November 6th
The Manor was shaping up nicely. On his way home after a few hours of work, Lucius mentally reveiewed the progress. Not even six months had passed since he decided to set up the foundation, and the renovations were almost finished, he had employed a set of competent healers (including two squib doctors), and Kingsley Shacklebolt had even promised to speak to the muggle Prime Minister about the project.
Today, he had interviewed several applicants for the position of head-gardener. He had taken it upon him to give the applicants a tour of the gardens, pointing out its attractions and inhabitants, and was now convinced that he had found the perfect person for the job. It was a young wizard with a love for anything that grew, a basic understanding of healing and some knowledge about magical zoology. Lucius had offered him the job on the spot, but the young man had requested a day or two to consider before giving his answer. Lucius had bristled, but accepted.
Finally having arrived home, Lucius peeled off his robes and placed them over a chair in the hallway for Tilly to pick up. The moment he was free of them, Hermione's pug-faced cat came around the corner. That creature had an uncanny sense of timing. There was no doubt in Lucius's mind that the cat knew his attitude to cat hair perfectly well: while he disliked them on any of his clothing, his robes were absolutely off limits. Why else would it always show up the second the coast was clear, staring expectantly at him?
"Let me guess: Hermione's taking a nap?" Lucius asked.
Crookshanks meowed.
"Of course she is", Lucius chuckled.
Confident that he wouldn't get caught showing affection to a creature he usually pretended to ignore, he picked the creature up and was rewarded with a nudge on his cheek. Gently stroking Crookshanks's fur, Lucius made his way towards the kitchen, hoping to find a snack in the fridge before he woke Hermione up.
She had just entered the Gryffindor common. Harry had been telling her about Seamus's latest mishap in Transfiguration class, and she was laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. Harry had to catch her by the arm to stop her from stumbling upon a bag someone had carelessly thrown on the floor.
Trying to catch her brath, it took Hermione a few moment to notice that Harry had stopped talking and was awkwardly shuffling his feet. She looked up at her friend, and then her gaze moved to the comfortable set of couches by the fire. There, she saw a familiar male figure half-lying among the cushions, enthusiastically making out with Lavender Brown. Their hands were all over each other, their mouths never leaving the others'. Bile rose in her throat.
She knew she was supposed to tell Harry that she was all right and then run to her room and have a good cry. That was what she had done when this happened in sixth year. But she couldn't. She was unable to move, almost dizzy from the revulsion and feeling of betrayal the sight of them ignited in her. Because it wasn't Ron making out with Lavender.
It was Lucius.
"Hermione Granger".
Hermione sat up, startled, disoriented and decidedly repulsed by the images lingering from her dream. That was odd. No, not odd. It was sickening, and frightening.
She shook her head, and then noticed Lucius standing by the door. His arms were crossed and, judging from his expression, he was most seriously displeased. Crookshanks sat next to his feet, staring accusingly at her. For a moment, she wondered if they somehow knew of her dream – but why would they be offended?
"What?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. Slowly, her sleep-addled brain cleared. She was on her bed, having decided to take a midday nap. That had been – she checked her watch – an hour ago.
"I have a question for you", Lucius said, looking composed in a discomposed sort of way. Hermione felt chills down her back. She hadn't heard him use that tone of voice in a very long time. It was an address she imagined he would have used when his most precious evil plans had been thwarted and he had cornered the person responsible.
Her heart sped up. What did I do?
"Let us say, hypothetically of course, that someone was to put a book into the fridge", he began. "What would be their intention with that?"
"Um..." She couldn't have done that, could she? She knew she'd been a little forgetful and scatter-brained lately, but to put a book in the fridge?
"I have never heard of such a method for taking care of valuable books", Lucius continued. "But perhaps you could enlighten me."
"Actually", Hermione began, "the humidity in the fridge is too high, it might hurt the bindings…" She trailed off when she saw the anger flare in Lucius's eyes.
"If that is the case", Lucius said icily, "would you care to explain why you would put the most valuable book in our possession in such a place?"
"Not the – " Hermione gasped, clutching her blanket to her chest for protection.
"Oh yes, The History of the Malfoys", Lucius seethed. His eyes were the colour of frozen metal.
"Was it damaged?" she asked quietly.
"Not as far as I could tell, but that is beside the point. It only exists in one copy!"
"Actually, there is one more." Hermione couldn't help it. She had never been able to stop herself from spilling out unwanted information. The surprise made Lucius pause, and Hermione quickly continued: "It was gifted to Septimus Malfoy in 1782 as a wedding gift, and passed down on in two copies, one to each of his sons."
"There's another copy?" Lucius asked suspiciously.
She nodded eagerly. "The other one is unaccounted for though, it was lost some time in the 19th century..." Hermione trailed off.
"That is irrelevant", Lucius dismissed, annoyed that she had side-tracked him. "That book is invaluable, and you know it!"
Hermione pushed the blanket off her, and put her feet on the floor. "I'm sorry…"
Slowly, as if approaching an angry tiger, she padded towards him. Lucius's ire had a strange effect on her. She didn't want to run. Instead, she had a strong feeling that the closer she could get, the safer she would be. When she reached him, she stopped just short of touching him.
"You know I would never do something like that if I could help it…" she pleaded.
Lucius's icy scowl was beginning to look more like a pout. Carefully, she loosened his crossed arms, and wormed her way close to his body. Putting her arms around his waist, she felt a wave of contentment when she felt the warm planes of chis chest and the soft fabric of his shirt against her cheek.
"Don't try to cuddle yourself out of this", Lucius muttered, but still put his arms around her. "This pregnancy-forgetfulness has gone entirely too far."
"I'm sorry", Hermione repeated into his shirt.
"I'll order Tilly to follow you around wherever you go and make sure you don't do any more damage", he threatened.
"That's fine", she agreed, beginning to relax the moment she felt him do the same.
"I'm still angry with you."
She simply nodded. Lucius sighed then, and she felt him rest his cheek on top of her head, hugging her more closely. If the furry presence by her legs was something to judge by, Crooks might have forgiven her too. That disloyal cat always took Lucius's side.
"Is the book really undamaged?" she asked after a few moments.
"I think so", he sighed. Another moment passed before he reluctantly asked: "Is there really another copy somewhere out there?"
"I like to think so, but Septimus's second son only had daughters, and so did they, and their daughters in their turn. So it would nearly be impossible to find out who inherited it. Assuming it even stayed in the family."
Another moment of silence.
"Will you forgive me, eventually?" Hermione asked.
Lucius made a noncommittal sound, which she interpreted as I guess I'll have to. She hugged him tighter, breathing in his warm and comforting scent. Then, suddenly, the disturbing image of his hands and lips on someone else flitted across her mind, and she shuddered.
"What is it?" Lucius asked.
"Nothing."
Neither of them felt like staying at home after their argument, so they made the impulse decision to go to Diagon Alley. They had avoided crowds since the attack, and Lucius did't like the idea of the attention they were likely to receive. Judging from the increased number of howlers and - strangely - actual fan mail addressed to him, there was a fairly high chance of awkward encounters. And then, of course, there was that small detail of a potential murderer waiting to strike.
But Hermione was in great need of some books from Flourish and Blotts, and Lucius would rather take another reducto than let her go alone. And of course, he knew they couldn't hide away forever. He wasn't exactly keen on repeating the experience at the ball, but so long as he was the target, he supposed he'd lived through worse.
So they flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and soon stepped out onto the street. It was Friday and rather crowded, but a surprisingly sunny day for this time of year, and he found himself imitating Hermione in taking a deep breath of fresh air. They glanced at each other and he felt himself smile, and began to make their way towards the bookstore.
They did get quite a lot of stares and whispers. Some smiled and others frowned, but nobody seemed inclined to actually approach them. That was why he was surprised at his unease. He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary even though he scanned the crowds diligently. He was relieved when they reached Flourish and Blotts, and felt slightly more at ease among the narrow aisles between the bookshelves.
But as soon as they stepped out again, he felt the same unease.
"What is it?" Hermione asked with concern in her voice.
"I don't know", he answered quietly while looking suspiciously around him. "Something is wrong."
Hermione bit her lip and looked around her, but didn't seem to have more success with her observations than he. No lurking figures in the shadows between the alleys. No malicious eyes staring at them. No familiar faces.
"Do you mind returning home?" Lucius asked, discreetly taking his wand out to be ready.
Hermione shook her head, and they walked hurriedly back the same way they came. Lucius held her hand and guided her quickly through the crowds. As they were turning around the final corner, from which they could see the Leaky Cauldron, Lucius had to let go of her hand for just a moment. He let her walk in front of him in order to fit through a particularly narrow and crowded passage. That was when he felt it.
It being the strange sensation of his hand doing something which he had no control over.
A rapid succession of emotions passed through him as he watched his right hand, still holding the wand, lift up and point at Hermione. He was surprised, at first. Almost amused, as if his hand was playing a prank on him. Then he felt annoyed at not being able to stop its movement. Insulted, almost, or betrayed. But the final feeling was that of horror, because he realised that his own wand was going to fire a spell straight at Hermione's back.
"Hermione, duck!" he bellowed, and watched helplessly as a jet of blue light erupted from his wand and Hermione either fell or threw herself at the ground.
Seconds later, the wand fell from his numb fingers, having done its job.
Something odd is going on with the site, but I'll just keep posting according to plan, and hope it will sort itself out. Thanks for reading, and please consider leaving a review if you're still enjoying the story.
Ida