So, here it is, part 2 (years 5-7). Not sure I'm entirely happy with it on account of having very little canon to draw from, but, hopefully it still works. Epilogue might not agree with everyone, so feel free to pretend it never happened if you don't like it.
Thanks to my beta Mari681 for working on this chapter so quickly!
I'm lacking inspiration at the moment for my next story (although I have started) so, while I procrastinate about that, if anyone has any Lucius/Hermione one shot requests, I'd be more than happy to give it a go.
Year 5 - Hermione Granger and the Shining Knight in Black Armour.
Mudbloods.
To him, sometimes, they sometimes seemed to not even be human. No, no, that wasn't right. They were human, and that was exactly the problem. They were men, and he was wizard, pure wizard, and surely they did not belong in his world, the wizarding world.
In Lucius' mind, when he pictured mudbloods before, he would see a mass of people, dirty and unruly, trying to change everything about the world he held dear, but something had changed. The first thing image that popped into his head now when he heard or thought 'mudblood' was Hermione. In fact, she almost stopped him from saying the word at all.
She was so very like him in his youth, but happier, her eyes filled with so much more awe and life than he suspected was ever in his own. Suddenly the idea of removing her from his world, the world it was so clear she adored, worked so very hard to stay a part of, began to seem impossibly cruel.
'But was it just Hermione?' He questioned himself. Was there a Hermione behind every one of those mass of faces he had pictured before, a person who deserved to be there just as much as she?
No, Lucius thought firmly. Hermione was an exception, just as he'd told her on the bridge, an anomaly, truly special. He could not go changing his views now, no, it was far too late, now that he was back, Lucius was once more trapped, his ability to choose stripped away from him yet again. His family needed to be protected, and he would have to do whatever it took to achieve that.
But part of him felt like he had to protect Hermione as well...
Harry had seen him, knew Lucius had been there at Voldemort's return, and Hermione acted as if she was as mildly surprised as the rest of them. Harry had known however, like she had back in fourth year, that no one would likely believe him if he told them Lucius was there, and if they did, would they even do anything?
Hermione hated it that Lucius was a death eater, that he so willingly followed Voldemort, the views he must hold. Then again, was he willing? She wondered. At some point it must have been, but perhaps, once you'd said yes, it was a yes for life. She couldn't exactly imagine Voldemort simply waving you on your way and letting you run or swap sides.
Throughout the year, she had thought a great deal about Lucius, well, when she wasn't thinking about all the other multitude of problems they were having this year, what with Umbridge, the DA and her OWLs, she had a lot to think on. He, however, always seeped into her thoughts. Sometimes it was his predicament, as she tried to understand his actions, what he must be doing, the other times were simply of him, the truly complicated man he was.
Hermione knew they shouldn't have come here, not to the Department of Mysteries, not so late at night, not without bringing one of the Order. So many 'nots', and yet they had.
Tap, tap, tap.
She heard him before she saw him, the sound of his cane echoing through the darkness as he emerged from the shadows before them. Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, perhaps for the notorious woman she saw at Lucius' side, or maybe for the fact that he was truly here. Not her Lucius.
She knew he was a death eater, had no doubts about it since she'd read about him in first year, but there was something different about seeing it for herself, something that seemed to shake her very being.
Lucius caught her eye, his expression seeming to ask so many questions, hold a strange sort of fear.
Of course she's here.
You knew she would be, knew it was always a possibility, an inevitability.
Why couldn't she stay away? Just this once.
Lucius almost laughed.
That wasn't his Hermione at all.
"Harry" She called gently, coming to her senses, alerting him to the danger he seemed not yet to have noticed.
Lucius, danger? Surely not to her...
"You know, you should really learn to tell the difference between dreams, and reality." Said Lucius, his gaze now fixed on Harry, but his words still managed to make Hermione flinch, almost the perfect description of how she herself saw him. The question was, which part of Lucius was the dream, which of the men she'd seen him be, the reality.
"I can show you everything." He promised Harry, his eyes catching Hermione's for a split second, his words igniting some strange hope in her that, maybe one day, he would be the man to truly show her everything, allow her to fully understand this world and herself.
Hermione's mind was racing, quickly trying to anticipate the possible scenarios that could unfold, the potential actions they would have to take to stay safe. Lucius, however, kept managing to interrupt her thoughts, how calm he appeared next to Bellatrix' volatile nature, the skilful way he tried to keep the situation under control, prevent it from, getting out of hand.
It did, as always, get out of hand, and soon enough they were surrounded by death eaters running for their lives. Would she ever have a year at Hogwarts that didn't involve her running away from life threatening danger as if she were in an episode of Doctor Who.
She focused, masterfully somehow managing to throw the right spells at the right times in the right directions, that was, until she found herself alone, at a dead end, and, almost expecting it as she turned around, a masked figure blocking her escape.
Hermione cast a stupefy but it was deflected, this one was clearly better than the others, slowly making his way towards her, throwing spells at her she was barely managing to protect herself from. Where were the others? Where was Harry, Ron, Ginny, anyone?
Hermione took a step back, gasping as she hit the cold stone behind her, the death eater laughing perhaps the cruellest laugh she'd ever heard as he raised his wand, the last sound she thought she'd ever hear.
The blow she was expecting, however, never came, and suddenly the death eater fell to the ground before her with a thump.
Hermione had barely registered what had happened before he was there, holding her against the wall. Lucius.
He rested his forehead against her own, his eyes tightly shut as he let out a long exasperated sigh.
"How many times will I have to tell you to run?" He whispered, planting a soft kiss above her brow, so light she wasn't sure whether she had imagined it. "Now go." He ordered as he disappeared into black smoke, soaring away from her.
She'd ran, just like he'd told her, just like she had back at the world cup, yet here they were, captured again, Rodolphus Lestranges' wand at her neck.
Hermione searched for Lucius' eyes, relieved when they ever so briefly locked with her own, and she hoped he saw just how hard she'd tried to get away, how much it hurt to see him doing this.
In that moment, he hoped that she could see how sorry he was that he was the one doing this to her. That his actions were so directly causing her pain.
A burst of white light appeared, a burst of hope. Sirius.
He punched Lucius - not the face! Was her first thought, and she almost laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of it.
All hell broke loose after that, but she managed to find safety amongst some of the others, able to observe the chaos around her.
Lucius was facing Sirius and Harry, the way he battled, his prowess, mesmerising her, and the urge she felt to go to him when he was blasted backwards was so surprisingly strong that she almost, so very almost, did.
Hermione could not bring herself to read the article, had barely been able to look at the picture plastered on the front covers of the Prophet littering the school.
Seeing Lucius that way was something she wasn't yet able to do.
She didn't want to think about what would happen to him in Azkaban, what punishment his family might receive for his failure, and she didn't mean the social falling the media was probably going on about...
Instead, she packed, occupying her mind with collecting and organising all of her possessions. It was going well until she came to the hoodie she'd been wearing that night, still covered with dirt and just a little bit of blood, who's, she couldn't say. She began folding it when the smell hit her, his smell, the cologne he wore no doubt having rubbed off on her that night.
It wasn't until she caught her reflection in the mirror that she noticed the tear rolling down her cheek.
Year 6 - Hermione Granger and The Punished
For someone locked inside a high security Azkaban cell, Lucius did not feel secure at all.
Of course, he had to deal with dementors on a near daily basis, and it was slowly tearing him apart, despite his efforts to cling to the few threads of sanity that surely remained within him.
It was hard to try and remain who you were however, when you weren't really sure who that was anymore, lost behind so many lies, so many facades and masks.
He felt more vulnerable to the Dark Lord than perhaps ever before. Lucius could take whatever punishment that he would have been dealt for his failure, even if that had been death, but now he was helpless, knew that he would certainly not be the one truly paying for his crimes. No, that would be his family, his son.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry was suspicious of him, probably with good cause, but Hermione was more concerned than suspicious.
Although it was plausible that Draco had willingly taken up his father's position amongst Voldemort's ranks, Hermione suspected he had no choice in the matter.
She tried hard not to think of Lucius, he was exactly where he deserved to be, being properly punished for his crimes, but sometimes she wondered if the punishment was so much worse than the ones who'd given it to him even realised. Hermione knew few things for certain about Lucius Malfoy, but one thing she was sure about was that, although he may have a strange way of showing it at times, he loved his family above anything else, always trying to protect them.
Surely it must be killing him to be locked away, unable to stop that madman from dragging his son into the darkness, so much deeper than she was sure Draco ever truly wanted to go.
One evening, Hermione was making her way back from the bridge, letting the cool breeze and the silence clear her head of the tumultuous thoughts that seemed to plague her of late, when she heard someone crying.
She turned the corner silently, hidden in the darkness the short winter days created, and saw Draco sitting, hunched, in an alcove, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress his sobs.
Hermione had the urge to go and comfort him. Hated or not, she felt the need to take his pain away, for his father's sake, and guessed that whatever was causing him to feel this way was something far beyond his control.
Draco was holding something in his hands, Hermione having to stifle a small gasp when she recognised it, Lucius' cane. It made her heart ache a little to see it, so far from its master.
Hermione flinched when suddenly Draco threw it against the wall in an outburst of rage, falling to his knees next to it when he saw it had cracked. He clumsily tried to fix it, but either didn't know the right spell or perhaps his hand were trembling too much, she could see them shaking all the way from where she stood.
Footsteps could be heard approaching from the other direction, and Draco clearly heard them too, grabbing the cane and hiding it behind a suit of armour before wiping away his tears and heading off into the castle.
Fortunately, the footsteps belonged to Luna on her way back to Ravenclaw, not one of the prefects starting their nightly patrol of the castle, so didn't ask questions when Hermione pretended to be captivated by one of the paintings in the corridor.
"He does look a bit like Viktor, doesn't he?" Luna remarked as she stopped behind Hermione, her head tilted to one side. Always so observational.
"I suppose he does." Hermione agreed, surprised that she hadn't noticed at all.
"Good night Hermione." Luna said with a knowing smile as she continued on her way.
"Goodnight Luna." Hermione called back.
Hermione hadn't thought of Viktor much since he left, they wrote occasionally, and it was nice, but she knew that he was never going to be the man for her, no, not Viktor…
Once she was sure she was alone, she retrieved the cane from behind the statue. The wood felt so smooth in her hands, dark, sturdy, but not too heavy. The top was adorned with an intricate silver snake head, the eyes glistening emeralds, and Hermione couldn't resist the temptation to run her hands over it. It moved slightly as she touched it and she remembered that the cane was in fact not used to aid walking at all, but as a place to store a wand.
Hermione carefully pulled the wand from the cane, wary of how it may might react to her. It was old, she'd read as much, had been in the Malfoy family for generations, and was perhaps the longest wand in history, made from elm with a core just like her own wand, dragon heartstring.
She knew elm tended to work well with people who were very magically dexterous, those who could produce elegant and advanced magic, which went well with the core. Dragon heartstring wands tended to be powerful and worked well with those who were quick to learn. She knew a few people who shared the core with her, there was Viktor, McGonagall, Ollivander himself, Bellatrix Lestrange...and Lucius. She knew the core could bond strongly with it's owner, could be persuaded, although not too easily, towards the dark arts, so she was cautious about handling it, considering it's current owner was a pureblood supremacist...
Curiously, it seemed to hum contently in her fingers, and she knew that if she were to try and perform a spell with it that it was likely to work just as well as her own. She couldn't resist the temptation to test it so, placing the tip gently next to the cracked cane, she performed the spell and at once it was fixed, not a trace that it had ever been broken.
Smiling contently that she'd been able to mend it, not to mention that Lucius' wand had responded to her so well, it didn't seem to mind that she was muggleborn, she carefully put the two parts back together. She was about to put it back in its hiding place when she had a thought. Getting out her wand, Hermione ingrained some runes into the wood, easily removed with the correct spell, meaning 'be strong', and then returned the cane behind the statue, sure Draco would be coming back for it soon. Runes was Draco's favourite subject, at least she thought it was as he was actually rather good at it, and she hoped he would find it.
She may not have been able to do anything about his tears today, but perhaps she could prevent some tomorrow.
Hermione finally understood Lucius' punishment.
Voldemort had planned to turn Draco into a murderer, Albus Dumbledore's murderer, one of the worst things someone could do. She was almost grateful that it had been Snape who was the one to deliver the blow...at least he'd saved a young, scared boy from becoming that.
She knew everything had changed when Voldemort returned, then when finally the wizarding world acknowledged it, but now, she knew it would change so much more, be so much worse.
And not just for her side either.
Lucius heard, of course he'd heard, had broken down when he found out what Draco had done, what Severus had saved him from doing, and he cried out, he screamed, because it was all his fault.
Draco wouldn't have had to go through that if it weren't for him, his cowardice, his weakness.
Lucius had been allowed one comfort in his cell, in amongst the cold, the fear, the torture from the dementors, he had one physical thing that helped him stay with the sane.
A book.
One which his son had read and smiled about, one he himself had read as a child, one his wife had read to their infant boy, although, the copy he now clung to was one a young girl had given to him nearly five years ago.
A story of a man who had darkness inside him, a poison, one which he thought he needed a potion to overcome, but in fact found that all he had ever needed was the strength to rid himself of it. A strength Lucius hoped one day he himself would have.
Sometimes, in the rare silent hours of the night, when the screams subsided long enough to think, he wondered if it were the book that had finally persuaded him to change, or was it the need to save his family, or perhaps, it was Hermione Granger, the muggleborn, that showed him it was all lies.
Year 7 - Hermione Granger and The Broken Man
It was a few days until Fleur and Bill's wedding and Hermione was trying to occupy her mind. She was completely prepared for their journey to find the horcruxes, had had everything ready for well over a week now, so with nothing to do she needed to busy herself before she went mad.
She was currently reading the prophet, which she was sure had been taken over by the other side, but still served as some short mental relief. It wasn't until the second to last page that something finally caught her interest however, all the other pages full of prejudiced, fear-mongering nonsense.
It was a small article, no picture, titled 'Lucius Malfoy Released From Azkaban to be Held Under House Arrest.' It was short and brief, curious considering it should have really been on the front page, and simply said that new evidence had come to light allowing him to be temporarily removed from prison.
Hermione knew that Voldemort had to be behind it and wasn't sure exactly why he'd done it.
Perhaps he needed Lucius' money and could only access it when he was out of Azkaban. Or maybe it was some sort of twisted reward for the relative success of Draco's mission, she supposed he needed to show his followers that those who pleased him would benefit. It even could be so that he could use Lucius again, one of his best fighters, humiliate him perhaps, until he was of no further use.
Each idea seemed to make Hermione shudder, and she knew Lucius would never truly be free until Voldemort was dead and gone.
Freedom.
That was what the Dark Lord had said he'd so graciously given him.
What a joke. House arrest truly was the correct term for his current situation.
Then again, how would Lucius know what freedom was? Had he ever really been free? Brought up to follow his father's footsteps, be the heir to the Malfoy estate, marry someone to keep your line pure, follow the Dark Lord or die saying no.
Yes, freedom was a foreign concept to Lucius.
At least now he was back in his home, although, it did not feel like his anymore, it felt infected, as if poisoned, but he supposed now he could once again be with his family, try and protect them.
His family...
Draco had yet to look him in the eye. He'd been back almost a week.
Narcissa was strong, so much stronger than he felt right now, and he was grateful she was here for Draco, to help keep her mad sister at bay.
He heard that Hermione was still alive out there somewhere, had still managed to elude capture, and it was perhaps the only thing that gave him the tiniest flicker of hope.
Perhaps one day, Potter would, with Hermione's help, truly free him.
Lucius had turned to drink.
He currently lived in near constant fear, was forced to watch horrific crimes performed in his sacred house, and it was the only thing that numbed the pain for any reasonable length of time. Not even sleep relieved him, always plagued by nightmares, awoken by screams. Sometimes, like the day Voldemort had taken his wand from him, he even wondered if he would not prefer to be back in his cell in Azkaban...
He had his wand back now though, however, it was cracked, but, thankfully, fixable. Lucius was not skilled enough to do so himself but, somewhat fortunately, they had a great master of all things wand related currently locked in their basement.
So, one particularly quiet evening, Lucius ventured down into the darkness.
"Ollivander." He said loudly, towering over the sleeping man.
He awoke and flinched when he saw Lucius, no doubt expecting to be led to his death, but soon composed himself and stood when he realised there was no imminent danger.
"I need you to fix my wand." Said Lucius, his words sounding half order, half request. He was dubious about handing the man a wand, but knew Ollivander wouldn't get far with it anyway, wouldn't be able to get past the special spell that locked the door.
Ollivander nodded and took the wand, inspecting it.
"I have not seen a wand so old in a while." He seemed to say to himself. "And so many new users of late."
"There has only been one other than myself." Lucius said, confused by the man's words, almost shivering as he thought of the Dark Lord using his families wand.
"By my count there were three other than yourself in the last year or so. The first it worked for but not particularly well, I sense that perhaps it was your son." He mused, and Lucius could not say he was surprised Draco had tried it whilst he had had it, nor that it hadn't responded too well to him.
"The most recent other than yourself brought out great power from it, but, I sense it took a lot of force, the wand resisted being used by that man..."
"And the third?" Lucius asked, having no clue who it could have been, again wanting to move away from the thought of the Dark Lord.
"Hm, it is hard to say." Said Ollivander as he ran his hand over the wand, brow furrowed. "It was only used to perform one spell but the wand responded just as well as it does to you, perhaps even better." He suggested quietly, probably worried his words might provoke Lucius. "But I doubt the person it feels like used it was actually the caster, I must be losing my touch..."
"Who did you think it was?" Lucius questioned rather roughly, growing impatient.
"It feels like, well, Hermione Granger, but no, no, that can't be right..." He mumbled to himself.
Hermione. Lucius couldn't think how she ever would have gotten hold of his wand but was not surprised that she could bring out the wands full potential like he could, nor bothered that the wand had been used for perhaps the first time in hundreds of years by a muggleborn.
"It doesn't matter." Lucius snapped, not wanting to think about her, it almost stung him to do so. "Just fix it." He asked with a sigh as he turned to leave with the cane, stopping when he felt something etched faintly into the wood.
He recognised the rune, 'Be Strong' it said.
And he almost fell to his knees that he hadn't been.
A Tale of Friendship
When Hermione thought of her closest friends, those most important to her in her life, several faces would appear. Harry and Ron of course, her parents, Professor McGonagall, Luna, Neville, Ginny, and unsurprisingly, Viktor, but there was one other who seemingly did not belong, yet no matter how hard she tried to dismiss him, he was always there. Lucius Malfoy.
From her first year of being part of the wizarding world, the first year of her true life, Lucius Malfoy had been of interest to her, a mystery that could potentially be solved. Then, she'd actually met him, seen two different versions of him within hours, and thus started her acquaintance with Lucius Malfoy the figure and, what she hoped, was Lucius Malfoy the man.
Perhaps it was this hope that had allowed her to look past his actions, his prejudice, and it was then that in her mind, unintentionally, he had started to become a friend. Not a friend in the ordinary sense, but more like the friendship you make with a character in a book, strong, reliable, and surreal.
Lucius would start thinking of her idly for no particular reason, sometimes pondering on the predicament she presented, what with her incredible talent at all things magic, her ability to outdo even his own pureblood son, it defied everything he had ever been taught.
After he finally met her for the first time in Flourish and Blotts, she no longer was mudblood, she was Hermione.
The book she had given him that day he'd read himself as a child, it had been a favourite of his, and he couldn't help but read it again once he had it. It had struck him, made him feel uncomfortable, for it reminded him of his own struggles, yet for him, he had never been able to do what the character in the book had, and he was pleased that someone, Hermione, had reminded him.
Maybe it was that which had driven him to find that special copy for her, the only way he could possibly think to show her that he was grateful for what she had done, to show how much, strangely, it had hurt him to hear that she had almost lost her life to his actions that year.
The book Lucius had given her was something Hermione always kept close, one of those possessions you would grab first if you had to run from a fire, a solace when she was sad.
And she knew it was because it was from him.
It was when Lucius had seen Hermione at the world cup that he fully realised what she seemed to suddenly mean to him, although, reflecting on it, it did not seem that sudden at all.
He had very almost smiled seeing her up there on the steps at the World Cup, it was as if he was seeing a best friend, long lost, one whom he could truly be himself around. To anyone else, and in fact, even to himself, it seemed preposterous, completely unbelievable, and yet, it was true.
It should have bothered him more, that this muggleborn had helped to thwart some of his own plans, outshone almost every pureblood witch and wizard she encountered, and even had the audacity to stand up to him, Lucius Malfoy, but it didn't seem to matter.
Hermione Granger was truly and amazing witch, and no matter how much Lucius wanted to hate himself for thinking highly of a muggleborn, he simply could not.
Then came the first true test.
When Hermione had run into a masked Lucius at the Quidditch World Cup, half of her head told her to run, to flee from this monster who hated her kind, and the other felt safer than she had been running with the Weasleys.
She was with Lucius, no harm could come to her now.
Lucius' breath had caught and his heart had raced when he saw her that night, and it was with mild surprise that he realised he was scared, scared of what might happen to her.
His first instinct was to protect, he had an abnormally strong urge to disapparate with her from the grounds right then and there, but rational thought won out.
He had told her to run and hoped that she would be alright, was relieved to hear the next day that she had been as he was sure word of her death would have been reported on.
It was only later that Lucius realised she may have recognised him, could expose him, but he didn't start to worry, part of him knew that she wouldn't tell a soul.
Hermione could barely subdue her smile, not even caring when she walked through the common room and saw Harry looking most bewildered at her chipper expression considering the way they had parted ways earlier.
That night, on that bridge, for the first time, it had truly been all him. Her Lucius. The one who doubted his convictions, the one who showed kindness, the one who understood.
Before Lucius left the grounds that night he had to persuade himself out of going to hex whoever had made Hermione feel that way. He knew she had gone to the ball with Krum, Draco had been complaining about Viktor sullying the pureblood name and Lucius had, for once, paid attention to his sons rant upon hearing her name.
For some reason he couldn't comprehend, Lucius didn't like the idea of Hermione with Krum, but part of him knew that the Bulgarian seeker was not likely the one to blame, no, it must have been that awful Weasley.
Alas, he could do nothing now, but perhaps, if he was patient, he'd get his revenge one day.
That night in the department of mysteries, Lucius had, in a way, condemned himself.
When they all scattered and hell broke loose, he knew he should have gone after Potter, that was the mission, but something strong made him go to her instead. He had to make sure Hermione was safe.
He was on Harry's trail when he saw her, being backed into a dead end by Rodolphus, alone, trying valiantly to protect herself from one of the Dark Lords best.
Lucius didn't even seem to have to think, he stunned his ally, rushing to her side to hide her from Bellatrix who he knew wasn't far behind, and he couldn't help but feel relieved that his precious girl was okay.
Azkaban had changed him, what he knew his failure had done to his family had changed him, and maybe that was why, this time, it was so much harder to save her…
Malfoy Manor
Hermione was so scared about where they were being taken, but almost broke down when she recognised where she was.
Not here. Not to his house. Not to him.
Her heart almost shattered when her eyes fixed on him.
Lucius was a shadow of his former self, stripped back to his weakest, darkest parts.
He seemed to flinch when he saw her, turning his back and downing what must have been fire whiskey.
He asked if Draco recognised them even though Hermione knew he saw who she was, and at first it hurt, but then she remembered one of the things she knew for certain about him. Lucius Malfoy would do almost anything to protect his family, and right now, that would mean handing her and her friends over to Voldemort.
Suddenly Bellatrix snapped, screaming orders to take Harry and Ron away, and Hermione was pushed to the ground, a wand jabbing into her neck.
It hurt, she wanted to die, and it was as if her blood was burning within her, but looking at Lucius, seeing him turn his back on her, was worse. He had become the one thing anchoring her to this world and yet also the one thing making her want to leave it forever.
The pain didn't seem to stop, she became delirious, it consumed her, it felt as if this torture was the only part of her existence. Finally, finally, it subsided, and she lay dazed on the floor, vaguely registering Bellatrix interrogating a goblin.
Hermione fixed her eyes on Lucius, trying to cling to consciousness, trying to distract herself from the gashes in her arm, all she could do was focus on that platinum beacon of light.
Lucius felt paralysed.
This was it, the act that might save his family from the Dark Lords' wrath, finally redeem them. They had potter, he was certain of it, and Lucius was sure that they could have just handed him over alone and somehow persuaded Voldemort to let them keep Hermione as a reward, lied that they could use a mudblood slave, someone to torture.
But no, something had gone wrong, Bellatrix had lost it, and it had all gone wrong.
The first time Hermione screamed he very almost killed his sister-in-law on the spot, but looking at Narcissa and Draco in the corner stopped him. They looked scared, just as scared as he was, and he knew the Dark Lord was coming, it was too late now, if he let Hermione go he would doom them all.
That didn't stop it hurting him though, but he couldn't bring himself to leave, wouldn't physically run away like the coward he was. Her screams seemed to be never ending, he knew he would never forget those screams, and when they finally stopped he almost let out a sob of relief.
Lucius could feel her eyes on him and he was almost too scared to turn to meet them, so ashamed that he had simply turned his back.
Lucius seemed to be physically shaking but turned to face her, and she was sure she could see his eyes glistening, saw him recoil when he noticed her arm. He glanced to Bellatrix, then to his family, and suddenly his wand was in his hand.
Hermione shrunk back slightly, fearing he would hurt her, her trust in him broken, and he flinched at her reaction to him. She saw his lips move, silently casting an incantation, and she could feel a warm sensation in her arm, the cuts not disappearing, but she knew it was a scarring prevention spell, had read about them in third year.
It warmed her inside too, gave her a slight glimpse of hope, Lucius still cared, and so did she. She would be strong, she would be able to get through this like she always did.
Bellatrix had finished with the goblin but she seemed unconvinced, menacingly turning towards Hermione again, a crazed look in her eyes.
"Still with us are you?" She asked as her wand twitched in her hand. "I'm sure we can remedy that…"
Hermione looked to him, a pleading in her eyes, and this time he could not do it, he couldn't let her feel that pain again. Narcissa and Draco weren't here anymore, he could lie, say Hermione had stunned Bellatrix herself somehow, hold her as his personal prisoner until the Dark Lord got here.
Hermione saw Lucius ready his wand, began stalking towards Bellatrix and she advanced on her once more, and it filled her with relief.
Suddenly the doors flung open and Harry and Ron were there, all hell breaking loose in their wake.
As they left with Dobby, she shuddered to think what was going to happen to Lucius now, to Draco and Narcissa, when Voldemort got there…
Lucius was in more physical pain than he had ever been in his life, but still felt better than he had for at least the last year.
Draco and Narcissa had been spared this torture, the Dark Lord dismissing them in a rage and focusing his wrath on Bellatrix and himself, and Hermione had escaped.
He would get through this, he would keep trying to protect his family, and he would hope that Hermione would be able to help kill the Dark Lo-, no, Voldemort, before it was too late.
The Battle of Hogwarts
When Hermione saw Lucius, hand in hand with this wife, begging their son to come to their side in the courtyard at Hogwarts, she knew she must not be the only one who understood that man. It was plain to see how scared he was, how much he wanted to protect
his son, how little choice he had ever had on which side he would be stood with when this day came.
She almost wanted to outstretch her hand to him, call his family over to them, pull Draco back, but knew she couldn't, knew they would all be killed on the spot if they didn't stay with Voldemort.
It made her want to end the madman all the more.
The battle was on again and Hermione was struggling, facing three of the dwindling enemy forces at once by herself, and yet again found herself backed into something, but this time, it was not a wall.
A hard back hit her own, and she hoped that it was someone from her own side.
It was not.
But they killed all three of the men she was fighting instantly anyway.
Lucius was not going to let her down this time, he was going to make sure she was safe.
He knew Draco and Narcissa were fine, were being protected by their new allies, ones who they would not have to fear death from, but he'd told them he had something he had to do, that his fighting skills were needed elsewhere.
Hermione and he fought alongside each other until the battle was over, skilfully taking down anyone who came at them, working together as if they had been doing it for years. In many ways, it was if they had.
The Great Hall
Hermione sat with the Weasleys, her friends, as they all mourned their losses, the relief of winning tainted by so much pain.
She saw the Malfoys, sitting uncomfortably in the hall with everyone else, huddled together, looking so vulnerable, so unsure.
Everyone avoided them, some people clearly struggling to restrain themselves from attacking Lucius right then and there, but she suspected they all realised what she had long ago. The Malfoys were just another family who needed to be freed from Voldemort's oppression, perhaps more than most.
Hermione could not stop herself, she had to show them that, at least by her, they would not be shunned. She would show everyone that muggleborn and pureblood could put aside their differences, it was the only way the wizarding world would be able to move on from this.
She walked bravely towards them, head held high, ignoring the strange, sometimes venomous, looks people were sending her way.
Narcissa was the one who noticed her approach first, standing to meet her.
"Thank you." She said somberly but with a smile. "Draco told us what you did for him."
"What you did for us." Lucius interjected, eyes lighting up as he saw her.
"I'm so sorry for-" Narcissa started, trying to apologise for the night at the Manor no doubt.
"It's alright." Hermione interjected. "I understand." She said, looking at Draco whose head was still in his hands, seeming to shake slightly.
Narcissa nodded with another small smile, returning to sit next to Draco, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close.
She and Lucius stood together in silence for a small while, neither knowing quite what to say, until they seemed to silently agree to walk through the hall and out into the open air.
"It's gone you know." Hermione said, breaking the silence.
"What is?" Lucius asked, confused.
"The word Bellatrix wrote in my arm…mud-"
"Don't say it." He cut in, taking her hand. "I never want you to hear that word again Hermione, least of all from your own lips."
Before she could fight the urge, her arms were around his waist, pulling him into a hug. It made her feel so safe, so happy, the full effect and realisation of their victory finally sinking in as she held Lucius for the very first time.
His arms were wrapped tightly around her in seconds, his chin resting against her head.
"Thank you Hermione. You have saved me in every way I could have been saved." Lucius said, pulling her closer, as if he was scared she might leave.
"You saved me too." She whispered, trying not to cry like she'd wanted to since she left the Manor that night, finally feeling free to feel weak for once.
"Only from myself." He said with a dark, dry laugh. "I could have prevented those things from happening to you, if only I'd-"
"It won't do to look to the past, Lucius." Hermione said, pulling back to look into his stormy grey eyes.
"You're free now Lucius, free to choose what will be in your future, what path you will take." She told him with a smile.
"And I'll always be there to show you the light."
Epilogue
Lucius had a trial, as was expected, but, with Hermione's testimony, he did not have to return to Azkaban, and instead focused most of his money and time into restoring Hogwarts and the Malfoy Estate to their former glory.
After returning to Hogwarts to finish (and ace, of course) all her NEWTS, Hermione joined the Ministry, and with lots of advice from Lucius, quickly worked her way up the political ladder, creating many important and necessary new laws.
Draco went travelling, deciding he would become the next Severus Snape, and planned to become just as brave, and just as good as potions.
Narcissa and Lucius divorced, finally feeling free to do what they wanted after decades of being trapped, their marriage something with too many bad memories to last.
Hermione and Lucius became the friends they felt they had become over the years and one day, on the fifth anniversary of Voldemort's downfall, stood on their bridge at Hogwarts, getting away from the busy celebration inside.
"Did you ever meet him?" Asked Lucius idly, remembering a conversation from years ago, had in that very spot.
"Who?" Hermione asked casually, the corner of her lips turning up slightly.
"A man who's worthy of you?" He clarified.
Hermione laughed, her beautiful laugh that he had come to love.
"What's so funny?" He asked, truly perplexed.
"Oh, Lucius." She smiled as she put her arm through his.
"I met him a long time ago, in Flourish and Blotts, he was kind, and intelligent, and he took stole my heart without me even realising it."
Lucius frowned, obviously confused, looking a little jealous even.
"Okay, maybe he's not as intelligent as I thought." Hermione teased. "He's also much braver than he thinks he is, and I know for certain that I wouldn't be here without him." She said as she pulled herself closer to him.
Realisation finally seemed to dawn on him, his eyebrows raising as he smiled, turning to lightly kiss her lips.
"And he wouldn't be here without you." He said, kissing her again. "He'd still be trapped, and weak, and oh, so very lost."