Hi! I know it's been a while since I've updated this...as I'm sure everyone understands, life gets pretty unpredictable sometimes. Thanks for continuing to read, follow, favourite, and review! I really do appreciate reading what you have to say :)
Before reading this chapter: I'm very aware that some things are coming out of nowhere. I introduced Theo abruptly, and will introduce a few more characters and plot elements abruptly. I know it's clumsy on my part. I'd originally intended to take the story one way, and have since re plotted out the ending twice...hence a few plot holes, severe lack of foreshadowing, and lack of flow.
I debated editing and reposting the earlier chapters as well, but since 1) this story desperately needs to be properly proofread when I'm not exhausted 2) I'll probably find more inconsistencies as time goes on and 3) I really want to focus on finishing the story before I get sucked into editing and get too discouraged...please bear with me (or wait until after I go through and edit the story to continue reading).
"I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say, Sir." Theo said, almost proud of himself for keeping his voice from shaking.
"I would like to know why you failed your NEWTs," Snape answered.
It felt like the man could see right through him, but Theo didn't break eye contact. It would be a sure sign of weakness, even an admission of guilt.
"Like I told McGonagall, I had more important things to concern myself with than school." It didn't sound like a lie, though he supposed it actually wasn't. He did have more important things to concern himself with, even if that fact had nothing to do with failing his NEWTs. "I'm busy. Lots of…" he paused, trying not to cringe, "ministry leads to follow."
Snape snorted, "You don't follow ministry leads, Theodore, you drink. You sit in your Manor with Thorfinn Rowle and drink."
Theo knew he was on dangerous grounds now, there wasn't any hope that the man who killed Dumbledore would find sympathy for a traitor to the Dark Lord.
"Fine." he said, "I had a thrilling evening of sitting alone in the comfort of my home planned, and I would love to get on with it."
His fist was clenched to his side, while he desperately tried to ignore the pounding of his heart. He was going to die, this was it for him. He knew this was coming the minute Draco's death was announced, but shit he'd hoped he had more time. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd hoped that Potter, for all his incompetence, would luck out again and maybe trip into the Dark Lord with a sword, or cast a well timed expelliarmus and have everything somehow fall into place.
Snape's eyes widened, as though he'd read his thoughts. Theo felt a sharp pain in his head, and flinched, raising his hand to his temples. It took a second sharp pain for him to realize that it was Snape who was causing it. A horrifying thought crossed his mind. It was well known the the Dark Lord was a legilimens, but what about Snape? No one spoke of it, but that didn't mean...fuck. Theo was waiting for the Avada Kedavra that would end it all. He waited, but the flash of green light wasn't coming.
"Do not look the Dark Lord in the eye, Nott." was Snape's parting wisdom, before he disappeared.
Theo waited well over an hour for him to come back and drag him in front of the Dark Lord, but then it dawned on him that the older Death Eater had no intentions of doing so. He was going to claim Potter as his prize, handing him over to the Dark Lord and attaining all the glory that went along with it. Fuck, this was all his fault.
He apparated to the Rowle ancestral home...Thorfinn might have an idea. He snorted, wondering when he got so desperate he had to ask Thorfinn to think.
Lucius was woken that night when something hit his chest, hard. It took less than a second to sit up with his hand up and ready to curse anyone nearby, and it took barely a second more to realize that it was Hermione who had hit him. The girl was crying, her face soaked in tears while the rest of her thrashed wildly on the bed, attempting to protect herself from Merlin only knew what. He'd given the last of the dreamless sleep to the Creevey brothers, in part because they needed it, but mostly so they would be out of his way.
"Hermione," he said, quietly, attempting to reach her to shake her awake, "Hermione, wake up."
Her arm caught the side of his face, "Hermione." he said, much louder. Holding the arm that had struck him, he reached over to her shoulder with the other hand. "Please," he shook her again, "wake up."
He shook her another time, and finally her eyes flew open. With a loud gasping breath, she made to sit up, halting at the realization that there was still a considerable amount of pain associated with the action.
"You are alright, you're safe." Lucius said, reaching out and smoothing her hair back away from her face. Her skin felt icy under his hands. This wasn't the first nightmare she'd had since he'd known her, and it likely wouldn't be the last. It was, however, the worst one he'd witnessed. Now that the danger was averted, he moved closer to her.
"They're dead." she said, her voice wavering and small. There was almost a question in what she was saying.
"Yes," Lucius confirmed, desperately looking for something to add.
"It's my fault" she said, looking up at him. "I could have used a stunning spell, I could have just bound that man like he did Collin…"
"It wasn't meant to be a friendly duel," he sighed.
"I killed him." she added, in an even smaller voice.
Lucius didn't say anything else, she didn't need his confirmation. Instead he got out of bed and left the room. Once he stepped out, he let himself close his eyes and lean against the wall. Weak as it was, he fought the urge to sit on the floor in the corner of the room and, for the first time in years, let himself cry. He felt pathetic, useless. Squaring his shoulders, he walked towards the small sink outside the washroom.
Quickly, he filled one of the disgusting hotel cups with cold tap water. This was his fault, he should have kept her away from the skirmish, or at least have been at her side from the beginning of it. She shouldn't have to be going through this, the injuries, the remorse. He was well aware of just how painful the whole process could be. The cup full, he made his way back to the room, passing the futon where Collin and Dennis still slept soundly. Once he'd crossed the threshold of their room, closed the door behind him.
She shook her head when she saw the cup, and he placed it next to the muggle clock on the bedside table. He shuffled again, tucking his legs under the blanket, and pulled her into him. It was more to remind himself that she was still alive, still breathing, than anything else.
"She said he was her brother...didn't she?" Lucius didn't like hearing her like this. She sounded weak, and it just reminded him, yet again, how badly he seemed to fail everyone he came into contact with. "Do you think he was a good brother…"
Cold grey eyes met hers for a moment, before he quickly looked away. "It is not worth speculating on it now, it no longer matters." His voice sounded hard, even to his own ears.
"Shouldn't I speculate on it though? Isn't it my duty to have some idea how he lived his life, since I took it away." Her voice wavered, but, otherwise, she was almost eerily calm.
"It isn't." Lucius said. "Have some water." Hermione didn't reply, just stared silently at the wall. He took that as agreement.
After guiding her into a seated position, he handed her the cup. As soon as he let go, it became apparent that that was a mistake. The cup dropped out of her hands, which continued to shake even without the object.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall.
"Don't be." he answered, still finding he sounded as though he were devoid of any proper feeling. He didn't know what to say, how to make it better.
Her hands continued to shake, until Lucius came back again with the cup filled once more, and pressed it into them. He didn't let go this time, helping guide and steady her hands to bring it to her lips.
"Is there something wrong with me?" she asked after a little while.
"Why would you even ask that?" he replied, looking at her, searching for what prompted the question.
"I don't know." she answered, "I hate myself for what I did. I hoped I would kill him, and I did. He was a person...he had a life. Family, friends...people who will miss him." she babbled, "but I don't regret it, I can't even regret it." she broke down into renewed sobs. "Why don't I regret it?" It felt like someone kicked her, yet again, to admit it. She didn't regret it, how could she when she considered the alternative, but every part of her, her mind, her heart, her very soul wished she hadn't.
She looked up at him, begging for an answer he couldn't give. Not really. "I am...one of the last people you should be asking that." he sighed, wondering if he could put into words what he wanted to say, "for what it's worth, I do not believe there's anything wrong with you."
He took the cup out of her hands, setting it down on the table, then reached over to her. Under his hands, her skin was still too cold. He tried to tell himself it wasn't unnaturally so, but failed spectacularly.
Lucius didn't get anymore sleep that night, instead, alternated between pacing, and sitting next to the girl, wishing that he could will her better. He felt helpless, and useless, and so scared every time she drifted off into unconsciousness she wouldn't come back. If only he'd been a more competent healer. If only he'd been a better friend, that she hadn't felt the need to petrify him.
It was wishful thinking to imagine there was some sort of cure all potion that would fix unknown spell damage. Whether because of the curse itself, the mixture of potions, apparition, overexertion or all the factors combined, she'd taken a turn for the worse. All he could do was press a wet towel to her forehead, trying to keep the fever under control while she drifted in and out of consciousness.
"It's cold." she said, pulling the thin hotel blanket closer to her, trying to keep as much of her body heat to herself as possible. Her fever appeared out of nowhere only a few hours after her nightmare, shooting up spectacularly. Lucius wondered if she was going to die, if it was his lifelong curse to fight his attachments to the bitter end, only to have them stripped away the moment he learned to care.
October 22, 1998
Collin woke from the best sleep he'd experienced since Dumbledore's death, freezing when he remembered what led to it. Dennis was next to him, also beginning to wake. His eyes jutted around the room, wondering what Malfoy did with Hermione. He didn't know why they'd trusted him, he'd shown his true colours well enough once they arrived here. Hermione had to be imperiused, any doubt he'd had of that was gone.
A door opened, revealing Malfoy. Collin stared at him. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't use magic without getting in an even worse situation, but he couldn't just stay here. He'd rather die than compromise everything he believed in enough to go along with that man even one more hour.
"Leave." Malfoy said.
Hearing him speak, after he'd had the nerve to force a sleeping potion down their throats the night before, set off Collin.
"What did you do to Hermione?" he asked, meeting the Death Eater's eyes. He almost gasped when he noticed how run down Malfoy looked. Had he been that bad the night before?
The older brother wasn't sure what he was expecting as an answer, against all odds, he supposed he expected an admission of guilt followed by the man slinking off into the shadows. Perhaps an angry rant, or a Snape-like set down. It was a product of his naivety that he wasn't at all prepared for what Lucius Malfoy really did do.
It took five steps for Malfoy to cross the distance between his door and the futon, where he grabbed Dennis by the arm, tightening his grip and pressing his wand into the boys throat when he tried to shake him off.
"You can't use magic." Collin said, his eyes widening, "the trace…"
"The trace…" Lucius mused, his eyes flicking between the two of them, "If he dies…I wonder what would happen. Would they pick up the magic used on him? It would be too fleeting, I think. I would be prepared to take the risk."
"You would have done it yesterday." Dennis said, trying to be brave, "if you could have. If you really wanted to kill us."
Collin shot him a glare, begging him to stop talking.
"Clever boy," Lucius drawled, "but I'm not sure you really believe that."
With all his strength, he shoved Dennis towards the door, "You are correct, that I would prefer you didn't die." he tossed him the remainder of Hermione's muggle money. He wouldn't be needing it, whatever compunction she felt to pay the muggles for a room and food was hardly guiding him. The two hesitated.
"I won't ask again."
"Fine." Collin said, stepping on his brother's foot when he was about to protest. Without another word, he dragged Dennis out behind him, the slamming the hotel door behind him.
"We can't leave Hermione…" Dennis looked at his brother, at a loss for what had gotten into him.
"Of course we can't!" Dennis exclaimed, "We'll come back for her...we just need to get help."
It took more convincing than Collin would have liked, but he finally persuaded Dennis to stay behind, hidden at a different hotel. Alone, Collin could travel a certain distance by foot, and then apparate to Weasley Wizards Wheezes. With his disguise still intact, no trace to worry about, and his faith in the Weasley twins, he was sure they would be able to rescue Hermione from Malfoy.
Lucius paced at the foot of the bed, struck with an even madder idea than the one that brought him here. It had the potential to backfire stupendously, in ways he couldn't even begin to think up. He didn't think it would, though. The alternative, to imperio a healer at Saint Mungos, was worse.
Bracing himself, he disaparated from the hotel room.
The setting he found himself in was awful. Areas of the grounds were burned, and nearly everywhere else weeds sprouted up from two decades of neglect, overtaking the once well manicured gardens. He stared at the large manor house in the distance, surprised that an entire wing of it hadn't crumbled onto its sole inhabitant.
It was in shambles from the fight that took place there at the end of the first war, when Aurors stormed the place to capture Rabastan, Antonin, Evan, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix. The battle that took place was legendary, claiming Evan's life, along with Mad-Eye's last bit of sanity. It ended with the capture and subsequent imprisonment of his friends.
Their stint of revenge against the Longbottoms cost them everything, and he spent years wondering over their stupidity. Rabastan could have otherwise continued his unremarkable career as a healer, Antonin could have fled the country, and Evan married his awful fiancee and had years to repent the decision. Of course, Bella and Rodolphus were too well known to disappear for long, but there was never any doubt that they would be trying to take their revenge after the fall of their master, preferring Azkaban to a world run by blood-traitors.
After a minute of walking down the unkempt gravel path, he paused to cast a numbing spell on his leg, hoping to ease the pain for the remainder of his walk up. He stopped breathing when he heard a cracking noise, only meters behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Rabastan asked.
"It's a pleasure to see you alive as well." Lucius said, turning and pointing his wand towards the man.
"You know how dangerous it is for you to show up here." said Rabastan.
"You owe me, friend."
"Do I?" the darker man seethed, pulling out his own wand in return.
"I need you to heal someone. Then I'll consider you no longer in my debt." Lucius responded, "Twenty two years I've kept your secret. This is the very least you can do for me."