Chapter 1 – Leaks and Lords

In the days following the end of the Second Wizarding War, it was only natural that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger found solace in one another. Together with Harry, they had survived some of the most tumultuous days in living history and had experiences that no others could have dreamt of. They could only relate to one another. In the midst of those dark days, Hermione had modified her parent's memories to protect them from the potential wrath of Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters. Always a skilled witch, she had performed her task so well that her parents believed themselves childless and assumed eccentric new monikers in a distant part of Australia. Following the triumph of the Order, Hermione felt that it would have been unfair to lift the enchantment and ruin her parent's anonymous happiness. In addition, there were no possible fabricated explanations that she could have given for her whereabouts or the occurrences in her life. Ron was Hermione's constant and convenient source of support, and their mutual shared experiences made the complex world seem far simpler. She had always known that she would have ended up with either Harry or Ron, and as Harry had moved towards Ginny...well, the decision had made itself. The security of a relationship that had been forged upon seven years of close friendship was immensely comforting. There were no major discoveries to be made about each other's personality/hobbies and good conversation was guaranteed.

After such a complex and terrible war, this sense of security was something that Hermione believed herself to need. They were never apart for long and the move to live together "just happened". The dilapidated, near derelict two-bedroom cottage was all that they could afford. She had taken a job as a Junior Reporter at the Daily Prophet, a job that she loved but for which the pay was low. Despite her dazzling intelligence and quick mind, Hermione had started as many great journalists do: at the bottom of the ladder. Nevertheless, she was determined to prove herself and forge a great career. Even if it did mean that she survived on pittance for a few years. The contribution that Ron made to the household was near negligible. He had been attempting, and failing, to enrol upon the Ministry's Auror training programme for over two years with no success. Hermione knew that her boyfriend simply did not have the mental agility or suitable qualifications to become an Auror, but hadn't the heart to tell him so. Instead, she sat by as he spent most of his time working for a few sickles in George's flourishing joke shop.

It would be a lie, to say that their domestic circumstances did not take a toll on their relationship. Hermione was tense and irritable most evenings as she spent most of her time writing articles, knitting winter clothing and carrying out household repairs. Ron, as ever, was little comfort or help. He would arrive home with a variety of test objects from the shop and covered in various substances, expecting his tea as soon as he set foot in the door. After shovelling down several portions, he would then drink a couple of bottles of Butterbeer and fall asleep on the sofa. Inevitably, a grating, routine had been established. Hermione had longed for stability and security, but now that she had it, she was finding herself disillusioned with life and felt that something was missing. The caved-in roof was just another thing that reinforced these feelings, and led Hermione down the path of despair.

She was not entirely sure how long she sat in the rain for. The minutes melted together into at least an hour, as the ice-cold haze swirled around her. Her bushy brown hair billowed forward around her face and she was too preoccupied with keeping it back to see the tall, red-headed man apparate the foot of the drive. However, as the sound of fast paced footsteps on gravel increased; she looked up just in time to see Ron's worried face staring at her. He leant down to her: "Hermione? What's wrong?" "The roof fell in, I'm freezing cold, the house stinks of damp, I have an important meeting tomorrow which I need to do some work for and I don't have anything for your tea!" she replied, in a terse and choked voice. She fought to hold the tears back, but she began to wail after finishing her sentence. Ron sat down and tried to place a consoling arm around her before rebuffed. "Merlin's beard! You're soaked through! How long have you been sat here?" he asked, looking aghast. Hermione shrugged. "Bloody hell, it's not like you to do things like this. It's just a roof, it can be fixed. Or have you forgotten you're a witch all of a sudden?" Hermione kept silent and Ron let out a large sigh before lifting her from the bench and her placing her on feet. He smiled at her reassuringly before making a move towards the house. Tentatively, he gesticulated for her to follow him, reaching out his hand as he would to a very young child. This wasn't right. Hermione was never like this. She was bold, confident, bossy and proud. And now, she stood mute in the rain, her eyes devoid of expression. Disorientated, she followed Ron into the house.

Ron took one look at the gaping hole in the roof and removed his wand from his pocket. Pointing it, he shouted "REPARO!". The rubble on the floor cleared as it zoomed back upwards, assembling itself back together as if it was a perverse kind of jigsaw. He turned to Hermione as if to question why she had not done this herself when it had happened. She took a deep breath before composing herself to speak. "Ronald, you do realise that we are living in a complete hovel, don't you? Things are falling to pieces around us. Yes, Reparo does solve the problem but that rubble only just missed me. What would happen if the roof caved in on top of us? Wizard or not, a blow to the head still does serious damage, doesn't it?". Ron knew she was right, and that it was dangerous for them to be living in such a place. "I'll ask Mum and Dad if we can stay there for a bit, you know, till we get stuff sorted out. Thank God we're only renting this place. Can't believe Mrs Percival wants two galleons a month for it, bloody ridiculous..."Ron's voice trailed off and he disapparated for the Burrow with a loud crack. Hermione busied herself by scouring the house for the little possessions they had that were worth keeping and packing them away them away in two old Hogwarts trunks.

"Mum's going MENTAL!" said Ron as he popped back into the room an hour later. "She's sent Mrs Percival a Howler about the rent and our deposit. Hopefully it won't finish her off" he chuckled. Hermione gave him a weak smile in return. "I'm going to be glad to leave this place. I went to dry myself off and even our towels were all wet. There's another leak in the bathroom" said Hermione, grimacing before she let out an almighty sneeze. "You're catching a cold, come on. Grab a trunk and we'll get out of here". She grabbed the lighter of the two trunks and caught onto Ron's forearm. As they stood to apparate together, Hermione's stomach filled with sick sensation. She had realised that it wasn't just the gloomy, damp-infested house that made her feel discontented. Before she could think anymore of it, they disapparated.

The Burrow proved to be a much more pleasant place to stay. Molly Weasley had ushered them into the house with open arms when they arrived on her doorstep, sodden and sullen. "Hermione! You look like a ghost!" Mrs Weasley burst out as they lugged the trunks through the door. Hermione sneezed. "Now now, dear. We'd better run you a nice hot bath and make you a cup of cocoa. You've had a nasty shock". Molly began to usher her upstairs, before stopping halfway to call to Ron: "By the way, your father has a few Ministry people over for drinks this evening. Mind you don't make a lot of noise and interrupt their meeting". She turned back and continued to press Hermione further up the staircase, leaving Ron scowling as he tried to quietly cast Locomotor Mortis on the waiting trunks.

Hermione lay in the large Victorian bath tub, letting the warm, soapy water mull over her cold body. Molly had poured a substantial amount of lavender & patchouli bath foam under the running tap, and the aroma was tantalising. Numerous small tea-lights bobbed above her head, their gentle flames bounced off the shining silver taps and provided the large room with only a small amount of light. Hermione sighed as she relaxed more and slid further under the water. She was very tired, and had not previously realised it. Absorbing the scent, she closed her eyes for a moment and the thoughts on her troubled mind began to melt away...

The next thing she knew, there was a strong pressing sensation on her chest and the sound of deep breathing. Everything was dark, and she was unsure what had happened. Slowly, but surely, the darkness gave way and Hermione looked up into the bright light of the room; the tea-lights had clearly been extinguished, and the main light turned on. Someone was leaning over her, gently pushing at her eyelids and feeling the pulse in her neck. "Miss Granger? Can you hear me?" asked a male voice. It had the recognisable lilt of Received Pronunciation but with a drawling edge to it. Hermione could recognise the voice but could register to whom it belonged. "Yes" she mumbled quietly. Her eyes gradually came into focus and she looked up at the man she presumed to be her saviour. The face was familiar: pale, beautiful and chiselled with a distinctly arrogant expression upon it. It was framed with sleek strands of dazzling silver-blond hair. Hermione gasped in utter bewilderment as the wave of recognition hit her. Staring down at her, through flint-like grey eyes; was Lucius Malfoy.

"What the –!" Hermione sputtered indignantly, as she came into her senses and sat bolt upright. Noticing her fully revealed body, she flushed and snatched a large dry towel from the radiator next to her. Malfoy was smirking at her, his head still uncomfortably close to her own. "Well, Miss Granger. We meet again. And in such unusual circumstances" he said in an undistinguishable tone, leaning back to increase the proximity between them. "Tell me; are you in the habit of falling asleep in the bath-tub?" Hermione grimaced as she realised what must have happened. "How – Why - ?" she began, directly gazing at Malfoy, searching for a full explanation of the situation. He sighed before launching into an explanation. "I came up to go to the bathroom. I knocked on the door and as there was no response, I presumed it was unoccupied. When I entered, you were submerged underneath the water and had ceased breathing. The gallant gentleman that I am, I pulled you out and administered CPR. I saved your life" he said in a smug tone. "Thank you" responded Hermione flatly. "I gather from your tone that you would not have desired me to come to your aid?" "No... Well, yes... Oh I don't know. I'm pretty confident that you only rescued me out of necessity. After all, it's common knowledge that you believe that the less 'mud bloods' there are, the better" said Hermione, raising her fingers in air quotes to emphasise the derogatory term. "Believed" corrected Lucius. Hermione snorted scornfully and rolled her eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do?" asked Hermione, struggling to balance her long established hatred of Malfoy with gratitude. "Of course I do – I should be discussing Ministry matters at this very moment". Hermione could not suppress the surprising mingled feeling any longer. "Thank you for coming to my aid, Mr Malfoy". Lucius gave her a half-smile. "I think I have been too much of a cause for worry today, so I would appreciate it if you did not inform any one of this little encounter" she continued. "You need not worry; have no strong desire to brag about it. I had very little choice in how to act and I do not aspire for a heroic status. Perhaps you mistake me for Potter? ". Hermione ignored the snide nature of the comment. "Oh don't worry; I have already ascertained your true nature and feelings, Lucius". He gave a grunt and moved for the door. "Please make sure you do not put yourself in any further danger this evening, Miss Granger. I will not be your salvation again" said Lucius, coldly before sweeping off through the door and down the rickety staircase.

Hermione stood for a few moments following his departure in a curious and pensive state. Lucius Malfoy bore all of the imposing physical characteristics as he had done whilst a Death Eater. However, she had not failed to notice that he had softened somewhat. The sense of arrogance that had once been so dominating and had emanated from him so strongly in the previous years was greatly reduced. His grey eyes had born signs of resignation and defeat, instead of cold, steely indifference and evil. Hermione was perplexed, and though she hated to admit it, full of admiration for the man who had once stood by and watched Bellatrix Lestrange torture her in unimaginable ways.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, she dressed herself in the laundered freshly flannelette pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers that had been laid out for her. Heading downstairs cautiously, the inviting aroma of homemade chicken soup filled her nostrils and felt a rush of contentment and deep affection for the homely ambience of the Burrow. Her former melancholic state had finally lifted and Hermione was relieved to find that she was distinctly feeling more like her usual self.

I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter of the story so far!

This is the first piece of fan-fiction that I've ever written, so I apologise if the style is off, the pace is slow or if there are minor textual errors. It has taken me a long time to get into the required frame of mind to write this, and I still don't think that I have gotten into the groove (to be expected, really). Hopefully, this is something that will rectify itself as I go along.

It would help me immensely if you could take the time to review the first chapter and prologue