A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read and follow along with this story. The war is over but there is more to come. Unlike the series, we aren't skipping forward 19 years and tying it too neatly in a bow. With help from Sulis Writes, I've outlined roughly a dozen post-war chapters to get us to the end. As always, I welcome your thoughts and feedback about Hermione's story.
~oOo~
After the War: Part 1
They found Draco in the Great Hall, somber-faced as he talked with Blaise Zabini. Gregory Goyle was not in sight, and Hermione tried not to think about whether that meant yet another classmate had died. Hermione watched at a distance as Lucius interrupted the conversation, clasping a hand on Draco's shoulder.
She noticed that conversation around the two Malfoys had come to a halt and others were watching closely. She heard whispers of "Death Eaters" nearby but was too tired to correct anyone. It did not escape her notice, however, that no one seemed brave enough to challenge Lucius's presence there.
Lucius turned and began walking back toward her, Draco trailing behind him. Draco looked distraught as they approached but then stopped abruptly about a meter away from Hermione.
"What is she doing here?" he hissed to Lucius.
Lucius turned and whispered something to Draco, so quietly Hermione could not hear him. Draco appeared taken aback for a moment and then glared at Hermione. She watched in awe as her school nemesis grimaced and rolled his shoulders before inhaling deeply. His expression changed, his pointed features morphing into a visage of sorrow mixed with relief. The transformation was impressive.
Lucius turned to look at Hermione, and she knew then from the look on his face that this was all a show for the crowd, for the Great Hall was indeed still filled with shell-shocked students, Order members, ministry officials and the like.
"Miss Granger," he said formally.
"Lord Malfoy," she said, when he paused, apparently expecting some sort of response from her. She could tell that he appreciated her public acknowledgment of his family's ancestral title. She supposed she had a role to play, just as Lucius and Draco did.
"I am sorry for your family's loss. Your support to the war effort was vital to the victory here today, and I am so sorry that it came at the cost of Lady Malfoy's life," she said. Her voice was controlled and loud enough that those nearby could hear her - and she knew they did hear by the gasps at her words acknowledging the Malfoy family's support of the light. The news would pass in whispers across the Great Hall and beyond in short order.
Lucius inclined his head toward her in an action just short of a bow. The tiny hint of a smile told her that he was most pleased with her statement.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Your willingness to overlook our past disagreements to work with my family to defeat the Dark Lord means a great deal to Draco and me. I know that you have no wizarding family to speak of, and that your muggle parents are… indisposed. It would be my honour to offer you the protection of the most ancient and noble house of Malfoy," he continued.
Behind him, Draco gaped at the both of them, and she swore she heard a gasp from the crowd, as those around them suddenly fell quiet.
She could certainly understand why. Years ago, when she buried herself in the library and read all she could on pureblood customs and Lucius Malfoy, she read the briefest of entries in a lengthy text, stating that it was the highest of honours to have the head of a magical house offer you their protection. And it was something that was almost never extended to a muggleborn.
He had essentially just told the world, "Hermione Granger is ours - harm her and incur our wrath."
Hermione stared up at Lucius in awe. In fell swoop, he'd managed to firmly and publicly plant himself in alliance with her - and thus with Harry and the Light - whilst also protecting her and serving up a warning to any remaining sympathizers that the Malfoys would not offer them a safe haven. It was brilliant. HE was brilliant, and despite her exhaustion, she wanted to fall into his arms and kiss him and tell him just how much this gesture meant to her.
She did not realise she was still staring at him in awe until Lucius cleared his throat.
"Oh, um. I am honoured to accept the protection of the House of Malfoy," she stammered, hoping it was the correct response. The slight twist of his lips told her that it was not entirely correct but close enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a few more people edging closer to them, clearly curious about the spectacle of one of Voldemort's inner circle offering hearth and home to Harry Potter's muggleborn friend.
"We have been cleared by the Aurors and the DMLE to leave the castle now," he said in a succinct but somber voice. "Our family is in mourning, and there are… arrangements that must be made. As you have accepted my protection and are recovering from your own injuries, I must insist you depart with us."
More murmurs filled the space around them, and Hermione was acutely aware that she was standing on her own two feet and did not appear as heavily injured as some in the Great Hall. Lucius turned to Draco then, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. "Son, you may escort Miss Granger to our home."
Draco glanced at his father and then at the gathering audience before looking over at Hermione.
"Yes, father. Come along then," he said in a low voice that to her ears sounded almost resigned, even as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder for show, which generated another wave of whispers.
Hermione glanced around the Great Hall, where those who'd survived the battle made no secret of staring at them in surprise or even shock. She had a fleeting thought that she perhaps ought to speak to the Weasleys before she left, but there were no flashes of red hair in her line of vision. Had they left already? Had they found Ron? Were they at the Burrow now? Or at St. Mungo's?
Such questions would be left unanswered as she followed Lucius Malfoy from Hogwarts.
It felt strange to be leaving the castle - the ancient stone building was in shambles, completely destroyed in places, and she knew it would take an enormous amount of work to secure the wards and begin the process of rebuilding. There were still so many injured who needed care, and so many dead who would need to be claimed by their families and buried. There was so much work still to be done, and she was never one to shy away from hard work. But she was beginning to feel tiredness and a painful, aching sensation creeping into her bones. Perhaps Lucius was correct that she would indeed need to rest once the potions wore off. At some point the adrenaline of the battle would wane too. She wasn't even sure how many hours she'd been awake at that point, but it felt like a lot.
She stumbled as Draco led her down the path away from the castle, her tired body tripping over a loose piece of stone.
"For fuck's sake, Granger, could you walk?" Draco hissed at her, jerking her back to a standing position.
Lucius jerked around, glaring at his son.
"Enough!" he snapped before looking at her.
"I'm fine," she mumbled.
"No, you clearly are not."
"She said she's fine. You've said your peace and made a public spectacle of supporting the light," Draco huffed.
"I realise you are unaware of this, as you were not present when it happened, but she was tortured by your Aunt Bellatrix...who I then killed," Lucius's voice was low and clearly angry at his son.
Draco released his hold on her arm then, looking in shock between her and his father.
"You killed Aunt Bellatrix?"
"I did. For her," Lucius said with a nod in Hermione's direction. "Bellatrix would have killed her otherwise. It's a miracle she didn't as it was."
"The cruciatus curse is a bitch," Hermione muttered, looking down at her scuffed and worn shoes, as Draco staring at her made her uncomfortable.
"Fucking hell," Draco muttered under his breath, and Hermione wondered if perhaps she'd earned a tiny bit of respect in his eyes.
"So are you taking her to St. Mungo's or something?" he asked his father.
"No. You heard me in the Great Hall. I'm taking her home with us."
It was clear from the look Draco shot her that any respect she might have earned from surviving Bellatrix had been wiped away by his father's desire to bring her with them.
"Father, you cannot be serious!"
"You would do well to remember your place, son."
The imperious Lucius Malfoy was back, the cold, hard mask he often wore in public. Neither Draco nor she had any chance to object before Lucius grabbed both her hand and his son's and apparated them away, the smoldering ruins of Hogwarts disappearing in a swirl of magic.
~oOo~
She traveled via side-along apparition to Malfoy Manor and stumbled as she landed on the front steps of an enormous estate that easily dwarfed the lodge in Scotland. She barely had a chance to take in her surroundings, for instead of steadying her, Draco dropped her arm as soon as possible, glaring at her as she fell to her knees on the stone stairs.
He stalked past her, pushing past his father to storm through the heavy wooden doors.
"Are you alright?" Lucius asked as he carefully helped her to her feet.
"I'm fine," she whispered, ignoring the pain in her knees.
"He is uncomfortable with our relationship."
Hermione barked out a bitter laugh in response. "Obviously."
"Come, let us go inside." His hand was a calming pressure on her lower back as he ushered her into his home.
Hermione's first impression of Malfoy Manor was one of contradiction. The air was warmer here in Wiltshire, and it felt like early spring, but the manor itself felt cold, not temperature-wise, but in decor and atmosphere. She could feel dark magic lingering, whispering to her.
The entrance hall was long and wide with a high ceiling and dark paneled walls, making it feel both stately and imposing. The floor was an icy white and grey marble, partially covered by oriental rugs. Up ahead, light shone in from some distant window, and she could see an ornately carved grand staircase to the left. There were small seating groups of upholstered benches and Louis IV chairs, and marble-topped accent tables with candelabras and vases, and huge painted landscapes hung in ornate gilded frames. It looked like something out of a royal palace.
"It's... beautiful."
"It is."
She startled, having not realised she'd spoken her thoughts aloud, and offered a timid smile to Lucius. It was mind-boggling to think that he'd grown up here, amidst what were surely priceless antiques. Seeing even just the entrance hall to Malfoy Manor told her a great deal about Lucius and Draco both.
She had dreamed of coming here, of seeing his family's magnificent ancestral home, but not like this. Not when her hair was a snarl of tangles, her clothes were thick with the grime of battle, and her body and mind were both weary. Not when Lucius's wife's body was likely laid out somewhere in this house. She felt woefully out of place, and her insecurities bubbled to the surface. This was not the sort of place for people like her, Hermione Granger, child of muggle dentists.
"Mipsy!" Lucius called, and the familiar little elf popped into view, trembling as she bowed before them.
"Master called for Mipsy?" the elf squeaked. Hermione caught the little creature's look of surprise at her presence, and she felt doubly awkward being here.
"The Lady Malfoy did not survive the battle. The other elves have retrieved her body," Lucius said in a weary voice. Hermione knew there was no love lost between Lucius and his wife, but Narcissa had been his wife, the mother of his child. This had to be a surreal and sad experience for him.
"Mipsy is already knowing. Tilly is telling Mipsy. Poor Lady Malfoy," Mipsy said in a tremulous voice before bursting into tears.
Lucius sighed at the elf's dramatic display of grief and rubbed at his own eyes. "Help them prepare the body for burial, and I shall make the rest of the arrangements."
Beyond Lucius, further down the hall near the stairs, Hermione heard a soft sob, and she realised then that Draco was still there, sitting on the stairs, listening in, clearly distraught.
"I don't want her here," he said in a choked voice as Mipsy popped away.
Lucius turned to gaze at his son.
"I see."
"No, you don't see, father. I've done my part to hide your filthy affair, and I'll continue to lie for you to the Ministry, but I will not have your little whore in our home, certainly not when mother's body is not even cold!" he spat, anger and grief radiating off of him in waves. "It's disgusting and disgraceful!"
Hermione clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm. She'd not expected Draco to just happily go along with their charade, especially not with his mother's sudden death, but it hurt to hear her love for Lucius reduced to such awful terms. She wanted to defend herself, but she instinctively knew it wasn't her place - Lucius had to be the one to speak up here.
She glanced over at her lover. Lucius's spine had stiffened with Draco's words, and he looked unhappy with his son.
"I do not expect you to welcome Hermione with open arms, but you would do well to remember that she is the reason you are not facing a cell in Azkaban at the moment," Lucius said in an icy voice.
"I'm well aware of that, father. You've made it perfectly clear that your little mudblood slut can do no wrong. Do whatever you wish with her - it's not like you'd stop on my account - but keep her out of here. She does not belong here, not where my mother…" his voice trailed off in another choked sob.
Draco stood abruptly, turned, and disappeared up the stairs before Lucius could respond.
Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling even more acutely uncomfortable in Lucius's home. Draco was right about one thing: she did not belong here. Not now. Maybe not ever. And she couldn't really blame him either - she likely would have felt the same way in his position.
"I shouldn't be here," she said softly, looking down at the rug.
Lucius had watched Draco run up the stairs before turning fully to face her. She felt the soft touch of his hands and he cradled her face, lifting her chin so she had to look at him.
"You should be where I am, little witch," he said softly, and she wanted to weep at the gentleness of his touch and the utter rightness she felt in his words.
"Not right now. Not like this." She gestured in the general direction of the stairs. "I've mucked things up royally haven't I? Claiming Draco was my secret lover?"
He sighed and glanced away.
"It is...not ideal. But we will sort it out. It is certainly preferable to a Ministry holding cell or Azkaban. Perhaps it is best that Draco have some space. How do you feel about going to the lodge instead?"
"I have no preference, as I don't have a home anymore," she admitted, not wanting to think about the parents she'd sent away to Australia. "I suppose Hogwarts was the closest I had to a home. Hogwarts, and the lodge."
A hint of a smile crossed his face, and his hand closed around her upper arm.
"Then consider the lodge your home, pet."
~oOo~
Hermione was nearly dead on her feet when Lucius portkeyed her to the lodge, but he forced her into the shower where they both washed away the grime of battle, and then he dressed her in one of his shirts and tucked her into bed, where she slept for what felt like an eternity.
He was gone when she awoke, but Mipsy was there with a tray laden with a full English breakfast and plenty of tea and a phial of pain potion for her. She was ravenously hungry and felt as if she'd been hit by a lorry, so she was incredibly thankful for the potion. She almost asked the elf for a copy of the newspaper to read as she ate, but she was afraid of what she'd see. She was not ready to read lists of the dead or see graphic images from the aftermath of the battle.
Instead she ate. She used the bathroom. She opened the drapes and stared blankly at the landscape before her. Winter had not released its grip on Scotland. Her body still felt exhausted and sore, so she closed the drapes, got back into bed, and stared at the canopy above her until she fell asleep again. It did not take long to drift off.
The curtains were drawn and the room dark when she awoke again, but she was no longer alone. Strong arms and a familiar scent surrounded her as hands moved under her shirt.
"Wake up, pet."
Lucius's breath was hot against her ear, and his fingertips danced across her skin, making her shiver.
She mumbled incoherently and shifted against him.
He whispered an incantation, and she felt a sudden tingling in her mouth and a sensation that she'd just brushed her teeth.
"Lucius?" Her brain felt foggy, as if she was not yet fully awake.
"Yes, pet. Wake up, unless you want me to fuck you in your sleep."
She turned in his embrace and blinked in the darkness. She had but a moment before his lips met hers. Sleep still clouded her senses and her response, but she automatically opened her mouth to him, breathing in the familiar scent and taste and feel of him.
She closed her eyes and relaxed in his embrace, enjoying the feel of his hand on her breast, fingers closing around her nipple until she moaned into his mouth.
"How do you feel?" he asked as he pressed a kiss to her jaw and then her neck.
"I'm… ah… that feels good," she mumbled, still half asleep.
She felt the puff of his breath, warm on her skin, as he chuckled in response.
"No, pet, how do you feel? Are you still in pain?"
It was a fair question, she supposed, and one that had no answer. She shifted experimentally against him, sliding her leg up his and wrapping it around hip as she rolled her hips and pushed her breasts toward him. He was nude beneath the blankets, and she could feel his cock hard and hot against her.
"Mmmm...no pain," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him, "Just sleepy."
"Good, then just relax and let me take care of you."
She felt his fingers between her legs then, stroking and rubbing intimately, and her body responded, her hips rocking gently. Sparks of pleasure shot up her spine as he pushed two fingers inside of her, using his thumb to rub little circles around her clitoris.
She relaxed her body against his, letting her hands roam over the muscles of his broad back and her fingers twist in his silky hair. She felt remarkably limp and languid, even as he pleasured her.
"Turn around."
It was an order, but he'd already begun to reposition her before she could respond, rolling her onto her side so her back was to him. He lifted her leg, propping it over his thigh and opening her to him. She moaned at the feel of his cock prodding at her now-wet pussy, a moan that turned into a whimper as he pushed deep inside her.
"Yes, that's my girl," he hissed as his hand slid over her hip and held her tightly to him. "Close your legs, pet."
At his prodding, she dropped her leg back down, pressing her thighs together. His fingers gripped her hip harder as he groaned.
"So tight like that."
"Lucius, please…"
"I've got you."
He began to move, pulling out and pushing back in, and she whimpered again as the head of his cock slid against her. Their position did not allow for rapid or forceful movement, the sort of heated, frantic coupling they'd often experienced in the past. This was different. This was much slower, more controlled. His left arm slipped beneath the pillows and her body, reaching around to cradle her, his long, elegant fingers able to cup her breast.
"Please, more," she whispered, pushing her arse back against him, encouraging him to give her more.
He fucked her leisurely, his thrusts enough to make her pussy weep but not nearly enough to push her over the edge. She reached back, wanting to have her hands on whatever parts of him were within her grasp, and settled for using her right hand to stroke his hip and thigh, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to urge him on.
"I love how wet you get when I fuck you." His breath was hot against her ear and her pussy clenched around him in response to his words.
"So good," she murmured, turning her head back to try to kiss him. "Want more. Please."
He acquiesced, kissing her back and pinching her nipple harshly, making her body spasm. The hand that had gripped her hip so tightly slid around the front of her body and between her legs as he expertly sought her clit. She felt surrounded by him, and the intimacy of their coupling nearly overwhelmed her.
"Do you want to come, pet?" He asked as his finger rubbed a familiar pattern.
"Yes, please!"
His thrusts were faster now, and she could tell by the strain in his voice that he would not last longer either.
"Tell me then," he said as a familiar coil of pleasure wound tighter inside her.
She rocked back against him, meeting his faster pace.
"Tell me - who do you belong to, pet?"
She heard his words, and in a different time and place, she might have recoiled from them, argued with him that she, Hermione Granger, belonged to no one but herself. In a different time and place, she might have argued that such a sentiment was highly misogynistic and wholly inappropriate.
But in this moment, after what they'd survived, after the war they'd fought and their actions in battle, with his finger pressing so delectably against her clit and his cock stretching and filling her so completely, she was beyond such rational thoughts.
"Who do you belong to?" he repeated.
"You, Lucius! You!" she pushed out in a breathy moan as her orgasm washed over her.
"Yes, mine," he growled into her ear, thrusting hard as he clutched her tightly to him.
Her body was still clenching with the aftershocks of her own orgasm when he spilled inside her, filling her to the point of overflowing.
Afterward he withdrew his cock from her, and they drifted back to sleep, Hermione still held securely in his arms. When she next awoke, morning light filled the room, and she was alone again. She would have thought their nocturnal coupling a dream but for the half-dried stickiness between her legs and the familiar pink contraceptive potion waiting for her on the bedside table. She took it with a small smile and helped herself to a long, hot shower before putting on her clothes, freshly laundered by Lucius's elf.
When she emerged, her lover was back in the bedroom, this time with food.
"I thought you'd left," she said shyly.
He was dressed in clean black trousers as a dark grey button down shirt, his hair pulled back from his face.
"I did, but I wasn't gone terribly long. You should eat, pet. You've lost far too much weight."
The smell of a hearty stew and freshly-baked bread made her mouth water, and she sat down in front of the fire and dug into her meal with a grateful smile. Lucius ate as well, and Hermione marveled at the strange newness of it all.
Lucius was free. Voldemort was dead and gone. She'd saved her lover from Azkaban, at least for now, and he had no master seeking to control his life and family. His wife was dead, the unbreakable marriage ritual no more. There was no one to keep them apart. There was no war to fight. The future stretched ahead of her like the blank pages of a journal. It was all unknown, and the possibilities were endless and enthralling, and even with his freedom, he was here, with her. She was an incredibly lucky witch.
"You are well, then? No latent injuries from the fighting we may have missed?" he prompted.
She shook her head. "Not that I know of, and I feel significantly better now that I've slept and had something to eat."
"You'll likely be hungry again soon enough, but I didn't want you to make yourself sick by giving you too much straight away."
She frowned in confusion in between bites. "What do you mean?"
"You've been asleep for nearly three days, pet."
Her eyes widened in shock and she gasped out a stunned, "What?!"
"I was very near to calling a healer when I returned to find you asleep during the night, but Mipsy said you did wake long enough to eat a bit."
She ran her hands through her tangled curls as she took that in. Days had passed since the end of the fighting, and that meant that Harry was probably somewhere with Sirius, kicking up a fuss because he had no idea where she'd gone. She couldn't do that to him! She'd been left behind when he'd been taken to St. Mungo's with Sirius and Ginny, and she'd gone along with that because she'd needed to secure Lucius's safety, but now… Harry needed her now.
"I… I need to go."
She stood on shaky legs, smoothing wrinkles from her clothes.
"What do you mean? Where do you intend to go?" Lucius asked in concern as he stood as well.
"Harry - I need to check on Harry. He's probably worried sick about me."
"Slow down."
"Where is my wand?" she asked, ignoring him to look about the room.
"Pet, you will sit down. Now."
She startled at Lucius's harsh tone and stared at him. He motioned to the sofa, and it was clear from his tone that he would accept no disobedience.
"Before you rush off without a plan, there is much you need to know. Sit down, and let me explain. Please."
As his 'please,' she acquiesced, sitting gingerly on the sofa where he'd once given her the silver bracelet that still adorned her wrist. He moved to sit beside her, and began speaking in a low voice, telling her all that she had missed.
She listened with rapt attention as he explained that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed interim Minister for Magic and in charge of rounding up escaped Death Eaters and trying to rebuild the government. Despite these early positive steps, war was still very much a reality for many: the Ministry had captured a Death Eater the night before, but not before he killed several civilians and an Auror. Security checkpoints had been set up around the Ministry and Hogwarts, and many businesses remained shuttered with people afraid to leave their homes. There were still widespread concerns about safety, and Lucius had no way of knowing when that might change. Bodies were being cleared from the rubble at Hogwarts and families notified. It would take an enormous effort to rebuild the school, and the remainder of the school term had been called off. Students were being sent home as soon as it could be ascertained that they had family available to greet them at Platform 9¾. Funerals would be held in the coming days as the battle victims were laid to rest, Lucius's wife among them.
"And Harry?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer. Surely Harry hadn't died as well. Surely he'd not slipped from this world whilst she slumbered away safely in Scotland.
Lucius hesitated for a moment.
"Lucius? Is Harry…"
"He is alive, pet, but all I know is what the papers have published."
"Do you have them? Please, let me see them!" she begged.
Mipsy popped in a moment later with the latest issues of the 'Daily Prophet,' and Hermione reached for them with shaking hands. Her best friend's photo stared back at her from the front page. They'd used the image from the 'wanted' posters Voldemort's Ministry plastered all over Britain.
She read as quickly as she could, devouring the words on the page. Harry was in some sort of magical coma. The paper was short on details, stating that he'd collapsed after defeating 'You-Know-Who,' but had yet to regain consciousness. His godfather, Sirius Black, was - per the Prophet - permitted to stay with him pending a thorough investigation into allegations that Peter Pettigrew had survived past his once-presumed death in 1991. Hermione skimmed over the rehash of Sirius's prior arrest, conviction, escape, and mysterious whereabouts. Apparently Kingsley had personally vouched for Sirius and his commitment to the Order of the Phoenix and the defeat of 'You-Know-Who.' She was glad for Harry's sake that he still had his godfather but was frustrated by the lack of information about his condition.
She tried not to notice the adjacent photos of the smoldering ruins of Hogwarts or reports about the missing and the dead. She wasn't sure she was strong enough to cope with that sort of traumatic news at that moment.
"There's hardly anything here!" she complained to Lucius, frustrated about the lack of detail regarding Harry's condition.
"As I said, pet, what I know is only what the papers have printed. Black may have been my wife's cousin, but I doubt he'd respond favourably to me were I to show up at St. Mungo's, and in any case, I have other matters that require my attention."
She jerked at his words and was about to rebuke him sharply, for indeed Harry was at the top of her priority list. She opened her mouth to snap at him when she paused to truly look at him. His clothes were clean and pressed, his hair neatly pulled back, but Lucius did not look well-rested at all. She took in the slightly bloodshot look of his eyes and the dark circles that framed them.
"Lucius, have you slept at all since the battle?" she asked gently, placing a hand on his arm in concern.
"A bit. Not as much as I should," he admitted.
"You haven't been here the whole time, have you?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I would certainly prefer it, but there are arrangements to be made for Narcissa's funeral and for her estate. I've spent most of the time you were asleep back at the Manor. Shacklebolt and his minions are already sending owls, making demands on my time."
He paused to rub his eyes with a tired sigh. "There's a great deal of information I can provide - what I shared the night of the battle is the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I am attempting to compile as many details, financial records, and memories as possible."
She smiled before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're a good man, Lucius Malfoy."
He chuckled softly before turning to capture her lips with his.
"No, pet, I'm not, but I am going to do everything reasonably within my power to prevent the rise of another Dark Lord like this one, and to make the world safe for us and for Draco."