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Chapter Twelve
The first Tuesday in February found Hermione in the Hogwarts library, along with Neville and Ginny, studying for their NEWTs. Their course-load seemed to be getting heavier each week, and Hermione got more frazzled with every new homework assignment. It had got to the point that Snape put wards on the dining room in the evenings so she couldn't study into the wee hours of the morning – it was the first and only time she cursed him having his magic back.
Although she preferred studying at home – fewer interruptions and access to tea and biscuits – she enjoyed having this time with her friends. It felt like she never saw them anymore; everyone had their busy lives, and Ginny was still acting strangely. Hermione glanced across the table at the youngest Weasley, who was focused on her paper with a furrowed brow.
Ginny sighed and sat up, pushing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Does anyone have Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants here?"
A shuffle through the piles of books on the table proved unsuccessful, and Ginny stood. She disappeared into the stacks, and Hermione hesitated a second before following her. She found Ginny deep in the Herbology section and cleared her throat so as to not scare her.
"Hey, Ginny?"
"Hmm?" Ginny's smile was a tad too polite to be genuine.
Hermione ran a hand over the spine of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World. "You're okay, right? I know you're not ready to talk, and you don't have to. But I worry."
This time, Ginny's small smile was real, and her eyes shone. "I'm fine, Hermione. Or, I will be. Soon, I hope."
Letting out a relieved sigh, Hermione nodded. "Good. You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?"
"I know." Ginny pulled out the book she was looking for. "And I will. When I'm ready."
"That's all I ask."
They returned to the table and found Luna occupying the previously empty seat and chatting with Neville. She smiled when Ginny and Hermione approached.
"Oh, hello," she said, eyes flickering from Hermione to Ginny. "I hope you don't mind me joining?"
"Not at all," Ginny said, sitting down next to Luna. "How was Divination?"
Ginny and Luna chatted quietly as Hermione continued with the Herbology assignment. Once that was finished, she set it aside to allow the ink to dry and started on the Defence essay. She quickly lost focus, as her study mates seemed more interested in chatting than studying. The conversation turned to what they would do after leaving Hogwarts.
"As long as I get at least an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, Professor Sprout has said I can apply for an Apprenticeship with her," Neville said.
"I can help you, if you'd like," Hermione offered. It was no secret to anyone, least of all Neville himself, that he was a disaster around a cauldron.
He smiled. "Thanks, but I'm not sure I need it. Slughorn says I'm on the higher end of 'Acceptable', and that he sees no reason why I shouldn't get up to an Exceeds Expectations," he boasted.
Hermione couldn't stop her surprised look, and a glance across the table showed similar expressions on Ginny's and Luna's faces. "That's great, Neville."
Neville looked embarrassed. "Potions still scare me, don't get me wrong, but I prefer Slughorn's teaching to Snape." He glanced at Hermione. "I know he's done a lot of good, but he wasn't a very good teacher."
Hermione disagreed, but held her tongue.
"I haven't decided yet," Luna said, leaning her chin on her propped up hand. Her long, blonde hair spilt over the table. "I'm thinking of going to South America; they've got all sorts of rare magical plants and creatures there. It all depends on if Dad needs help with the Quibbler or not."
Neville nodded. "How is your dad doing?"
"He's all right, thank you," Luna smiled. "He still has his bad days, but they're getting fewer."
"That's good," Hermione said. "Tell him I said hi."
"I will." Luna turned to Ginny. "You're joining the Holyhead Harpies, aren't you?"
Ginny's cheeks flushed. "Nothing's decided yet."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You're being scouted? Why didn't you tell me?"
Ginny shrugged. "As I said, it's not set in stone yet. But they've come to see me play, and there's some discussion going on. They'll be there for the next match, too."
Hermione smiled, pushing back the hurt at her friend not telling her such big news. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. When's the next match?"
"The last Saturday in February."
"I'll be sure to come to watch it, then. Maybe Harry and Ron can come too."
Ginny's face fell slightly. "I suppose so. If they've got the time, I mean."
–
"There's a letter for you," Snape said when she stepped out of the Floo, not looking up from the Potions books he was reading.
"Are you sure it's not another get well card?" she teased, putting her book bag on the armchair.
His glare was seething, but she only chuckled as she walked past him. Since he'd got back from hospital there had been an influx of cards and gifts wishing him a speedy recovery. Only Molly's baked goods had been spared the Incendio he'd unleashed. She plucked a homemade biscuit from the tin and went back to the sitting room.
The letter – marked only with her name block letter – sat on the sideboard by the bay window, and she eyed it before sinking down on the sofa. Who would be writing her?
Opening it and starting to read, her brow furrowed. It became deeper the longer she read, although it wasn't a very lengthy letter. Once finished, she put the letter down. She most definitely hadn't seen that one coming.
"Granger."
She blinked twice.
"Granger?"
Hermione looked up. Snape was observing her with a strange look on his face. Was that concern?
"The letter is from Lucius Malfoy," she said.
Snape's eyebrows arched up into his hairline.
"He's requesting a visit from me, this Sunday."
"Huh. Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know; he doesn't say." She handed him the letter. "You can read it, I don't mind."
Snape looked suspiciously at the letter as he accepted it, and did a number of revealing spells – a few Hermione didn't recognise – but finally put the letter down. "There's nothing else there. Whatever he has to say, he doesn't want written down."
"Should I be nervous?"
He shook his head. "There'll most likely be guards present, so he can't do anything to you. But watch what you say; Lucius is cunning and will use your own words against you."
Hermione scoffed. "Charming. I can't imagine what he wants with me, anyway. I'd think he'd be afraid to get Mudblood germs just by being in the same room as me."
Snape scowled at her. "Do not use that word."
"Sorry." She sighed. "Couldn't he have the courtesy to schedule a visit earlier in the week? I'm not going to be able to focus on anything else this week."
Snape chuckled. "Although I'm sure that would give him great pleasure, he doesn't control the visiting hours."
"Oh. But still."
–
As predicted, Hermione had trouble focusing on anything but her imminent visit with Lucius Malfoy for the rest of the week. She only revised for six instead of eight hours a day, and could barely pay attention in Potions class on Friday. The worst part was the nightmares that flared up. Each night brought her back to Malfoy Manor under Bellatrix Lestrange's spell. In several of them, it was Lucius casting the spell instead, and she woke in tears one night after Greyback made good of his promise to make her scream.
That evening there was a vial of dreamless sleep waiting for her in the kitchen.
On Sunday, she dressed slowly; her stomach was already in knots and every cell of her body was resisting. Snape was already in the kitchen when she came downstairs, and he shoved a cup of tea and a piece of buttered toast at her.
"Eat," he commanded.
She leant against the worktop and nibbled on her toast, watching Snape make breakfast for himself. She hadn't really noticed before, but he was lacking his usual layers – he was only in a button-down shirt and trousers. He seemed smaller without his billowing coat – less intimidating. She preferred this version of him. Eyes going to his face, she realised by his expression that he'd said something.
"Sorry, what was that?"
He looked unamused. "I said, you don't have to visit Lucius. You don't owe him anything."
Hermione sipped her tea. "I know. But I can't imagine him sending that letter if what he wanted to say wasn't important."
Snape looked unconvinced, and she tried to smile.
"I'll be fine."
Her bravado faltered as she donned her coat and went out to the garage. She Apparated to the Ministry, where she would catch a Portkey to Azkaban. The wizard taking her name at the Portkey office seemed like he'd worked there for too long and barely looked at her as he gave instructions to where she needed to go.
Several other people were gathered around the Portkey to Azkaban, none of whom she recognised. There was a high whistle.
"30 seconds for the Portkey to Azkaban prison, that's 30 seconds! Please note that you must have a booked visit with a prisoner to be allowed entry."
Hermione grabbed the Portkey – a Muggle bike tyre – and it whisked her away.
She arrived in a room not dissimilar to the reception area at St Mungo's, although it was decidedly less cheery. Even with the knowledge that the Dementors were no longer guarding the prison, a chill went through her.
A guard wearing black robes was barking orders. "Have your wands ready for identification. If you do not have a visit scheduled you will not be allowed further than this point."
Hermione dutifully joined the queue to the reception desk. It wasn't too long until she was up.
"Name?" the witch behind the desk said.
"Hermione Granger."
"Name of the prisoner you're here to see?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
The witch's brow furrowed slightly. "Your wand, please."
Hermione reluctantly handed over her wand to the witch, who gave her a green tag with the number 16 etched into it.
"The number is for your table. Next!"
After a few minutes of waiting, the crowd was directed towards a door in the corner of the space. Another guard – Hermione was fairly sure he'd been a Ravenclaw – gave them instructions; do not touch the prisoner, your hands must be visible at all times, any gifts you have for the prisoner must be checked in at the front desk and is not allowed in the visitor's room. A few other people looked as new to this information as Hermione was, whilst others seemed to know all this already.
They were led through a stone corridor, lit by invisible lights, and finally through a door that opened into a large room. It had rows of cubicles – like Hermione had seen in a film once – and several guards stood around the room. She found the cubicle with her number and sat. Eyeing the table and deeming it clean enough she rested her arms on it.
A door on the far wall opened, and a dozen or so prisoners entered with a guard in the front and rear.
Hermione spotted Lucius Malfoy at once, his white-blond hair a beacon against the grey prisoner robes. The closer he got to her, the faster her heart raced. She hadn't been to the trials of the Malfoy family, which had taken place when she was in Australia trying to fix her parents' memories. Harry had told her of their sentences when she got back; Lucius got 80 years, Narcissa 25 years and Draco 10 years in Azkaban for their involvement with You-Know-Who.
He sat down on the stool opposite her. "Miss Granger," he said, voice hoarse.
She could only stare. He looked terrible. Pale and ashen, his face was drawn and his hair hung around his face in greasy lengths. He was practically drowning in his worn grey robes, and she saw the suppression cuff around his narrow wrist.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me," he continued. "I trust you're well?"
This shook her into speaking. "Why did you write? What could you possibly have to say to me?"
He scoffed. "Such a Gryffindor. It's called pleasantries, Granger, maybe you've heard of them? Tell me, how is dear Severus? I heard you volunteered to be his minder. I can't imagine why."
"I'm not here to talk about him," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Tell me what you want, or I'm leaving."
That smug look disappeared from Lucius' face, leaving him looking forlorn and scared. It twisted her stomach.
"I find myself requiring your assistance." His voice was low, and he leant in towards her.
It took all her willpower not to recoil. "With what?"
"Narcissa is dead."
"And that concerns me how?"
"Because she should be alive!" Lucius took a deep breath. "She was looking worse and worse for weeks, then she just died. There was no explanation for her passing; no injury or illness. She just…" Here Lucius paused and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Wasted away."
Hermione wasn't sure what to do with the twinge of sympathy she felt. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I still don't see what that has to do with me."
Lucius regarded her as if she was an idiot. "You're the brightest witch of your generation, or so they say. Isn't research your forte?"
"And I should research Narcissa's death because…"
"It's what a good person would do."
She recoiled. "Do not speak to me about being a good person. You have never lifted a finger to help anyone if it didn't profit you."
"If not for me, do it for Severus. He was fond of Narcissa."
Hermione froze.
A high bell sounded.
"That is the end of the visit," barked a guard. "All prisoners return to your cells."
Lucius suddenly grabbed her arm, eyes wide. "Promise you'll look into it!"
Before Hermione could answer, Lucius' body started shaking. A pained moan left his mouth as he was pulled away from his seat by one of the guards.
"You know to keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy," the guard sneered.
Hermione looked in shock as Lucius was dragged away.
"Time to go, dear," a woman to her left said, a sad smile on her face. "You can see him next week."
Mechanically, Hermione stood and followed the crowd back to the arrival room. She handed in her tag and got her wand back. They Portkeyed back to the Ministry, and Hermione walked across the Atrium towards the Floos. She was fairly sure that Percy Weasley said hello to her, but she couldn't find it in her to answer.
Before she knew it, Hermione arrived back in her sitting room. She supposed she was lucky she didn't end up somewhere else, her mind being as frazzled as it was.
"So?"
Snape stood in the doorway. He must have come from the garage because there were melting snowflakes in his hair and on his cloak.
"What did Lucius want?"
Hermione's vision narrowed until Snape was only a black and white blob in front of her. Her blood pounded in her ears, chest tightening. Lucius' face swam through her mind, not as he was but how he had been. She could see the drawing-room. She had to get away, or he would find her. Her knees shook. Bile rose in her throat as she cried harder.
Someone grabbed her arm and she jerked away. She had to get away.
"It's only me," a low voice in her ear. "You're going to be fine. Just keep breathing."
She was floating – or was she moving? – and then she was sitting. The low voice was still talking, speaking encouraging words that didn't quite penetrate through the haze but still soothed. Something warm touched her hands.
Slowly her chest loosened, and her hearing became clearer. Hermione blinked furiously, and shapes started to appear.
Snape was seated on the coffee table in front of her, both hands grasping hers. Worry was etched in his face, his brow furrowed and mouth down-turned. His eyes searched her face, then he visibly relaxed with a sigh.
"Welcome back."
"I had a panic attack?"
Snape nodded, pulling his hands back. "You did. Are you all right?"
Her hands felt cold. "I'm not sure."
"Wait here." He stood, and she mourned the loss of his leg resting against hers. She felt unsafe when she was alone. He returned not a minute later with a bar of chocolate, which he made her eat in its entirety before he sat – in the armchair this time – and said, "Better?"
Hermione swallowed the last piece of chocolate. "Yes, thank you."
"Do you feel up to talking about Lucius?"
Hating how her voice shook, Hermione told him of her encounter with the Malfoy patriarch; from his haggard appearance to the frenzied way he had grabbed her arm. Snape got a strange look in his eyes when she mentioned Narcissa's passing.
"He didn't tell you anything else?" he asked when she was finished.
"No. He seemed scared, though."
"That Lucius would let his feelings show concerns me," Snape said slowly. "It's unlike him." He paused. "Perhaps you could write to Andromeda Tonks about her sister's passing? They weren't close, but I'm sure she would like to know."
Hermione nodded. "Of course. How well did you know Narcissa?"
Snape shrugged. "We weren't close, but we had an amicable relationship. She was a fifth year when I started Hogwarts, so I didn't get to know her until she had already left school and married Lucius. I did not wish death upon her."
"Nor I," Hermione said, surprising herself as much as Snape. "I'm not saying that she was an amazing person – she was a Death Eater after all – but she did lie to You-Know-Who about Harry being dead. That took courage. And enough people have died, don't you think?"
Snape didn't answer.
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