Thank you all for your great feedback. It's deeply appreciated.
I hope you'll like this chapter that starts our couple on a journey that culminates in the Prologue.
One Year Earlier.
The most remarkable moments in life often begin with the most innocuous events.
For Hermione, such event occurred shortly after lunch when a letter arrived for her. The seal on the back bore the unmistakable colors of the Malfoy family crest.
The sender's identity puzzled her. Last spring Draco and his wife perished in a horrible Fiendfyre that broke out at a wedding they attended. Mrs. Malfoy survived but, last Hermione heard, she was in critical condition in St. Mungo's. That only left one other person … but why would Lucius Malfoy write to her?
Reading the contents of the letter didn't abate her curiosity, but doubled it. Lucius Malfoy asked for a private audience with her, at her earliest convenience, about a mysterious legal matter.
Ever since Hermione received a promotion to Solicitor General, she had been looking for a case to evoke passion in her. Sometimes she wondered if she'd made the right choice transferring from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magic Creatures to Magical Law Enforcement. She went from the front lines of activism to the ivory tower of restrictive protocol. Hermione promised to give it a year and, if things don't improve, transfer back to her old post.
Without further consideration, she wrote back to him, promising to stop by his manor after work.
However, as soon as she was standing in front of the intimidating manor, she wondered if it was wise of her to come here at all. She had never felt such an acute sense of sadness from a place before. The hedges were untrimmed, entangled with weeds. The house itself was partly covered with vines. The wind whispered dismally through the swaying boughs as Hermione made her way up the weed-grown path to moss-covered steps. She raised her hand and firmly knocked.
Her knock was answered almost immediately … by the master of the house himself. The air left her lungs and she found herself suddenly breathless at the sight of him. It was remarkable how much he's changed in the six years since the last time she'd seen him. His once immaculate hair was clean, but slightly unkempt and lacked its usual luster. His robes, although clean and tailored to show off his masculine physique, were not in their first state of wear.
When their eyes met, she caught a glimpse of weariness and despair in them. He was all too aware of the cruelties of the world, of its injustices. There was no disdain or hatred in his gaze. No remorse either. Only silent anguish. The toll of his mistakes ravaged at him without reprieve or succor, and he was to suffer it all in isolation and solitude.
No one should have to endure that, Hermione thought. Didn't he have any friends to help him?
"Miss Granger, thank you for seeing me on such short notice," he said. His voice was the same, containing the deep, well-modulated notes that had been so familiar in her girlhood.
A gasp died in her throat as she opened her mouth to respond, "Mr. Malfoy. Hello. I was most … surprised to receive your note."
He motioned for her to come in and she followed him into the house, wrinkling her nose against the faint musty odor. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet as Hermione walked passed many rooms that must have been very opulent once. Most were either bare or had furniture draped in covers; clearly, not much of the house was actually used for daily activities. He led them into a modest sitting room and gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs by the window.
"Tea, Miss Granger?" he asked.
"Um … yes, thank you," she agreed. Hermione really wanted him to get to the heart of the matter, but didn't want to seem rude.
He snapped his fingers for the house-elf and the creature reappeared.
"Tea for two," the wizard instructed.
The elf returned with tea service and set it on the table between their chairs. He looked uncertainly at the teapot, as though he was willing it to pour itself.
"Allow me," Hermione said, reaching for the teapot.
He scowled, but allowed it, watching his guest serve. She finished quickly and glanced over her shoulder at him. "How do you take it?" she asked.
"With lemon," he replied.
Hermione nodded and fixed the cup. She handed it over to him and he took the cup and saucer with both hands, careful not to spill it. He sat back and stared at her. His mouth formed a tight, thin line as his eyes took an inventory of her face. Hermione saw them course down to her hair, to her eyes, down her nose, and stopped at her lips. He studied them for a long time and Hermione nearly kicked herself when her tongue flitted out to moisten them.
It was dangerously quiet in the room. She wanted to ask so much, but was at a loss for words. The polite thing would be to make small talk until he felt comfortable enough to ease into his great matter. Or offer condolences for his recent loss. None of the options felt appropriate enough, so she remained silent.
"You're probably wondering why I insisted on meeting with you," he finally said. Sitting close together, his voice sounded more intimate somehow … it unnerved and excited her at the same time.
"I do. Your letter was most cryptic. You've given me no hints other than imply it is a legal matter … of some sort?" Hermione responded.
"Yes." He looked down into his tea, frowning. "When I was serving my term in Azkaban, my wife and son have sold off several properties to the Ministry, the sale of which I did not authorize. As I am a free man now, I am within full rights to press my claims. There are two reasons why purposely sought out your services. One, you are reported to have the best legal mind in the country. If I'm going to win, I'll need the best. Two, I am a very private individual. I have followed your casework, and I never once found you to say anything indiscreet about clients. I like discretion. It's not a quality one sees much nowadays … especially with curiosity seekers."
Hermione gulped, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She hated having to refuse, but she had to be honest. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm … pleased you think so. But I have to be frank, I am completely wrong for your case. I have only recently started working in my current department. Before that I dealt with laws that concern magical creatures. I don't think I'm qualified at all for this."
He looked up, his grey eyes piercing hers. "But you are. You're perfect, in fact."
Her eyes widened a little and a slow flush spread across her cheeks. She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he continued to speak.
"In the last six years, you have managed to overturn some of the oldest, staunchest laws in existence. What I'm asking is downright simple in comparison," he said. "Something has been done in my name without my permission, and I want those unauthorized actions reversed. That's all."
"It's not that simple, sir. I have no knowledge about the circumstances the transaction in question. Not to mention that you were in Azkaban at the time and laws were different then," Hermione explained. "What is illegal now and provides a loophole for you to press your claim, may not have been so at the the time. Laws can't work retroactively. No court will allow it."
He arched an eyebrow. "You're refusing to take this on, then?"
"I don't see how I can. I'm not an expert in this branch of law. I'll have to do a lot of research to become even remotely proficient; I have only an elementary understanding of it right now. Not to mention, as I have said, cases such as this one are likely to be dismissed before we even see a courtroom. We have to have something more to go on. You'd be better off with someone who has more understanding of these cases and with vastly more experience."
He looked down before he looked back at her, his gaze impenetrable. "Everyone with more experience declined my case," he said quietly.
Her heart twisted in sympathy as she stared into the gleaming gray depths of his eyes. He looked unwell, or at least very melancholy. He had suffered so much … if she could help him in this small way, she wanted to do it.
"You do realize this is huge risk. Huge. You may think I'm the best in one branch, but it doesn't mean this alleged expertise will translate to your case," Hermione warned him. "Have you ever heard a saying that sometimes the best team doesn't win?"
The corners of his mouth twitched and he nodded. "I'm willing to take that chance. I may be out of options, but something tells me, you're going to be a right fit."
"Okay. I will need to go over all the documents pertaining to this case. The deeds of sales … um … everything else you have…" She was cut off by an excited male voice in the doorway.
"Mama!" cried out an adorable blond boy in blue and white sailor suit. The child ran at her and dove across her lap. Hermione raised her cup just in time for the rambunctious youngster to avoid colliding with it. Unfortunately, the teacup tipped in her hand, the hot liquid spilling down her chest. She hissed in pain.
"You impertinent child!" Lucius raised his voice at the boy. "Didn't I tell you to stay quiet when adults are talking?"
The boy looked at Hermione in confusion, then slid off her lap and ran into a corner.
"I thought she was mama. Her hair is like mama's!" the boy whined.
"We've talked about this. Your mother is dead. Now get out!" Lucius ordered him before calling out, "Mrs. March!"
A stern-looking witch marched into the room. "I am so sorry, Mr. Malfoy. He is quite a trickster."
"I am not interested in excuses, Mrs. March. See that it doesn't happen again." The nanny led the boy out of the room by the hand. Never had Hermione seen a more crestfallen child. She surmised he must be Scorpius, Draco's orphaned son. She felt exceedingly sorry for the little boy. She couldn't imagine losing her parents and living with a relative who was too busy suffering from his own pain to care about anyone else's.
"Do excuse my grandson's behavior, Miss Granger. His parents never taught him manners, I'm afraid."
Hermione cast a cleaning spell on her blouse. Her chest slightly throbbed.
"I should go," she said. "I'll do some research tonight, then stop by tomorrow and we'll go over all the relevant documents together. Would the same time work for you?"
"Of course. Thank you, Miss Granger for taking this on." Lucius Malfoy looked at her as if he wanted to say something else.
"I look forward to working with you," Hermione said, holding out her hand to him.
"Likewise." Lucius gently shook it with his own.
She gasped in surprise as tiny electric sparks danced up and down her arm at the contact. His hand felt warm and strong around hers. A feeling of safety settled upon her. It must be what it was like for people who held hands often. Her boyfriend, Ron, hardly ever held hers throughout their entire six-year courtship. People who did this a lot probably wouldn't have such a severe reaction to such a simple gesture.
Hermione needed to breathe. They seemed to have been standing there for eternity, gawking at their joined hands while absent-mindedly moving them in the up and down handshake motion.
Her mind snapped to, and she said softly, "I'd better go. I shall see you tomorrow."
"Yes, see you then." He continued to hold her hand.
She knew she should let go of it, but she didn't want to. There was no logical reason for it.
Before Hermione could think too much about it, he released her hand and stepped back.
She gave him a small smile. "I can show myself out. Have a good evening."
"You too."
She turned and walked out, confused why she felt disappointed when he finally let go of her hand.
Sounds like that household is in dire need of a feminine touch :)