A.N. Hey folks. I'm not thrilled with this chapter. I've been writing and re-writing it for the better part of two weeks so I've decided to just post it for now and take some fresh eyes to it in a bit. Thank you all for sticking with me through all of this. My school year ends in June and hopefully then I'll be free to write as much as I want. I'm deeply grateful to all the support you've all given me.
Hermione hated waiting. She'd never been patient and she'd never liked relying on others, and yet here she was snuck into a hidden, shadowy corner of Lucius Malfoy's study waiting for the brothers Lestrange to show up. It was a simple enough mission: invite them to a poker night, hedge their bets, force one of them to take Lucius to the vault. Far from foolproof, it was still the best shot they had. Sneaking into Malfoy Manor had been almost too easy, as Lucius had a floo connection established with her home in Godric's Hollow. No one had been around when she'd come through, not even the elves.
None of the men knew Hermione was here. In fact, she was fairly certain that if Sirius had caught even the tiniest whiff of her plan to disillusion herself and sneak into Malfoy Manor, he'd have strapped her down to a chair and lectured her for an hour.
That hadn't been the plan. The plan had been for Malfoy and Severus to take care of it, and to let the rest of them know if something had gone wrong. But that wasn't quite Hermione's style. There was a fire in her veins itching under her skin and she knew that she couldn't sit idly by and wait for a report, no she had to be there.
Lucius was completely unaware of her presence, and she felt a bit shameful, watching the man without his knowledge. There was an age to his face when he was alone, a down-to-the-bone exhaustion that seemed to eat him from the inside. Dark circles were accentuated by the pale flickers of moonlight coming and going as clouds passed outside. She'd never really considered before how much stress his part in her plot must put on the wizard.
His features shifted slightly as a rasp of fingers against the hard wood of the door startled them both. Hermione withheld her breath in anticipation only to find it was Narcissa who was beckoned inside. The woman had adjusted to motherhood like she'd been born to do it. Despite the clear exhaustion under her eyes from caring for her near 2-month-old son, her skin glowed in the same pale light that had cast Lucius's aristocratic features with weariness.
"I'm putting him to bed." Narcissa's voice carried despite the whisper, careful to not wake the baby falling asleep in her arms. Lucius's entire body seemed to relax for a moment as he gazed lovingly down at his boy. Hermione had never cared for Draco, even after he began his mission to rejuvenate his family's name and make amends. Yet here he was, a sleeping baby. Her face burned with embarrassment as she suddenly realized how private this moment was. This moment was for Narcissa and Lucius alone.
Lucius bent down slightly, first placing a kiss on Draco's bald forehead before doing the same on Narcissa's. "Don't wait up for me love. We'll likely play into the morning." There was a sense of duty, of eagerness in his voice that Narcissa merely raised an eyebrow at.
"Just don't gamble the house away." Her voice was affectionate as she finished her statement. As she began to walk away, she hummed to Draco. It was a haunting sound that carried after her until the thick, heavy wood of the door closed with a soft click. It was all so strange for Hermione, to experience this intimate reality of people she'd hated. She'd never once considered what Lucius and Narcissa must have been like as Draco grew, how they'd loved their child just like anyone else. It hurt her to realize how much Voldemort's influence would change the man she now watched returning to his sullen place at the window.
A loud pop on Hermione's left caused her to nearly jump and scream but she bit her lip to remain quiet. Dobby, more disheveled and bruised than she'd ever seen him, squeakily informed his young master that his guests had arrived. Lucius had forced the men to apparate and enter through the front. Should anything have gone wrong, he didn't want them having open access to his floo.
"Send them in." Lucius's entire body transformed as he gave the command. His spine straightened and all evidence of the exhaustion on his face disappeared. It truly was like watching a snake shed its skin.
Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange were as repugnant as Hermione remembered them to be. Rabastan was the taller of the two, portraying every inch the older brother. His hair was long, pulled back with a leather string which wrapped around a ponytail. Impeccable breeding and generations of pure blood tradition ensured that he didn't have a hair out of place or a toe out of line. Rodolphus on the other hand…
Being married to Bellatrix Lestrange should've been the first indication that there was something off about the younger Lestrange brother. He had a feral, almost carnivorous energy that radiated around him. Where Rabastan was smoothed and starched and stiff, Rodolphus was calculating, observant and sinister. A wide smirk split his face as he entered the study and went to greet Lucius.
"It's been too long since you've allowed us to steal all your money old friend." His body shirked with insincere laughter. It was the dry laughter of a crook about to pull a con. Every fiber of Hermione's being was telling her to run, to get as far away as she could from these men but she had a mission to supervise…even if the man being supervised didn't know it.
"Yes. I have been somewhat occupied with the birth of my son. Its such a shame you and Bellatrix haven't been able to conceive. Young Draco would love a playmate when he grows." It was a very Slytherin statement to make, and Hermione could barely keep up with the micro-aggressions being passed around in mere glances. As low a blow as it was to speak on the lack of children from the marriage, Lucius had told her that Bellatrix refused to have Rodolphus's children. Snakes really were made for underhanded insults.
"Enough talk, lets play." Rabastan interrupted, either choosing to ignore the fierce tension that seemed to engulf the room or blissfully unaware of it. Lucius had said that Rabastan, while the more handsome and polished of the brothers, had not inherited nearly as much brains as his brother.
The game itself began very sullenly, with a firewhiskey toast with the first hand. As rounds passed and Hermione lost track of what hands were winning and who was drinking the most, the bets began to grow.
"Oh come on Rab, just because you're out of galleons doesn't mean you can't play. Surely there must be something else you can bet. Come on, one more round." Rodolphus goaded. His own pile of money had steadily grown throughout the night, which Hermione wondered if that was one of Lucius's strategies for the evening.
Lucius smiled wickedly, bringing his goblet of wine up to his lips. He'd stopped drinking firewhiskey several hands ago but neither of the Lestrange brothers had seemed to notice.
"I have an idea." Lucius interjected, leaning forward towards the men as if to share some secret with them. Both men, intoxicated and pulled in by Lucius's natural air of self-importance and privilege, leaned in with him. "My grandmother lost a necklace to your great-uncle in a bet about a decade ago. Narcissa had always loved that necklace and I'd like the opportunity to get it back for her."
It was such a convincing lie that even Hermione seemed to believe him. She shook away the discomfort that had settled in her legs from her hours of standing and closed her eyes to better hear the now hushed conversation.
"Merlin no. Your grandmother had way too expensive taste for me to bet away." All three men laughed at that, Lucius's drier and more humorless than the others, but just like a wolf in sheep's clothing, he continued to play his part.
"Grandmother did have quick the appetite for jewels. What about an exchange then? If I win this hand, then I can come pick out anything I'd like from the Lestrange vault. If you win, then you can pick anything you desire from the Malfoy vault. I'm sure that Zabini woman you've had your eyes on would love a trinket. After all, what's better to court a mourning widow than something shiny?" Lucius snickered at the man like they were all sharing in some illicit secret.
Rabastan seemed to consider this. Hermione had seen the way Rabastan had looked at Elora Zabini when she'd been in her pureblood disguise. Although the husband she'd been married to at the time had since tragically died. It was a wonder how that woman managed to always get away with it.
Just as Rabastan was about to hold out his hand to shake on the deal, Rodolphus held his hand in front of his older brother, blocking the motion. "Wait just a moment there Malfoy." Rodolphus cautioned, his eyes narrowing. "No one has ever just let someone walk into the Malfoy vault."
"Of course not you dolt!" Lucius chided with all his entitled aristocratic weight behind him. He sounded so much like Draco in that moment that Hermione had to take a deep breath and remind herself where she was. "I would never just let someone wander alone in my family's vault. Father would have me skinned alive. No we'd be supervised naturally."
Although Rodolphus didn't relax at all, his narrowed eyes widened and he nodded his head tersely towards Rabastan. It seemed that had satisfied whatever suspicion Rodolphus had. The handshake was swift, and the game continued. Hermione had no idea how poker worked but anxiously waited to hear the angry resigned sighs of the loser and smug cheers of the winner. This was it, this was the whole mission. If this didn't succeed…she paused, not allowing herself to think about the alternative. How many people survived breaking into Gringott's twice?
Hermione hated in this moment how dignified and aristocratic Lucius had to be. No cheer of excitement or victory alerted her to the fact he'd won. It had only been when Rodolphus had smacked Rabastan upside the head that she'd realized what had happened. Lucius had done it…access to the vault.
"Better luck next time Rab." Lucius mocked, giving his best smug grin as he finished off his goblet of wine. When Lucius stood, it became obvious to the grimacing Rodolphus and his embarrassed big brother that their night of fun was over.
"We must do this more often." Rodolphus began, piling his stack of galleons into the pockets of his dark blue robes. The sheer amount of it nearly made Hermione sick, but Lucius seemed unbothered by the small fortune he'd lost. He was careful to look displeased at the amount, but Hermione could tell the man was thrilled with himself. Any amount of galleons was worth promising the safety of his family.
"If we do this more often then how will there be any money left for you to rob me of?" Lucius joked back, a coldness and separation laying itself on his voice. He was making it very clear it was time to go. "Rab, shall we meet at Gringotts tomorrow? Father wants me to make a deposit for him."
It was posed as a question, but the grumbling Rabastan knew that there was no refusing him. The Lestranges were wealthy and pure-blooded, but nearly everyone seemed dirt poor and powerless in comparison to the Malfoy line.
With a bow from each of the men, Rabastan left looking sour faced, followed by his younger brother, drunkenly bragging about all the things he'd buy with the gold he'd won. When finally the men were gone, Lucius's body slowly rolled down; his shoulders releasing their tension. He walked intentionally and slowly towards one of the chaise lounges near the window, every step bringing him closer and closer to the ground.
His long limbs settled against the pastel floral fabric of the furniture. Hermione was guessing it must've been around three or four centuries old, the gentle gold accents reminding her of her family vacations to Paris, to Versailles.
"You can come out now." His voice filled the empty room, and Hermione jumped at the sudden nature of the break in the peace. "Don't pretend you're not there. I have charms on this house more ancient than the country we are in, you would never have gotten in here without my knowing."
Sheepishly, Hermione moved a step forward. She'd been reinforcing her disillusionment charm silently and although she was horrified to be caught, she was relieved to be able to take it down. Her breath came quick as she walked towards Lucius, the moonlight once again enhancing his nearly-elfin features.
"You've known the whole time?" Was all she could say, a mixture of shame, regret, embarrassment, and pride fighting for dominance in her mind. Her limbs were stiff from standing for hours, so when his response came in the form of a gesture to a twin chaise of his own rather than words, Hermione didn't hesitate to take it. Years of running and combat training had given her quite an endurance, but that didn't always stop the aches from setting in to the deepest part of her bones.
"There is a reason Malfoy Manor has never been captured. If you'd been an unwelcome guest, you would've been dead before the floo had connected." The words weren't threatening, like a rattle on a snake. It was a fact.
"I…" Hermione began, searching her brain for any string of words that might excuse her trespass. Lucius just raised his head, followed by his hand. His back and spine slowly straightened one vertebra at a time until he was no longer lounging but rather sitting straight. His icy blue eyes stared at her with no contempt, just a twinge of disappointment.
"You had to be sure for yourself. I have come to a realization." Lucius stood then, crossing to the small hutch nestled into the opposite corner from where Hermione had been. He pulled two glass tumblers from the inside, and a brown-ish liquid that she assumed must've been firewhiskey.
"And that is?" Hermione finally choked out, the pressure of the enduring silence following Lucius's words filling her ears until she felt as if she might burst.
Lucius did not quicken his pace or respond at her insistence, instead pouring the drinks neatly and crossing the room just as slowly and intentionally as before. Holding the drink out to her, Lucius waited for her to wrap her fingers firmly around the glass before reclaiming his seat.
Hermione put the glass to her lips, figuring that taking a sip of the drink might serve as the olive branch to ensure that their trust was still true. Expecting firewhiskey and tasting brandy was not a pleasant experience on Hermione's end. Her grandfather had always drank brandy, and he'd let her sneak a taste of it the summer before her 15th birthday. It had been the most vile liquid she'd ever come in contact with, grimacing with disgust.
"A muggle liquor? And not even a good one." She chided, realizing too late that maybe that was too friendly a path to take. Lucius however smiled with a short, forced laugh, toasting her glass with his own and taking a long, drawn-out sip from his own.
"My father would likely have me beat if he knew I had this but I've developed quite a taste for some of the finer things muggles have created. Brandy is far superior to even my father's most exquisite firewhiskey. Much better for when things are done that are better forgot, or if there is a call for celebration." Another sip passed his lips and Hermione followed suit with her own. The sting was no less sweet in a bitter way but she forced herself to swallow it.
"I must admit I don't know much about cards, but your role was expertly played. You let Rodolphus win, get drunk on both firewhiskey and power and money. Let Rabastan feel the inadequacy that he's been fed his entire life. Look how he loses while his little brother wins it all." Her praise sat like something sour on her tongue. It was cruel really; what Lucius had done. But then again, the Lestranges were cruel people.
"They are easy pawns. Weak and poisoned by jealousy and cowardice. Now should I expect you at the bank in the morning or have I proven capable enough a spy?" There was a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks that grew redder and redder as she sat with her still full drink in her lap.
"Its not…" She began, her voice a little too loud. Quieting herself and taking a calming breath, she tried again. "Its not that I don't trust you. Its that I don't trust the time. I don't trust the Lestranges. I've given up so much to do this and I just couldn't sit by and let it all happen without me."
It was the most honest conversation she'd had in a while, not holding anything back. After all, Lucius would never tell a single soul she'd ever been there, much less that they had talked.
"Why?" He asked. The question hit her harder than she expected it to, as it rang back and forth in her head like a bell echoing out its toll. It was such a simple question. Why? Why had Hermione come? Why had she given everything up? Why hadn't she stayed behind and mourned, moved on with her life?
Sensing her growing panic and the quickening of her breath, Lucius finished his drink, shooting back the last few sips in one gulp. Then he moved to Hermione, taking the drink out of her hand and doing the same.
"In the original version of this story, you are a hero and I am a villain." It was a true enough statement, although Hermione was about to add that there was nuance being ignored in such a simplistic view. Lucius continued before she could. "I don't want to be a hero. I don't want to be a villain. But most of all, I don't want my son to grow up without a choice."
Hermione was never hopeful that Lucius would change his ways; that he would renounce his pureblood grooming and become a blood traitor. But even so, there was a change in the man now that she couldn't help but respect. Whatever his reasons, he was helping to get Voldemort one step closer to mortality…one step closer to death.
"He'll have a choice. Lets just hope he doesn't choose to be a prat like last time round." This time when Lucius laughed, it seemed like a genuine one. It was the first time she'd heard the sound of his laugh, and it made her smile.
"I make no promises. Draco will be raised to believe what is true. He is a Malfoy and that means something. And thanks to you and your time-meddling, my house and my family name will outlive this war." The air seemed to glimmer as the first lights of the morning sun peaked through the sheer curtains that covered the tall windows of the room.
Neither of them needed to state what needed to happen next. Hermione needed to leave, and they could never speak of her having ever been there. This conversation, the card game, everything had never happened, as far as anyone knew. It would be incredibly dangerous to all of them for anyone in Voldemort's camp to even suspect Lucius.
They walked silently through the study towards the adjacent grand parlor. A massive floo decorated the farthest wall to her, sleeping portraits of generations of Malfoys lining the walls. In that moment, Hermione understood why the pureblooded felt superior. The power and influence of the millenia of control the Malfoys had on England and its wizarding society made her feel so small, like a child again fumbling with her wand.
When they arrived, their footsteps echoing on the marble tiled floors, Lucius pulled a bag from the mantel, allowing Hermione to dip her hand in. There was a nodding of understanding between the two as she climbed into the fireplace.
"Dumbledore Cottage." She spoke clearly, careful to not raise her voice too much as to wake the portraits. Green fire licked the side of her vision until finally Malfoy Manor and all of its history faded out of her sight.