PARAMONOS (m) Ancient Greek
Derived from Greek παραμονη (paramone) meaning "endurance, constancy".
Chapter I
New South Wales, Australia
It had been a mistake to go to Australia. Hermione continued to revisit the decision she'd made to come here in a vain attempt to understand her current predicament. Her mind jumped back to arriving at Hogwarts, and befriending the boys. Followed by the second rise of Lord Voldemort, and her decision to go hunting for his horcruxes. In an effort to keep her parents from becoming casualties or used against her, she wiped their memories, and sent them to New South Wales, Australia. Then she left with the boys. After their adventures-surviving Malfoy Manor, Godric's Hollow, Diagon Alley, and the Battle of Hogwarts-it was safe to go find her parents.
Both of the boys encouraged her to go when she mentioned it to them. Ron had even volunteered to accompany her, and Harry jumped on the idea immediately. She said no. It had been her decision to go by herself, and right her wrongs. Hermione couldn't fathom finding out that her spell work was irreversible in front of them, but she could easily imagine Ron's tactless response, "Glad I don't have your brains."
There was no doubt in her mind that Harry would add her parents to the long list of deaths he believed to be his fault. She'd chosen to go by herself, believing that all she needed to do was reconcile with her parents; let them have a nice screaming match followed by forgiveness. Then they would start moving back to England, and life would get back to normal. Maybe Ron would ask her out and she'd get a job, although it was a bit of a stretch to believe. Everything would work out. It was a perfect plan, and after the unpredictability of the war, she was looking forward to returning to her regimented life.
Tracking her parents hadn't taken nearly as long as she'd expected. In fact, she managed to find them surprisingly easy since she'd planted the idea of New South Wales in their minds. She tried to force the lingering thoughts of how easy it'd been to find her parents as she stood on their front porch. After the past year of hunting for unknown objects with only the barest of hints, this task had been far too simple. She lingered on their doorstep trying to remember her Gryffindor courage, but thoughts of her parents anger gave her pause. She did know that if she didn't knock she would only ever have unanswered questions. She'd saved the world, and now she was getting a small reward. Her mother answered the door with a wary smile, and it wasn't long until she invited Hermione inside for a cup of tea.
The teapot was in pieces, and tea dripped down the wall from where it had been thrown into the wall. He had ripped it magically from her mother's hands when he arrived, and as her mother screamed, silenced her. Even with Hermione's war honed reflexes he had disarmed her before she could launch a spell at him. It was the look on his face when he held Bellatrix's wand in his hands that frightened Hermione. He flew into a rage, and magically bound her mother before violently throwing Hermione backwards into the nearest wall. She expected to fall down, but he magically trapped her there. She expected him to interrogate her, but instead he started setting up complex warding spells on the house.
"Where did you get this wand?" He snarled at her after he was done. "You stole a pureblood's wand! Filthy mudblood! Were you no longer content with stealing magic?!" He angrily decimated the nearest bookcase while her mother stared wide eyed, still under the silencing spell.
"Answer me mudblood!" he yelled.
"I disarmed her," Hermione answered. "Wandlore says wands choose their owners, and can often switch allegiance when lost by their owners in a dual." He didn't need to know that Bellatrix's wand hadn't truly accepted her.
"You stole her wand," he snarled.
"She stole mine," Hermione said. "Besides, she's dead. What does it matter?"
"Muggles and Mudbloods have no rights to magic," the man answered. "You're not a real witch, and as such it doesn't matter what Madame Lestrange had every right." He was clearly deluded, and Hermione knew that there was nothing she could do to persuade him otherwise. He seemed to agree with her silent assessment, and she watched as he snapped the wand and tossed it in the direction of the shattered teapot.
Australia was a mistake. She'd made a mistake. After miraculously surviving a war, in which a megalomaniac was committed to genocide, she was now facing certain death. Where had she gone wrong? Did he always know where to find her parents or did he follow her here? The pain he was causing only solidified the guilt that she felt. He took the silence spell off her mother, and Hermione cringed at the sounds the woman was making. How had she been so careless? She was alone, wandless, and restrained. It wasn't long until she fell roughly onto the floor, and then dragged closer to her mother. He forced both of them to kneel on the ground facing one another. It wasn't long until they were both bruised and bleeding.
"She can save you," he said breathing into her mother's ear. Hermione watched as a look of revulsion appeared on her mother's face while she tried to squirm away from the man. Despite her efforts she was unable to move, and only succeeded in hurting herself. The binding spell he had used on them was a Death Eater favorite; it secured ropes around the skin, and would tighten as the victim struggled. The Order had often found victims who had bled out from cuts on their wrists as a result. She realized too late that he used the spell, and already the rope was painfully digging into her skin. Her mother continued to struggle making it worse for herself, and Hermione was unable to warn her. The Death Eater was savoring the fear her mother displayed. Hermione watched as he preened each time he was able to elicit a whimper or a shriek. It was sickening. It was like watching a horrific car accident; she couldn't tear her eyes away.
The anticipation of his actions were unnerving. He continuously alternated between the two women, and she had to watch him walk over to her after he'd made a new wound on her mum. He always used his wand. He forced her to make eye contact with him as he started burning off the bottom half of her shirt. Hermione desperately wanted to move away, but knew the ropes would prevent her from succeeding. The spell was uncomfortably hot, and she had to avoid moving away from it. Did he know the amount of torture he was causing?It was lucky that he wasn't applying it to her skin. She gagged on bile when he started running his dirty fingers over the scar splayed across her abdomen.
"Brightest Witch Her Age," he said. "That's what those blood traitors call you, isn't it? How is it that they're so willing to worship a thief?" Despite the position she was in, Hermione couldn't help her natural reaction to scoff at his assertion.
"Prove it," Hermione said. "There has never been any evidence of 'stolen magic.' It's an excuse purebloods made up to deal with the fact that muggleborns were beating their children academically. You couldn't deal with your lack of power." He slapped her across the face.
"Little mudblood, you have so much to learn," he said with a lecherous grin. "The Dark Lord has proven just how worthless you are, haven't you been paying attention?"
"So is that why he's dead?" She asked smirking at him. "If you're so obsessed with blood purity, why are you following a half blood around and drooling over everything he does?" Her eye was going to be black if she didn't stop mouthing off.
"You're lower than dirt, not worthy to lick my shoe. I always wondered how you survived our first meeting. That spell of mine has claimed strong purebloods, as well as half bloods. All above you. I admit, it was fascinating that you managed to cling to life. I realized too late that you must have stolen an elite's magic. Which pureblood child did you rob of their magic?" He asked as he caressed her abdomen.
"Get your hands off me," she said before spitting in his face. He punched her in return, and if he hadn't used magic to keep her in one spot she would've have collapsed from the force.
"Answer me," he snarled.
"I didn't steal anything," Hermione said. He seemed to realize that he wouldn't get any information from this line of questioning, or he got bored. Hermione flinched when he turned abruptly and stalked towards her mother.
"Tell her who you are," he said as he wrenched her mother's head back by her hair. Hermione watched as he used the same burning spell again, although he applied it to her mum's skin.. Hermione grimaced at the shriek of pain that tore from her mother's throat.
"You already said it," Hermione said. "I'm the Brightest Witch My Age."
"Tell her mudblood," he hissed as he snapped one of her mother's fingers in half. "Do you think
I'm playing with you?" She watched as he reached for another one of her fingers.
"I'm your daughter," she whispered as she locked eyes with her mum. There was no recognition in her mother's eyes.
"I don't," her mother said. "I've never had children. You're not mine. She's not mine! Please, let me go. You made a mistake. She's not my daughter!" Hermione didn't even flinch at the bright flash of green light. She stared at her mother's lifeless body as he walked towards her.
"Let's go have some fun," he said as he grabbed her by the roots of her hair and dragged her into the next room. Her eyes never left her mother's body.
London, England
His father was in Azkaban. Lucius's trial had been one of the first following the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and despite how much time Draco had to adjust it was still surprising how much his life had changed. Lucius never escaped the Final Battle of Hogwarts with his freedom. The Aurors had arrested him before he could disappear, along with dozens of Death Eaters. Draco's mother was placed under house arrest until Potter testified on her behalf on how she'd taken actions to end the Dark Lord's reign. Draco was thankful that the new Wizengamot realized that Narcissa had been coerced and forced to deal with the Death Eaters as a pureblood wife, although he had no doubt that the few purebloods remaining in the Wizengamot had always known this to be true.
Lucius had shown a shocking amount of foresight prior to his conviction. While awaiting his trial, he arranged for Draco to become the patriarch of the Malfoy family. He now was the CEO of Malfoy Enterprises and controlled the majority of its shares, in addition to having the responsibility to care for his mother. Lucius handed the signet ring he wore identifying him as patriarch before the trial began. It was imperative that when he was convicted, he was not holding the title of patriarch. The decision saved the family's assets from getting confiscated as punishment for Lucius' actions, as well as protected Narcissa and Draco from any wayward relatives who might attempt a coup. It was a relief to Draco that his father had been convicted and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. He'd ruined the family's reputation, decimated Malfoy Enterprises, and terrorized Narcissa and Draco in their own home.
Draco had expected to face charges as well, and was shocked when Auror Kingsley informed him that he wouldn't even be arrested, since he was a minor. Kingsley explained that it was rather obvious (to those who understood logic) that it's extremely difficult to go against your parents while still under their authority, particularly when said parents use violence as a means of coercion. While not all of his schoolmates would be absolved, Draco had not killed anyone, and had refused to identify Potter when he was in the manor. Instead, Lucius was charged with child endangerment, in addition to a host of others. After the success of convicting him, the prosecutors decided to continue addressing the Death Eaters who forced their children into the service of the Dark Lord.
Since their original conversation, Kingsley had been appointed as the Interim Minister of Magic, and Draco had given the Auror Department full access to the evidence that was in the Manor. He'd been surprised at the lack of thought the Death Eaters had given to concealing their activities, although no doubt it was the result of the Dark Lord's assurance that they'd win. Regardless, Draco was able to hand over memories, dark artifacts, and other evidence to use against the Death Eaters who were in Auror custody. The department helped him in return by starting to purge the manor of the residual dark magic. It was currently uninhabitable as a result of the activities of Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself. Draco removed the house elves, and then sent Narcissa to one of their smaller estates in the French countryside.
Managing Malfoy Enterprises consumed the majority of his time considering how badly his father had allowed the business to deteriorate. His first priority was severing shady business contracts, which his father established in service to Voldemort. He started with Borgin and Burkes, and after being verbally assaulted for abandoning pureblood values, he continued until he'd scrupulously examined every contract they had. Needless to say, he'd pissed off a lot of his father's old business partners, and had no doubt Lucius would find out soon enough. All of the conversations were near identical, and by the last one Draco could recite every argument which would be used before they were given. It was exhausting to say the least. After he'd finished, Draco started researching promising muggle companies to invest in.
The public remained unaware of the changes he was making, and the help he was giving to the Auror Department. The majority of the public hated his family and viewed them as the face of the Death Eaters. He couldn't blame anyone for hating his father. The man committed heinous acts without remorse, and Draco often couldn't handle knowing it was his father. Unfortunately for Draco, the majority of people assumed that he was just like his father, which meant they also hated him. Despite Lucius' conviction, and the ongoing trials of other Death Eaters, the public was out for blood. He'd endured verbal attacks demanding his imprisonment, death, and humiliation whenever he was in public. He elected not to publicize his donations to rebuilding the Wizarding World, because he knew that either the money would be refused or he'd be accused of trying to buy his reputation back.
The angry crowds he had to endure often became so overwhelming and common that Draco was forced to avoid pubic wizarding areas, such as Diagon Alley, as much as possible. His newfound isolation was unsettling at times, but he preferred it to the alternative. The families he'd grown up with refused to denounce the blood purist values which had resulted in the war. Not only did he not care to associate with them, but Draco knew that they wouldn't tolerate him. They viewed him and his mother as traitors to the cause, while the rest of the world thought him a Death Eater. Growing accustomed to his new lifestyle didn't take as long as he'd assumed. Although, he had to admit it was probably because he'd become a workaholic overnight. It was a relief to have a stable routine, and not have a meglomaniac terrorizing you in your childhood home. Draco had bought a new flat after learning that the manor was inhabitable, not that he'd been planning on staying there. He didn't want to reside in any of the properties he already owned in case someone attempted retribution. It was comforting to know that no one knew where he lived. Muggle London kept him away from the wide eyed stares and threats. He didn't run into anyone he knew from his past, which is why he wasn't expecting to suddenly trip over the body of a blood soaked girl in an alley on his way home that evening.
Her clothes were shredded and there was a faint scent of smoke in the air around her Her face was a myriad of different colors, in addition to being swollen, and her hair was uneven and caked with blood. He didn't recognize her, but she was so mangled that it was impossible. In fact, Draco was certain that she was dead.
"Please," the girl suddenly gasped. "Help." Surprised, Draco reacted without thought and gathered the girl into his arms. She whimpered in obvious pain as he secured her in his grip.
"Malfoy?" Her voice was weak, but he recognized it. Someone tried to murder Granger...again. He disapparated back to his apartment, and made his way the kitchen. Luckily, the table was clear and he set her down as gently as possible on it while bellowing for his house elf.
"Master summoned Ipsy?" Ipsy asked as he arrived out thin air.
"I need you to heal her," he said gesturing towards Granger. "I went to school with her. Her name's Granger, and she's muggleborn. I found her in an alley like this. What do you need me to do?" Ipsy didn't hesitate and started barking orders at him.
"Master must get hot water and towels," Ipsy said. "Lots and lots of towels. Master must also get blood restorative potions, Ipsy will get helper." His elf disapperated and Draco summoned dozens of towels and conjured a bucket. He magically filled it with hot water as Ipsy arrived with another house elf.
"Ipsy will need blood to be cleared while Ipsy diagnoses," the house elf said to Draco. The three of them worked in silence as quickly as possible. Ipsy realized that Granger was still bleeding, and managed to get it to stop before they could move on to her other injuries. All the while Draco had to continuously swap out blood soaked towels for new ones. Growing up, he'd discovered how adept House Elves were at healing magic, although it was different than what wizards normally used. While his father refused to acknowledge their ability, Draco made sure to study it, and provide his elves with the ability to help as much as possible.
"Master needs blood replenishing potions," Ipsy said as he started casting spells over Granger's immobile body. Draco summoned several bottles from his pantry and handed one directly to Ipsy. It took several hours of healing spells, stained towels, potions, and Ipsy cursing "the bad man" before the elf finally announced that the girl was stable, and once more resembled a human. Her face was still swollen, but Ipsy was adamant that she needed to rest before she started taking superficial healing potions. Draco chose to carry her to one of his nicer guest rooms, and made sure that she had a clean change of clothes.
"Ipsy, when will she wake up?" He asked as he tucked the sheet around her.
"When Miss decides to rise," Ipsy answered. "If Master is finished, Ipsy would like to wash grime off." Draco nodded while trying not to laugh at the look of disgust on Ipsy's face as the elf looked at the blood covering him. While Ipsy didn't care about blood status, he didn't like germs. After Draco left the room, he cast a spell to let him know when she woke.
"Granger, what have you been up to?" Draco muttered as he walked into his study. Once they had been able to see the injuries, both Ipsy and Draco had recognized a few of them. Dolohov was one of the more vile Death Eaters, and enjoyed creating spells to wreak havoc on people. He'd never been happy with one signature curse. During the war, Draco had allowed Ipsy to heal the prisoners that the Dark Lord stashed in the Malfoy Dungeons, with orders never to get caught. Many of Ipsy's patients were subjected to Dolohov's torturing sessions at the manor. He'd disappeared at the end of the war, and the Aurors didn't have any leads on him. Unlike older families, the Dolohov's owned less property, and the Ministry already knew about most of them because of Antoine's father had gotten caught breeding and illegally selling dragon's blood.
Unfortunately, there wasn't really a way to track Dolohov's movements, since the trace would've broken decades ago when he came of age. Draco also couldn't summon him through the Dark Mark, like Voldemort, although the mere thought made him queasy. Sifting through papers piled on his desk, Draco started looking for any information that he'd given the Auror Department, or he'd received from them about tracking Death Eaters. He finally found what he was looking at the bottom. It was information about the different magical signatures that had been identified so far in the effort to purge the manor.
"Ipsy," Draco called out. His faithful elf appeared a moment later. "I need to run to the Ministry, can you stay in the flat, and keep an eye on Granger? I don't want her to wake up alone."
"Certainly Master," Ipsy said. "You are out of the fizzy drink you like." Draco nodded as he grabbed his cloak.
"Thanks, I'll be back as soon as possible." He threw floo powder into the fireplace, "Minister of Magic's office." Instead of arriving in the atrium of the Ministry, Draco stepped out into a small waiting room adjacent to Kingsley's office. It was more efficient than dealing with the crowds downstairs.
"Magdala," Draco said greeting Kingsley's executive assistant. "Is Kingsley around?"
"How important is it?" she asked not looking up from her desk.
"It's an emergency," he said. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "I may have found a way to trace the fugitive Death Eaters." Magdala gave a quick nod and darted into Kingsley's office. She summoned him inside a moment later.
"Draco," Kingsley said. "Magdala said you had a lead?"
"These are the magical signatures that were found in abundance in the Manor," Draco said getting straight to the point. "Now, at first glance it's impossible to really differentiate between all of them. However, these," he said flipping over the page, "categorize each signature by the location of the manor that they resonated the most."
"Is there a way to figure out who used magic in certain rooms?" Kingsley asked.
"Process of elimination," Draco suggested. "These are the dungeons, and the highest signature is this one. I know for a fact that Antonin Dolohov spent the most time out of all the Death Eaters torturing prisoners."
"We haven't been able to find him," Kingsley said. "This is a good lead. What's the chance he left the country?" Draco shrugged.
"Decently high," he answered. "Most of his friends are either awaiting trial, dead or locked up. That doesn't leave him a lot of places to go."
"I'll have the Auror Department check on any magical outbursts with this signature. Is there any way you can try and identify any others?" Kingsley asked.
"Of course," Draco said. "This is a copy of the original report. You can keep it, and I'll work off the one I have at my office. Can you let me know if there they get any hits?"
"Of course," Kingsley said. "Draco, this is a great lead." He was surprised to see the genuine smile on the former Auror's face as he stretched his arm out. Draco gave him a nod and accepted his handshake. He didn't linger, knowing that it was more than likely that one of those prejudice asses would show up and curse him. Arriving back at his flat, he checked in on Granger, who was still unconscious, before he headed back to his study.
"Master forgot fizzy drinks," Ipsy said when he opened the door. Draco brushed the reminder aside, knowing he didn't want to go to the grocery store this evening.
"Ipsy, why are you sitting in my chair?" Draco asked taking his cloak off and tossing it onto the armchair nearest to the fireplace.
"Ipsy was curious about why Master sits here so often for so long," the elf answered. "Chair is quite comfortable. Master's friend is stable, and hasn't woken up yet."
"Good," Draco said as Ipsy hopped out of the chair behind his desk. Draco stared at his now barren desk in disdain. "Did you clean my desk off?"
"Yes," Ipsy said. "Master cannot work with clutter. Ipsy organized papers for Master. Master will not lecture Ipsy." Draco rolled his eyes at the bossiness of his elf. "If Master needs parchment he will ask Ipsy for it."
"Ipsy, can you write up a note asking Potter to come here?" Draco asked. Ipsy looked at him with wide eyes.
"Master dislikes Boy Wonder," Ipsy said in a tone which left Draco with no doubt that Ipsy didn't like Potter.
"It's a mutual feeling," Draco muttered. "I need to talk with him, and I'd like you to deliver the note."
"Ipsy has to meet Dobby's infatuation?" the elf asked with a slightly disgusted tone. Ah, and there's the reason Ipsy was irritated by the request. Dobby and Ipsy had never gotten along. In fact, Dobby had gotten Ipsy in trouble on multiple occasions by insisting he needed punishment for disobeying orders. Ipsy enjoyed breaking rules, and getting away with it, however, Dobby followed the letter of the law and always insisted on punishments.
"I wouldn't bring Dobby up,," Draco suggested. "If you could do so as soon as possible, I would be grateful." Ipsy nodded and disappeared. Draco had a lot of questions about why Granger was in his apartment near dead, and he was particularly interested in why no one seemed concerned that she wasn't missing. The Daily Prophet had been covering the end of the war-particularly the Golden Trio-nonstop, and nowhere in print had it been mentioned that Granger went missing.
"Ilyia," Draco called. A small house elf who wore spectacles (without lenses) appeared out of thin air.
"Master called?" She asked.
"Yes, I have a small research project for you if you're interested," Draco said watching as Illyia instantly nodded enthusiastically with wide eyes. "Excellent. I need you to go back through all of the Daily Prophet publications for the past month and look for any coverage of the Golden Trio, specifically Granger."
"Illyia cannot use the Manor Library," Illyia said. Draco sighed and reminded himself to be patient.
"Illyia, it is not safe for you to use the library at the manor right now. You are not being punished for anything, it is to protect you from the residual dark magic," Draco reminded her. "The personal study I set up for you is sufficient, and you still have access to the majority of the books."
"Master learned logic," Illyia grumbled.
"Ilyia, do you want to do the research project or not?" Draco asked.
"Yes master," Illyia said. "Ilyia was just following Master's rules about being honest with Master. Master should sleep soon." She smiled at him before disapperating out of his study. Illyia was by far the most vocal of his family elves, and clearly was Granger in elven form. She was the librarian of the manor, and he had to order her to stay out of the manor while it was being purged. He knew that she'd find him an answer on whether Granger had been missing from the press recently, and that Illyia would do a better job of it than he ever could.
If, what he suspected was true, it would lead to other questions. Foremost, why was no one looking for her, and why hadn't Boy Wonder used his savior status to raise hell? Everyone knew how valuable she was, and yet based on actions he'd witnessed the Wonder Duo seemed to treat her like a dirty shoe. While Draco hadn't understood what it was like to lack materials growing up, he'd learned firsthand how valuable family was during the war. What confused him was the fact that he'd heard Potter and Weasley constantly refer to Granger as family, and yet she was in his apartment in atrocious shape. It was baffling, but again, he didn't have confirmation on his hypothesis. Focusing on the situation with Granger was yet another avoidance from sitting alone with his thoughts and memories.
He knew that if he didn't listen to Illyia's suggestion of retiring to his room, she'd continue to badger him about it. Sleep didn't come easy, and he'd long ago learned the dangers of using Dreamless Sleep Potion too much. He reluctantly set down the parchment he was working on, and headed towards his room, hoping that it was easier to fall asleep this time.