Disclaimer: Not mine
1998. The Battle at Hogwarts.
Draco Malfoy stumbles to the ground and pitifully scrambles away from the Death Eater approaching.
"Traitor!" his enemy screams. The enormous, rugged man, known as Fenrir, sends a curse in his way. Draco rolls over, missing the spell by a hair. He collides into someone in the battlefield. There is a shock of brown bushy hair, and a pair of muggle jeans as they stumble over him.
"Granger!" he cries, almost relieved as he is without wand and defenseless.
"Malfoy!" Hermione Granger exclaims angrily about to throw a curse at him. His eyes widen, realising she still thinks that he is the enemy.
"No, Granger! Watch out!" Draco pushes her away from the incoming curse, that Fenrir has aimed at him, a red strobe of light zooms past them, singeing the shoulder of Hermione's pink jumper. For that split second, Hermione doesn't think, doesn't even question Draco.
She ignores the pain in her arm, lifting the same one to point her wand at Fenrir.
"Expelliarmus!"
The Death Eater is approaching them fast with his large strides. He doesn't even run and there is a smile on his face as he evades her curses with ease.
"Kill him Granger!" Draco commands in frustration. Hermione quickly gets up and continues to battle him.
"You're so predictable!" Draco shouts at her.
"And you're useless!" she shouts back.
There is a numbness in Draco's legs from a spell he doesn't know. He can't stand up. With all the strength of his arms, he drags himself to the nearest corpse. This one is Lupin, he notes. He shouldn't care, he never liked him anyway. But as he extracts the wand from the hands of his Ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, he remembers how he was when he was alive and it makes Draco feel strange, if not nostalgic about everything that once was and is no longer.
Hermione is by his side in an instant, still battling Fenrir. But with one last curse, she stuns her enemy unconscious. The large man stiffly falls to the floor like a stone pillar.
"Granger, my legs," Draco says. "I've been hit by something. They're numb, I can't get up."
Hermione glances down at him, and assesses him for a second before quickly muttering a spell. The feeling in Draco's legs return, like a quick rush of blood. He gets up, trying not to look surprised.
Without putting his pride aside he offers an alternate way of saying thank you.
"I suppose it pays to be a know-it-all sometimes."
They are back to fighting the other Death Eaters. It is a bizarre sight… two life-long foes, battling strategically in unison as if it were a typical partnership, side by side and back to back, sending curses like a force of nature to be reckoned with.
"Sectump-" Draco yells, interrupted as a curse, in the form of a bright green light, hits his chest. He doesn't even scream, it doesn't even hurt but his vision is going away, turning black. The Granger girl screams his name, and he knows it should be right next to his ear, yet it seems far away.
"Such a waste, Draco!" Cackles a woman. "Such a waste! First defying the Dark Lord's orders and now associating with dirty blood… traitor!"
With new found adrenaline, Hermione furiously casts a curse towards Draco's killer. "Expel-"
"Protego!" She shrieks and laughs manically. She dodges every one of Hermione's curses. "What are you? Hunting for rabbits, mudblood? Let me show you how to kill. Avada Kedavra!"
Hermione's breath hitches and her spell is broken by the same green light that broke Draco's. But another green light has erupted, coming from Hermione. At first, she thinks it's from her wand, but she soon realises, it's coming from someone behind her.
It's Draco's father. If Draco had lived and had grown his white blonde hair past his shoulders, he might have grown to be a splitting image of him.
"Another traitor, well, well!" Bellatrix screams at Lucius Malfoy.
Silently, her brother in law, pushes his curse forward, as if exerting more of his energy into it. His face is perfectly controlled, but Hermione can see that his jaws are clenched, and his nostrils are flared, and in his eyes there is nothing but pure hatred.
"You're son was a coward Malfoy! And so are you! You are no blood of mine!"
It is hard to tell who is winning, but Hermione catches a glimpse of Lucius' feet being forced back and she sees that his legs are shaking. It shocks Hermione at how strong the smaller and frail-figured woman is.
"It's your fault he's dead! You've raised him to wield his wand as if it were mere cutlery!" Bellatrix shrieks in her high pitched voice. She doesn't even need to concentrate that hard on her curse.
Her words slightly throws Lucius off and he stumbles back. Hermione doesn't need to think twice when she aims her own wand at Bellatrix, screaming, "Expelliarmus!"
The womans' wand flies out of her hand and the spells break. Lucius runs forward like a charging soldier, muttering words under his breath. Hermione watches in awe as his wand transforms into a knife. She has never seen that kind of transfiguration before.
Lucius drives the knife into his sister in law's belly. With her last breath, she stares, wide-eyed and opened mouth at where he has stabbed her, and raises her gaze slowly back into the grey steely eyes of Lucius Malfoy.
"How's that for cutlery?" he sneers. He drives the knife down, slicing her torso open. Her insides spill out and she falls to the ground.
Hermione stares at the mutilated woman in horror, and doesn't notice Lucius approaching her. He smacks her in the face with the back of his hand. The younger girl cries out, out of shock more than in pain.
"She was mine to kill. I didn't need your help."
Lucius walks away from her and towards his son. She forgets there is a battle at this moment, clutching her cheek. She simply watches the scene unfold before her. For once in her life, Lucius Malfoy is neither believer of Pure Blood Supremacy nor a follower of Voldemort, but a father carrying in his hands his dead son, a human being capable of love. She controls her tears well.
Out the corner of her eye several Death Eaters are aiming for Lucius. This battle has not ended.
"Malfoy!" she screams, warning him, before aiming at one of them. "Stupefy!"
By this stage Lucius is furious and only sends out killing curses, growing weaker after each one. But he doesn't care, his son has died before him. He doesn't say anything to Hermione, as she comes to his aid, casting a defensive barrier around them.
"Protego Totalum!"
Her spell also exerts much energy from her and soon they are both aware that they are getting weaker by the second.
"Give me your hand," Lucius croaks out. "Quickly!"
Hermione doesn't think, she slips her hand in Lucius' own. To her amazement, as soon as their hands are clasped around each other, a new strength begins to form. She feels it, a cold tingling, sensation, starting from their hands and spreading powerfully through her body like life. She is curious on how he did that, the brainy side of her is tingling to ask him, but now isn't exactly the right time.
They remain fighting hand in hand. But the Deatheaters seem to be multiplying and soon their powers, again, are depleting.
"I can't," Hermione struggles. "I can't hold it for much longer!"
Lucius stops attacking and doubles on Hermione's barrier. Spells hit the walls of their bubble, not breaking yet, but cracking, like tough glass from bullet fire.
"I'm going to try something, it'll kill them but we might not make it either."
Oh God. This could be it. The prospect of death has never frightened her, but it's a different story when you know the exact moment it will happen. Even with her Gryffindor bravery, she isn't prepared for it.
"Granger," he says, now looking directly at her. She remembers the last time he had looked at her, really looked at her.
"Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself," the words escape her lips before she can stop it. Lucius Malfoy turns his pointed nose up at Hermione, casting his brilliant storm-grey eyes disapprovingly down at her as he recognises his son's muggle-born classmate. He knows her words will leave a tick in his cheek for the remainder of the day, but he acts like they mean nothing, because the words of a muggle-born don't. He isn't her equal.
But five years forward, at this very moment, Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Granger are just soldiers in the same battlefield fighting the same war.
"Granger!" he repeats sternly.
She swallows, she mustn't cry, but Lucius can see right through her. Without meaning to, he tightens his grip on her hand.
"We must. We will die anyway if we don't try."
She nods, her lips trembling, and her tears finally giving away.
"I understand."
Without another warning, Hermione can feel weight. Heavy invisible weight, weighing her down. It feels like space absorbing matter, squeezing her with it. She fights to breathe. She is suffocating. The outer shield suddenly hardens, like water exposed to nitrogen, freezing instantly.
The pressure blocks their ears.
"Lucius!" she mouths desperately, barely a sound escaping. The barrier explodes into a million glass pieces blasting outwardly in every direction. It kills every Deatheater surrounding them almost instantly but the energy from the inside is so strong both he and Hermione are completely drained. Hermione's hands slip from his as she falls to the ground first.
The last thing Lucius sees before he joins the muggle-born girl, are the men and women, who were once his friends and family, bathing in a graveyard of blood and crystals.
St Mungos hospital is a dreary and happy place altogether. You hear people crying out of joy and out of anguish and there are people in between, like Lucius who feel nothing.
He sits in the chair of his ward, gazing out the window, overlooking the sunny front yard of the hospital, the people laze in the grass, and sit along the main fountain's edge like it is some kind of school ground.
There is a knock on his door.
"Come in," he says. A tall, dark man, dressed fantastically in vibrant blues, purples and greens enter his room.
"Minister… Shaklebolt," Lucius simply states, without the usual ice in his voice.
"Mister Malfoy," Kingsley replies with a nod.
"Is it time?" he asks, bored, remaining in his seat as Kingsley approaches him. He refers to the warrant for his arrest, a letter he received, notifying him that as soon as he was better, he was due for court. What a way to wake up. What a way to begin his new life.
"You know, you might as well just save you and I both the effort, and send me straight to Azkaban."
"Don't assume that just because new management has rid Azkaban from Dementors that it won't be as bad as last time Mister Malfoy."
"But it is an improvement," Lucius says looking out the window again.
With a flick of his wrist, a chair appears opposite Lucius and Kingsley takes his seat, removing his hat to reveal his bald brown head.
"I'm not here to arrest you, Lucius. Or take you to court," he says finally.
The blonde man's perfectly arched eyebrow quirks up in question.
"As of today you are a free man," the Minister of Magic replies, with a ghost of a smile.
Lucius tries to not show his surprise.
"I don't remember bribing you with my endless supply of wealth," he quips.
"Even if you did, you'll find I'm not as easily corruptible as my predecessors."
"So I'm not being charged for murder?" he asks, more serious now. "I have killed countless people. Good and bad... mostly good."
"But you have been punished for your past transgressions."
"Punished!" Lucius laughs without amusement. "I will be punished for the rest of my life! Don't tell me I'm a free man. You know nothing of it."
"I understand you have lost a wife and a son-" he holds his tongue as Lucius flashes a deathly glare at the older man.
"I fought one battle against Voldemort, but for most of the war, I fought against you, how can you justify that? I have killed your people minister."
"In the past, yes. But you have saved them also. There are people that believe you have changed."
Lucius doesn't know why he is fighting this. It's supposed to be a good thing.
"Changed! Only fools believe that leopards can change their spots. I didn't save anyone. I couldn't save my wife! I couldn't save my son! I saved my own hide!"
"You prevented the deaths of a lot of good people Lucius. Those who might have died if you and Miss Granger hadn't wiped out half of the Deatheaters on the field that day."
At the mention of her name and memory, it takes all of Lucius' strength not to punch a hole through the wall.
"Of course," he says with gritted teeth. "She would have made an even better Hufflepuff. Let me guess? You are letting me go based on a petty testimony made by a naive girl who wouldn't know a devil's horns from an angel's halo if she saw one."
"There were other spectators, other testimonies. But yes, she was the main one."
Lucius laughs hollowly.
"I have seen my wife die at the hands of my so-called god. And my son, at the hands of my own family. And now I am saved because of a mudblood. My beliefs never cease to betray me."
Kingsley grins grimly and finally stands up from his chair, putting his hat back on. Lucius watches him as he makes his leave from the room. He feels slightly light-headed, and uncertain. What just happened? What was he going to do now? This was just… too easy, not that he wasn't used to it. Money made everything easy. But this... this is was different.
"Well then, they weren't very good beliefs to start off with," Kingsley continues, without turning around to notice the Pure-blood wizard's contemptuous glower. "If you do by any chance, decide to pay Miss Granger a visit, I would be nothing but cordial… all beliefs aside."
Severus Snape, a celebrated war hero. His face, his unwavering stare, and curled frown, is all over Hogwarts Hall. He would have hated it.
"He was my friend. A traitor," a quiet voice says from behind Hermione. She quickly turns to discover Lucius Malfoy standing next to her, his hair in a neat ponytail. "But then so was I."
The banners with Snape's face change into the ever-cheeky Nymphadora Tonks, her short hair in their natural brown colour. The chatter and laughter continue throughout the hall. There are hundreds of attendees at this memorial night. All in all it is a celebration of victory, a union of war heroes and survivors.
"Pregnant, was she?" he asks.
"No," she replies. Malfoy is in his usual state of dress, although his presence seems less intimidating these days. Perhaps it is the absence of his blasted cane. Still in shock at his presence, she manages to continue, "she already had the baby."
"It's a shame it will grow up without a mother or father."
"He has other people who will care for him. Like his Grandmother, and us, the Order."
Lucius simply nods, looking up at the banners changing again, to the face of the deceased Weasley twin. Nearby, a seemingly-jovial Molly Weasley breaks down in the arms of her husband. Hermione frowns at Lucius, expecting him to smirk in glee or similar, but he doesn't. His face is impassive.
"I was meaning to ask," Hermione begins, cautiously, catching his attention once again. The older man waits with intrigue.
"When we were fighting the Death Eaters. When we held hands…" she says timidly.
"Ah yes," he replies remembering.
"I don't understand - how?"
"It's an old spell-"
"I've never read of it in any books."
"Some spells, you cannot learn in books. Some spells are passed down from ancient traditions… ancient magical families," answers Lucius, emphasising the word 'magical,' which Hermione tries to ignore.
"What did you do exactly?"
"It was simply a transferal of magical power-"
"You mean… you gave me…?"
"Yes that's what 'transferal' generally means." Lucius drawls, bored. "I simply gave you my energy and in turn it drained mine."
"You helped me?"
"If I didn't, it would have been a quicker death for myself," he supplies with frankness. Hermione pauses to think for a moment.
With great curiosity, she asks, "does it work the other way?"
"That is a very dark idea you have there Miss Granger," Lucius comments, now with a grave expression and in a softer, more dangerous voice, he adds, "it can drain the life out of one."
Hermione tries not to shudder under his gaze and at the feel of his breath hot on her shoulder. Thankfully he has returned to casually observing the hall.
Draco's proud face appears on the banner. His father simply stares up at him.
"I'm sorry about-"
Lucius puts his hand up, stopping Hermione. She immediately regrets ruining the moment.
"Don't," he says glaring down at her. She experiences dejavu with his hand near her face like that. She has her breath held as if she were expecting a slap. His eye twitches and he quickly lowers his hand. With a whip of his robe, Lucius leaves the hall immediately.
Somewhere inside of Hermione, there's a sinking feeling - what of, she doesn't know. It just feels like she is back to square one.
She should have left it at that, like none of it mattered. What did she even want from Lucius? And what could he want from her?
Hermione runs after him.
"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy wait!"
He turns around when he is at the foot of the stone stairs, just outside the castle.
"What is it girl?" he says impatiently.
She pants, catching her breath."He fought bravely, you know."
Lucius raises his eyebrow, unimpressed. Hermione attempts to swallow her nerves.
"You should be proud of him," she adds lamely, and immediately regrets her life.
There is a frustrated sigh.
"Tell me something I don't know," Lucius grumbles. Hermione blushes.
"He regarded you very highly," she continues, before she can help it. What was she achieving from this? This angers him even more. "He always used to say he was his father's son and he really was. He was, like you, innately loyal… to those he loved and cared about..."
Lucius only breathes through flared nostrils, his chest rising and falling heavily.
As he walks up the stairs, his intense grey eyes never leave her own brown ones.
He is close now, but she stands her ground. He takes her chin in his gloved hands. His eyes flicker to her lips. He leans in. Hermione's breath hitches. He aims for her ear instead.
"Imagine my surprise when I had learnt that I owed my freedom to a… child's… mere… illusion," he mutters.
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"I am not a child!" she breathes out in disbelief.
"Mudblood," he hisses icily, catching Hermione off guard. "That, you are."
She can't believe what she's hearing. After having fought alongside him, after the tireless attempts at making the Ministry and the Order see what she had seen of Lucius Malfoy that day, Hermione tries not to cry at the remark. She knows his beliefs can't change over night, but she didn't need to hear it.
"Do you not know who you are speaking to? Hm? Mudblood? Why would I care about anything you have to say? So the war is won, but I am not the hero you think I am. I do not need your sympathy or your…" he regards her with a grimace, "whatever it is you're doing."
Hermione pulls away from his grip like she has been burnt.
"No you're not who I thought you were... I should have let you rot in Azkaban."
He smirks.
"Thanks to you I am not."
"I should have," she says with an angry tremble in her voice.
"Still, I do thank you," comes his mocking drawl as he turns to his heels.
There's that sinking feeling again, when Lucius disappears form her sight and she allows her angry, pitiful tears to fall and go to waste. She realises the sinking feeling is hope, a fire that vanquishes as easily as it is hard to ignite, no matter how bold and bright it might have seemed.
Whether or not it had been a foolish and wasteful thing to do, hoping that there might have been more to Lucius Malfoy, it was brave of Hermione… believing that there was good in wicked people. And it was braver of her still to fight for them, even if no one else did.
END
There might be a second story... I don't know.
Who knows..
Depends...
I just had to get this piece out. It was eating my soul.
Boomchakalaka.