Title: And All the King's Horses
Genre: Mystery, Angst
Pairings: Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to JKR. This work is for fun, not profit.
Warning: Remember all of those things I mentioned at the beginning? Torture, rape, general nastiness? I meant it. Nothing overly graphic in this chapter, but very bad things happen.
Summary: After Voldermort's fall, the world seemed full of hope and promise, and no one's star seemed brighter than Hermione Granger's. Twenty years later, her son tries to put back the pieces of a broken woman. The Marriage Law has gone terribly wrong.
Author's Notes: Not sure what to think of this one...
Chapter Ten
In which there is a party at Malfoy Manor
She's seen photographs of the mirror of course. News of the auction has been in all the journals all week long.
It's not just that. She remembers hearing about the mirror. They looked into it once. They. Harry and… well never mind. That was a lifetime ago.
Her husband has bought the mirror. Messrs. Weasley and Weasley of course put up quite a fight for it. She wonders what they wanted it for. Probably nothing. They didn't want it. They only wanted to spite her and her husband, and really why shouldn't they? They hate her.
Now everyone is crowding into the great hall in the Manor. Her husband's got the room all prepared for the great midsummer masque and the mirror is this year's great attraction. His idea of course. She doesn't have ideas. Not anymore. Why would she want them? There's no point to thinking. That's what Lucius is around for. Let him do the thinking. Let her close her eyes and feel her mind go numb. It's better not to think.
It's impossible not to think however. Impossible. So difficult. Why, just in that last stretch of mind there are dozens upon dozens of tangential thoughts and she's had to suppress them all. Like thinking about the fact that she's now on first name terms with the Malfoy patriarch. Or the fact that compared to him Voldemort seems like a nice man.
She'd like to meet Voldemort. Unfortunately he's dead. Voldemort was nice in a way. He made everything either black or white. There was Voldemort. He had his Death Eaters. Same camp. All of them bloody murders. There was Harry. He had the Order and his friends. All of them selfless heroes. Black and white. Either/Or. So easy to distinguish. She misses Voldemort. Some days she wishes he had won. Harry'd be dead of course, and that would be an improvement. She would probably be dead too. Also an improvement. And Ron? Who knows? Who cares? She mustn't think about Ron. Lucius would be happy. Narcissa would be alive. If Lucius were happy, well maybe then he wouldn't bother her. Yes, that would be nice. She'd be dead of course. Yes that would be nice.
Nice. Yes, black and white are so nice. She's taken up reading math books. They're particularly nice. Either right or wrong. That last book that Scorpius bought her, wonderful, delightful, beautiful Scorpius, her darling baby, is nice. Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica. Soothing. Thinking about those things keeps her mind off of other things. Darling Scorpius. Such a thoughtful child. A blessing.
"Mum," her favorite word in the world when it comes out of his lips, "Mum, Dad's going to unveil the mirror. Everyone's gathered in the Hall. Come, come," and he takes her hand and leads her there.
Her husband is already standing there, his hands on the canvas. "Darling, will you do the honors?"
She nods and joins him by his side, hands on the canvas, they pull.
He comes to her, slips his arm around her waist and kisses her. "Do you want the first glance?" He asks.
She smiles. It's a part to play. "I already know what I'll see in the mirror darling," she lies. It's a part to play. She smiles and kisses him. It's a part to play.
Her husband smiles and kisses her. "Indeed," he says, "I suppose I know what I'll see too. Let's defer to seniority, Father?"
Lucius looks up, smiles and nods. He gets up, leaning on his walking stick more than he has before and walks to the mirror. The room is silent, all eyes transfixed on Lucius Malfoy as he looks into the mirror that will show him his heart's true desire. She doesn't want to know what it is. Doesn't want to know what Lucius Malfoy wants more than anything else in the world. Still her eyes are transfixed like everyone else's. Suddenly Lucius gasps. He seems to sink into his cane and brings his free fist to his mouth. His jaw is clenched. His hands are trembling. And then he smiles. It's a terrifying smile. Devoid of all wickedness. She thinks it's almost a kind smile. It makes him look like a young man. A young man in love. Except she doesn't know what young men in love look like anymore, and she's fairly certain that Lucius Malfoy can't feel love. He mustn't. Otherwise, what happens to her life of black and white? What happens if the most vile man she knows can feel love? Voldemort couldn't, that's what they say… That's what makes Voldemort so much better than Lucius. At least Voldemort didn't have any redeeming qualities.
Voldemort couldn't cry. Wouldn't cry. He certainly wouldn't hold his hands up to a mirror with a look of desperate longing. Lucius Malfoy shouldn't either. A man like that shouldn't be able to feel anything other than cruel joy. But he can, and he's feeling pain and beatitude all at once, and it's driving her insane and all she can do is smile because that's her part to play.
Tears are streaming down his cheeks now, tears of joy because he is seeing that which he wants most in the world, and tears of sorrow because he knows that he cannot have it. All eyes are fixed on him; the most powerful man in wizardom is laid bare before his cohorts, and for the first time in his life he can't be moved to care, and it's really driving her quite mad.
Rose interrupts, walking up to Lucius and asking him the question everyone else is wondering, except her, because she already knows the one thing in the world that makes Lucius Malfoy a human being rather than a monster. "Narcissa," he gasps, and Rose leads the old man away from the mirror.
The guests follow. Some of them give cries of joy, others break into tears. All are laid bare and broken, and she really couldn't care less. Rose's turn comes, near the end, and she just smiles, gazes into the mirror contentedly, and finally pulls herself away and joins Lucius. "What did you see princess?" he asks her, inviting her upon his lap and she hugs and kisses the man, so sweetly, and announces for all to hear: "Hogwarts a History, Third Edition."
"Aren't you ambitious, darling?" the old man answers. It's driving her insane, because he loves her daughter so completely, and a man like that shouldn't be capable of love. She misses Voldemort.
Scorpius wants to be Head Boy. She smiles sadly because she knows why he wants it, and she knows he won't get it, and it isn't at all his fault.
Then Draco, her husband, who simply smiles at the mirror and turns to her and tells her he doesn't need a silly looking glass to tell him he wants her. Another kiss, another smile, and then it's her turn.
It doesn't matter what she sees however, because she knows what she must answer. She must tell them that she is the happiest woman in the world, and maybe that's what she'll see, herself as the happiest woman in the world…
She braces herself for whatever impossible dream will come, takes a breath and looks into the mirror. She gasps, momentarily caught unaware by the beauty of the sight before her. The first thing she notices is the red, so much red, such beautiful red, so much prettier than the vile green her husbands cherish. It takes a moment for her brain to register what the red really is, but that's to be expected, because she's worked long and hard at training herself not to think. But then it hits her, and she realizes for the first thing that she is gazing upon a monstrous thing. It isn't Harry Potter smiling and sane. It isn't Ron out of Azkaban. It isn't even Scorpius finally happy and comfortable in his skin.
It's that vile man, surrounded by red. She's lived through a war and she doesn't think she's ever seen so much red. She doesn't think even Bellatrix Lestrange could ever dream up something like this. And in contrast to the red his face is white, so white. And finally, it really hits her, this is what she wants most in the entire world; this is her heart's true desire. This is what he has made of her…
And that is when the screaming started.
Author's Notes: Reviews are always lovely.