In The Garden

by zxxyxxz

The war is over but some are left at a loss of how to move on. In the garden built as a memorial to the conflict with Voldemort a very unlikely friendship begins.

2. Discussions Of A Time Once Upon Them

Chapter Two Discussions Of A Time Once Upon Them

Other the next two months Hermione continued going to the garden and she stayed behind instead of leaving at one O'clock, most days her and Lucius would talk sometimes it was trivial sometimes there was silence but nothing was overtly personal. So this was where Hermione was found in late October sat on the stone bench and enjoying a rare spot of late autumn sunshine, she noticed Lucius enter the garden and gave herself a moment to really observe the man.

What are they she wondered to herself, are they friends or just casual acquaintances? And for once something really did matter to her. It was odd how he kept the darker thoughts away if only for the time they spent together. Maybe he reminded her that whatever was wrong with her could be worse or perhaps convinced her that the Death Eaters were capable of emotions that as a group she had been over simplifying them as it made it easier to fight against them. But she said nothing and just watched quietly wondering why it had taken so long for it to register to her that he changed from the man she thought she knew that he had never recovered from the war. His hair still limp and lank and his skin worn and dull. Maybe it was because until now none of that mattered. She looked away as he walked over to her and slowly eased himself down on to the bench.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up and replied.

"Good afternoon Mr Malfoy."

The pair sat in silence still contemplating their own thoughts it was a while before either spoke again but to Hermione the silence was cloying almost suffocating. She wanted to rant and rave about all the thoughts all the feelings trapped inside her head; she wanted someone to understand her but how do you do that? How could she possibly reach out to the man beside her? Lucius may not want to hear her lonely thoughts she laughed inside he definitely didn't want to hear her thoughts. She would take what she could get and hope that it would continue being enough for her.

"Are you well today Mr Malfoy?"

For the first time in a long time Hermione made polite conversation, her normal conversations were of course convincing her friends that she was indeed sane. But there would be no consequences here, either Lucius would reply or he would not. It was not a big deal either way though Hermione hoped he would reply it would be nice after all.

"I am very well Miss Granger. But what of yourself?"

There was a hint of care in his normal drawl as if he felt something for Hermione's well-being, her lips twitched slightly but decided they could not bring themselves to form a smile.

"I am as well as can be expected. "

Hermione returned her gaze to the ground in front of her and silence once again fell upon the garden.

"Why is it Miss Granger that everyone but us is incapable of seeing the lack of change?"

Hermione looked up from her examination of the ground but froze unable to answer such a question right away.

"I do not know Mr Malfoy; it is a question that I have constantly asked myself these past years but one that I have yet to be able to answer. The only answer I have been able to come up with is very generic and oversimplified and one I find hard to believe, but maybe everyone else is so convinced of the black and white nature of the war, that they see a light supporter in charge and decided that everything will be ok or they are all easily lead and believe in the enforced perceptions of change."

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

"You would think that after the war people would be thinking for themselves that the populace would be more cynical more hardened and would ask more of their representatives and think more about the outcomes of such political actions."

He replied softly.

"Maybe it is their way coping? If they pretend that nothing is wrong and that nothing has changed they do not have to deal with the aftermath of the war. However you would have to be blind to miss the effects that the war has had."

Hermione's fingers traced the scar on her arm through the soft fabric of her sleeve; both were silent for a time, Lucius watched discreetly as her fingers traced the scar. He tightened the grip he had on his walking stick, it pained him to watch her trace the scar, he hated that he watched as Bellatrix branded her by cutting 'Mud blood' into her skin. She would forever carry the war, literally on her sleeves. He exhaled loudly and released the grip; he cannot change the past no matter how hard he may have tried.

"Perhaps you are right, in which case maybe we should let them cope."

He replied sighing a little in defeat.

They sat in silence, Hermione contemplated just how to respond but it had been so long since anyone showed this kind of enthusiasm for her company that it was almost over whelming, fortunately she did not have to break the silence.

"Winter is setting in; it seems to get earlier every year."

He said not specifically at Hermione but more to the garden at large Hermione just happened to be sat there next to him.

"Perhaps we spend so long looking for change that we notice and pick up on any little change that we see just to prove that our world is not as static as it seems. Or perhaps we feel an affinity for the emptiness that winter brings to our environment, or the option of hiding away inside that conveniently comes with the cold bleakness that is winter."

She replied, looking down at the ground around her.

"That is a rather pessimistic view Miss Granger."

"Perhaps, but it is born of observation and what I know to be true so maybe the view is more realistic than pessimistic.

She said slowly there was no real emotion present like always her words carried a tinge of regret.

"Indeed."

He replied.

~8~

It was a week later until they had anything resembling a normal conversation again; it was not that they had had a disagreement it was more that whatever thoughts were in their heads they were best left alone in silent contemplation than force such burdens on another. It was now November. Hermione sat staring at her hands they were cold but she didn't mind she had long since given up on minding. She was twenty one she felt older and was pretty sure she looked older; nothing had changed for her yet.

Lucius once again sat next to her it became routine for them, neither ever acknowledged the presence of the other. It was just awkward.

"How's Draco?"

Hermione asked it was out of curiosity more than anything but Lucius didn't answer; he remained silent for an hour and left again not even gracing her with a curt nod of goodbye. She realised it was too personal she never knew Draco. She shook her head. She didn't know Draco, it was not right it reeked of insincerity but maybe she needed to know. To know that even if she was broken that the world around her was not that there were still constants left. Maybe she needed to hear Draco call her 'Mud blood' again. Maybe not.

~8~

The next day he came back, he wore black leather gloves she noticed he also sat next to her.

"I'm sorry for yesterday."

She said. It was a simple apology but it had been eating at her insides since yesterday. She should have said something yesterday. Lucius merely turned his head to face her and then looked away again, back to staring at the ground in front of him.

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. Wonder how I can ever continue with my life knowing that nothing can ever be the same again that I can never be safe anywhere ever again. Then sitting here it hits me, I have to live my life because otherwise it becomes the greatest insult to those who died. But some days I have my doubts about even that."

Hermione said, not caring if Lucius even listened to her anymore.

~8~

She sat down on the bench, Lucius had been silent for the two previous days and she realised that she missed him talking to her or at her as was the most likely case. It was odd how she came to rely more on these daily meetings than she first thought, did that mean that Lucius meant more to her then Harry and Ron? But did she mean anything to him? No. she didn't. She decided almost instantly, if she meant anything he would have talked to her again by now. He still came though. At one the gate creaked opened and Lucius walked briefly around the garden before coming to a stop in front of her.

"Good Afternoon."

He said solemnly and took his seat beside her. There was still silence but it seemed somehow less monolithic then it did before he arrived, those two words made all the difference.

"Draco is well."

He said.

"I'm glad."

She replied.

~8~

Everything seemed brighter today maybe it was because the fragile peace was once again back in the garden. Maybe it was because she had survived another day. On cue they sat and exchanged pleasantries it was familiar and for that moment that was all that mattered.

"There is never any escape from him. You can change in your heart and in your mind but you still belong to him you still serve him. The only way for escape is for him to be destroyed and for that I am very thankful for all your efforts."

He said his voice barely above a whisper as if he was still in awe that everything and nothing had changed for him. He was no longer a prisoner in his own home he no longer had a master to serve but he was still a prisoner in his own country.

"You don't have to thank me. I am tired of being thanked for my part; I have nothing to be thanked for unless you would like me to thank you for your part, you can't have a hero without a villain."

Her voice was low with anger, and she was not truly aware of her words until it was too late and they had been uttered for other ears to hear.

"I understand."

He replied.

"My life is ruined as much as yours. Though in different ways I think."

Hermione said before sighing in defeat and they once again parted ways at the gate.

~8~

Another afternoon and another meeting, the weather was still cold. It decided to lash it down with rain that grey November day.

"I have no wand it's been years now but I'm still refused another wand. Not legally of course that would be wrong even to all the hypocrites that fill the Ministry but it does not say that I can't be refused service or even banned from Olivander's."

"I'm sorry."

Hermione said.

"No you're not. We both know I can't be trusted with a wand."

He said plainly.

"Perhaps."

Was all she could say in reply.

~8~

Five days passed during which they went back to their brief and not exactly personal conversations. Hermione found she missed it, you could tell more about someone from a few words then you could a biography. But she wondered if it was because she needed to know that she was not alone.

~8~

It was the eleventh of November. Remembrance Day. And so Hermione left earlier than usual, Harry came with her and together they stood in front of the small plaque and placed a wreath of poppies before observing the two minute silence, she thought about the victims of all the conflicts Muggle and Magical, a lone tear slid down her face. Harry left to return to his home. Hermione stayed. Lucius entered the garden at one, if he noticed the poppy wreath he never said.

~8~

She sat waiting for him to come another day another chat. She noticed his cloak had a hole in it, she wondered why he still bothered to wear it. It didn't change the fact he sat next to her though.

"Do you know why I liked the imperious curse?"

He asked out of the blue as they sat silently contemplating on the bench.

"No."

Came her reply.

"Because it takes away their responsibility and lessens your own sense of guilt I will always know deep inside that my actions caused their death or suffering but I myself did not do it and I spared the true culprit that responsibility."

Lucius said simply fully accepting of the situation and his actions.

~8~

The next day they were together again, again he wore the cloak with the hole. She wondered if she should point it out to him so that he could get it repaired or just buy a new one but thought it best not to it may be over stepping the mark of what they have together.

"Does it bother you to still live in the manor?"

Hermione asked. She knew that the question was deeply personal but it was just one of those questions that she found herself wanting the answer to. Was it just her that had problems returning to the places that reminded her so of the war? Was it just her that never felt at home or safe anywhere?

Lucius was silent for a while; she could see the signs of his eyes flicking to the sides as they did when he was deep in thought even though his head was bowed seemingly looking at his feet. Wrestling with whatever demons were currently within.

"Yes."

There was silence. And after a while there was not he looked up and looked directly at her before attempting to say the piece sat on the very tip of his tongue.

"It is my home. I have never known anywhere else. It remains a testament to my family and offers constant stability an anchor. Even if on some days is doesn't feel like it."

~8~

Another day. They sat in silence, Hermione had nothing to say and Lucius just stared into the distance. His look and manner was not the glazed look of a day dream but the haunted look of a man who had for whatever reasons done and seen too much.

"Why are you here Miss Granger?"

Lucius asked kindly, never moving his stare from the distance.

"I don't know. I cannot see how to live my life, all the knowledge of what I have done, what I have lost just eats away inside of me. It's better if I am left alone. I think I preferred our first conversations here than the ones we have now."

Hermione was silent before speaking and was silent again afterwards she was still not sure why she was here, she told Lucius no lie but her mind was not being truthful to her either.

"Enlightening."

He said.

~8~

The days went by until Hermione entered the garden and it occurred briefly to her before the thought was over taken that it was the last day of November. Lucius looked more agitated then usual but it was not her place to judge or say.

Lucius however was deep in thought, tomorrow was THE day. But could he tell Hermione he had to tell someone he had to talk about it maybe if someone could understand it would make things better. But she would never understand. Perhaps he should tell her, they are getting overly familiar it would not do for her to get too close she had to know that words can never take back what he has done. That he would never be a man that you talk to even out of desperation. He deserved nothing.

~8~

December first, excitement was everywhere but in the garden the two people who needed joy the most were unable to have it. He sat down next to Hermione, she noticed his cloak still had a hole in and the grip he had on his cane was enough to scare her. Almost. What was there left to be scared of she had seen everything and done everything in reality her and Lucius were the same. Almost.

"How can I ever be ok with it? Nothing can ever fix what's broken, I have to live with my deeds, the knowledge of all I have seen and done. Nothing will ever make that right.

I see their faces all the time. Everything I do, say, hear reminds me of the war. The death. That I caused. Oh it was easy to join and worse HE knew it and used it to his advantage. Turned men into monsters, HE had such a way with words he made what we were doing seem oddly right and significant. The truly terrifying thing is the first time you tune out the sounds of the crowd so completely that all that exists is you and the poor soul in front of you. The sound and feel of your heart in your throat and ears as you gradually focus and realise what's happening. You raise your wand but the words don't come. You can't for the life of you even comprehend ever saying those two little words. You tune the crowd back in.

Then his voice comes, calling you out for being unable to do it. Then it hits you. This cruel wave of cold realisation that what you are about to do is wrong and so distinctly and singularly terrible on whatever level and angle you use to examine it but a cold shock runs through you. What he is about to do to you for being a failure, a sentimentalist, a blood traitor, a coward is single handily worst then doing the deed. That you will live with a broken soul for eternity then suffer the consequences. Heart racing on absolute fear you draw on everything you have and rush through the curse as quick as possible."

He laughed loudly and coldly.

"You take their life and dehumanise and reduce the act to something so insignificant you don't even have the guts to do it properly, show some respect for the person frozen in pure unadulterated terror in front of you. At that one moment just before the curse hits you feel like the smallest person in the room. That the person you respect most in the world is the person you are about to send out of it. Then they all cheer and clap, congratulate you on a job well done. But you're just numb inside you just go along with it relieved that your head is now put of the noose. The next time he commands you to kill it's easier, you draw on your memory of saying those words."

He swallowed loudly.

"Of your first kill."

He ran his shaking hands across his face, fingers kneading his temple he seemed so lost in his thoughts and his past that Hermione felt there was nothing she could do or say at that moment that would any difference to him. She couldn't turn back time. She tried that once and the results were not pretty. No all she could do was listen with an almost morbid fascination as Lucius continued his story, it was strange this feeling that was welling up inside of her. On one hand she should feel horrified, disgusted and repulsed. She should run away and never come back she should feel anger and hate. Not sympathy. But she felt sadness not for the victims but for Lucius. She wondered how a man with everything to live for, the world was his oyster and he was reduced to thinking that genocide was an option. That following a terrorist, a madman was better than anything else. But perhaps she had seen so much that nothing could phase her anymore. When you have seen pure terror, witnessed events that should not happen in the darkest depths of your nightmares nothing can make you cringe that you can feel for the murderers. Feel for the most hated scum in society and that was when it hit her. Her and Lucius were the same.

"Nothing you can do can erase what you have done that you will never again be innocent so you just do it.

The worst thing is you know that it was you who joined him. You who willingly took the mark and you who willingly killed. No one forced you to become a killer that you always had the option to say no. You are the biggest coward in the world and worse of all is that HE knows it and relishes in it. He keeps you by his side because he knows that nothing you can do or say can change the fact that you and him are one and the same. You both have willingly ended the life of another. There is nothing for you to be superior about, no escape. You cannot even conceive the notion of confessing for your crimes and suffering the sentencing that comes with it. You stay because if you don't you won't survive you will go to Azkaban or worse. So you just keep doing what he asks. Then you learn that there is no avoiding the torture, the unbearable, unimaginable, indescribable pain. You ripped your soul apart and the pain he inflicts removes what's left. You can never escape. It might not be that night but the punishment always comes. The reason that justified you killing is gone. The last veil of innocent protection is gone. You did the deed because you wanted to. And that becomes the only thought in your head; there was no reason for the destruction but you.

Then you start believing your own rhetoric and I mean really believing your beliefs your dinner party posturing. You know it's wrong. You have seen the evidence for that your whole life because it has to be wrong. You would die out, inbred otherwise. But you have to believe it because it takes the pain away, for a moment it provides a smokescreen a shield to hide behind you can justify what you have done because it was right. Without it you become the one to blame, without your belief you accept responsibility. But the downside is that it feeds that part inside of you, the darkest, blackest speck inside you that you then draw upon to do the deed the next time he asks. You believe well you have to believe that this time he won't punish you that you will never have to go through the pain, the humiliation again. You know you are alive you know the torture won't kill you but you don't want to take that risk. You don't want to die and face the possibility of judgement for your sins so that becomes your fear coupled with the crippling pain you never want to feel again. Your life then becomes this large ironic cycle that you kill to prolong your own life while the inevitable torture just shortens it and then the fear of the unknown, the hereafter makes you survive the torture because you can put of the inevitable. Then you try and clean yourself but you can never be clean. You can never wash the feel of cowardice, the feel of regret, terror and evilness from you. You turn and catch your reflection in the mirror and it sickens you, the man in the mirror becomes your worst enemy because you can delude yourself, mask yourself, hide yourself but you can never escape yourself. But you have to because everywhere you look, everywhere you are out of the corner of your eye you see them. Everyone you killed, the look of terror then that damned look of sadistic peace that split second before the end follows you. Your dreams are never safe or fun again. Just his sneering face as he tortures you over and over again.

In the end I couldn't take it anymore I had to go to Azkaban I thought that if I suffered really suffered for my sins it would make it all ok that maybe I could find some peace. But it's useless all it does is remind you of why you are there, you realise that nothing you can say or do can take back what you have done. But worse you would not wish such a fate on anyone. Then you remember those you've left behind that to gain peace of mind you abandoned your son, your wife to such a monster. That you force your fate on your son and that makes you physically sick. You just said you would not wish that fate on anyone but you have just given it to those you love the most and realise that that is your punishment that is your penance to know you destroyed a loved one in worse a way than you could do by killing them. Then the dementors don't matter to you. You feel so bad, so revolted and disgusted by yourself that what more could they possibly do to make things worse. That absolute bleak desolation makes the dementors leave you alive. That they can bask in the fact that you are so miserable, soul so black and broken there is nothing that can punish you or make you atone for your sins. You are then forced to drop all pretences that protect you and realise you are there because you are a coward and you are wrong. That you are there because you want your posturing fantasy to be real. But you now don't want it to be real and there is nothing you can do to fight it except to do the bare minimum to survive. Because you have to live your life you have to try and be happy because if you're not it makes a mockery of the already needless deaths you have caused. And the worst thing is you allow yourself happiness because you cannot live so completely in the dark."

Hermione felt her heart harden and break at the same time disgusted and yet full of tears, compassion and in its own perfect way arousal for the man next to her, who opened his very soul and whose gut wrenching honesty did more to inspire friendship and companionship than flowery words ever could. She felt his pain, his regret and yet also his ambition, his drive the sense that his views were right. They were the same. She kept rolling those four words over and over in her mind as she stared perplexed by her emotions at the man beside her. Lucius looked destroyed. He was beyond being broken, he was beyond tears. She knew without any doubt he had cried a thousand tears a hundred times before but nothing could remove the stain on his soul. Nothing could change a single damned thing. How many times had she cried? How many times had she ranted and raved. How many times had she wanted to leave everything behind? Her lips moved before her brain could catch up she was too distracted by her swirling thoughts and loosening the grip she had on the reality she had taken such comfort in. The reality of Lucius being made of stone. That wasn't true. So she let the remains of her old life slide away and she let her brain thrust her screaming in terror into this brave new world where nothing was right.

"That's the difference between the two of you, the proof that no matter what you have done the fact you know you are wrong and the fact you will forever suffer for it will always cement you as different. This is what truly makes us human."

She did not add the rest of her words. One day she would speak them but there was a time for that and it was not today.

"The fact that by killing them you sent them to a better place. You spared them the pain and humiliation of suffering by his hands and suffering in the world he wanted to create. You ripped your soul apart, suffered such pains that can never be healed but you stopped another from going through it. Maybe the two balance each other out, part of that great ironic cycle. Another reason why this should not happen again that it is our duty as veterans as soldiers to ensure that no child has to go through this. That no one has to ever make your choices and suffer the consequences that are far worse than any demon filled hell."

She thought silently. She knew she should hate him but how could she. A life time of regrets was something she knew all too well. She would have done anything to avoid the torture of Bellatrix LeStrange. If only telling her what she wanted to hear would have stopped her own torture.