over and touch her knee, but he resisted. It wouldn’t do, in front of
the students, for one thing--and he was afraid she would shove his hand off, for the other.
Rejection was fairly high on his list of things to avoid, if possible.
It was no longer such a problem when the credits began, though. They began with an
explosion of noise, a mighty fanfare that knocked him back in his seat and hooked his
attention immediately --which was a good thing, because there was some reading to do at the
beginning, explaining what the situation was in this galaxy they were about to float into. He
didn’t mind, because otherwise he would have had no idea which ship to root for, when they
were plunged into the midst of a space battle.

Lucius’s mouth dropped open with stark wonder as laser beams pinged back and forth
between the two ships--which were amazing in and of themselves. The ideas Muggles came
up with! The most inventive most wizards got was enchanting things that already existed, or
inventing new spells and potions, often for things Muggles had already got around to fixing
without magic. He knew the ships were only models in front of a fake planet, but even that
was extraordinary. He suddenly wanted a toy version of one of those ships, very, very badly.

The smaller ship was captured by the bigger ship, and a battle with more laser beams took
place in a white corridor. Lucius assumed the men in the uniforms and helmets were the
crew of the smaller ship, which he was probably supposed to continue supporting, while the
men in full white body armour who burst through the door appeared to be evil. The face
mask portion of their helmets gave that impression, anyway.

There were some robots, which piqued his interest, running away from the battle. Well,
shuffling and rolling, mostly. He liked the little blue one, who spoke in incomprehensible
beeps that sounded quite cheerful.

But it was after that little battle in the corridor was over, the uniformed men defeated, that
Lucius’s attention was truly and firmly glued to the screen. Through the doorway, through
the smoke, from the blackness into the pristine white corridor stepped a tall man clad head to
foot in black--even his head was encased in a black, shining helmet, his face obscured with a
strange mask. He surveyed the damage, and Lucius did not know what he was thinking
because of the mask, couldn’t even guess. A chill ran down his spine as the man calmly
stepped over one of the bodies of his own men and proceeded down the corridor, his cape
sweeping behind him.

‘Lord Vader,’ one of his men addressed him.

Lucius folded his arms before him on the desk and rested his chin on them, engrossed.

Vader easily lifted a man and crushed his windpipe a moment later. The robots--droids, the
film informed him--encountered a beautiful woman in white. The droids escaped, but the
woman was brought before Vader. Lucius would probably have been shaking (and doing his
best to hide it), but the woman merely lifted her chin and glared at Vader, her eyes flashing.
She was a princess. She was fire and steel.

She reminded him very strongly of Hermione.

‘Hermione?’ he whispered as softly as he could, leaning toward her for a moment.

‘Yeah?’ she breathed back.

‘Does the princess die?’

‘No. Leia lives.’

‘Okay.’

Relieved, he settled back down. The droids had narrowly escaped getting blown up, but the
planet they had landed on appeared to be a giant sand dune, the gold droid glinting blindingly
in the sun. Lucius smiled as the two droids bickered back and forth--he still had no idea what
the little blue one (Are Too, apparently, which was a really odd name, but then, it was a droid,
not a person) was saying, but given the gold one’s annoyed responses, he had a great deal of
sass, which Lucius could appreciate. Particularly since Goldie was extremely bossy, and not
in a good way. He would have told him to quit whining, if he’d met him in person.

Are Too apparently agreed, because he ditched Goldie in short order, going his own way.
Unfortunately, neither of them were right, it seemed, because they both ended up captured by
the creepiest little beings Lucius had ever seen. They had eyes that glowed like coals in the
depths of their hoods, and spoke gibberish in scratchy little voices.

Lucius had been unable to suppress a gasp when Are Too was electrocuted by the little
creeps, and Hermione patted his arm.

‘He doesn’t die, either,’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Oh, good,’ Lucius sighed, relaxing.

He had no idea how a droid would have survived that, but he was obviously extremely
advanced. Perhaps he had a built-in surge protector that just took a while to reboot him?

Whatever the reason, he did seem to be fine when he and Goldie were reunited, and Goldie
(whose name turned out to be C-3PO, which made R2’s name make a lot more sense)
actually made himself useful by convincing Luke, Whiner Extraordinaire (‘But I was going
to the Tashee Station to pick up some power converters!!’ Boo hoo hoo, Lucius thought), to
suggest to his uncle that they purchase R2. This seemed like a wonderful idea to Lucius, who
thought that R2 was clearly the most capable character on that planet. Luke would need R2
to survive, no doubt about it.

Although, the more Luke whined as he cleaned up the droids, the more Lucius understood.
The boy was pretty young, and that planet looked like the most boring place ever. It was like
a giant beach with no actual beach. A person could only build so many sandcastles for fun
before he just went crazy from the lack of things to do. Also, Lucius wasn’t exactly sure
what ‘moisture farming’ entailed, but it seemed like something machines would have to do,
since (as he understood it) one could not actually harvest water molecules with one’s hands.
That meant there was probably nothing to do in between emptying or fixing machines. Well,
and cleaning newly-purchased droids. Oh, joy and rapture!

Yes, he could understand wanting to leave that planet far, far behind.
While he was cleaning, R2 played part of the message Princess Leia must have been leaving
with the droid when she was spotted and captured. The message was not for Luke,
unsurprisingly, it was for someone called ‘Oh be one Kenobi,’ another really odd name.
Lucius wondered if he was Japanese or something, since it sounded vaguely Oriental. R2
quit playing even the partial message after Luke removed the restraining bolt that kept him
on the property, and Lucius nearly jumped up and cheered for the clever little droid when he
realised it had been a ploy to get loose. He’d clearly figured out that Luke would be
entranced by the footage of the beautiful woman (as boys are), and would do just about
anything without thinking it through to see the rest of the message. Lucius restrained himself
to a grin and a chuckle, though, and rated R2 very highly in his list of favourite characters.

‘He would have been in Slytherin,’ he whispered to Hermione.

She grinned and shook her head, but didn’t contradict him.

Naturally, without R2, Luke immediately went and almost got himself killed, saved at the last
moment by an old man with an aspect Lucius instantly liked. The old man turned out to be
the mysterious Kenobi R2 was searching for, otherwise known as Ben. He was not Oriental,
so Lucius just decided not to think about the names too much anymore. Clearly, this galaxy
just had strange names.

Ben Kenobi led to the discovery of something that made Lucius, and nearly everyone else in
the classroom, gasp with wonder and delight--a small metal wand that, when activated,
became a laser sword!

‘Wicked!’ Lucius cried, borrowing one of the Weasleys’ favourite expressions, because he
honestly could think of no other word for it.

‘I want one of those!’ one of the boys shouted excitedly.

Hermione laughed. ‘I’m sorry, but they don’t exist outside of fiction.’

There was a chorus of disappointed moans from the younger set. Lucius had assumed that
they didn’t actually exist, so he was more amused than anything, although he was too
entranced by Luke waving the ‘lightsabre’ around (hopefully he wouldn’t accidentally chop
his own leg off in the process) to smirk at anyone.

Hermione chuckled again. ‘All right, all right, shhh. Let’s watch.’

The students settled in again, barely in time for Ben’s explanation of what a Jedi Knight was.
‘Guardian of peace and justice’ sounded like something Lucius would like to add to his
business cards, but he doubted he’d be taken seriously at this point in his life. Hermione
could probably get away with it, though. He made a mental note to suggest it to Potter at
some point. He would probably explode.

Then, despite seeing the full distress message from Princess Leia, and having a lightsabre,
and being handed a ticket off the planet he hated so much, Luke refused Ben’s offer to come
along to help Leia. This did not compute with Lucius, so he chose to think that Luke was
being an idiot, and that he should have asked R2’s opinion, since R2 was clearly the superior
intellect.

On their way home, they discovered a bunch of the little creeps had been killed--the evil men
in white body armour, the stormtroopers, had murdered them. Lucius wholeheartedly agreed
that the little creeps were creepy, and annoying, but he really didn’t think that was
justification for wholesale slaughter. All the little creeps wanted was to sell their junk. Was
that so awful? And they couldn’t help how they looked and sounded, obviously. They were
probably even creepier under their little hooded robes, so at least they were trying. He was
somewhat relieved to find there was an actual reason for it--searching for R2 and 3PO,
although that was also horrifying. He didn’t want anything to happen to R2.

Ben laid it out for him, and Luke realised that meant the stormtroopers would be going to his
home to find the droids, which led to a scene that caused several gasps, a few noises of
disgust, and one girl--the snotty, suspicious Slytherin--to run out of the room, a hand over her
mouth. Lucius had seen worse, but it was still unpleasant to see Luke’s aunt and uncle’s
burning corpses--well, if you could call what was left a corpse. Still, he’d half expected it.
There had to be some way to get Luke on this quest to save Leia, or else it was pointless to
get to know him at all, and his aunt and uncle were really the only obstacles standing in his
way.

Sure enough, he returned to Ben and the droids and signed up for adventure.

There were also intermittent scenes showing Leia’s status with the evil Empire’s army. She
was implied to be tortured by a floating ball with a very long needle sticking out of it, which
made Lucius wince, and almost ask Hermione if she was sure Leia didn’t die.

Vader continued to be intimidating, his deep voice and casually cruel demeanour sending
random chills down Lucius’s spine. He was impressed despite himself when Vader calmly
started choking one of his fellow evil men, simply for disbelieving in his ‘sad devotion to that
ancient religion.’

‘I find your lack of faith disturbing,’ Vader said coolly, completely unruffled as he used his
magic to crush the life out of the man.

Lucius felt sick and awed. That might have been him, in another world. This was like
wizards in space, if wizards were endangered nearly to extinction, forced to live directly
alongside Muggles. Honestly, given the obvious fear and respect Vader commanded from
most of those around him…it really wasn’t bad. Which just made Lucius feel even more of
an idiot for thinking that exterminating Muggles had ever been the way to go. If he had still
felt superior to them, then it was clear that dominating them, demanding their terror and
obedience, would have been both much more intelligent and much more gratifying. Of
course, he felt sick to his stomach even thinking such thoughts, and continued to watch Vader
with the confusing, contradicting feelings of both admiration and total disgust.

Vader only allowed the man to live when his immediate superior demanded it, releasing the
man with an unconcerned wave of his hand. He commanded without having to try,
dominating everything around him just by standing there. He exuded power, and control, and
Lucius was drawn to him, envious, and nauseated by his own continuing lust for power.
Hermione touched his elbow, making him jump. ‘All right?’ she whispered.

He gave her a faint smile and turned back to the screen. He was stronger than this. He was
better than this. He wouldn’t be drawn in by a fictional character.

It was easier when Vader went away and they returned to Luke.

Luke, Ben and the droids had come to a supposedly nasty city called Mos Eisley, although it
didn’t look any nastier than the rest of Planet Desert, in Lucius’s opinion--which wasn’t
saying much. Ben used his magic to trick the Muggle stormtroopers into letting them pass
without question (which Lucius had done on more than one occasion, so he wasn’t all that
impressed). The droids weren’t allowed in the pub Ben selected, which automatically
lowered its approval rating. How did they expect Luke to survive without R2?

Unsurprisingly, Luke was nearly murdered-- again --this time not because some ‘sand
people’ (who made very odd fashion choices) wanted to strip his speeder for parts, but
because two very ugly men had the gall to dislike Luke’s face. Luke had a fairly nice face.
He almost looked like a Malfoy, with his pointy features, blond hair and blue eyes. If he was
less tanned, he’d fit right in to a Malfoy family photo. The two men, on the other hand, were
hideous. One of them looked like the unfortunate union between a human and a pig, while
the other had an arse growing out of his beard, and the biggest, blackest, buggiest eyes
Lucius had ever seen. The effect was not pleasant.

Fortunately, Ben used his lightsabre and chopped them up before they could hurt Luke.
Honestly, Ben and R2 needed to take turns babysitting Luke, or else he was going to get
murdered for certain.

Then, Ben introduced Luke to Chewbacca, who appeared to be some kind of intelligent bear
species, only with a flatter face. He only seemed to speak in growls and chuffs and other
animal sounds, but the other characters seemed to understand him well enough--or at least
Ben, and a newcomer named Han Solo did.

Lucius liked Han Solo on sight. He was cool and sarcastic and unimpressed with everything
around him, but he had the ability to back it up, despite apparently being a Muggle. He even
shot an ugly overgrown bug who had him at gunpoint, so quickly and casually that Lucius
would have missed it if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

‘Sorry ’bout the mess,’ Solo said to the bartender, flipping a coin in his direction, not a hair
out of place.

Lucius liked the way he walked, and the way he talked, and even the way he dressed,
although it wasn’t very stylish by wizard standards. He was just cool . If he’d been real,
Lucius would have hired him on the spot as a personal bodyguard, just to have him around.

Luke seemed less impressed, particularly with the price Solo charged to take them where they
wanted to go. Lucius had no idea how much a credit was worth, but he imagined that staying
under the radar when an enormous evil Empire ruled the whole galaxy would be difficult at
best, so Solo was probably fair to ask as much as he did. Luke was also unimpressed with
Solo and Chewbacca’s ship, the Millennium Falcon , but Lucius had decided that he wanted a
model of that ship, in particular, the moment it came on screen. It just looked so amazing!

There were more laser beam battles--blaster battles, actually--but they all managed to get
aboard and escape, which was pretty exciting, resulting in some whooping from the girls and
boys who were most engaged, and a soft sigh from Lucius. He’d assumed they were going to
make it, but the confirmation was nice. There would be no need for a trilogy if they were
captured so early on--and if they were captured, they’d find a way out of it. Still, princesses
must be rescued sooner or later, mustn’t they?

Hermione nudged him. ‘You weren’t worried?’ she teased softly, smiling.

Lucius smiled back. ‘They couldn’t fail already. Things must happen when it is time for
them to happen,’ he said.

She got a very curious look on her face, but now was not the time nor place to ask her about
it, so he turned back to the film, filing the moment away to ask her later. She muttered
something under her breath, but again, he let it be--for now.

Ben taught Luke more about the Force (the film’s name for magic, clearly), while the droids
attempted to lose to Chewbacca at a very strange-looking game that involved holograms, so it
was obviously amazing anyway. Meanwhile, Solo scoffed at the idea of the Force, and then
Ben felt it when Alderaan was blown up. Princess Leia had failed to keep Tarkin, Vader’s
superior, from blowing it up, despite her attempts to lie to protect it. At least, Lucius
assumed it was a lie. He didn’t think she’d give in so easily.

Lucius could only stare in horror as an entire planet was destroyed, his skin rippling with
chills. He desperately hoped that the Muggles never came up with anything that powerful in
reality.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It took Lucius a long time to regain as keen an interest as he’d started with, although the
students didn’t seem to share his reaction, given their whooping and clapping every time the
heroes did something. His interest was mostly rekindled by Vader’s search for Ben. He liked
the idea of being able to feel another’s presence with his magic--he’d often felt that was how
Dumbledore seemed so all-knowing all the time, as simply being prepared for someone’s
approach would allow one to react with composure, at least most of the time. He made a
mental note to find out if it was possible to cultivate such an ability.

He did enjoy their troubles getting back to the ship after rescuing the princess (sort of), and
was growing an appreciation for Chewbacca. He didn’t make much sense, but Lucius
actually enjoyed that, because he could imagine that every time Chewbacca growled, it
meant, ‘Piss off, or I’ll eat you.’
The best part was the lightsabre duel between Ben and Vader. Lightsabres were officially the
most awesome things he’d ever seen, and he didn’t even like the word awesome. Ben’s death
made it a little less awesome, but not by much--although he was rather sad to see the old man
go, and upset that Vader had won. After that, he was actually surprised when the film
continued. What was the point after that? How could it possibly top that?

Of course, as soon as he thought that, another space battle began, followed shortly by the
attack on the Death Star. The space battles still weren’t as impressive as the lightsabre battle,
but his heart pounded anyway as the outmatched Rebels were picked off one by one.

Finally, Luke was the only one left, R2 was injured and out of commission, Ben was just a
ghost and couldn’t help, and Solo and Chewbacca had left to pay off the bounty on Solo’s
head. With Vader on his tail, Lucius was certain that Luke’s end was nigh. Princess Leia
would undoubtedly be the star of the sequels.

But then, out of nowhere--‘You’re free and clear, kid! Now let’s blow this thing and go
home!’

Han Solo!

Everyone but Hermione--even Lucius--leapt to their feet, cheering and clapping. Hermione
giggled, joining the applause with a wide grin when Lucius looked down at her. Lucius
grinned back, although part of him was still worried; Vader had not been killed, and he was
far more powerful and dangerous than Tarkin.

They all eventually settled down--just in time for a medal ceremony, in fact. It all seemed
overblown and unnecessary to Lucius, but he was very glad to see that R2 had been repaired.
Luke may be the protagonist, but R2 was clearly the hero.

‘Wasn’t that fun?’ Hermione asked when the credits rolled.

Another round of cheering broke out, making her laugh again.

‘All right, all right,’ she said, holding up her hands for silence. ‘That’s all we’ve got time for
today. We’ll watch the second one, The Empire Strikes Back , on Thursday. Your homework
is to write down five questions you have about the film we just watched.’

The students dispersed with a great deal more noise than normal, excitedly chattering
amongst themselves. Lucius waited until they had all gone, as always, before approaching
Hermione. Draco had told him that Arthur and Molly had cancelled their dinner this week, as
they were going to France with Bill and Fleur, to celebrate with Fleur’s family. Draco had
invited Ginny out to dinner for the night. He was hoping as hard as he could that Hermione
hadn’t already made alternate plans.

‘Hi,’ he said, and then tried not to roll his eyes at himself.

She shot him a smile, her eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘Hi.’
‘Draco tells me Arthur and Molly are away for the week,’ Lucius began hesitantly, feeling
unaccountably nervous.

It was really ridiculous. He’d asked her to come over many times before.

But then, he hadn’t known he was in love with her before. There was a new layer of meaning
when he asked now. All the times before, he’d been one friend asking for another’s company.
Now, even though Hermione wasn’t aware of it, Lucius was asking her over in the capacity
of his romantic interest. (He refused to use the word ‘girlfriend’--he wasn’t eighteen, and it
didn’t do Hermione justice.)

‘Yes, that’s true,’ she agreed simply.

He cleared his throat, trying not to shuffle his feet. ‘So you are available this evening, then?’

He was relieved to note that he sounded much more confident and casual than he felt.

Hermione hesitated, pausing in the act of gathering the homework scrolls from her desk.
‘Actually, I need to mark papers tonight,’ she said finally, her tone and expression neutral. ‘I
got behind while I was incapacitated.’

He stepped forward almost unconsciously, trying to catch her eye, his heart pounding as he
contemplated a night without her. He felt unsteady with the force of his longing, like he’d tip
over in a strong breeze.

‘Bring your work along,’ he said, using his most persuasive tone--the one that made even the
most ludicrous ideas sound reasonable, the one that almost always got Lucius whatever he
wanted. ‘I promise not to bother you.’

She looked doubtful, and did not appear to be swayed by his tone.

‘Please?’ he tried instead.

Hermione sighed, smiling, and he knew he had won. Grinning, he took her bag from her and
offered his arm.

‘I will be busy coming up with questions anyway,’ he said lightly.

‘You better be,’ she returned with mock seriousness.

Lucius thought his heart might pound its way right out of his chest, and he couldn’t stop
smiling, even though he knew he must look completely daft.

Draco was not stopping home between work and his date, so they suffered no interruptions.
Hermione was quickly settled with tea and sandwiches on the library sofa Lucius favoured,
surrounded by piles of scrolls. Lucius installed himself at the opposite end of the sofa with a
blank parchment, quill pen, and ink, tapping his chin with the quill as he pondered.

The first question was easy--How did they do all that? He had seen The Sound of Music , and
while it was enjoyable, it hadn’t involved any special effects that he knew of. If there were,
they certainly weren’t anywhere near the magnitude of what he had just seen. Lucius had
come to appreciate and sometimes admire the technological ingenuity of Muggles, but never
before had he been in awe of it. Now he was--and some tiny, quiet corner of his mind
regretted, however infinitesimally, that he had been born a wizard and not a Muggle. Not that
he would ever, ever admit that aloud, even to himself.

The other four questions were harder. The story was good but simple, so he was hard-pressed
to come up with any questions about it. His mind wandered over the details, searching for
something to pick at.

He still shuddered at the thought of Vader. The character was too reminiscent of the Dark
Lord, and Lucius’s insides shrivelled at the memory of how spellbound he’d been by him. It
was frightening to him that he’d tried so hard to change, to be the sort of man Hermione
would admire, and the first time he was confronted with someone powerful--even worse, a
fictional someone--he was immediately attracted to that power, ready to fall into old habits.
How could he expect Hermione to trust him when he was so easily tempted? How could he
trust himself?

Lucius shook off those thoughts with an effort. It wasn’t helping him complete his
assignment. ‘How can I ever trust myself to be with you?’ wasn’t exactly about Star Wars ,
after all.

He considered some of the other characters instead. He’d liked Ben, and was still rather sad
he was dead now. Luke had made it through the first film, thanks to Han and R2, but Lucius
was still not convinced he was going to live through the next two. R2 would have to work
overtime to keep him going without Ben around.

‘You’re the R2-D2 to Harry’s Luke Skywalker,’ he said, frowning thoughtfully.

Hermione snorted out a laugh. ‘What?!’ she sputtered.

He blinked, surprised. ‘I’m serious!’

She turned red, but her grin only grew wider. ‘You think I’m like R2-D2? He’s a robot!’

‘Yes, but he’s the clever, capable one who saves the heroes’ bacon,’ Lucius insisted. ‘No one
would have known Leia was in danger if he hadn’t found his way to Ben Kenobi. Luke
wouldn’t have survived about eighty times over, which means that the Death Star wouldn’t
have been destroyed. You’re the clever, capable one who saves Harry and Ron all the time.
If it weren’t for you, neither of them would have survived their first year, and the Dark Lord
wouldn’t have been defeated. You’re R2, and he’s clearly the real hero of the story,’ he
concluded with a firm nod.

She giggled, turning vibrantly red, so red she was almost purple, one hand over her mouth.

‘It’s true!’

Hermione waved a hand. ‘Oh, stop it!’ she scolded him, but she didn’t stop grinning, and
after she was finally able to stop laughing, she put her feet in his lap before she went back to
her marking.

Lucius smiled and rested his hand on her perfect ankles, obediently returning to his question-
pondering when she shot him a look.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘This is awful!’ one of the students cried. ‘Why is everything going wrong?!’

Lucius had to agree.

It was Thursday, and they were watching The Empire Strikes Back . First, Luke had nearly
died out in a frozen wasteland because he’d forgotten to bring R2 along (‘Called it,’ Lucius
had whispered to Hermione, which made her stifle a giggle), and had almost instantly been
attacked by a Yeti. He dealt with the Yeti himself, but only the timely intervention of Ghost-
Ben and Han had saved him from freezing to death out in the middle of nowhere. Then,
Vader, more terrifyingly evil than ever, had found their base and invaded it with his army,
forcing them to evacuate. Luke had taken R2 and headed to the Bayou (or at least, that’s
what Lucius was calling it mentally, because its real name didn’t sound like a name anyone
would give anything, and also it was a giant swamp), where R2 had nearly been eaten by a
giant squid; meanwhile, Leia, Han, Chewbacca and 3PO had taken the Millennium Falcon
and fled from the Empire into an asteroid field, only to nearly be eaten by a giant eel thing.
Then, they had found out where a friend of Han’s was, only to be fired upon when they
entered the system. It seemed like things couldn’t get any worse.

‘If they all die, I’m never watching another film again,’ the younger Goyle proclaimed, to
much agreement.

‘They’re not going to die,’ Lucius huffed, unable to prevent himself from rolling his eyes.
‘There’s a whole third film to go after this one, and if they were all dead, it would be
extremely boring. No one wants to watch two hours of staring at corpses floating through
space.’

‘It could be the funeral,’ the student who’d shouted before argued stubbornly. ‘It could be
two hours of funeral.’

‘I somehow doubt the Empire would go to the expense,’ Lucius said flippantly. ‘And if
they’re all dead, then there will be no heroes left to go to the trouble, either.’

The student and the younger Goyle reluctantly subsided. Lucius tried to ignore Hermione’s
amused smirk.

They were finally allowed to land, and the students all seemed amused by Lando Calrissian.
Lucius was not so impressed, mostly because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something
was off about him. Even Han, who was supposedly his friend, said he couldn’t be trusted,
and so Lucius didn’t. It certainly didn’t help that 3PO was mysteriously attacked by some
hidden force in a back room, blown into pieces. Lucius wouldn’t miss the mouthy droid, but
it was definitely alarming for the heroes he did care about.

Meanwhile, Luke met Yoda, who Lucius did like. He was a little creepy, at first, reminding
Lucius strongly of a cross between Dumbledore and a house elf, but when he dropped the
doddering old fool routine, he said a lot of things that made sense--after one sorted out the
odd grammatical construction of his sentences, of course. Some of it was a bit dodgy, but a
lot of it seemed very wise to Lucius. He particularly enjoyed Yoda’s speech to Luke about
the Force and how it connected everything.

‘Luminous beings,’ he repeated softly--it was a strong image that he liked very much, and it
stayed with him long after the film had ended.

Luke’s temptation by the Dark Side, however, had left Lucius squirming with discomfort, as
it felt too close to home. A lot of his own downfall had occurred because he was angry, and
scared, and he hadn’t been equipped to handle it. In his family, emotion had always been
firmly suppressed and hidden behind a frosty demeanour--and researching Muggles hadn’t
been viewed as studying the enemy, it had been viewed as treason . Therefore, Lucius had
not known how to handle his anger and fear and loathing for Muggles and Muggle-borns and
their odd ways of life, nor had he been able to gain the sense of understanding he now
possessed, which would have gone a long way toward soothing his fears. The Dark Lord’s
speeches had appealed to those fears, which had been stewing for years at that point, and his
solution--wiping them all out--had seemed the only way. Once he boiled everything else
away, Lucius was left with the somewhat uncomfortable knowledge that he had joined the
Death Eaters because he was afraid.

The ‘luminous beings’ image staved those thoughts off, allowing him to refocus on the film.

Naturally, it turned out that Lando had been hiding Vader, and Leia, Chewbacca and Han
became prisoners, with Han getting the worst of it. Well, the worst of it after 3PO, who, as it
turned out, was not dead, despite being in pieces. Chewbacca worked in little bits to put him
back together. Lucius rather wished he wouldn’t, as 3PO’s constant harping could be really
grating, but he supposed they were too nice to simply leave him like that.

Luke, being the impulsive idiot that he was, immediately left to go and rescue his friends as
soon as he sensed what was happening, against Yoda and Ghost-Ben’s advice. He at least
had the sense to bring R2 with him, although it didn’t end up mattering, since they were
quickly separated.

Vader and Luke battled through the underbelly of the city in the clouds, with Luke taking
quite a beating. Lucius winced in sympathy several times, although he couldn’t help feeling
that Luke had brought it on himself by refusing to listen to his teachers. Leia was perfectly
capable of handling herself, as she proved when she took charge of the situation and got
herself, Chewbacca, 3PO, R2 and a remorseful Lando to the Falcon . Han had been frozen
and taken by the bounty hunter, so he was an unfortunate casualty, but Lucius doubted Luke
could have prevented that even if he had arrived sooner. Leia could hardly be expected to
take care of everything .
Then came an earth-shattering revelation.

‘No, Luke-- I am your father,’ Vader said, after chopping off his own son’s hand.

Lucius’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the class leapt to their feet, shouting in protest or
confusion.

‘What the--? What just--?’ Lucius sputtered.

Hermione only chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. ‘This is very interesting,’ she said
brightly. ‘I grew up knowing this little twist. It’s interesting to see how it comes across to
people who didn’t know.’

‘But how could--?!’

What he wanted to ask was how Vader could be so cruel to his own son--probably his only
son. How could he chop off his hand and try to kill him? Why would he want his son to join
him on the Dark Side? Wouldn’t he rather join Luke on the Light Side?

Lucius’s mouth snapped shut and he tried very, very hard not to think about Draco, turning
sharply back to the screen.

Hermione touched his elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, and
the classroom gradually settled back down as the students grudgingly accepted the reality that
Vader was Luke’s not dead father.

By this time, Luke had escaped by surviving a very long fall, and then being rescued by Leia,
Chewbacca and Lando. They escaped the system after Chewbacca and R2 fixed the Falcon ,
and the film ended with Luke and Leia pondering what to do next, or so Lucius assumed. He
didn’t even take any joy from Luke’s new robot hand. He felt wrung out and exhausted.

The other students must have felt the same way, because there was no cheering this time, and
they filed out grumbling when Hermione assigned them to write five more questions for
Tuesday.

Lucius stayed put this time, and Hermione came to him instead, sitting in front of him and
propping her chin on her hand so they were nose to nose.

‘Hi,’ she said, her breath tickling across his mouth.

‘Hi,’ he said glumly.

‘You okay?’

He shrugged one shoulder.

She wrinkled her nose so that the tip of it brushed his, tickling and making him wrinkle his
nose, too.
‘Hey,’ she prodded. ‘Come on. It’ll all be okay. You’ll see, next week.’

He sighed.

‘I’ll make you dinner,’ she offered sweetly, ‘if you’ll show me a smile.’

Draco had cancelled the weekly dinner due to Arthur and Molly’s continued absence, opting
instead for a private evening with Ginny again. Hermione was offering to come over
anyway. Lucius couldn’t help it--a smile immediately blossomed on his face, and Hermione
stood, grinning.

‘That’s better. Just let me get my things and we can go home.’

He popped up to gather his own belongings, suddenly energised. He didn’t think Hermione
had noticed that she hadn’t said ‘go to your house’ this time, or ‘go to the manor,’ but had
rather said ‘go home’--like she was calling Malfoy Manor home . She probably hadn’t
noticed she’d done it, but he certainly had, and it overjoyed him--perhaps there was a chance
he might succeed in making her fall in love with him after all, if he could just find the right
path.

He carried her bag for her again, earning another of those wonderful warm smiles, and
Hermione kept up a steady stream of chatter as they went home and while she cooked. She
made quesadillas again, at his request, and she made far too many of them. That turned out
to be a good thing, though, because when Draco returned from work, he brought an
unexpected guest with him.

‘Good afternoon, Hermione, Mr Malfoy,’ Harry greeted them cheerfully as he bounded after
Draco into the dining room.

‘He followed me home,’ Draco said dryly. ‘I know he’s expensive to feed, but can we keep
him?’

Lucius’s brows rose, but he pretended to ponder for a moment. ‘I don’t know, what do you
think, Hermione?’

She grinned. ‘Oh, I don’t think it’ll hurt anything. He doesn’t bite.’

‘Usually,’ Harry agreed.

‘Then I suppose he can stay,’ Lucius said with mock annoyance.

‘Gee, thanks. Ooooh, quesadillas!’

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down more sedately as Harry plopped into a chair and started
chowing down.

Hermione merely chuckled. ‘Easy, Harry. There’s plenty to go around.’

His mouth was full, so he offered her a thumbs up.

‘Where is Ginny this evening?’ Lucius asked tentatively, reaching for a quesadilla and
keeping a wary eye on Harry. He didn’t want to lose a finger. ‘Did I get my dates confused?’

Draco immediately adopted a hangdog expression. ‘No, you didn’t. She cancelled on me.’

Lucius glanced at Hermione, noting that she looked sympathetic but unsurprised. She
definitely knew more about the Draco-Ginny situation than she was letting on--particularly
the Ginny side of the equation. Now was not the time to grill her about it, but he made a
mental note to try to pry some information out of her later.

‘Ah,’ was all he said for now, and changed the subject.

They finished eating and relocated to the sitting room, where Harry finally got around to
explaining why he’d come.

‘I wanted to let you know,’ he began, his tone serious for the first time all evening. ‘We’ve
got trial dates for the Death Eaters now--and Porter. His trial is scheduled for August 7.
You’ll probably have to testify at several Death Eater trials, so I’ll get you a copy of the full
list later, but the most relevant to us is Dolohov, and I double-checked his--he’s scheduled for
July 10.’

Lucius pressed his lips together and nodded, trying to dispel the knot that had suddenly
formed in his gut by willpower alone. Then Hermione reached over and touched his arm, and
it evaporated. He breathed in.

‘Thank you.’

Harry nodded once. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘About Porter,’ Hermione said suddenly. ‘If you could tell Kingsley I’d like to speak with
him sometime soon, I would appreciate it. It’s important but not urgent.’

‘Will do,’ Harry agreed easily.

Lucius struggled with himself for a moment, unsure if speaking out would be good or bad for
himself. Ultimately, though, it was an easy choice to make--whether the suggestion was bad
for him or not, it could only be good for the general populace.

‘Is anyone investigating the idea that the attack on the Ministry might have been a
diversion?’ he asked uncertainly.

Harry blinked. ‘What do you mean, Mr Malfoy?’

Lucius drew a slow breath and tried to shore up his patience. ‘I mean, Mr Potter, that it
seems unlikely that a group of rogue Death Eaters--a small group, with no Dark Lord or other
powerful leadership--would decide to attack the Ministry on a whim. The Dark Lord himself
put off a direct attack on the Ministry for as long as possible. Either the group that attacked
the Ministry was suicidal, or the attack was meant to distract from the real plot. I would bet
on the latter.’
He could see Hermione nodding her agreement in his peripheral vision. Harry looked
startled and more than a little disturbed, but he appeared to be taking the idea seriously.

‘I’ll…I’ll pass that along to Kingsley, as well,’ he said faintly.

‘You mean he hasn’t thought of that already?’ Draco put in, clearly surprised.

‘Kingsley’s been rather busy,’ Harry said, shrugging. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, it turns out half
the department’s full of head cases, and we’ve got a full batch of Death Eaters on our hands.
He’s been busy trying to root out who we can trust and who we can’t, while still keeping
every area covered and secured. It’s not easy. His hands are full, and I’m sure his head
hasn’t had much room left, either.’

None of them could argue that. Harry visited for a while longer, but finally excused himself.
He, too, was busy, between his Auror training and taking up actual Auror duties to pick up
the slack left by those Kingsley had eliminated as untrustworthy.

Hermione took her leave shortly after, but she hugged Lucius before she left.

‘I hope you’re cheered up,’ she said quietly in his ear. ‘I didn’t think the films would depress
you.’

‘I’m all right,’ Lucius reassured her, and how could he not be, with her arms around his neck,
the length of her body pressed against his, and her eyes full of warm concern as they met his.

‘Good,’ she said, and kissed his cheek. ‘Good night, Lucius.’

He reluctantly released her and she disappeared through the Floo. He watched the flames
turn back to their normal colours and wandered back toward the sitting room, his hands in his
pockets. He felt at loose ends without her, and he wasn’t especially eager to be around Draco
at the moment. There was nothing for it, though, and he was standing behind the sofa in the
sitting room before he was ready.

Draco looked up at him and said nothing. Lucius looked back, but the silence was grating
after the cheerful chatter of the past few hours, so it wasn’t long before he broke.

‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted.

Draco frowned. ‘For what?’

Lucius searched for an answer, but there was no easy one at hand. He shrugged helplessly
after a moment. ‘Everything’ was the most honest answer, but it seemed dreadfully
inadequate.

His son sighed. ‘You don’t need to apologise once a week, you know. I thought we were
past this.’

Lucius frowned. ‘I don’t think two, maybe three conversations constitutes being past it. To
be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever really be past it--I nearly got you killed, very nearly ruined
your life, and I’ve been a terrible, terrible parent almost from day one.’ He paused, looking
away. ‘And I promised I would make everything perfect for you,’ he added bitterly. ‘I didn’t
even come close.’

Draco’s brow wrinkled. ‘When did you promise that? I don’t remember that.’

‘You wouldn’t. I made that promise when you were born,’ Lucius said lowly.

The fire snapped, the only sound in the room. Lucius stared at his shoes and waited for
Draco’s response. It wasn’t verbal, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when Draco
tentatively hugged him, having padded silently across the room. They stood like that for a
moment.

‘I don’t think any parent is able to fulfil all the promises and hopes they have for their child
when they’re born,’ Draco said finally, quiet and sober. ‘You had good intentions, and…you
tried. You went about it completely the wrong way, but at least you tried. I know that….’
His voice caught and cleared his throat. ‘I know that you thought you were doing the right
thing for me. I appreciate that.’

Lucius smiled wanly. ‘The road to hell….’

Draco squeezed tighter for a moment. ‘Hey. Every parent makes mistakes.’

‘I’ve made more than most.’

‘Maybe, but you loved me, even though you’ve always kind of sucked at showing it,’ he said
dourly. ‘That cane hurts, you know. Gesture with your hands, not with your cane.’ He
paused. ‘So not my point. Anyway, you loved me, and you made sure I wanted for nothing,
and I can hardly claim that you didn’t pay attention to me. How many times did you say I
complained to you about Harry that one summer?’

Lucius raised a brow. ‘Before your second year? Over a dozen, although I lost count at some
point. You complained to your mother even more, if I recall correctly. She always did have
more patience with your whining.’

Draco pouted exaggeratedly. ‘I don’t whine!’ Then he grinned. ‘Much. Anyway, my point
is, you weren’t like the worst parent who ever lived, and you were trying to secure my future.
You just chose the wrong path, that’s all. We’re all human. It happens. Okay?’

Lucius sighed. ‘You’re not going to let go of me until I agree, are you?’

‘Nope,’ Draco said cheekily.

He heaved another sigh. ‘Fine, okay. I wasn’t the worst parent ever. Do you think they
make mugs that say that?’

Draco released him, smiling brightly. ‘I’ll see if I can find one for your birthday.’

Lucius rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help a little smile of his own.

‘So what brought this on? You’ve been in a really good mood lately, up until now.’
Lucius wasn’t about to explain that he’d been watching Muggle cinema and saw some
uncomfortable parallels between the villain and himself. At least he’d never even considered
chopping Draco’s hand off--but the rest of it was still a little too close for comfort.

‘Oh, nothing,’ he said vaguely. ‘Just thinking….’

Draco shot him a doubtful look, but let it go without further comment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The week-end passed without incident. Hermione spent Sunday with them, teaching Tibby
how to play Monopoly. Lucius dreaded playing her, but Draco was blissfully unaware, and
rather excited to play a game with his favourite of the house elves. Lucius was correct to
dread it, because Tibby was immediately ruthless and calculating. He wasn’t surprised at all
when she beat them all--and, naturally, lost interest after ‘defeating’ them. Draco was left
open-mouthed with shock, but Hermione and Lucius were merely amused.

Tuesday brought the last of the trilogy, The Return of the Jedi . Lucius wasn’t exactly
looking forward to it, although the Goyles and the students seemed to have recovered their
enthusiasm in the interim.

The opening improved Lucius’s outlook, though, because while it took quite some time to
unfold, it turned out that the whole first act was rescuing Han from Jabba, a giant ugly thing
that Lucius was very glad to see explode later. He was also interested again because Luke
seemed to have matured after his experiences in the previous film, behaving with a great deal
more decorum and circumspection. Even when the plan seemed to be going awry, it turned
out that he had planned it that way. Lucius was impressed, and thought that perhaps Luke
might be able to survive without R2 and Ghost-Ben to hold his hand now, or Han to come
swooping in at the last minute.

Of course, Luke honoured his promise to Yoda and went back to complete his training, only
for Yoda to croak five minutes later. Lucius pretended he wasn’t upset about that, because
while it was perfectly acceptable for the thirteen-year-olds (and the Goyles ) to be sniffling
and wiping tears from their cheeks, he wasn’t about to cry in public. He thought Hermione
knew, though, because she briefly reached over and touched his knee. He patted her hand
and went back to pretending he didn’t care about the little pointy-eared frog man.

From there, it all seemed to go downhill again, with the revelation that there was a second
Death Star under construction, and the Emperor himself arriving to inspect it. Lucius’s lip
curled and he reared back with hatred and disgust when the Emperor appeared--he’d struck
Lucius’s ‘Dark Lord’ nerve, and he no longer had any tolerance for Dark Lords, after
personal experience with one.

‘It’s okay,’ Hermione whispered, her breath tickling his ear, tempting him with her close
range to forget himself. ‘He’s going to be killed in the end, don’t worry.’
He settled a little, his hackles lowering. ‘Luke?’

‘No. You’ll see.’

He nodded shortly and tried to focus on the screen instead of on her, her close proximity, her
body heat, her hair brushing against his shoulder when she turned her head.

Things in the film got icky, though, derailing such thoughts.

‘ Leia is my sister,’ Luke realised, rather belatedly.

Lucius’s face scrunched with disgust. ‘ Eeeeeewwwwww ,’ he moaned aloud, making several
students turn and look at him.

‘What?’ one of them asked, carefully polite despite her obvious annoyance.

‘He and his sister kissed !’ Lucius said, and made no attempt to hide how grossed out he was.
‘On the mouth ! With tongue !’

Pure-bloods were in the habit of marrying their cousins, not their siblings--this was too much
even for the most dogmatic students in the room, and moans of disgust were heard from more
than one student, most of them looking nauseated as they recalled the moment that, at the
time, had seemed cute.

Hermione just looked amused. ‘They didn’t know they were siblings at the time,’ she said
reasonably.

‘It’s still gross,’ Lucius insisted.

She didn’t argue the point.

Most of the film was action, or setup for it, which Lucius enjoyed rather mindlessly. The
effects were still amazing, and he let himself be dazzled by them for a while.

Vader was a problem, as always. Luke turned himself in to him, and continued to insist that
there was still good in Vader, that he could turn his life around. Vader continued to insist the
opposite--that it was too late. As always, this struck too close to home for Lucius, and he was
particularly disturbed by the film’s climax, though the students and the Goyles cheered when
Vader turned on the Emperor and threw him over the side of a very deep chasm. The
problem for Lucius was that Vader was mortally wounded doing so, and it seemed fitting and
right.

Was the only way to truly atone for one’s past actions to die trying to make them right? To
make some heroic, Gryffindor-esque sacrifice?

Should Lucius have died at the Ministry, protecting Hermione? Or before, at the Battle of
Hogwarts? Would that have made up for everything he’d done? Was he somehow wrong for
wanting to live and atone in the manner he’d chosen? Could he ever truly atone without a
meaningful death in the service of good?
Most importantly, would Draco be happier and better off if Lucius had died in some foolish,
heroic act of bravery for Harry Potter’s side?

‘Hey!’

Lucius jumped, snapping back to awareness. The classroom was empty but for he and
Hermione, and had apparently been so for quite a while, judging by the fact that she was
ready to leave, wrapped in her cloak, her full bag hanging off her shoulder, her office locked.
There was a furrow between her brows, her eyes dark with concern as she watched him.

‘Sorry,’ he said, his attempt at a light tone falling utterly flat.

She frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said faintly, grimacing at the his failure to conceal how shaken up he was.
He couldn’t seem to lie to her, at least not convincingly.

She came over and felt his forehead, then searched his expression when she found no sign of
fever.

‘Did you dislike the films?’ she guessed.

‘No, they were good.’

He managed to sound casual that time, mostly because it was true. They were good films. It
wasn’t the fault of the films that they cut him so deeply.

Hermione stared at him for a moment longer. ‘Let’s go home,’ she said finally, holding out
her hand for him to take. ‘I have the desire to cook something scrumptious.’

He took her hand without hesitation, something deep inside him relaxing as soon as they
touched, and he followed her to the Floo contentedly. She was actually supposed to be
headed to the Burrow for dinner, but she gave no sign that she intended to leave any time
soon, and he wasn’t about to remind her. She didn’t press him for the rest of the evening,
making light conversation through dinner and settling in beside him with her piles of
homework to mark afterward, merely offering her company.

Lucius was grateful, though he couldn’t bring himself to say so. He enjoyed her company at
any time, but he was especially glad for the distraction from his unhappy thoughts, and rather
touched that she’d stayed with him, sacrificing an evening with her friends without making
him ask. He didn’t work on the five questions he was supposed to write about Return of the
Jedi , though, and she didn’t say anything about them. He didn’t want to think about
anything even remotely related; she seemed content to let him read Peter Pan and pretend he
had nothing more constructive to be doing.

‘Where were you?’ Draco said without preamble when he returned from the Burrow. ‘You
didn’t tell anyone you weren’t coming!’

Hermione shot Lucius a sidelong glance that he pretended not to notice. ‘I had something
more pressing to attend to,’ she said simply.
Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Ginny and I were going to ask you if you’d go on a double-date with
us this week-end,’ he said, changing the subject, because even he had learnt by then that
Lucius and Hermione could seldom be pried apart when they wished to be together. ‘One of
her teammates is keen on you, and they don’t have a match this week.’

Lucius stiffened, though he tried not to, and stared very intently at his book.

‘Thanks, but no,’ Hermione said calmly.

His muscles slowly relaxed when nothing more was forthcoming.

‘You sure?’ Draco pushed. ‘He’s very nice. Ginny likes him. A lot.’

There was an edge to that, and Lucius suddenly understood why Draco was pushing for the
double-date when he knew Lucius had spoken for Hermione--at least privately.

‘I’m sure.’

Exasperated, Draco threw up his hands. ‘Fine--your loss,’ he said shortly, and left.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. ‘Like I need help getting dates,’ she grumbled.

Lucius finally abandoned the pretext of reading, looking at her curiously. ‘They do this
often?’

‘They used to,’ she said, shrugging. ‘I thought they’d got the hint by now, but it seems Ginny
was just recruiting Draco to the cause.’

He tilted his head. This was dangerous territory, and he would need to be very, very careful--
but he burned with the need to know.

‘Aren’t you interested in dating?’ he asked cautiously.

Hermione shrugged again, unhappily. ‘I guess. It’s not a top priority for me,’ she said, and
she was avoiding his eye. ‘What about you?’

‘My options for romantic evenings are rather limited at the moment,’ he said with a wry
smile. ‘It’s not so much dating as inviting a woman back to my place, which she might take
the wrong way.’

Although she hadn’t so far. Still, he considered a date to be an evening out, and while they
had dined out, Draco had paid, and Lucius hadn’t declared his intentions ahead of time, so he
didn’t count that time. Plus, the trip to St Mungo’s beforehand didn’t really set the mood
properly, even if it was for a routine physical.

Hermione smiled. ‘Fair enough.’

He drew a breath. ‘Your past experiences didn’t…turn you off to the idea, did they?’

She raised a brow. ‘Did Narcissa leaving you turn you off to the idea?’
He smiled sheepishly. ‘Fair enough,’ he echoed, and then decided to come clean. Well,
partially. ‘I’m just curious about your past experiences with love, and I’m not asking terribly
well, I suppose.’

Hermione stared into the middle distance, frowning faintly. ‘They were okay,’ she said
finally.

He blinked at her.

She sighed, setting down her quill. ‘I don’t think I ever really loved Ron as more than a
friend, anymore than he loved me as more than a friend. It was a hard time for both of us, on
the search for the Horcruxes, and I think we confused all that hardship and how close and
united the three of us were with deeper feelings. It just took us a while to figure out that we
were clinging to each other because we wanted someone familiar, someone we cared about
very much, but that it wasn’t romantic love, and it wasn’t a good idea. We’ve been on better
terms ever since we decided to just be friends. That chapter of our lives is over, and we’re
both happier for it.’

That prickle of jealousy faded away into nothing. Lucius could read Hermione very well by
now, and she meant everything she’d said. She knew Ron well enough that he believed her
when she said the boy no longer felt anything more than friendship for her, if he ever had.
There was no threat to Lucius’s suit from that quarter.

‘What about Viktor Krum?’ he said, suddenly remembering, and he felt a wave of hostility
toward him, even though he hadn’t been back to the British Isles since the Tournament. That
didn’t mean he never would, and Harry had mentioned that he and Hermione still exchanged
letters from time to time. Lucius bristled at the mere thought--Krum was a powerful young
wizard, but he wasn’t intimidated. He would defend his claim on Hermione if necessary, and
he believed he stood a good chance of winning, once his wand was restored to him.

Hermione’s smile was a little sad. ‘Oh, I was in love with him back then. Or at least I
thought I was,’ she amended. ‘I was only fifteen. But…we weren’t right for each other,
either.’ She paused for a long while, staring at the hearth. ‘When the war started, Viktor
wrote and asked me to come to Bulgaria and marry him. I told him I would, after we
defeated Vol….’ She glanced at Lucius, grimacing.

‘After you defeated V….’ Lucius winced. ‘ Voldemort ,’ he choked out, and it still hurt to
say it.

She stared at him with open surprise, but slowly, she smiled, and it was the warm smile that
melted him through and through. He instantly felt as though saying the dreaded name had
been worth it, and he would say it over and over for the rest of his life if only she would keep
looking at him like that.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘After we defeated Voldemort.’

He managed to keep from cringing too badly. She shifted until her feet were in Lucius’s lap
again, and he immediately rewarded her with a foot massage.
 ‘Viktor was not satisfied with that answer. He wasn’t willing to wait for me,’ she went on,
looking slightly sad, the hurt distant and faint now. ‘He married Angelique that December.’

‘What an idiot,’ Lucius scoffed.

Hermione grinned, pleased by the assertion. ‘Well, we’re still friends, but that ship has long
since sailed.’

He was extremely relieved to hear it.

‘Now my turn.’

Lucius froze momentarily. He hadn’t prepared any speeches about how, while he still cared
about his ex-wife, he was no longer in love with her, and he still cherished the memories they
had together, but he was glad she’d found happiness with someone new, and he wanted to
sound eloquent and not hesitant so that Hermione would believe him, because it was true, he
didn’t love Narcissa anymore, he loved her ….

‘When we were watching the first film, you said that things must happen when it is time for
them to happen,’ Hermione said, looking at him seriously. ‘Where did you hear that?’

He blinked. Well, all right then. Not at all the question he’d been expecting, but he would
take it.

‘I didn’t hear it anywhere,’ he said, bewildered. ‘It’s just true. At least in stories. In stories,
the princess has to be rescued sooner or later. Dark Lords must be defeated, princesses must
be rescued, and good must triumph over evil, each in their time.’ He paused, tilting his head.
‘Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason in particular,’ she said with a peculiar smile, and he could tell she was lying.
‘It just sounds like something a hero once said, that’s all.’ The peculiar smile grew even
more so, and she looked at him. ‘Remind me to lend you The Last Unicorn when you’re
through with Peter Pan .’

Lucius was very, very confused by now, but he agreed to remind her, and her smile turned
warm again. He chose to bask in it, rather than puzzle out her strange mood--and also to
enjoy the knowledge that she had just compared him to a hero, rather than a villain, for the
first time that he could recall.

Chapter End Notes

The dialogue taken from Star Wars is, obviously, from Star Wars.

'Things must happen when it is time for them to happen' is from The Last Unicorn, when
Lir insists that they must face the Red Bull. If you haven't read that book--read it.
Immediately.
 Valentine's Day
Chapter Summary

Draco proposes to Ginny. Lucius and Hermione have another misunderstanding, and
Hermione agrees to do something she doesn't really want to do. Lucius has a private talk
with Ginny.

Chapter Notes

I have a little free time this week, so I figured I'd use it to keep writing, since we're so
close to the end. I'm assuming no one minds, after having to wait almost a whole month
for the previous chapter....

Thank you all, as always, for reading, and especially for commenting. I may not be
responding much, since I'm busy writing, but rest assured, I do appreciate hearing your
thoughts. :)

I hope you enjoy! :)

Hermione spent the next couple of weeks very busy, very happy, and very, very guilty. She
caught up on all of the work she’d got behind on while she was out of commission, and she
met with Kingsley to give him her findings on living former Death Eaters who were either
rehabilitated into society or still in Azkaban, and either way might be willing to talk about
any abuses they’d suffered. Kingsley was extremely pleased to have the list, rubbing his
hands together with a wicked grin, and had called Ron in to get a team together and start
interviewing. That dealt with, Hermione had caught up on the rest of the homework she’d
needed to mark, and got in touch with Mandy Brocklehurst to get back up to speed on that
project, so she felt that professionally, at least, she was back on track.

In her personal life, however, she was being very, very, very bad. She spent nearly all of her
free time with Lucius, barring infrequent appearances at the dinners at the Burrow and
Grimmauld Place. Worse, she found reasons to touch him and be close to him, justifying
each little thing as something a friend might do. She’d never been a very good liar, though,
and it was especially difficult to lie to herself--she knew that she was indulging herself
because she loved him, and he loved her.

And it was bad .

The problem was that once she started, it was incredibly difficult to stop. The only way to
avoid any inappropriate behaviour with Lucius was to avoid him entirely, and she could not
bring herself to stay away from him. Lucius was a temptation, like a slice of chocolate cake
when you were on a diet. He drew her in with his intoxicating scent, inviting her seemingly
innocent touches with his shy attempts at affection. He clumsily inquired about her love life
and her preferences in men, dropping hints regarding his own preference for her--hints that
would have been subtle, if she hadn’t already known. She tried not to react to them.

The worst part was that he kept complimenting her, slyly dropping in mentions of how kind
she was, how sweet she was, into the normal course of his conversation. She hated the
compliments, because they made her feel even worse. She felt like a terrible, terrible person.
When she ought to have been trying to cool him toward her, here she was, fanning the
flames, teasing him, almost leading him on.

But she could not stop. She hated herself for it.

The next best solution Hermione could think of to keep her behaviour under control was to
involve other people. It was much easier to keep her distance from Lucius--physically and
emotionally--when Draco was around, and at the dinner parties when there were lots of
Weasleys in the room. Following this logic, she invited Harry and Ron to join her and Lucius
and Tibby on Valentine’s Day when they complained about not having dates.

‘Hang out with you and Malfoy and a house elf?’ Ron repeated, his jaw slack.

She raised a brow. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No, but….’ He groped for words. ‘What will we do ?’

Harry nodded his agreement. ‘Even sitting around watching romantic comedies and eating
Ben & Jerry’s would be preferable to staring at Lucius and his house elf while they stare back
at us, Hermione.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘We’re not going to just sit and stare at one another. I’m teaching
Lucius and Tibby how to play Risk.’

Ron blinked. ‘Risk?’

‘Yes, it’s a game where you try to take over the world,’ she said nonchalantly.

The boys exchanged a glance. ‘We’re in!’

She smiled. ‘I thought you might be.’

Hermione had actually been dreading Valentine’s Day ever since Draco announced that he
intended to ask Ginny to marry him on the occasion. Ginny was still lukewarm on the
subject, uncertain of how deeply she felt for Draco, and Mrs Weasley had really been putting
on the pressure. Hermione wasn’t convinced that Draco was going to get a positive response,
but he’d resisted all of her hints and cautious attempts to convince him that it was too soon.
It didn’t help that Ginny had cancelled the one time, but after that, she’d resumed their
normal level of intimacy, giving Draco no indication that he shouldn’t be moving full speed
ahead. Even the jealousy over the teammate hadn’t lasted long.

Draco was heading out in his finest dress robes when the trio arrived. He looked like a
nervous wreck, and kept aborting the motion when he went to run a hand through his hair to
work off some of his anxious energy.

‘How do I look?’ he blurted as soon as they were fully emerged from the Floo. ‘Do I look
okay?’

‘You look fine,’ Hermione assured him.

‘Okay, good. Have fun,’ he added quickly, and disappeared with a pop.

‘What’s he so worked up about?’ Ron wondered.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. ‘Nothing.’

‘Shall we?’ she added, smiling innocently.

They proceeded into the dining room, where Lucius and Tibby were already waiting. She
saw the disappointment that flared briefly in Lucius’s eyes when he saw Harry and Ron, but
he greeted them graciously anyway, offering them some of the refreshments the house elves
had laid out. Ron, of course, took him up on it, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she began
setting up, explaining parts of it as she went.

Risk was a complicated game, but fortunately, they were all fairly intelligent beings, so they
grasped the rules quickly, although Hermione had found for herself that she’d had to play it a
few times before she really got the hang of it.

This was not so for Lucius, Ron, and Tibby. Harry seemed a bit lost, but he was good-
natured about it, cracking jokes and paying only mild attention to what they were doing. He
seemed much more interested in the cheese dip anyway.

Ron had always been good at strategy, so it only took him a few turns to have one worked
out. Hermione, despite being more experienced, quickly found herself taking losses, and it
wasn’t long before he’d knocked her out of a whole territory. She decided to ally herself with
Lucius, who had also developed a strategy in a very short time and was holding his own
against Tibby. Tibby, naturally, was ruthlessly grinding them all into the dirt as best she
could, her large eyes gleaming with delight.

‘Hey, you can’t do that!’ Ron protested when Hermione threw her lot in with Lucius’s.

Hermione opened her mouth, but it was Lucius who answered, smirking smugly, his eyes
twinkling with mischief.

‘There are no rules against forming an alliance,’ he said silkily. ‘Hermione is perfectly
within her rights.’

Ron gaped for a moment longer. ‘Hey, Harry, join up with me?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Yeah, okay.’

He was absolutely no help, though, and actually lost Ron Alaska, much to his evident
frustration.

Tibby, too, was suffering some frustrations. Her underhanded tactics didn’t make much
difference in this game, where so much depended on the roll of the die. She began to pout
when she realised she was losing, but she didn’t leave.

‘I don’t like this game,’ she said, sulking.

‘We can play Candy Land next time,’ Hermione said soothingly. ‘You’ll like that much
better.’

Tibby’s ears perked up again and she took her continuing defeat with greater equanimity after
that.

Despite her alliance with Lucius, Hermione continued to fall into decline, and was finally
pushed off the map when Harry got lucky in Great Britain.

‘Home field advantage,’ he said, grinning.

‘I’m from Great Britain, too, idiot,’ Hermione shot back, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t
help a smile.

Harry just continued to grin, looking pleased with himself.

Hermione sat back and watched, sipping her pumpkin juice. Harry was forced to fold not
long after, and he joined her in watching, although most of his attention remained fixed on
the cheese dip.

‘What? It’s really good,’ he said defensively when he caught her staring.

She sighed and shook her head.

Tibby was the next to go, and she left after pronouncing it the dumbest game ever, although
she didn’t seem to be angry with any specific person, just the game, fortunately.

Ron and Lucius proceeded to duke it out from there. Ron had most of the Western
Hemisphere, Great Britain, and South Africa, some of which he’d ‘acquired’ from Harry
when he decided he no longer needed his ally. Lucius owned the rest of the board, and he
remained cool and calm while Ron grew more and more frustrated at his lack of success.

‘This is all your fault, you know,’ he told Hermione accusingly. ‘If you hadn’t been allied
with him, I’d be beating him.’

‘We can have a rematch another time,’ Lucius said distractedly, studying his troops and
rubbing his index finger back and forth along his lower lip in a way that made Hermione
squirm.
Ron just snorted and folded his arms.

They never got to see who would have won, though, because Draco returned from his date a
little while later--alone.

Hermione gasped and leapt out of her seat as soon as he appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh,
Draco, are you okay?’ she cried. ‘What happened?’

Draco’s face was drawn and pale, his mouth folded inward until it looked like he had no lips
or teeth, his eyes flat and shiny. It took him a while to retrieve his mouth enough to answer.

‘She said no,’ he croaked, and shuffled away from them.

Hermione and Lucius followed him at a run, blocking him at the stairway.

‘She said no?’ Lucius pressed, reaching out to touch Draco’s shoulder. ‘Did she say why?’

Draco shied from the touch. ‘No.’ His chin quivered and he looked away from them. ‘I
don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go to bed.’

Lucius studied him for a moment longer, and finally stepped aside.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me.’

Draco gave a wobbly nod and continued toward his room.

Hermione held her breath as Lucius watched him go. Only after his son was out of sight did
Lucius turn to her, and she took an involuntary step back at his expression. His face was hard
and cold, his eyes sharp.

‘You knew,’ he said flatly.

Hermione hesitated. ‘I suspected. Ginny is confused right now. She doesn’t know what she
wants. I tried to talk Draco out of asking her yet, but….’

She trailed off. Lucius had tilted his head and was studying her like some interesting species
of insect he’d not previously encountered. She felt like something inside of her was
crumbling, making her breath hitch. He hadn’t looked at her so coldly in a long, long time.
Suddenly, she very much didn’t want to hear whatever he was going to say.

She turned on her heel and walked away from him as quickly as she could. Fortunately,
Harry and Ron had already gathered their things, apparently feeling that Draco would want to
be alone.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, and she didn’t recognise her own voice.

Lucius didn’t come after her, not even to say goodbye, and she told herself that it was for the
best. It would be much easier to distance herself from him and avoid him if he was angry
with her.
She tried not to think about the possibility that he might hate her now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and cry for a little while when she got
home, but she talked herself out of it. She didn’t really have anything to cry about yet (that
she knew of). More importantly, Ginny was probably in desperate need of someone to talk
to, even if she didn’t need any consolation.

Decided, she dropped off her belongings, changed into her most comfortable Muggle clothes
(she was going to pamper herself in one respect, at least, to try to feel better), and headed
over to Ginny’s. She fully expected to be offering a sympathetic ear.

She got a good deal more than that. Ginny was sitting on the floor in her beautiful evening
dress, bawling her eyes out and eating straight out of a tin of biscuits.

Hermione paused a moment to absorb this.

‘Oh…Ginny,’ she said softly, and sat beside her, loosely putting an arm around her.

Ginny immediately buried her face in Hermione’s shoulder, weeping pitifully.

‘Talk to me,’ Hermione urged gently, rubbing her friend’s back. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Well,’ Ginny began, hiccuping out sobs every few words and sniffling. ‘We went to dinner.
An-and it was lovely. And Draco to-took me out to the park where we like to sit and talk
when it’s w-warm enough.’

She had to stop for a moment to try to compose herself again, as fresh tears had begun at the
mere mention of Draco’s name.

‘Then he got down on one knee, and he had this ring box, and I knew he was going to ask me
to marry him, so before he could even ask, I told him no, and I told him to take me home,’
she sobbed out in a rush.

Hermione let the distraught young witch cry for a while after that admission. She had
expected Ginny to need to talk, regardless of whatever decision she made, but she hadn’t
expected her to be so upset. Naturally, being of a practical nature herself, Hermione expected
Ginny to stand by her answer, no matter what it was, and to have reasons for doing so. She
was rather nonplussed to find Ginny so upset over telling Draco she wouldn’t marry him.

‘Why are you so upset?’ she asked as gently as she knew how. ‘If you didn’t want to marry
him, then….’

Ginny let out a rather awful noise. ‘I just wanted things to stay the same! Why did he have
to ruin it?!’
She considered how best to answer that question. Then she decided that there was no best
way to talk about this and just plunged ahead.

‘Because he loves you,’ she said firmly. ‘He wants to spend his life with you. When people
feel that way about each other, marriage is generally the next step. Of course, it works out
better when both parties feel the same way.’

‘But we were having so much fun!’ Ginny wailed. ‘Why do we have to get married? I don’t
want to get married!’

Hermione frowned. ‘Well, lots of people do stay together without getting married. But,
Ginny, getting married doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to stop having fun. In fact, the
best, most successful marriages involve a lot of fun--and not just in the bedroom,’ she added
quickly when Ginny started to smirk a little through her tears. ‘Why are you so against
getting married? Is it a political statement?’

Ginny snorted. ‘Get real. Like I care about that nonsense.’

She sat up a little, wiping her face on the hem of her dress.

‘Then why are you so opposed to marrying Draco?’ Hermione’s frown deepened. ‘Don’t
you love him? If you don’t love him, you’ve been awfully unfair to him.’

More tears welled in Ginny’s eyes and her chin wobbled. ‘No, I do love him. Nobody makes
me smile like he does. And he’s so sweet, and…I just love him.’ She heaved a wavery sigh.
‘I just don’t like how everyone just automatically assumed we were going to get married and
start popping out kids, just because we’d gone on a few dates. And just because I love him, I
don’t…that doesn’t mean I know if I want to spend the rest of my life with him.’ The tears
spilled over. ‘I don’t know what I want, I’m so confused!’

Hermione opted not to state the obvious--that Ginny needed to sort that out as soon as
possible--and instead handed her a handkerchief.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ginny was morose and withdrawn for several weeks after that. She spent most of her time
when she wasn’t doing her job moping around either Hermione’s flat or her own, and she
refused to go to any more of the weekly dinners, stubbornly avoiding her mother and anyone
else who wanted to question her. Hermione indulged her, partly because she thought Ginny
needed the quiet time to sort out her confused emotions, and partly because she had a lot of
time to fill, now that she was avoiding Malfoy Manor at all costs.

Lucius had remained cold and distant before, during and after class the next day, so Hermione
had taken that as her cue to back off--particularly when he was the first out the door when she
dismissed the students, not waiting around to talk to her like he always did. It--saddened her,
and she refused to use any stronger word for it than that, but she respected his wishes. When
she’d been keeping Ginny’s confidence, she’d known she risked hurting both Draco and
Lucius in the long run, but she hadn’t been able to do any more than drop hints about Ginny’s
indecision about Draco and maintain a clear conscience. Ginny had told her , privately, no
one else, and Hermione couldn’t break that trust, no matter how much it hurt.

Respecting his wishes didn’t mean she had to torture herself, though, so she avoided looking
at him, even in class, and refused to call on him when he raised his hand, pretending he
wasn’t there. She even missed his 100 Days Left mark, although she spent the entire evening
itching to go to him. She didn’t think she could bear to show up and be asked to turn right
back around and leave.

Both Ginny and Hermione briefly broke their moratorium on social visits for Ron’s birthday
party, but they didn’t stay long, because Draco had been invited, and he was chatting casually
with several other women, and Ginny had been in grave danger of bursting into tears in the
middle of the party. Hermione had made their excuses to Ron, wished him a happy birthday,
and whisked Ginny back to her flat, where she promptly cried her eyes out.

‘I wish you’d go on a date with Gerard,’ she said stuffily when she’d finished crying.

Hermione looked up briefly from her organising. ‘Who’s Gerard?’

‘My teammate, remember?’ Ginny said sharply, rolling her eyes. ‘He met you at the
Malfoys’ ball, and danced with you?’

She blinked. ‘I don’t remember him,’ she said after a moment, shrugging.

‘Well, he’s very keen on you,’ Ginny persisted. ‘At least one of us should be happy.’

Hermione snorted. ‘Dating a Quidditch player who danced with me once and who I don’t
even remember is not going to make me happy.’

‘I didn’t say it would make you happy. I would be happy if you went out with him.’ Ginny
pouted. ‘Please?’

‘No.’

She made the pout bigger. ‘Please? Just once? For me? Pleeeeease ?’

‘No.’

Ginny tossed down her handkerchief in disgust. ‘Oh, come on , Hermione! It’s not like
Lucius is banging down your door demanding to marry you this instant!’

That stung. Hermione looked away, smarting.

But…she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lucius had made no effort to speak to her since Draco’s
disastrous proposal. She wasn’t sure he would ever forgive her, and she regretted keeping
Ginny’s confidence a little more each day. If she’d come clean with Draco, then he never
would have tried to propose, and all four of them would be much happier.
Perhaps a date would cheer both her and Ginny up. It was unlikely, but it was possible.

‘ One date,’ she agreed grimly. ‘And then I don’t want to hear another word about it.’

Ginny clapped her hands, grinning. ‘Yay! I’ll find out when he’s free and set you up.’

Hermione just rolled her eyes and returned to her organising. Ginny returned to her
magazines, humming happily to herself.

Toward evening, an owl arrived and landed on Ginny’s knee. Hermione’s breath caught as
she recognised the Malfoys’ eagle owl.

Ginny recognised it, too, and immediately scowled, taking the note and shooing the bird.

‘Ginny! It’s not the bird’s fault,’ Hermione scolded, and offered the poor thing a treat and
some water.

Once the owl was happily munching, she turned around and found that Ginny had paled,
staring at the note with her lips pressed together.

‘What is it?’

Ginny just shook her head and held the note out to her. Hermione took it and read quickly.

‘Dear Miss Weasley,

I would be most obliged if you would call on me on Monday, at three o’clock. I wish to speak
with you about something, privately, if you are willing.

Draco will not be on the premises at that time, you have my word.

Please respond regarding your intention.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy’

Hermione stared at the note in consternation. Lucius didn’t possibly think he could bully
Ginny into marrying Draco if she didn’t want to, did he? She knew that Draco’s happiness
was Lucius’s top priority at the moment, but the very idea was absurd.

‘What do you think?’ Ginny asked after a moment, her voice wavering.

Hermione thought for a while, then handed the note back. ‘I would go. He doesn’t have a
wand. He can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt to find out what he wants.’

‘What if it’s a trick to get me to talk to Draco?’ she asked darkly.

She shook her head. ‘Lucius gave his word that Draco wouldn’t be there. If it was a trick, he
wouldn’t have given his word. Lucius’s moral structure isn’t exactly traditional, but he
doesn’t give his word lightly.’
Ginny still seemed uncertain, but eventually, Hermione’s conviction and her own curiosity
stirred her enough to write a quick affirmative and send it with the owl.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had spent the last several weeks completely miserable. The first of his problems was
Draco, who was unbearably whiny in his better moods. Lucius tolerated it and tried to be
there for Draco, since he actually had a good reason for being so horribly mopey this time,
but he also fervently hoped that it would let up soon. Draco also was taking up with witches
he normally wouldn’t give the time of day, which was a great cause for concern. Lucius held
his tongue, and hoped that this, too, would pass shortly.

The second problem was Hermione. His knee-jerk reaction of lashing out at her because of
Ginny’s actions seemed to have done irreparable damage to their relationship--quite the
opposite of his goal of gaining her love. He’d remained angry for the first several days, and
when he finally cooled off and started to pay attention again, he found that Hermione had
stopped coming over at all, and that she was assiduously pretending he didn’t exist when she
did have to see him. He couldn’t exactly blame her--she hadn’t deserved his coldness toward
her, as all she’d done was keep a friend’s confidence. And she had tried to warn Draco that
Ginny wasn’t going to be receptive to his proposal. It certainly wasn’t her fault that Ginny
didn’t want to marry his son. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; it was just one of those sad
things that happened sometimes. All Lucius wanted now was for Draco to heal and move on,
and to have Hermione back. The problem with that was that at the end of every class,
Hermione went into her office and shut the door, and Lucius couldn’t seem to work up the
nerve to go and knock. He was too terrified of the all-too real possibility that she might
answer with ‘Go away.’

Besides, he needed most of his courage for the third problem that was making him miserable:
Ginny. With all this time to think, Lucius had had to face his last major offence that he had
not atoned for. He hadn’t done anything to try to apologise to Ginny for giving her…
Voldemort’s diary, directly resulting in her possession by him for significant chunks of time.
A part of him wondered if he wasn’t the reason, or at least a little segment of the reason, that
Ginny hadn’t wanted to marry Draco, whether she realised it or not. Marrying the son of the
man who’d nearly got you killed when you were only eleven was an uncomfortable situation
at best. That made him feel guilty, naturally, because it meant he was partly responsible for
his son’s current suffering, which was not something he’d ever wanted to happen again.

However, even assuming that it hadn’t figured into Ginny’s reasons for refusing Draco,
Lucius still felt horrible about it. He’d directly endangered a child without even turning a
hair, simply because she was a Weasley. Just like he’d been willing to kill her and the other
children--children Draco’s age, his peers--to lay hands on that stupid prophecy. His priorities
had been seriously skewed, and his moral compass had clearly been broken, and it shamed
him to remember it. He owed Ginny a great deal regardless of the rest of the circumstances
of their lives.
When he’d first considered it, he had thought that if Draco and Ginny went their separate
ways, he could simply find some anonymous way to help her, and that would be enough.
Now, he knew it wasn’t. The debt gnawed at his insides, rubbed irritatingly at the edges of
his mind, and he’d realised that he must confront her directly.

Lucius had sent her the note before he could lose his nerve on that, too, and was both pleased
and terrified to receive a positive response--a very short one, that simply said, ‘Mr Malfoy,
Yes, I will call on you at that time. G.W.’ but still, it was a step toward his goal.

On Thursday, Hermione glanced at him once, but he couldn’t read her expression, and then
she went back to pretending he wasn’t there. Well. He’d sort out one problem at a time.
Ginny first, and then Hermione.

Monday loomed large, making him jittery and nervous over the week-end. Draco finally left
to go to some party or other, annoyed with Lucius’s agitated fidgeting interrupting his
Byronic brooding.

At long last, the day arrived, and Lucius spent most of the day pacing in the library,
rehearsing what he would say when Ginny appeared. The appointed hour came, and Lucius
relocated his pacing to the entrance hall, waiting for her with greater and greater tension as
the minutes past three continued to tick by, his breath coming short and his chest tightening
as she continued to not appear .

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said when she finally appeared with a pop that nearly gave him a
coronary--twenty-three minutes past three. ‘My workout ran over.’

Lucius attempted to smile, though his face felt numb and frozen. ‘That’s quite all right.’

He escorted her to the sitting room and offered her tea, which she refused, and a chair, which
she accepted, perching on the edge and looking up at him with bright, curious eyes, so that
she resembled a red songbird.

‘Why did you invite me here, Mr Malfoy?’ she asked once he’d finished playing the dutiful
host. ‘If this is about Draco--’

He shook his head slightly, and she stopped, studying him. He reminded himself to breathe,
standing before her with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

‘Hermione, then?’ Ginny guessed.

He shook his head again.

She frowned. ‘Then I haven’t a clue what you want.’

Lucius drew a slow, deep breath that shook despite his best efforts. ‘You have grievances
against me,’ he said, trying to sound firm and confident but not succeeding very well.

Her brows rose. ‘I do?’

He resisted the urge to growl at her, or smack her upside the head. She seemed genuinely
confused, and he reminded himself to be patient. Ginny wasn’t the most introspective of
people, so it was entirely possible that she hadn’t thought about either incident since they
happened, and therefore they weren’t anywhere near the forefront of her mind.

‘The Department of Mysteries,’ he recited flatly, focusing on the wall above her head. ‘I
would have killed you.’

‘Well, you didn’t,’ Ginny said cluelessly.

‘I had every intention of doing so, if it became necessary,’ Lucius shot back sharply, and she
subsided. He took another breath, trying to calm himself. It was difficult; his heart was
pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. ‘More importantly, in
your first year at Hogwarts, I passed on a certain item to you that…did you a great deal of
harm, and nearly resulted in your death.’

His voice was breathless and thin by the time he finished, but now he had said it.

The clock in the hall ticked in the silence.

‘Well, that’s true,’ Ginny agreed. ‘Did you ask me here just to point that out?’

Lucius glared at her. ‘I said you had grievances .’

This was a word that had meaning to pure-bloods. A grievance against a wizard was often
repaid in blood--or at least with a curse. Lucius was offering to suffer, perhaps even to die, if
Ginny wished it, in reparation for her suffering.

He could see the moment she remembered her heritage and understood what he meant. Her
eyes widened and she paled considerably, staring up at him fearfully.

Lucius slowly lowered himself to his knees before her and spread his empty hands, bowing
his head.

‘I am sorry for what I’ve done, Ginevra Weasley,’ he intoned formally. ‘Do as you will.’

He waited.

And he waited a little longer.

This wasn’t a terribly comfortable position, but he forced himself to wait a little longer still,
until finally his still-tender neck couldn’t take it any longer and he had to raise his head.

Ginny was still staring at him, her lips parted and her eyes still wide with shock and fright.
She cleared her throat a few times when she noticed that he was looking at her again.

‘This was not at all what I was expecting,’ she said faintly.

‘Obviously,’ Lucius replied, deadpan. ‘If you need time to decide, can you please tell me so I
can get up for a while? My knees are killing me.’
That surprised a giggle out of her, and she nodded, waving him toward the sofa. Gratefully,
Lucius climbed to his feet and sat down. He’d been kneeling there for over twenty minutes,
and though he was nearing the end of his battery of potions, he still suffered pains from time
to time. Thankfully, they were growing fewer and farther between, but that didn’t mean he
was safe to sit or stand in odd positions for extended periods of time just yet.

‘I don’t want to do anything to you,’ Ginny said finally, propping her chin on her hand. ‘For
one thing, I’m not that kind of girl--murder and mayhem aren’t my style. For another,
Hermione would kill me if I hurt you.’

Lucius sighed. ‘I somehow doubt that,’ he said quietly. Then, more loudly, ‘You don’t have
to do anything if you don’t want to--they’re your grievances, not anyone else’s. But the offer
is there if you change your mind.’

She eyed him thoughtfully, and then suddenly smiled--a sly, predatory smile that gave Lucius
a chill.

‘I’d actually rather if you owed me twenty favours, which I can call in any time I want,’ she
said smugly.

He inclined his head, slightly relieved. ‘Fair enough. Twenty favours. But,’ he added
sternly, ‘the offer still stands.’

‘Twenty favours and I get to murder you without going to prison if you make me angry? I
can live with that,’ she said jokingly.

They shook on it, and Lucius immediately felt as though a weight had lifted from his
shoulders. He took a deep breath and was surprised when there was no hitch or catch, no
limitation at all. He could breathe freely for the first time in far too long.

‘So…about Draco,’ Ginny said hesitantly after a moment.

Lucius watched her struggle with herself, her face twisting.

‘How is he?’ she finally managed.

He hesitated. ‘He’s…coping,’ he half-lied.

Draco was coping, just not very well, in Lucius’s opinion.

Ginny accepted that with a nod.

‘Okay,’ she said, and that was all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
‘I don’t understand wizards sometimes,’ Hermione said.

‘Neither do I,’ Ginny agreed, shrugging.

Hermione had patiently listened to Ginny’s explanation about ‘grievances’ and the very, very
old wizarding traditions around them, and the best sense she could make out of it was that it
was similar to the old idea of a weregild. Except, instead of getting something useful like
money or indentured servitude, wizards apparently just liked to murder or torture one
another, consequence-free.

‘So that’s all Lucius wanted?’ she pressed, still a bit incredulous. ‘He just wanted to offer to
let you kill or maim him?’

Ginny shrugged again, swirling her tea. ‘Apparently. He didn’t ask me about Draco, or you,
or anything else. He just wanted to apologise for almost murdering me twice, the extremely
old-fashioned way.’

Hermione couldn’t resist an eyeroll. She tried to respect pure-blood traditions and customs--
she really did--but this tendency to bloodthirst in the old ways was, frankly, ridiculous and
more than a little disturbing. It was no wonder that Lucius’s automatic response to Muggles
and Muggle-borns was ‘Kill them all!’ He and the other pure-bloods were predisposed to
murder, apparently, given that it seemed to be their ancestors’ response to everything.

‘So I spoke to Gerard,’ Ginny said abruptly, grinning. ‘He’s really excited to go out with
you.’

‘Great,’ Hermione said, trying her best to sound pleased.

‘He’s free this Saturday, so if you’re free, too, then can I tell him you’ll have dinner with
him?’

Hermione repressed a sigh. Ginny really did look chipper and excited, without a trace of
sorrow, for the first time since Valentine’s. She couldn’t deny her friend a little joy--and she
had agreed to go on one date with him. Just one wouldn’t kill her, and then hopefully Ginny
would be pleased for a while, and she could go back to silently pining for Lucius.

‘I’m free, so yeah, go ahead,’ she said, nodding and pasting a smile on.

‘Great!’ Ginny cried, and there was something victorious in the way she ripped open another
packet of sugar.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On Tuesday, Hermione kept to her new routine--or she tried to. When she went to shut the
door to her office after dismissing her class, there was a very loud yelp. The door ricocheted
back to reveal Lucius rubbing the foot he’d jammed in the doorway to stop it.
‘You’re too fast,’ he complained, wincing.

Hermione bit her lip. This undoubtedly wouldn’t improve matters between them. ‘I’m sorry-
-I didn’t know you wanted to speak with me. Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m not hurt,’ Lucius said, straightening, nevertheless adopting a wounded expression.
‘And you would have known I wanted to talk to you if you would have looked at me even
once during class. I was holding up a sign that said “Can we talk after class?”’

She choked out a laugh. ‘You’re joking!’

‘No, I’m quite serious.’ He tilted his head. ‘I got a lot of very odd looks from some of my
neighbours.’

She grinned despite herself. ‘Well, I’m sorry about that, too.’ She hesitated briefly. ‘Would
you like to come in?’

Lucius’s eyes gleamed. ‘Certainly,’ he said smoothly.

She stepped aside to let him pass and waved him to a chair. She sat across the desk from
him, watching him look around her office curiously. It occurred to her that Lucius had never
set foot in her office before, and she was suddenly conscious of the old, stained teacups
sitting on messy stacks of books and the jumper she’d completely forgotten about tossed over
another chair, this one filled with more books because if anyone tried to sit in it, one of the
legs broke off.

‘I don’t spend much time here,’ Hermione said sheepishly.

He turned back to her, raising a brow. ‘Lately, you have,’ he said pointedly.

She forced her expression to go blank and focused on a point just over his shoulder.
‘Actually, I’ve been with Ginny. She’s been in need of support.’

‘Ah.’

Lucius said nothing further, drumming his fingers on the armrest. Agitated, Hermione shifted
and frowned.

‘And besides, I was under the impression that my presence was unwelcome,’ she added,
unable to keep a slight tremor out of her voice.

The drumming stopped. Lucius leaned forward, and a beat of silence passed between them.

‘Hermione, look at me, please,’ he requested quietly, his voice taking on that velvety quality
she had never been able to resist.

She met his eyes, and was surprised to find that, rather than angry or annoyed or cold, he
looked remorseful.
‘I’m sorry I was so cold to you,’ he said before she could gather the breath to speak. ‘I was
angry on Draco’s behalf, but it wasn’t your fault. You were keeping a friend’s confidence. I
know I would never want you to go round blabbing things I’ve told you privately, and I
appreciate that you tried your best to stop Draco from asking without breaking trust with
Ginny. I would never have you act against your sense of integrity,’ he added with a faint,
fond smile. ‘I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I want you around, if you’ll consent to come.
Can you forgive me?’

Hermione was taken aback. She’d been half expecting Lucius to take her to task, not a
heartfelt apology for his behaviour. It took her a moment to collect her wits.

‘Of course,’ she said hoarsely, mustering a smile. ‘All is forgiven and forgotten.’

Lucius’s answering smile was dazzlingly bright, and he sat back with an air of satisfaction.
‘Good. Good. So.’ He shrugged a little. ‘What have you been up to without me? I
suppose it was frightfully dull, wasn’t it?’

Hermione laughed and shook her head. ‘Naturally.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione recognised Gerard when he arrived at the restaurant--he’d been particularly inept
at the ball, crashing them into other couples on no less than three occasions. He had
managed to keep off of her feet, but she regarded that as a small accomplishment. Still, he
was very sweet, and very handsome, and she did her best to have a good time.

The problem was that he wasn’t Lucius. The whole time he was trying to explain what,
exactly, his job on the team was, she was wishing it was Lucius sitting across from her.
When Gerard tried to tip the waiter on the sly and accidentally ended up putting the Galleons
down the poor man’s trousers, Hermione couldn’t help but think that Lucius would never
have done something like that, unless of course he meant to, but since he wasn’t a fan of
making a scene, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever take it into his head to do anything of the sort.
While she watched Gerard eat, her own appetite lost, she reflected that Ron and Gerard
should have a contest, and that she never, ever glimpsed the half-masticated remains of
Lucius’s food, because he chewed with his mouth shut, and didn’t speak with his mouth full.

Gerard wasn’t particularly interesting, either. Much like Cormac McLaggen and Oliver
Wood, he seemed to think that everyone around him was as obsessed with Quidditch as he
was, so it was the topic that made up more than eighty per cent of his conversation. He didn’t
appear to notice when Hermione’s eyes glazed over.

All in all, he would simply never measure up. He was a nice boy--for someone else.
Hermione already knew who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, so further dates
would be a waste of both of their time. At the end of the date, she politely declined his
invitation to his place for a nightcap, said she’d had a good time, and went home.
Fortunately, Ginny was very busy with her own dates all week, so Hermione wasn’t subjected
to the third degree right away. Unfortunately , she was subjected to the third degree on
Thursday evening, at the Malfoys’ dinner table, because Ginny had decided she needed to
make an appearance to show how utterly unaffected she was. She chose a moment when
everyone was fairly quiet, and practically shouted across Lucius and Luna.

‘So how was your date on Saturday?’

Hermione resisted the urge to glare as Lucius’s head whipped in her direction, his expression
frozen.

‘It was fine,’ she said in a much more reasonable volume, her tone neutral.

‘ Fine ?’ Ginny repeated. ‘I’m sure it was more than fine with Gerard. He always knows
how to treat a lady,’ she added, with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that Lucius did not miss.

He looked at Hermione with open horror, and she thought she detected the beginnings of hurt
and betrayal. He was valiantly trying to master himself, though, so she pretended not to
notice and focussed on Ginny instead.

‘As I said, it was fine,’ she said coolly, not rising to the bait. ‘We had dinner and we said
good night. It was fine.’

Ginny looked very unhappy with this lack of information, but she subsided, albeit with a sour
expression. She didn’t turn to see Draco’s heartbroken expression, but Hermione saw it and
sympathised.

The sitting room turned out to be a valley of thorns, conversation-wise, as everyone wanted
to know about the date she hadn’t told them she was having. She eventually settled in with
Bill, Fleur, and Percy, as pregnancy talk and budget reports were much preferable to being
grilled about a date that hadn’t even meant anything to her.

At one point, Lucius made eye contact with her from across the room and tilted his head
toward the door with a significant look. She shook her head and deliberately turned away to
avoid further eye contact. She didn’t even want to discuss it with him. She just wanted to
forget it had ever happened. Well, and she wanted to strangle Ginny.
 Overreactions
Chapter Summary

Lucius overreacts to Hermione's date, and does something which causes Hermione to
overreact. It takes a power greater than Draco to sort it out.

Chapter Notes

Okay, this is the climactic chapter, everybody, so it's going to be pretty rough in a few
spots. Just stick with it until the end and I promise you won't want to come after me with
pitchforks, because I didn't do a cliffhanger or anything. Also, this is the second-to-last
chapter, so I'd like to thank all of you for coming along for the ride. I hope you've had
fun. :)

I'm finished with the last chapter, which just wraps everything up, and only need to do
some cleanup work on it, so it will be posted on Monday, barring any unexpected
complications. I'm afraid I will have to up the rating one level to Mature when I post that
chapter, because Lucius and Hermione got a little frisky. They deserved it, after all I've
put them through, I suppose. ;)

Thank you all, as always, for reading, and especially to everyone who took the time to
comment. :) I hope you enjoy!

It was simultaneously harder and easier to avoid Lucius over the week-end--harder because
now that they had cleared up their little misunderstanding, Hermione wanted nothing more
than to go directly back to spending every spare minute in his company; and easier because
she very much wanted to avoid talking about her mediocre date with Gerard, and Lucius was
stubbornly refusing to let it be. She’d spent Friday evening with him, and he spent most of
the night demanding to know what had happened and every word that was spoken. He
particularly wanted to know how the date had ended. Hermione was sympathetic (and a little
flattered by his obvious jealousy), but she didn’t want to talk about it, so she just as
stubbornly refused. He had finally let it go, but she could see that his frustration about it was
mounting, rather than cooling. She didn’t know what to say to calm him, so she simply stuck
to trying to avoid the topic.

On Saturday and Sunday, Hermione hadn’t had to come up with an excuse not to go to
Malfoy Manor, as the Goyles, realising that the Easter holidays were just a month away, had
begun to panic and begged her to spend the week-end tutoring them. They were still doing
poorly, but she invented a few extra credit assignments that would be easy for them--she had
no intention of failing them, not after they had worked so hard all year. It wasn’t their fault
that they weren’t very intelligent, and she didn’t think a lack of book-smarts was an Azkaban-
worthy offence.

Monday, she stopped by for a brief lunch, keeping up a steady stream of her own chatter to
forestall anymore questions. Lucius fumed quietly, and immediately asked if she intended to
see Gerard again as soon as she paused for breath.

‘I don’t know,’ she lied. ‘I’ve got to run.’

She lied because what she really wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and tell him
that he didn’t ever need to worry about another man--he was the only one for her, and she
loved him, not cute but boring Gerard. That wasn’t an option yet, so she blurted her lie and
fled.

On Tuesday, fleeing was not an option, and Lucius was no longer willing to accept her vague
answers and refusals.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius had thought that things were going according to plan. He’d assured himself that he
didn’t need to worry about any other men in her life, she had quickly and easily forgiven him
for his flare of temper, and he had a plan to spend the Easter holidays recommending himself
as a prospective husband, mostly through stories about how wonderful he’d been to Narcissa.

Then Ginny had dropped a bomb on his head in the form of the news that Hermione had gone
on a date --a recent date. A date with a cute Quidditch player.

His initial reaction had been overwhelming hurt and betrayal. How could she date someone
who wasn’t him? His blood had boiled at the very thought of her with Gerard . But then,
sense had intervened and he’d realised that it wasn’t fair to Hermione to expect her to be
faithful to him when she didn’t even know that he was interested in her. He couldn’t exactly
blame Ginny for setting her up, either, as it was unlikely that Draco had informed her of
Lucius’s intentions before their breakup, given his concern that Lucius proposing to
Hermione would spoil the surprise with Ginny. And of course he wouldn’t have informed her
afterward, since they hadn’t spoken since Valentine’s Day.

Instead, he had determined that he must find out exactly what had happened before, during,
and after the date, to discover what Hermione had and hadn’t liked, and to reassure himself
that her lukewarm response to Ginny’s inquiries meant that she didn’t intend to see Gerard
again. Unfortunately, Hermione was less than cooperative, stonewalling him every time he
raised the subject. His better sense was slowly losing the battle as Lucius’s rage built--rage at
the thought that Hermione might be falling for some ham-fisted moron. It had happened
before, with Viktor Krum.
Lucius very firmly believed that Hermione could have any man she wanted, and that she had
the right to choose for herself--but he also believed that she deserved better than some
Quidditch player. There was a reason Lucius had never dedicated himself to the sport as
fully as he might have done, and that was that it was overwhelmingly populated with muscle-
bound idiots who couldn’t carry on a proper conversation about anything but Quidditch. She
deserved someone who could keep her intellectually stimulated, and financially secure, and
happy. Lucius wasn’t certain he fit all of those qualifications, but he certainly fit them better
than any Quidditch player!

Still, if she was determined to continue seeing this Gerard, he wouldn’t try to stop her or
forbid her--she was a free agent, and perfectly capable of running her own life--but that didn’t
mean he couldn’t try to convince her that it was a bad choice, and let her know that she had
other options. Options like Lucius, who could and did talk about things besides Quidditch,
and who loved her.

With this in mind, Lucius went to class on Tuesday determined to get answers. He paid little
attention to the lesson, too consumed with thoughts of Hermione kissing someone else,
holding someone else’s hand, his heart pounding harder and harder and his ears getting hot.

Finally, class ended, and the students dutifully filed out after receiving their homework
assignments. Lucius let them all pass by and then prowled to the front of the room.
Hermione was trying not to look at him, busying herself with straightening papers and other
little fidgety things, but the little glances upward gave her away.

‘Hermione,’ Lucius growled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest with the force of his
emotion.

She looked up with a very false smile and wouldn’t meet his eye. ‘Yes?’ she squeaked out.

‘I want an answer to my question,’ he said lowly, dangerously. ‘Are you intending to see that
boy again?’

He watched her throat tighten as she swallowed.

‘His name is Gerard,’ she said in a voice that was mostly calm, though he detected a faint
edge of breathlessness. ‘And he’s not a boy. He’s twenty-eight.’

Lucius stepped closer to her, towering over her. ‘Are you intending to see him again?’

Hermione took a step back, her expression closing, and tossed her head, eyeing him narrowly.

‘And what is it to you if I am?’ she demanded archly. ‘I refuse to be intimidated over my
love life, and it is my decision if I choose to see him again, not yours.’

Desperation made his heart pound even harder, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, his
ears ringing. He took another step toward her, frantic with the need to convince her.

‘Hermione,’ he said, pleading now. ‘You can do so much better than that. You deserve
someone who can take care of you, someone who can keep up with you. Please, don’t see
him again.’

She looked away, agitatedly wringing her hands. ‘What do you know about what I deserve?
It’s none of your business who I--’

‘It is my business!’ he cut her off shrilly.

She scowled at him. ‘Lucius, you’re getting upset, maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right-
-’

He cut her off with his lips against hers. It wasn’t at all like he’d imagined their first kiss
would be. It was rough and urgent, more a crushing of mouths together than an actual kiss.
Worse, she didn’t respond, but stood frozen, even when he flicked his tongue across hers,
even when he pressed her back against the chalkboard.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, he registered a squeaking noise and a soft thunk, but it
wasn’t important enough to disturb him from his task of trying to physically convince
Hermione that he was better for her than Gerard. He wasn’t even thinking right now, he was
just desperate for her not to leave him for another man before he’d even had a chance.

The noises must have meant something to Hermione, though, or something else jarred her out
of her stupor, because she suddenly shoved him away from her in one quick, powerful move.
Lucius stumbled back three or four steps, breathing heavily, and watched her with his blood
rushing in his ears and his entire body trembling.

What he saw made his stomach drop, the world tilting under his suddenly unsteady legs.

She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, staring at him with fear--no, not just fear, but terror .
She was terrified as she looked at him.

Lucius’s knees would have buckled if she hadn’t spoken.

‘Get out,’ she breathed.

The pain was a physical thing, right in the center of his gut, knocking the breath out of him.

‘Hermione,’ he started, weakly, helplessly, searching hopelessly for a way to fix this, to undo
it.

‘ GET OUT !’ she screamed at him.

Lucius stumbled backward, reeling as though she had reached out and slapped him. She
continued to look frightened and shocked. She didn’t take it back, didn’t say that she’d just
been startled, that she didn’t mean it, that she was sorry she’d screamed at him. She just
stared at him.

He fled from her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It took Hermione a long, long while to recover. That discussion had not at all gone the way
she’d thought it would, when she’d been deciding in her head how she would put her foot
down and forbid Lucius from interfering with her love life (until June 6, when he finished her
class, she had added mentally). She’d seriously underestimated how upset and jealous
Lucius had become over the issue.

And now a student had seen them.

A student had seen them kissing .

This was the worst case scenario she’d envisioned when she realised she was in love with
Lucius, and it was entirely her fault. If she’d read Lucius correctly, if she’d soothed his fears
back at the manor, where they had some privacy, it wouldn’t have happened.

She considered it her solemn duty to hunt down the student who had seen them--preferably
before she could start the gossip chain going. Hermione knew it had been a female student,
and the flash of red she’d seen indicated it was a Gryffindor, but she hadn’t been able to tell
which one. The fact that it was a Gryffindor was worrisome, as they were some of the worst
gossips in the whole school, right behind the Hufflepuffs.

Hermione chose not to dwell on her awful handling of the situation, at least not until she’d
found the student and prevented the chain of events that could very well result in Lucius
being sent back to Azkaban. She would think about it afterward, and try to figure out how to
make amends.

It had been a gut reaction, as all of her fears for Lucius’s safety had come crashing to the
forefront of her mind. She’d been terrified as she thought of him in Azkaban again--in
chains--at the mercy of guards who had not yet been investigated and replaced. It was too
late by then, but her instinctive reaction was to send him far, far away from her, where he
would be safe.

Naturally, by the time she’d calmed and seen reason, Lucius was long gone, and all she could
see in her mind’s eye was the utterly shattered look on his face.

That was the image that haunted her as she made careful inquiries about any Gryffindor
students who might have come looking for her after class….

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius did not remember Flooing to the manor, or walking to his room, but suddenly he was
standing in the middle of his bedroom, blinking at his writing desk. He was in pain, he
realised faintly, like it was happening to someone else. Each breath lanced through him like
fire, as though he’d been run through and the blade was still lodged in his abdomen. He had
the feeling of being made of crystal, that a light touch might cause him to shatter into a
million pieces.

He had been right, he realised. It brought him no satisfaction. He hadn’t wanted to be right
about this--that nothing he did would ever be enough. That the changes he had made, the
progress, the careful atonement for his sins, were all for nothing, because deep down, no
matter how they accepted him on the surface, he would always be the hateful, bigoted Death
Eater to everyone he met.

And to Hermione. She would always be afraid of him, no matter what he did, no matter what
he said.

His knees did buckle, then, and he found himself on the floor, gasping for breath. There were
no tears. He was beyond tears. He felt only complete and utter devastation. The candles
were lit and the sun was still out, but the room looked dark to him, and he was alone.

He was alone. He would always be alone, even when he was surrounded with people.

It was this realisation that crushed him, that left him lying on the floor, staring at nothing.

‘Father?’ Draco, searching the house for him. ‘Father!’

Lucius didn’t even try to answer. It was too painful just breathing in shallow pants, let alone
trying to get enough air to shout.

It didn’t matter. Draco found him soon enough.

‘Father!’ he cried, running to his side. ‘What’s happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?’

Lucius shook his head mutely, staring at the rug.

Draco gathered him up, pulling his head and shoulders into his lap. Lucius didn’t resist, nor
did he flinch when Draco pointed his wand at him. Death was still not exactly welcome, but
he no longer saw the point in delaying the inevitable. Draco wasn’t killing him, though (at
least not today); he simply did a quick general health spell.

‘You’re not sick,’ he said, plainly baffled. ‘What happened? Please say something!’

Lucius remained silent. There was no point, to any of it. He deserved to die. He didn’t want
to, but he deserved to. It was what everyone else wanted.

‘I’ll get Hermione,’ Draco said, panicking now. ‘She’ll know what to do!’

That required a response.

‘No,’ Lucius choked out, his entire body resisting the act of speaking. ‘No.’

Draco gaped at him. ‘You…don’t want me to get Hermione ?’

‘No,’ he repeated, and broke out in tremors.

Draco was still holding him, so he immediately felt the tremors. His confusion only
increased, but he finally nodded.

‘Okay, no Hermione.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to help you get up on the bed, all right? Are
you ready?’

Lucius obediently helped Draco lift him onto the bed, and immediately went limp as soon as
he was safely on it. He didn’t particularly care whether he was on the floor or the bed, but
obviously Draco would feel better this way. He still wanted Draco to be happy. He wished
he could have thought of a way to change Ginny’s mind for him.

While he was wishing for impossible things, he wished Hermione wasn’t afraid of him.

A soft, pained noise bubbled out of him involuntarily, and he hugged himself, curling around
the stabbing ache in his gut, squeezing his eyes shut, but he couldn’t blot out the image of her
white, terrified face.

‘Oh, Father,’ Draco murmured, sitting beside him, putting a hand on his arm.

Lucius covered his face with his hand and wept.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione kept an ear to the rumour mill, but nothing new popped up about her or Lucius all
through Wednesday. She finally found her quarry at lunch on Thursday--it turned out to be a
seventh year girl who was studious and reserved, so Hermione felt a little more foolish for
her violent reaction. The girl agreed to continue to not share what she had seen with anyone,
as she felt that who anyone was dating wasn’t really anyone else’s business. Hermione
rewarded her by granting her request for an extra credit assignment, even though the girl
hardly needed it.

She had skipped the Tuesday and Wednesday dinners, too distraught and tense to deal with
that many Weasleys at the moment--or worse, Draco . She couldn’t imagine that Lucius’s
mood was very good at this point, so if Draco had chosen to attend either dinner, she would
have had to withstand a lecture that she couldn’t emotionally handle at that point.

She felt calmer now, knowing that this time , there wouldn’t be any dire consequences for
their inappropriate behaviour. She fully intended to apologise to Lucius for her overreaction,
and to inform him that any further romantic overtures would have to wait until June 6, when
it would be safe for them to dance naked in the middle of Diagon Alley, if they so desired.

Only, Lucius wasn’t there. He didn’t arrive at his usual time. He didn’t arrive late. His desk
remained distractingly, worryingly empty throughout the class period.
An explanation arrived ten minutes after class ended, courtesy of the Malfoys’ eagle owl.

‘Hermione,

My father is unwell. Please excuse his absence.

Draco

P.S. What happened? He’s forbidden me to ask you to come over, and he gets upset when I
even suggest it.’

Dread pooled in Hermione’s stomach. This was far worse than she had thought it would be.
Lucius had only missed class once--when he was ordered by the Wizengamot to stay home
and not attend class.

Quickly, she grabbed a quill and a scrap of parchment and jotted a response.

‘Draco,

Consider him excused. I hope he feels better soon.

I can’t explain the full situation on a paper this small. Please tell him I’m sorry.

Hermione’

She sent it off with the owl, trying to calm herself again with her breathing exercises. It
wasn’t working very well.

She didn’t want Lucius to hate her. That was one of several possibilities that ran through her
mind as she considered what Draco could have meant by ‘he gets upset when I even suggest
it.’ ‘Upset’ was such a vague term. Was he angry? Was he sad? Was he nervous?
Hermione had no idea how to even try to approach him without more information.

One thing was clear, though, and that was that Lucius wasn’t ready to see her right now,
regardless of the reason why. She decided to wait a while and see if he came around on his
own, or if perhaps Draco could convince him to at least go to class, so she’d have a chance to
apologise.

Well, grovel, really. She’d screamed at him and probably made him think that his overture
had been entirely unwelcome, when in reality, that was the exact opposite of the truth--it was
merely the timing and the setting that she objected to. She owed him a very large apology for
her overreaction--very, very large, and she could only hope he would hear her out. She didn’t
expect to be forgiven.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Lucius did not move. He did not eat. He didn’t speak. He lay still, breathing as steadily as
he could around the stabbing pain. Sometimes he slept, and sometimes he stared at nothing.

The first day, Draco had begged and pleaded with him, brought in trays of treats to tempt
him, played cheerful music on the wireless, did everything but break into a song and dance
routine to try to shake Lucius out of his mood. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, and Lucius
turned away from any food put before him, nauseated by the smell.

The second day, he tried to bully Lucius into moving, shouting at him and threatening him,
and even, at one point, physically hauling him out of bed. Lucius hadn’t made any attempt to
catch himself, and Draco had quickly abandoned that tactic. Out of ideas, Draco had enlisted
Tibby and they tried to force-feed him. Lucius had submitted, and promptly vomited
afterward, his stomach violently rejecting the food.

Today was Friday, and Draco was out of ideas, or so Lucius thought. He was proved wrong
that evening.

‘Lucius?’ came a soft, melodic voice.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to look at his visitor as she gently reached out,
stroking his cheek with her soft, manicured hand.

‘Narcissa?’ he said, his own voice hoarse and crackling. ‘What are you doing here?’

Her smile was kind, her eyes full of concern. ‘Draco asked me to come. He’s very worried
about you. We all are.’ She chuckled when he raised a brow. ‘Even Andrew. He’s
downstairs, worrying with Draco.’

He heaved a pained sigh, feeling his ribs ache from the pressure, and settled back down into
his pillows. Everything felt so heavy, all of a sudden.

‘I’m tired,’ he mumbled in a small voice.

Narcissa smoothed his snarled hair back tenderly, and his eyes closed of their own accord.

‘What happened, darling?’ she asked gently. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re still
friends, aren’t we?’

His chest hitched painfully. ‘I’m in love with her,’ he said thickly. ‘I’m in love with her, and
she’s afraid of me.’

Narcissa didn’t answer right away, idly stroking his head. ‘Hermione?’ She huffed out a soft
laugh. ‘I don’t believe that young lady is afraid of anything.’

He choked on a sob. ‘She’s afraid of me,’ he said brokenly. ‘She hates me. She thinks I’m a
monster.’

And he couldn’t exactly argue with that.

‘What happened to give you that impression?’

He opened his eyes with an effort, swallowing to try to keep some measure of composure. It
didn’t work; his voice was still wobbly and thin when he spoke.

‘I kissed her, and she was afraid. She screamed at me to get out.’

Narcissa frowned thoughtfully. ‘I don’t understand that. That doesn’t seem like her.’ She
paused. ‘Not that I know her that well, but something about that doesn’t add up.’

Lucius shrugged and turned away again, hugging himself a little tighter. She could believe
whatever she wished, he didn’t care.

Sighing, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Get some sleep, Lucius. I’ll be back.’

He gripped her arm, suddenly not wanting to be alone. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m just going to check on Andrew,’ she said, smiling sweetly.

Ah. Andrew . At the mention of her second husband, Lucius released her.

‘Okay,’ he said dully.

Narcissa reached out and touched his shoulder, her expression pained, but after a moment,
she turned and walked out.

Lucius slept.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Of all the heads Hermione expected to see in her fireplace, Narcissa Black’s was not one of
them. She gaped at her for a full minute before Narcissa finally cleared her throat, raising her
brows pointedly.

‘Oh! Sorry, come on through,’ she said quickly.

Narcissa stepped through and performed a quick cleaning charm on herself. ‘Thank you.’

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. ‘Please…have a seat.’

She smiled and took the armchair, eyeing Hermione in a way that made her want to sink into
the floor.

She cleared her throat. ‘Um…can I get you anything?’

Narcissa considered. ‘No, thank you.’

The silence stretched between them.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’ Hermione asked formally, after she finally
collected her scattered wits back together.

Narcissa pursed her lips, picking at the fabric of the armrest with her nail. ‘I am here at
Draco’s request,’ she said at last, ‘but on Lucius’s behalf.’ She paused. ‘Lucius doesn’t
know I’ve come to see you.’

Hermione broke out in gooseflesh, her throat suddenly dry. ‘I see,’ she said quietly.

The older witch tilted her head slightly, continuing to study Hermione intently. Hermione
tried not to fidget.

‘I am struggling to comprehend what exactly possessed you to reject Lucius so brutally,’

Narcissa said evenly, the corners of her mouth twitching downward.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath. ‘What did he tell you?’

‘He told me that he kissed you, and you screamed at him to get out,’ she reported succinctly.
‘He also told me that he believes you are afraid of him, as he apparently observed such an
expression after he kissed you, and that he is in love with you.’

Hermione’s head spun, and she tried not to laugh. It wasn’t funny, not in the least, but in her
moment of dizziness, it seemed ridiculous that they seemed to keep crossing their wires when
they both wanted the same thing.

‘I wasn’t afraid of him ,’ she said when the world had righted itself. ‘I was afraid--terrified--
for him because a student walked in on us.’

Comprehension immediately dawned on Narcissa’s features, but Hermione continued to

explain anyway.

‘The girl walked in on us when he had his tongue in my mouth and had me pushed up against
the blackboard. It would have been difficult to misinterpret what was happening,’ she said
dryly. ‘I freely admit that I overreacted. I couldn’t help it--I just instantly thought of him
back in Azkaban, and I panicked. The damage was already done, but I reacted instinctively
to make him leave. I wasn’t thinking. Afterward, I went and found the girl who saw us, and
she promised that she hadn’t told anyone and had no intention of doing so--but at the time, I
had no way of knowing that it wouldn’t all end in disaster.’

Narcissa looked grim. ‘When did you talk to the girl?’

‘Yesterday at lunch.’

Her brows rose. ‘And you haven’t tried to contact him since then?’

Hermione sighed. ‘Draco sent me a note to explain Lucius’s absence from class, and said
that he was upset and didn’t want Draco to invite me over. I assumed that meant Lucius
doesn’t want to see me right now.’
‘Only because he thinks you’re terrified of him and think he’s a monster,’ Narcissa replied
glumly.

It felt like her heart had dropped into her feet. ‘I would never think that!’

‘I know that, but Lucius apparently hasn’t figured it out on his own. He’s been lying in bed
since Tuesday night, refusing to move or eat. You need to go to him, whether he wants to see
you or not,’ she said firmly.

Hermione was already moving, and popped out of the entrance hall fireplace running. She
felt as though her chest was crushing inward, squeezing the breath out of her. She’d never
felt so guilty about anything--she should have followed him home, should have apologised
immediately and explained, rather than trying to find the girl first. She should have known
how hard Lucius would take it, how he would misinterpret her fear.

Draco was emerging from his study, Andrew at his heels. ‘Hermione! What are you--?’

She ran past him without a word, dashing up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She didn’t
have any trouble finding Lucius’s bedroom, even though the door was shut; she skidded to a
halt and quietly opened the door, peering in cautiously. Lucius was curled up in a ball, facing
away from the door. She crept in and shut the door behind her, but he didn’t stir. She
rounded the bed and saw that he was sleeping, a frown etched into his face. He looked pale
and sickly again. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and his muscles were taut even in
sleep.

Hermione sighed softly and carefully crawled onto the bed, lying as close to him as she
dared. He didn’t stir until she reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair off of his face,
lightly tracing along his cheekbone. His eyes fluttered open, and his frown deepened as he
registered her presence.

‘Hermione?’ he said, hoarse, weak, disbelieving. ‘What are you doing here? You can’t really
be here, I must be dying.’

She smiled, tugging his hand away from his abdomen and holding it tightly. ‘I’m really here,
and you’d better not be dying on me.’

He looked at her with flat, empty eyes. ‘Why not? It’s the only way to truly redeem myself.’

‘You have redeemed yourself already, Lucius,’ she said sternly. He snorted, but she didn’t
allow him to interrupt. ‘I know all about what you did for the Thomases, and Luna, and
Percy, and everyone else. Kingsley told me weeks ago.’

‘But you still don’t trust me,’ he said hollowly, looking away.

‘I do,’ she said quietly but firmly. ‘I would trust you with my life.’

He scoffed, trying to tug his hand out of hers. ‘I saw your face--you were afraid when I
kissed you.’
Hermione held onto his hand stubbornly. ‘I was, but not because of you. A student caught us
kissing, Lucius.’

That pulled him up short, and he stopped trying to get loose, studying her intently.

She nodded grimly. ‘It turned out that the student in question is not a gossip and has no
intention of telling anyone what she saw, but I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was
that we’d been seen engaging in behaviour that is not at all appropriate for a teacher and her
student, and that if it got out….’ She swallowed, trying to blink back the tears welling up.
‘My greatest fear is something happening to you. I don’t know what I’d do if….’

She broke off, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. Lucius remained silent, but his
expression had softened and he was returning her grip on his hand now.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you,’ she sniffled when she felt able to speak again. ‘I’m sorry I told
you to leave. I was panicking. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

He was quiet for a long time, looking at their joined hands.

‘You didn’t kiss me back,’ he said finally, sorrowfully.

Hermione put a finger under his chin, and he obediently raised his eyes to hers, wincing
slightly as though he was expecting a verbal confirmation that she didn’t want him.

‘You caught me by surprise,’ she said, smiling. ‘And it isn’t the right time yet. On June 6,
the instant you’ve finished your exam and Draco has put your wand back in your hand, and
you’re officially no longer my student, but my equal , I will gladly kiss you any time or place
that you’d like.’

Hope flared in Lucius’s eyes, but he continued to frown. ‘Just because I want you to?’

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. ‘Because I’m in love with you, you daft idiot. I
would snog you right now, if it wasn’t potentially putting you in danger.’

He stared at her with genuine shock. ‘You…you love me?’

‘You think I mind meld with just anyone?’ she joked. ‘Of course I love you. I’m mad for
you. I can’t get enough of you.’

Lucius continued to blink dazedly, but a smile was slowly spreading across his face. ‘I’ve
been trying to get you to fall for me,’ he said faintly.

Hermione laughed. ‘Already have, head over.’

He finally recovered from the shock, and she had never before seen him so overjoyed. He
cupped her cheek reverently, looking at her with open adoration.

‘I love you, too,’ he murmured happily. ‘I’m in love with you.’

She smiled and tried not to tear up again. She’d already known, but it was different to hear
him say it out loud, unreservedly.

‘That works out just dandy, then, doesn’t it?’ she said lightly. ‘I love you, and you love me.’

‘Wait, then why did you go out with that Gerard fellow?’ Lucius realised suddenly. ‘If you’re
in love with me, how could you go on a date with him?’

She sighed. ‘I promised Ginny I would. I didn’t want to, but she’s been an emotional mess
ever since Draco’s proposal. Setting me up made her happy. But to answer your question, I
have no intention of ever seeing Gerard again, outside of watching him play Quidditch
alongside Ginny. I have zero interest in him. It’s you and only you, from now on,’ she added
with conviction.

His smile immediately returned, doubly bright, and he uncurled from the tight ball he’d
formed of himself, stretching alongside her with a contented sigh, resting his forehead against
hers. They lay quietly for a long while, basking in the relief of clearing the air, in the joy of
having declared themselves to one another and finding out their affections were returned.
Hermione intended to make him eat some broth in a bit, but she was too content to bring it
up just yet.

‘June 6, then,’ Lucius sighed happily. ‘That’s my birthday, you know.’

She grinned. ‘Really? I’ll make you dinner. At my place, this time.’

His eyes flashed and he drew her closer. ‘A lovelier present I can’t imagine.’ He sighed
again, pouting a little this time. ‘It’s only March. Why does it have to be so far away?’

Hermione had some insecurities of her own, and she couldn’t help it when she stiffened. ‘Is
that a problem?’ she asked softly.

‘Of course not,’ he said easily. ‘I can wait. You’re worth waiting for.’

She smiled and melted against him, soothed. It was exactly what she had wanted to hear.

‘How about you eat something for me?’ she suggested.

‘Oh…I suppose I should,’ he said with mock reluctance. ‘My lady would be rather put out
with me if I starved to death.’

Hermione grinned, feeling a thrill up her spine--his lady. ‘Yes, she would. She would also
be pleased if you could see your way to brushing your teeth.’

‘Consider it done.’

He obediently followed when she rose, never taking his eyes off of her. She flushed under
the attention, but she had honestly never been happier.
 The Next Phase of Life
Chapter Summary

Hermione has a talk with Ginny. Lucius takes the final exam for Muggle Studies, and he
and Hermione have dinner as a couple.

Chapter Notes

Here it is: the end. I wrapped up as many loose ends as I could. Hopefully you'll enjoy
it. :) This chapter contains the first sex scene I've ever actually posted, so even though
I've revised it to the point where I'm personally happy with it, I'm still a bit nervous
about how you'll all like it.... Fingers crossed!

Slight warning--there is some mild oral sex, in that it happens, but it's not very graphic.

Thank you all again for reading and commenting! :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Life was bliss. Hermione stayed the week-end, and while she laid out ground rules, she
allowed Lucius to hold her hand and kiss her and be close to her when they were alone. He
was very sternly prohibited from touching her at Hogwarts, but he could live with that.

She was his . His . Not fully, not until June, but she had promised herself to him. Lucius
couldn’t stop smiling, feeling incredibly light and cheerful. She loved him . He was still
more than a little dazed whenever he thought about it, awed and humbled by his good fortune
in somehow winning her affection.

Narcissa and Andrew were amused but clearly happy for him, and they went back home after
joining them all for breakfast on Saturday. The only thing that marred Lucius’s mood at all
was Draco.

Poor Draco remained miserably unhappy, though he tried to act normal for their sake, so as
not to spoil their joy. Both of them saw through the act, though, as Lucius discovered when
Draco had gone off somewhere and Hermione brought it up.

‘I don’t know how we can help him,’ she said sadly. ‘I wish I could figure out what’s holding
Ginny back.’

‘She doesn’t love him,’ Lucius said blankly, thinking this was obvious.
Hermione smiled, patting his thigh. ‘She does, she just doesn’t know if she wants to marry
him. I told you, she’s very confused. She does love him, though. She’s been a wreck ever
since she said no, and she wouldn’t be this upset if at least a part of her didn’t want to marry
him.’

He absorbed this, frowning. ‘I wish you could figure out what her trouble is, too, then. I
don’t want either of them to be unhappy.’

‘Neither do I.’ She paused. ‘I’ll try to talk to her this week, see if I can’t help her sort it out.
If she could verbalise it, maybe she could figure out what she really wants.’

‘If anyone can help her, you can,’ Lucius asserted confidently, and was rewarded with her
cuddling up against him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘Ginny, this has to stop,’ Hermione said sharply. ‘I’m tired of him moping. I’m tired of you
moping. Both of you want to be together, so what is the problem?’

She was much harsher than she’d intended to be, but Ginny had made herself scarce as soon
as she realised what Hermione wanted to talk about. It had taken her two weeks to corner the
erstwhile redhead. Only Lucius’s commiseration (and accompanying foot massages) had
kept her from hexing Ginny out of sheer frustration.

Ginny sat sulking on her sofa now, toying with the fraying corner of Hermione’s favourite
cushion and refusing to look at her. It had taken a combination of persistence on Hermione’s
part and Mrs Weasley’s threat that she could always be the one to talk to Ginny to get her
over here. She much preferred talking to Hermione about it to talking to her mother about it,
which was what Hermione had been banking on when she brought Mrs Weasley in on the
hunt.

‘I don’t know,’ Ginny said stubbornly, but Hermione knew her too well.

‘You’re lying,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve had plenty of time to think about this. What is the
issue here?’

Ginny sank a little deeper into the sofa. ‘I don’t want to get married, that’s all.’

Hermione fumed. ‘Yes, we all got that--but why ? You’ve already said you have no political
opinion about marriage, it’s a longstanding tradition in wizarding society, and you’ve shown
no signs of feeling rebellious about the idea before now--I caught you writing “Mrs Ginny
Potter” on your notes in school, remember? So why does it suddenly bother you now?’

Ginny’s chin quivered. ‘I just….’

She trailed off. Hermione sighed, softening. She knew this was hard, but it had gone on for
far too long. Still, she made an effort to quell the urge to start yelling, demanding answers.

‘I don’t want to stop being Ginny,’ she said finally, flushing with embarrassment.

Hermione blinked. ‘Why would you stop being Ginny?’

She shrugged, ducking her head.

‘Ginny, being in love doesn’t mean you stop being who you are,’ Hermione said, enunciating
slowly and carefully. ‘Getting married doesn’t have to mean that, either. In healthy
marriages, neither person has to stop being who they are. Sure, they might make little
changes or compromises to make the relationship work, but nobody should be sacrificing
their identity or sense of self in a functional relationship.’ She paused, frowning as a thought
occurred. ‘Has Draco made you feel like you need to change?’

‘No!’ Ginny protested immediately, whipping around to look at her with hurt on Draco’s
behalf. ‘He likes me the way I am! He says so all the time.’ She suddenly smiled, teary-
eyed. ‘Although I think he was lying about liking the way I smell after practise. No one
likes sweat and body odour and broom polish. He just didn’t want me to feel bad about not
having time to shower.’

Hermione smiled gently. ‘Then there you go. Draco doesn’t want you to change. Where did
you get the idea that you had to change who you are after you get married?’

Ginny shifted unhappily. ‘Well…Mum is always talking about all the things she used to do
before she got married. She used to be fun ! Did you know she didn’t even know how to knit
before she married Dad? She used to go to Quidditch matches with her brothers, and she was
a three-time Gobstones champion at school! Now all she does is cook and clean, and knit
ugly jumpers, and worry her fool head that one of us is going to choke and die from laughing
too hard, or some other silly nonsense….’

Hermione shook her head, her smile broadening. ‘Oh, Ginny. Do you really think your dad--
your sweet dad, who worships the ground your mum walks on-- demanded that she become
someone completely different? Does that sound like something your dad would do?’

‘No,’ she admitted guiltily, averting her eyes to the fraying cushion again.

‘Your mum changed because she became a mother, not because she got married,’ Hermione
explained kindly. ‘And she became a mother because she wanted to be a mother. She and
your father undoubtedly discussed it and planned it--well, at least the first time,’ she
amended, grinning. ‘They wanted to have children--both of them. And while I haven’t
experienced it personally, I have it on good authority that having children seriously alters
your priorities, if you’re even halfway decent of a parent, anyway. My parents wanted to
move to Australia before they had me, but they decided not to because they wanted my
grandparents to be able to spend time with me before they passed on--and afterward, they
waited because I was already established at school.
‘And look at Lucius! He’s a self-proclaimed terrible father, and even he changed his
priorities to accommodate Draco’s existence. Do you think Lucius cared half as much about
making sure pure-bloods stayed on top before Draco came along? He told me himself that
while he always cared, his obsession with it tripled after Draco was born, because he wanted
to make sure Draco would have a secure future! Before Draco, Lucius was set on being
Minister for Magic someday.’

Ginny spluttered out a laugh. ‘Seriously?!’

‘Yep. He gave that up because he thought Draco being Voldemort’s top man someday was a
much better goal.’ She chuckled and shook her head. ‘Your mum gave up going to
Quidditch matches and being a Gobstones champion and all those other things because they
weren’t important to her anymore--or at least not as important to her as raising her children
and making sure they grew up well-fed, in a clean, cosy home, wearing ugly knitted
jumpers,’ she added, grinning. ‘I’m not saying she doesn’t have regrets, but she chose to
change who she was, not anyone else. She did it because she loves your dad, and she loves
all of you. My point is, if you do change after you get married, it’s not going to be because
anyone forced you to, and you won’t stop being yourself. You’re a different person now than
you were when you were five, and you don’t feel like you’re not you, do you?’

Ginny shook her head, her eyes wide as she absorbed these ideas.

‘Then there you go.’ Hermione paused, drawing a much-needed breath. ‘If you really don’t
want to marry Draco, that’s fine--go find someone else, or be single for a while. Heal. Move
on. But if you’re only refusing to marry him because you’re afraid that you’ll lose yourself,
then I think you should quit worrying and ask Draco if the offer is still on the table. Draco
fell in love with you because of who you are; he’s not going to try to change you or mould
you into someone you’re not. If he wanted someone different, he would have moved on to
dating someone else a long time ago.’

There was a moment of silence, and then Ginny launched herself at Hermione, squeezing her
in a tight hug.

‘Thanks, Hermione,’ she sniffled. ‘Why do you know everything?’

‘I’m amazing,’ Hermione said flippantly--or as flippantly as she could when her windpipe
was being squished by Ginny’s shoulder--patting Ginny’s back. ‘Now, I’m in a very
important relationship with oxygen that I’d like to resume sometime soon, if you don’t mind.’

Ginny quickly let go, but didn’t move away, wiping her nose on her sleeve until Hermione
rolled her eyes and handed her a handkerchief.

‘Sorry,’ she said thickly.

Hermione shrugged. ‘Not a problem.’

Ginny mustered a watery smile. ‘So I take it things are going well with Lucius? We’ve
barely seen either of you the last two Thursdays--as soon as dinner was over, you escaped to
the library, it seems like.’
She felt her cheeks warming. ‘Oh--oh, yes, things are going very well with Lucius, mm-
hmm.’

That hadn’t come out nearly as calmly and casually as she’d intended.

Ginny’s tentative smile turned into a full-fledged grin. ‘Tell me! What happened?’

Her face got hotter, and she tried not to smile, but it was a lost cause. ‘Well. He kissed me,
according to him because he thought it was the only way to convince me not to go out with
Gerard again, and we were spotted by a student, because of course we were. I flipped out and
screamed at him to leave.’

Ginny winced. ‘Oooh, that had to hurt.’

‘Yes. He spent the next three days refusing to move. Meanwhile, I hunted down the student
and secured her silence on the subject. Then Narcissa Malf--I mean, Narcissa Black turned
up and played relationship counselor between us, straightening me out on what Lucius
thought had happened, because, as it turns out, he thought I was afraid of him and thought he
was some kind of evil Death Eater monster, and he was intent on just lying there until he
died,’ she said tightly, because the memory alone still made her throat try to close. ‘Because
apparently, he got it into his head from watching Star Wars that the only way an evil person
can redeem themselves is by dying.’

Ginny blinked. ‘That’s awful!’

‘It’s more common in both Muggle and Wizarding stories than you think,’ Hermione said
dryly. ‘Anyway, after Narcissa told me what he was doing, I went to him and apologised for
my reaction. He wasn’t moved, so…I… may have confessed my feelings to him,’ she
concluded, wincing slightly.

To her surprise, Ginny clapped her hands and let out a delighted squeal.

‘I thought you said that was a bad idea?’ she said, blinking in puzzlement.

‘Well, yeah, back when you thought he might still secretly hate you, but he kissed you first,
so obviously he doesn’t!’ Ginny said excitedly. ‘And you’re both adults, I’m assuming you
can hold off on the sex until after his probation is over. So you told him you love him, what
happened then?’

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that blossomed on her face. ‘He told me he loves me, too.’

Ginny probably squealed again, given her expression, but Hermione thought that probably
only dogs could hear it.

‘Well, we talked about it, and we’re going to allow ourselves some kisses and cuddles--in
private only, for now, of course--until the end of the school year, and we’re going to have our
first official date on June 6, at seven o’clock at my flat,’ Hermione finished, grinning so hard
she felt like her cheeks might split.
‘Oh, my gosh, I am so happy for you right now I don’t even know what to do with myself!!’
Ginny cried. ‘Can I squish you again?! Just for a minute!’

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded, and tolerated being squeezed in another hug for a full
sixty seconds.

‘So what are you going to do about Draco, then?’ she asked when Ginny released her.

Ginny shrugged. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They didn’t have to wait long. The very next day, Ginny and Draco were, to all appearances,
glued together at the hip, going around as one smiling, giggling, blissfully happy unit. They
announced that they were getting married in October, and the Weasley family went absolutely
insane for several weeks as they caught wedding fever. Hermione stayed far, far away from
all of them for a while--not that it was in any way a problem for her to be at Malfoy Manor
instead. Lucius reported that Draco was still completely insufferable to be around, but in the
total opposite direction, when she stopped by to have lunch with him one day.

‘He keeps humming some ridiculous love song I’d never heard before and never wish to hear
again, and he drifts off into thinking about her right in the middle of a conversation,’ he
groused. ‘I actually smacked him yesterday to get his attention, and he didn’t even flinch,
just said, “Oh, sorry, what were you saying?” Never mind that he was the one who’d been in
the middle of saying something! Please tell me I’m not acting that daffy?’

Hermione laughed. ‘Well, not around me, anyway, so I think you’re safe. At least he’s
happy, right?’

Lucius sighed. ‘Right.’

But he continued to look so put-upon that Hermione decided that they needed to eat their
lunch on the sofa, so they could have a good long cuddle in the limited time she had between
classes. Lucius latched onto the idea with a flattering amount of enthusiasm and practically
dragged her out of the kitchen.

They also spent a gloriously uninterrupted break together during the Easter hols, as Ginny
still insisted that Malfoy Manor was depressingly black, and Draco had no qualms about
staying at her flat. He packed a bag and left, whistling cheerfully, and Hermione Flooed
through to her flat long enough to retrieve her own suitcase. The hardest part was sleeping in
separate rooms, but, to her surprise, Lucius was the strong one on that topic.

‘You’re not some easy floozy,’ he said, giving a haughty sniff. ‘You deserve at least a proper
date before I take you to bed.’
Hermione was disappointed, but touched and flattered that he held her in such high esteem
that he was even denying himself, simply on principle--as he clearly was, if the number of
cold showers he took, and the longing glances she received when she headed for her assigned
room each evening, were any indication. She tried her best not to tempt him, but even when
she wore her frumpiest clothing, his expression was full of desire and he couldn’t seem to
keep his hands off of her. She couldn’t exactly blame him, as she was having a great deal of
trouble restraining herself, as well--although he didn’t help matters, as he once emerged from
taking a bath wearing only a towel, purely for the pleasure of watching her squirm and sit on
her hands to keep from ripping the towel off, grinning wickedly at her the whole time. He
only retreated to get dressed when he was too cold to avoid it.

At long last, the Easter holidays were over, and they returned to their normal routine.
Hermione was more relieved than anything else, as she had been at the end of her rope by
the end of the break.

Draco and Ginny resurfaced long enough to have dinner with them the next Saturday. Lucius
took the opportunity to casually mention that it might be easier for Draco to move out if he
took all of his things at once, rather than one bag at a time--the bag at the beginning of break
was not the first to disappear into Ginny’s flat and never return.

Draco turned red. ‘I was going to tell you,’ he sputtered, shamefaced.

Ginny patted his hand. ‘What he means to say is that we were planning to discuss that with
you tonight,’ she said calmly. ‘Along with the fact that we’ve begun house hunting.’

Hermione braced herself, but to her surprise, Lucius merely nodded thoughtfully. A glance
around the table proved that she wasn’t the only one surprised by that.

‘Spring is a good time of year for it,’ he said amiably.

Ginny’s brows rose, and she seemed to take his good-natured response as a sign that now was
the time to dump all of the news on him at once.

‘Also, Hermione and I have spoken to my parents,’ she went on, with uncharacteristic
delicacy. ‘As it is currently nearly impossible for them to speak with you privately, even on
Thursdays, my parents have asked me to inform you that you are most welcome in their
home, and that they would be greatly pleased if you would join us on Tuesdays for dinner.’

Ginny and Draco cringed in anticipation of an explosion; Hermione only smiled.

Lucius looked deeply moved by this gesture of goodwill. ‘Please relay my thanks,’ he said
quietly. ‘And tell them that I will be honoured to accept their kind invitation as soon as I am
at liberty to do so.’

Draco and Ginny appeared slightly stunned for the remainder of the evening.

Time passed quickly, but not quickly enough. Lucius had finished all of his homework for
the rest of the term by the first week of April, but he continued to tweak and alter his final
presentation, while Hermione did her best to haul the Goyles up to a passing grade. He also
had his follow-up exam and was declared fit, other than the continuing body temperature
problem. Draco and Ginny were scarce to be found, and the rest of the Weasleys were so
proud that their little girl was getting married that they were all on cloud nine. It also helped
when Bill and Fleur had their baby, a girl, on May 2.

Luna and Rolf ended their attachment in early May, and Hermione noted with interest that
Harry began spending more and more time by her side at the various gatherings and dinners.
Neville was silent on the subject, but as far as she could tell, he and the younger Goyle were
still an item--at least, both of them turned red and tried not to smile when the other was
casually mentioned, so that was a positive sign. Ron seemed content to be single, searching
for a flat now that his mother was amenable to the idea of him moving out. It seemed that
Victoire (the new baby girl) and the promise of more grandchildren in the near future had
loosened her grip on her children just a little.

Hermione and Lucius took turns marking the days off on his calendar, waiting with barely
contained anticipation for him to finally be free.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius gave his presentation on May 30, and barely mustered the patience to sit through the
rest of the presentations that day and on Thursday. He and Hermione had mutually agreed
that they probably shouldn’t spend the week-end together, given their increasingly low self-
control, so he spent most of the week-end pacing and pawing through his robes for something
she hadn’t seen on him before. He couldn’t remember all of them, though, so finally he
settled on a tailored forest green robe she seemed to favour, as her eyes darkened every time
she saw it on him and she couldn’t seem to resist touching him. Well, more than usual.

Monday brought Draco’s birthday, and Lucius did his best to be cheerful and not annoying
and fidgety during the overzealous celebrations (courtesy of the Weasley twins spiking the
punch with some concoction of theirs, which Draco, Lucius, Harry and Hermione had wisely
avoided).

At long, long, long last, though, it was Tuesday. Lucius arrived early, as was his wont, and
was surprised to find Kingsley and an Auror he didn’t know waiting with Hermione.

‘I’m going to personally proctor your exam in Hermione’s office,’ Kingsley explained
quickly when Lucius stopped and stared at them. ‘Just in case there are any accusations of
impropriety. Mr Collins here will be assessing it as soon as you’re finished.’

‘Oh,’ Lucius said, nearly collapsing with relief.

He couldn’t remember violating any rules, but he’d still instinctively gone into panic mode
anyway. He followed them into Hermione’s office, trying to smile when she offered him a
thumbs-up, and in a moment was settled at her desk with the exam and a Ministry-approved
anti-cheating quill pen, trying to concentrate under Collins and Kingsley’s watchful eyes.
 The minutes ticked by, and Lucius tried not to squirm or sweat. He knew all of this
information. It would be fine, he told himself, but he didn’t believe himself.

He finished long before the two-hour mark, and that, too, made him anxious. What if he’d
missed something? It seemed too easy--what if they’d been trick questions and he’d failed
them all? These thoughts kept him sweating and fidgeting while Collins read over his
answers with a serious expression.

The man smiled when he looked up, though, and Lucius blew out an explosive breath,
causing both Collins and Kingsley to chuckle.

‘Yes, you can relax now, Mr Malfoy,’ Collins assured him. ‘You’ve secured an Outstanding
on your exam.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said faintly, and sat in the nearest chair before he could fall.

No Azkaban. No Azkaban , ever again.

He blinked hard and cleared his throat a few times, feeling suddenly choked up. Neither man
commented, thankfully.

Collins passed the exam over to Kingsley and excused himself; Kingsley pulled out a thick
folder and began thumbing through it, grunting to himself every now and then. At last, he put
the exam in the folder and snapped it shut.

‘And you’ve passed Muggle Studies with an Outstanding as well,’ he said, smiling. ‘So, as
the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I am authorised to inform you that
your probation is officially over as of now. All restrictive wards will be removed from your
property, and I will inform your son that he may return your wand to you.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucius repeated breathlessly, a bit dizzy with the relief of hearing it.

Kingsley chuckled again. ‘You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Malfoy, I’ve got
some work to do.’

Lucius inclined his head and Kingsley left. He couldn’t seem to get up out of the chair just
yet, as his legs had gone rather shaky on him. He was still sitting there when Hermione
entered, her expression growing immediately concerned when she spotted him.

‘Hi,’ he said sheepishly.

She shut the door and crossed to his side, kneeling between his legs, her hands moving to
check his temperature and his pulse.

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. ‘Just…weak with relief.’

‘Relief?’ She pulled back slightly, grinning. ‘Then you passed? Of course you passed. I
knew you would.’
He nodded unsteadily. ‘An Outstanding, across the board. And my probation is over. No
more passes to go out, no more Azkaban.’

He grew a little stronger just saying the words, straightening his spine, and the rest of his
strength returned when Hermione chose to congratulate him by craning her neck and kissing
him deeply. He grinned a bit goofily when she pulled away, but she didn’t seem to mind,
grinning back at him.

‘Well,’ he said at last, rising when she stood and moved aside. ‘I have to go home and
retrieve my wand. And also, I have a hot date to prepare for tonight.’

Hermione blushed most becomingly. ‘Oh, yes? Is she pretty?’ she fished.

Lucius hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close with a growl. ‘She is quite
possibly the most divine creature ever to set foot on the face of the earth,’ he obliged her,
dropping kisses along her cheekbone, exalting in his ability to do so without restraint this
time. ‘I can hardly breathe when I see her. Therefore, I must work extra hard on my
appearance so she won’t be ashamed to be seen with me, should any of her friends
unexpectedly drop by,’ he added practically.

She giggled, swatting his shoulder. ‘Oh, you. Fine, go get your wand. Oh, and hex Draco
once for me, will you?’

He smirked. ‘Not a problem.’

To his surprise, Draco was waiting in the entrance hall when he got home. In his hand was
Lucius’s cane, complete with wand.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’ he demanded.

Draco shrugged. ‘Kingsley stopped by and told me the good news, so I figured it would be
cruel to make you wait any longer for this,’ he said, extending the cane.

Lucius snatched it and pulled the wand out, kissing it several times. ‘Ah, there you are. Did
you miss me? I missed you,’ he cooed at it.

It had certainly missed him, despite their very brief acquaintance previous to his probation, if
the green sparks it shot out in response were any indication.

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Are you seriously talking to your wand?’

Lucius petted the wand. ‘Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous because I love you more.’

Draco snorted out a laugh. ‘Okay, well, before I leave you two alone for some, uh, private
time , I have something for you.’

‘Wha--?’

He broke off, blinking at the brightly-wrapped package.

Draco grinned cheekily. ‘Happy birthday, old man.’

Lucius raised a brow at him and reluctantly accepted the package, cautiously ripping the
wrapping.

‘It won’t bite, I promise,’ said Draco, laughing.

He ripped off the rest of the paper and rolled his eyes at the mug, unable to stop himself from
smiling. It read ‘Not the Worst Dad Ever.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ he chuckled.

‘I couldn’t find one, but I had it made,’ Draco said proudly. ‘So now you won’t forget.’

‘Brilliant. Thank you.’

Draco just shot him another cheeky grin and made to prance from the room. Lucius had no
compunctions whatsoever about shooting a Leg-Locker after him.

‘ Hey !’ Draco cried from the hall.

Lucius smiled to himself and sheathed his wand in its cane holder with a flourish.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At precisely seven o’clock, Lucius stood before Hermione’s door. He had considered
Flooing over, but considered that to be slightly tacky, given that this was supposed to be a
date, and he had opted to get there by other means instead. This had involved demanding to
know Hermione’s exact address from Harry, and then, since he didn’t know any of the
Apparation points in the area (if there were any), he Apparated to a spot as close as he could
and took a cab from there (which he had planned for ahead of time by procuring some
Muggle money from Harry). It made him feel rather accomplished, so he was quite smug
and pleased with himself when he knocked.

Hermione opened the door and did a double-take, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

‘I didn’t expect you to arrive this way!’ she said breathlessly.

‘These are for you,’ he said, producing the bouquet he’d purchased.

Hermione turned that becoming shade of red again and took them. ‘Come in. I’ll get a vase
for these,’ she said with uncharacteristic shyness.

Lucius obediently followed her inside, openly looking around to study her décor while she
puttered in the kitchen, searching for a vase. There actually wasn’t much in the way of
decoration--there were a few pictures of her cat and her friends scattered here and there,
mostly on end tables or the coffee table. The wall space was taken up entirely by bookcases,
save for two windows, and every bookcase was packed full, and there were still books
stacked and strewn around the room. It was, he realised, too small a space for her. Her book
collection had outgrown the tiny flat, if nothing else.

Crookshanks came over and rubbed himself against Lucius’s leg, begging for a quick ear rub.
Lucius obliged, and then grimaced when he realised that the dastardly cat had left a clump of
orange hair on his trouser leg.

‘You’re fortunate I’m a wizard, cat,’ he said with mock sternness as he vanished the mess.

Crookshanks merely flicked his tail and continued on his way.

Hermione finally emerged, smiling brightly, and set the flowers in the middle of her table,
replacing the fake flowers she’d had as a centerpiece. The table was set for two, and she had
lit tapered candles. Lucius smiled, thinking that there was no way this could not be perfect.

He was mostly right. They quickly fell into their normal patterns of conversation, and the
food was delicious (naturally). Hermione cheerfully told him that every student had passed
her class--even, miraculously enough, the Goyles. It only got awkward after dessert, as
Hermione kept fidgeting and eyeing the door to what must have been her bedroom. She
didn’t seem to know how to proceed. Lucius wanted to help her, but he was rather at a loss
as well. Since his first marriage had been arranged, there had been no shy, awkward
flirtations on their first date, and they were both fine with waiting until the wedding night to
engage in any other activities.

Lucius was not fine with waiting until he married her to have Hermione. He had every
intention of marrying her, and that would have to be enough.

‘Hermione,’ he said finally, using the soft, deep tone that never failed to grab her attention.

Sure enough, her eyes snapped to him and she swallowed convulsively. Lucius took her
hand, feeling her slight trembling.

Okay, or maybe he was fine with waiting, if Hermione needed him to.

‘We don’t have to do anything, if you’re not ready,’ he said gently. ‘It’s been a lovely night.
We can leave it at that, if you’d like.’

She shook her head quickly. ‘No, I want you to stay! I….’ She blushed and bit her lip. ‘I
just couldn’t figure out how to ask you if you’d like to adjourn to the bedroom without
sounding like a harlot,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Lucius laughed, caught off-guard. ‘That was just perfect. You could never sound like a
harlot.’

She ducked her head, or tried to, but Lucius caught her chin with his finger and drew her
toward him.
He decided that he would remember this kiss as their first and forget about all the ones that
came before. She was immediately responsive, her arms snaking around his neck, and he
could feel the moment that she lit with desire, her body tensing against his, pouring her
passion into him. His own breathing picked up, and he broke off the kiss to lead her to the
bedroom before he lost control of himself. She deserved to have her first time be in a bed,
not on a sofa. She followed without resistance, clinging to his hand with both of hers.

He didn’t take the time to scope out his surroundings this time, just kicked the door shut and
turned back to the business of making love to her. If he’d still been in doubt of her affections
before, she left him no room for doubt now, kissing him deeply and frequently between
attempting to remove his clothing with trembling fingers.

He found himself having similar troubles, his hands shaking as he tried to get her out of the
lovely pink evening gown she’d donned for the occasion. Much as he admired it, and how it
hugged her in all the right places, it had to go.

Hermione was successful before he was, and he involuntarily groaned as soon as her fingers
touched his bare skin, jerking slightly at the shock of it. Her hands had always been soft and
warm and perfect, and now they proved they were skilled, too, as they lightly skimmed and
teased across his chest, down his stomach, finally resting at the waist of his trousers.

He redoubled his efforts to get her out of the dress, and finally had some success. Her bra
went much more easily. She gasped, temporarily derailed, when he cupped one of her
breasts--but it was his turn to be derailed from his purpose when he touched the scar that ran
alongside it. Lucius stopped cold and lightly traced the end of it.

She had two such scars, both from Dolohov. One, older, fading with time, came up
crookedly between her breasts, meandering toward the left and stopping a few inches short of
her collarbone. The other was newer, shiny and pink and rough on the edges, making a
nearly straight line up to her shoulder. He could see her, bloody and unconscious as he tried
frantically to save her, and his throat tightened.

Hermione’s hand covered his, redirecting his attention.

‘They don’t hurt,’ she said softly.

Lucius didn’t have any words, so he put his apology into a kiss, making his way from her
mouth to her throat, down to the older scar from the Department of Mysteries. He slid her
dress down as he followed the scar downward. She gasped again when his tongue flicked
across her stomach, right where her ribcage ended, and he lingered there for a moment
longer, his own desire flaring as he felt her breathing pick up.

‘Lucius,’ she suddenly choked out, wrapping a lock of his hair around her fingers and
tugging upward.

He obediently rose, but before he could inquire if she was all right, she was back to attacking
his trousers. He couldn’t help a little grin at her eagerness.
Hermione caught him grinning and pouted. ‘Don’t laugh at me!’ she protested jokingly. ‘It’s
not my fault you’ve never heard of zippers.’

He chuckled and helped her with the last of the buttons. He was almost instantly rewarded;
she shoved his trousers and boxers down in one move and got on her knees, and then she was
touching him, and it was fortunate that the bed was right behind him, because his legs
buckled. He’d known that she had some experience with what he considered foreplay, thanks
to Ron and Viktor, but he hadn’t been fully prepared for how practised she was. She was also
very adaptable, because she had soon adjusted her style to suit him, somehow picking up on
his cues even though he was trying to keep still and quiet.

Lucius yelped in surprise when her mouth closed around the tip, though, his whole body
jerking.

She immediately released him and raised her head. ‘Is that not okay?’ she asked nervously.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he panted, gripping the edge of the bed. ‘I just wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know
you…did that.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Not often. Never with Ron, since he wouldn’t prove to me that he was
clean. A few times with Viktor, but it wasn’t very enjoyable for me, so he didn’t request it
very often.’

Lucius frowned, reaching out to trace her jawline with a trembling hand. ‘I don’t want you to
do anything you don’t enjoy doing.’

She pursed her lips, her eyes unfocusing as she pondered. ‘It’s different with you,’ she said
finally. ‘I don’t know if I’ll like it, but I’d like to try, if you’ll let me.’

He was hardly going to refuse! ‘Be my guest,’ he said, smiling.

She smiled back and turned to examine his hardened length. He briefly wondered how he
compared with her two former lovers, but she seemed well pleased, if the covetous look on
her face was any indication, and soon he wasn’t able to think much at all, his brain
temporarily going offline when Hermione returned to her intended activity. She was good at
that, too, and the fact that it was her , that she was doing this for him, without being asked,
was a heady feeling. He was enjoying himself very much.

Maybe a little too much.

‘Stop, stop, stop,’ he forced through his lust-fogged brain.

Hermione desisted right away, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth. ‘Are you
okay? Did I do it badly?’

He laughed breathlessly. ‘No, my love, you did it just perfect,’ he panted. ‘But I’m not
twenty anymore, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be up for…more if you make me…you
know…right now,’ he explained, embarrassed. ‘At least not for a while.’
She blinked at him curiously. ‘You mean if I make you orgasm?’ she said evenly, not a hint
of a blush on her cheeks.

He choked a little, but nodded. He could do the deeds, but he’d never been very comfortable
with using the words…. It had disappointed Narcissa occasionally, as she’d enjoyed dirty
talk in bed once in a while.

Hermione grinned. ‘Awww, are you shy?’ she teased.

‘The acts are beautiful,’ Lucius sniffed disdainfully, ‘the words are…not.’

She gave a delighted giggle and raised up to her knees again, settling between his thighs.

‘That is so cute,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I think I’m going to have to have another kiss.’

‘Glad to oblige,’ he said, and did.

He was gratified to see that there wasn’t a trace of amusement left on her face when he pulled
away, just desire. Desire for him . His head still spun a bit at the idea.

‘Join me up here,’ he said huskily.

Hermione gladly clambered up on the bed beside him, kicking off her shoes as she went.

‘All the way naked?’ she asked, looking slightly giddy at the idea.

‘I’m nearly there anyway, so why not?’

She let out a little excited squeal and began wriggling out of her panties and nylons. Lucius
watched her with keen interest, bending down briefly to remove his shoes and socks, and toss
them and his trousers and boxers aside. Her abdominal muscles rippled in a most fascinating
way as she wriggled around, and soon he couldn’t resist helping her, eliciting a surprised
laugh from her.

She lay there panting, staring up at him with a rather dazed smile and dancing eyes as he
studied her, smoothing a hand across the flat of her stomach. She was studying him, too, but
at the moment he didn’t care at all what she thought of his body, too entranced with hers to
feel self-conscious about his age and lack of condition (although he’d been regaining some,
slowly, ever since he was permitted to access his gardens and since Hermione had been
keeping him so well fed).

‘Oh, my God, you’re perfect,’ he ground out, and moved to her.

Her skin was every bit as creamy and soft as he’d imagined in his dreams, but he couldn’t
have anticipated the taste of her, the smell of her. He was enveloped in mahogany and old
books, and all he could taste was her--she didn’t taste like anything else he’d ever tasted
before, and the more he had of her, the more he wanted. He registered that she was touching
him, too, her fingers leaving trails of fire on his skin as she explored, drawing a muffled
moan from him.
By the time he settled between her knees, nudging them apart, she was breathing heavily and
moaning from time to time, looking at him with very dark eyes, balling her hands around the
bedspread now that she couldn’t reach him to go on petting and exploring him.

He offered her a shaky smile to reassure her, but he didn’t think he could speak now if his life
depended on it. She just went on watching him, so he took that as permission and dipped his
head down. She let out a very high-pitched noise as soon as he made contact, but she didn’t
try to stop him, actually spreading her legs a little wider to encourage him. He was very
encouraged, and got a hand in on the act now that he could fit his arm up, although his elbow
dug rather uncomfortably into her leg. It was worth it, though, because it wasn’t long before
he had her toes curling, arching and rocking her hips and making guttural noises he wouldn’t
have expected from her.

She tasted divine.

When she reached her peak, Lucius crawled up her body and lay alongside, propping his head
up on his hand and watching her, letting her recover.

She blinked at him foggily. ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said hoarsely.

He shrugged a little. ‘I wanted to.’

This statement earned him another kiss, this one a bit rough and sloppy, but enthusiastic and
passionate for all that. She flopped back down, panting hard, and he lovingly wiped some of
the sweat from her brow with his thumb.

‘Ron and Viktor wouldn’t do that,’ she said after a while. ‘They would use their fingers, but
they said it would be gross to use their mouths.’

Lucius snorted. ‘The stupidity of youth. You taste wonderful.’

She blushed hard, and now that she was naked, he could see that her blush extended all the
way to the tops of her perfect breasts.

‘And it’s only gross if it’s not clean,’ he added. ‘Or if it’s… ahem .’

He felt his face heat a little at the thought, and Hermione grinned, some of the fog lifting.

‘You mean if it’s that time of the month?’ she asked teasingly.

‘Um…yes.’

She giggled. ‘I wouldn’t want you down there if that was the case anyway. I don’t feel like
having any kind of sexual activity when I’m on my period.’

‘Oh, good,’ he said, relieved.

She slid her hand up his stomach to toy with his nipple, and he gasped involuntarily.

‘I’m ready if you are,’ she said, smiling coyly.

If he hadn’t been ready, he would have been then, as desire exploded through him at the
statement, lighting his nerve endings. He chose to answer her with a deep kiss, rolling onto
her.

‘Ouch,’ she said when he pulled away. ‘Your knee is--’

‘Oh, sorry.’ He quickly readjusted. ‘Better?’

She nodded and they were able to resume. She went completely rigid, whimpering, when he
reached a hand down to her slickened core, his thumb rolling over her clit.

‘All right?’ he asked softly.

Hermione nodded quickly, but couldn’t seem to speak. He accepted her answer and resumed,
scissoring his fingers within her. He wanted her as stretched and lubricated as possible
before he even attempted to enter her--he’d never been with a virgin, but he’d heard the first
time could be painful without proper preparations.

That was a thought. ‘You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?’ he asked, but didn’t really expect her
to say no.

‘Yes,’ she said breathily. ‘Gerard and I never touched.’

His desire ratcheted up several more degrees, and he had to mentally recite the Greek
alphabet to keep from losing control of himself. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he had to
maintain at least some measure of control.

Finally, Hermione grew impatient. ‘Inside me, please?’ she begged, wrapping her arms
around his neck and her legs around his hips.

‘All right, shhh,’ he soothed her.

She was prepared enough, he thought. He carefully guided himself into the correct
alignment, tentatively pushing forward. She hissed in a breath and clutched at him, but there
was no pain in her face, at least not yet. They fit together just right, Lucius realised, a flutter
of joy flashing through his chest. He inched forward, slowly and carefully, watching her face
for any signs of discomfort.

She flinched briefly when he broke through her hymen, but the pain almost immediately
faded and she urged him on. Lucius obliged her, moving a little more quickly.

At long last, he was fully seated within her, and he moaned softly, pressing his forehead
against hers, resting briefly, savouring the moment. She was all around him, her body and
her scent and her love enveloping him. It was like being inside her mind again, wrapped in
her warm golden light, and he felt just as perfectly safe and welcome and at home as he had
when nestled in her mental library.

Hermione held him a little tighter, sighing contentedly, and he knew without asking that she
felt the same.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lucius was curled around Hermione, his eyes closed as he drifted. He was tired, but not tired
enough to sleep. Mostly, he was content just to lie there, his nose buried in Hermione’s wild
curls, basking in the afterglow. He couldn’t tell if she wanted to sleep or not; she was idly
running her fingers back and forth through the hairs on the arm he had settled around her
waist.

He knew she was thinking about something, but he wasn’t worried yet. She had been very
vocally pleased with the whole experience, and even more vocally pleased with Lucius in
particular. If she had a complaint, he was certain she would have voiced it before now.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Happy birthday.’

His eyes opened. He’d quite forgotten that already.

‘Oh,’ he said blankly. ‘Thank you.’

‘I have something for you.’

He forced himself to move, to sit up enough to look at her face. She was smiling.

He frowned. ‘Something besides what you just gave me?’

Hermione chuckled. ‘That was for both of us. This is your birthday present.’

She slid out of his grasp and stiffly scurried across the room, digging a package out of a
drawer before scurrying to climb back under the covers with him. He immediately pulled her
close again, missing her warmth even for those brief seconds.

‘Go on,’ she urged, grinning.

Lucius reluctantly took the package and ripped it open. And then he stared at it.

Slowly, he started to grin.

‘The Millennium Falcon ?!’ he cried. ‘How did you know?’

He tore into the box while Hermione laughed.

‘A hunch,’ she said lightly. ‘The fact that you whispered “Wicked” every time you saw it on
the screen was a bit of a hint that maybe you’d like to have a model of it.’
 He admired it for a while once he had it loose, but finally remembered that he should
probably thank her and kissed her briefly.

‘Thank you, my love,’ he said brightly. ‘That’s much better than Draco’s present.’

Hermione raised a brow. ‘Oh, dear. What did he get you? A poster that says “Ginny
Weasley rocks my world”?’

He snorted. ‘No, although I wouldn’t put it past him to give us all something Ginny-related
at Christmas. He got me a mug that proclaims that I am not, in fact, the worst dad ever.’

She stared at him for a moment before sputtering out a laugh. ‘Well, that’s different.’

‘It’s my own fault,’ Lucius admitted wryly. ‘I suggested it.’

She giggled again, shaking her head, and watching her eyes dance, seeing her beautiful smile,
feeling her gorgeous body pressed up against him, one of her hands affectionately stroking
back and forth on his stomach, all of his carefully laid plans flew out the window.

His amusement faded and he stared at her intently. Her expression grew puzzled as she
sensed his shifting mood, but she didn’t tense or flee, or show any sign of nerves or fear, just
curiosity and concern.

She was perfect, and she loved him, and he wanted to wake up to her every morning for the
rest of his life.

‘Hermione, will you marry me?’ he asked quietly, simply.

No speeches, no theatrical gestures, just offering her his heart on a platter. He waited.

Hermione’s hesitation was brief, borne more of surprise than anything else, and then, after
that frozen moment, she smiled--the brightest smile Lucius had ever seen on her face, shining
with love and pure joy.

He could breathe again, and returned the smile, relieved and happy and madly, hopelessly in
love.

‘Of course I will,’ she said, just as quietly, just as simply.

Lucius kissed her, because words were inadequate.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for joining me on this little journey! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I
have. :)
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