November 6th

Hermione found herself laying face down on the cold damp cobblestones, unsure of what had happened.

She had let go of Lucius's hand for just a few seconds to lead the way through a narrow passage, expecting him to be right behind her. And then suddenly, he had yelled at her to duck. Instinctively, she had thrown herself to the ground, but not before she felt a sharp pain at her back at the same time as something warm enveloped er - magic. It resembled something between a warm blanket and a study bubble and was unlike anything she had felt before.

At first, she was afraid to move, staying still on the ground while she desperately tried to decide if there was still some sort of threat and from where it came. Then, she focused all her energy on determining whether she – or the baby – were hurt. Her palms were scraped, and she felt some pain in her back, but it felt more like soreness than any actual injury. She was fairly certain she wasn't severely hurt, though perhaps a little bruised. Most importantly, the movements of the baby within her reassured her enough to shift her focus to the outside world.

Slowly, Hermione sat up and brushed her hair from her face. Only now did she recognize the sounds of human voices around her. They were mumbling, whispering, and some were screaming in panic. The street was in complete chaos - some people were running toward her, others ran away. Anumber of people gathered around her in a ring that was constantly becoming tighter as more people tried to get a look. She thought she saw the flash of a camera.

There was fear in the air. Fear and anger. Anger and uncertainty.

Then her eyes found Lucius, standing at her feet her but making no move to come to her aid. He couldn't. Two sturdy and angry looking wizards held him tightly by the arms. She frowned. He was looking at her, but as if he didn't see. His face was a mask of horror, and his wand was lying neglected by his feet without him even trying to get it back.

That's when it hit her. Lucius had been the one to attack her. It can't be! He wouldn't -

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" asked a female voice just beside her. Hermione jumped, and found that she was being addressed by a teenage witch with worried green eyes.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

The young witch bit her lip nervously, but looked her in the eye when she answered: "Mr Malfoy attacked you, ma'am. I don't know what spell he used, but it looked strong." She looked sad. "Healers have been called. And the Aurors."

Hermione looked back at Lucius, who was still staring at her, unmoving.

What had he done?

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. What was he to do?

The number of journalists, cameras and angry citizens outside the Ministry were growing by the minute. People were demanding that Malfoy be sent to Azkaban – or even executed. Minister Shacklebolt had made it clear that he wanted a thorough investigation and every stone turned. Hermione was somewhere downstairs demanding to see Malfoy. And Malfoy himself was staring at a wall.

Harry cast another glance through the enchanted window. Nope. He still hadn't moved.

Harry had arrived in Diagon Alley with a team of other Aurors. Together, they had dissolved the crowd, herded the witnesses into an improvised interrogation room at the Leaky Cauldron and sent the rest packing. When Harry had found out that Hermione had a personal healer – and why – he had promptly sent her to get checked out before they could even think of questioning her.

The witnesses had all told the same story anyway. Malfoy had suddenly raised his wand and sent a powerful hex straight at Hermione's back while shouting something. Some claimed it was a warning, others that it had been a curse. Afterwards, he had dropped his wand and simply stood there.

Malfoy had made no objections even as they tied him up and took him to the Ministry. In fact, he hadn't said a thing. He hadn't answered any questions, nor asked any questions himself.

Three hours later, things were under control, except for one small thing: Harry had no idea how to deal with this. His team leader had trusted him with Malfoy's interrogation, and had it been any other suspect he would have known exactly what to do. Whether to be aggressive or understanding, ask questions or make statements. But he had never quite known what to make of Lucius Malfoy, and right now, his stillness was creeping Harry out.

If this had been a year ago, Harry thought to himself, he would have had no doubt that Malfoy had done this intentionally. No, he amended. I would have been suspicious. It wouldn't have been like the Lucius Malfoy of the past to attack so bluntly, in the presence of scores of witnesses, and doing nothing to escape. The Lucius Malfoy of the past would have been sneakier than that, and certainly unwilling to get his hands dirty.

Harry heard steps approach him from behind and then felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I have no idea how to handle this", Harry admitted, meeting the eyes of the older witch's reflection in the glass.

"Just talk to him, then", Mrs Watts said. "If you don't put on masks, he might not either." She nodded her head at Malfoy. "That doesn't look like a man who wants to play games at the moment."

Harry nodded, but didn't move.

"Harry?"

"I don't think he did it voluntarily", Harry said quietly. "But I don't know if that's because I don't want him to be guilty. And I'm afraid that if he did do this on purpose and I go in there thinking he didn't, he's going to use that somehow. It's what he's like – or was. I just - I don't know."

"It's not up to you to decide if he's innocent or not, Potter", Mrs Watts said firmly. "Your job is to go in there and make him talk."

Talk. Right. Harry felt a little encouraged. He could do that. Mrs Watts patted his shoulder, and left. Harry nodded to himself. Just make him talk.

Lucius's mind was caught in a vicious circle of horrifying images. It was like one of those nightmares where you did something against your will, unable to stop it. His wand rising to point at Hermione. The hex flying at her. Hermione falling to the ground. Again and again. And again.

Again.

Other impressions tried to make their way into his consciousness, but he kept batting them away like annoying flies. Voices. Movement. Ropes. Transportation. Questions. A succession of corridors and rooms. Faces. Frowns.

Questions.

But all he could see was the wand, the curse, the falling to the ground.

"Malfoy, do you hear me?"

Is the baby hurt?

"Malfoy, it's me, Harry Potter."

Is she even alive?

"Please answer me, Malfoy!"

I killed her. My wand killed her. Them. Lucius felt as if his chest was bound by iron chains, making every breath a struggle.

"Can't you just tell me what happened?"

Hermione. It's my fault. I shouldn't have – I shouldn't. It was too much to ask for. Too high a price.

"Please, Malfoy! Just talk to me. Look, Hermione's all right, you know that, don't you?"

Hermione? Injured by my hand.

"She's waiting to talk to you. She's all right."

Hermione.

Lucius struggled to regain control, to break out of the cycle, to breathe. And then all at once, it was as if body and brain reconnected, and he slumped forward, pressing his hands to his forehead, gasping for air. There was something off about his hands. Oh, ropes. Of course there would be ropes.

"Malfoy?"

Still struggling for air, Lucius's eyes focused on a figure sitting across from him. Potter. Potter was leaning his elbows on the table between them. The room was small and the walls in a plain grey colour, the light muted. There were no papers, no wand, no satisfaction in Lucius finally having been caught out. Just genuine concern in Potter's eyes.

"Hermione?"

"She's downstairs", Potter assured him. "Your healer has done a thorough examination, and she's fine. Both of them are fine", he emphasised.

Lucius exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. He was almost overthrown by the wave of relief that crasched through him.

"No injuries?" Lucius clarified. "But that curse was…" He frowned. He had felt the maliciousness of it seeping into his fingertips, but he didn't recognize it. "What was it?"

"Don't you know what curse you used?" Potter asked. There was something odd about the way he said it. Perhaps because there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Lucius shook his head. He was feeling ill. "My hand, my wand – they acted of their own accord. I can't explain it."

He couldn't tell if Potter believed him or not, but they spoke about what had happened. Potter asked questions and Lucius answered them. Potter nodded now and then, as if it matched up with what others had said. But the worried frown on the boy's scarred forehead deepened bit by bit.

Finally, Potter asked him the question he had been asking himself, studying his reaction carefully as he did so: "Could you have been imperiused?"

"I wish I was", Lucius said bitterly. "At least then there would be some sort of explanation."

He had been under the imperio curse before, both willingly and unwillingly. Back at Hogwarts, he and his friends had done it to each other for fun, as a dare. During the last year of the war, when he had been a prisoner of his own home, however, Bellatrix had thought it great fun to have the master of Malfoy manor under her thumb. Lucius preferred not to think of that, but could easily recall the pleasant fuzziness the curse induced. When imperiused, one's ability to think rationally and make one's own decisions was impaired. But today, he had felt completely in control of himself. It was more as if his wand had acted on its own accord.

Potter nodded, but didn't look too happy about it. "Someone controlled your wand, then", he said as if that was the worst possible scenario. And Lucius supposed it was. Lucius leaned his head into his bound hands. There was no other explanation, but how?

"If it had been the imperio, I might have been able to fight it", he said miserably. I should have been able to stop it anyway.

Potter made no answer. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep in their own thoughts. Then Potter sighed and stood up. For obvious reasons, Lucius would have to stay the night in one of the holding cells. His wand was being analysed by specialists as they spoke, and given his past record, he would be lucky to get away with one night. While he wouldn't be judged without evidence, there was no doubt in Lucius's mind that neither would he be declared innocent too easily.

Lucius looked up at Potter tiredly. "Is Hermione really all right?" he asked again.

Potter paused with his hand on the door. He looked rather tired too, but there was something in his eyes when he looked over his shoulder. Something... friendly? Potter smiled: "Yeah. Shall I send her up?"

"She wants to see me?" Lucius asked, sitting back against the uncomfortable backrest of the chair in surprise.

"Of course. She's been waiting for hours. Ginny's probably more sick of you than usual", Potter joked. "So I'll send her in?"

Lucius hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to make sure for himself that she was safe. But how could he trust himself around her, when he didn't know what had happened in the first place? What if he did do it? What if there was some darkness lurking inside him? Or what if the person behind the attack was still able to control him?

Finally, he recalled that his wand had been taken away. "All right", he said. "But Potter –"

"What?"

"Someone will be watching us, right? In case something happens – "

Potter looked concerned, and adjusted his glasses the way he always did when something made him nervous. "I'll keep an eye on you", he promised.

Lucius nodded. "Thank you."