A/N Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. Sorry if I didn't reply to you personally. A few people have expressed disappointment at the lack of progression in Hermione and Lucius' relationship. I am terrible at keeping to an outline but I suspect this story is probably only about half finished so there is still a lot to happen between them and in the wider world. The Lucius we are currently dealing with, whilst very sexy, is not really someone you would want to take home to meet you parents is he?
Thank you to Vitellia for her encouragement and beta reading skills.
Lucius Apparates to the gates of Hogwarts where he is admitted by an icily polite Hagrid. On a different day in another time he might perhaps have baited the half giant, but he is not in the mood for a fight.
He walks slowly through the grounds. Most of the students must still be at dinner as the place is deserted despite the mildness of the evening. Even this far north there is a promise of spring in the air. Lucius wonders why this doesn't make him feel more optimistic.
Despite his melancholy, Hogwarts is a balm for his soul. The grounds and building were quickly restored after the battle and the ancient castle now looks as unchanged as ever. It is a grounding presence in his uncertain existence. He wonders if there is a single witch or wizard in Britain who is not soothed by the thought of Hogwarts.
The main doors to the castle are swung open by an obsequious Argus Filch.
"Mr Malfoy, a pleasure as always. The Headmaster is expecting you."
Lucius responds with a curt nod and strides through the castle toward the Headmaster's quarters. The corridors are quiet. A muted hum comes from the direction of the great hall, but the scraping of chairs and slamming of doors in the distance suggest that the evening meal is almost over. The occasional student passes him as he makes his way through the maze of flagstone corridors. The topography of the castle is indelibly etched somewhere in the deepest parts of his subconscious, but he senses a subtle difference in the atmosphere. There is an air of tension and the students he sees, even the ones in Slytherin green, keep their eyes firmly to the floor. He misses the hustle and bustle of his student days.
The doorway leading to the Headmaster's staircase is already open and the gargoyle ignores him as he makes is way past it. He enters Severus' study and is surprised to see that his friend is not alone. His Award is with him. The two of them stand close together, their shoulders almost touching. They are poring over a scroll which is partially unrolled across Severus' desk. Both are stooped low so that that their long hair drapes across the parchment in a mingling of black and blonde.
The Award becomes aware of his presence first.
"Hello, Mr Malfoy." She straightens and fixes him with an unwavering stare. There is no malice in her slightly protuberant eyes, merely a detached curiosity.
"Lucius." Snape tightly rolls the parchment and places it in a drawer beneath his desk. "Leave us." The barked command is aimed at the girl.
She nods briefly. "I noticed you skipped dinner, Severus. Please make sure you eat something once Mr Malfoy has gone."
She brushes past Lucius on her way out of the room, radish earrings swinging wildly.
Lucius stares after her. "How on earth can you tolerate that peculiar creature?" he finally asks.
Severus glares at him. "I would ask you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Lucius. That peculiar creature is under my protection. Please note that I refrain from asking you how you tolerate your bushy haired, buck toothed know it all."
Lucius bites back a retort. There is no need to defend the Mudblood, especially when he knows that Severus is deliberately concealing his cordial feelings toward the girl.
"I apologise, Severus. I didn't come here for a fight." He takes a seat across the desk from his friend. Severus drops into the chair opposite him.
"I'm glad to hear it. I'm in no mood for one myself."
He looks marginally better. The bruising is almost gone from his face and he looks a little less pale. He reluctantly agrees with the girl's appraisal that Snape cannot afford to miss a meal though and there are deep lines carved into the planes of the younger wizard's face. He looks ten years older than Lucius.
"Drink?" Snape's hand is already reaching for the decanter on his desk when Lucius shakes his head.
"Just tea, thank you."
Snape raises an eyebrow but calls for an elf and places the tea order. Once the little creature has departed he turns to Lucius and steeples his fingers. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
Lucius forces himself to look nonchalant. "I need your advice regarding my predicament."
Snape's eyebrow ascends once more. "I'm flattered. Which predicament is it you wish to discuss?"
Lucius is momentarily wrong footed. He has come to discuss the matter of Gringotts bank. A problem which Severus, who has attended all of the Dark Lord's meetings, should be fully au fait with. But he has to admit that his ability to work through this problem in any sort of sensible fashion has been derailed by intrusive and unwelcome thoughts of the girl. There is no way for Severus to know this though, surely. He raises his eyes to those of his friend. Severus' obsidian gaze is as blank as ever. Lucius checks Occlumency shields. He's no expert but he would know if Severus was inside his head, wouldn't he?
"I have no desire to read your mind, Lucius." Severus looks away. "I am merely observant."
Lucius resists the urge to get up and pace. He won't show his weakness to Severus.
"Well, in this instance I am afraid that your observations are incorrect. I can assure you that I have no problems other than the issue with Gringotts."
"Very well." Snape lets the matter drop and they both fall silent as the house elf returns with a tea tray. As well as a large pot of tea with a ridiculous knitted cosy the tray is laden with sandwiches and pastries. Snape looks at the elaborate spread and gives a small sigh. He dutifully picks up a dainty sandwich and takes a small bite.
Lucius pours the tea adding just a dash of milk to his own cup. Severus dilutes his with a large volume of milk and enough sugar to make Lucius shudder. Such is Severus' polish Lucius often forgets his friend's proletarian upbringing. No wonder the man's teeth are in such a state.
Severus puts his half-eaten sandwich aside. "I had thought that Dolohov's well-timed execution would have bought you some much needed time." There is no hint of sorrow in his voice as he mentions their fallen comrade.
"It has." Lucius sips his tea. "Rowle's pursuit of Potter is consuming much of the Dark Lord's attention." And the ministries finances, he adds silently. "But I cannot rest on my laurels. Eventually the Dark Lord is going to remember his ridiculous vendetta against the goblins and demand to know why Gringotts is still not under the control of the Ministry."
"The way I see it there are two issues." Snape raises a long finger. "One: The goblins don't want to sell." He raises a second finger. "And two, even if they did the Ministry doesn't have enough money to buy."
"That's essentially correct." Lucius takes another sip of tea. There is something so comforting about Hogwarts's tea. It is a far inferior blend to the one his own elves purchase but it tastes like tiny sips of his childhood. He reluctantly puts down his cup. "Although I firmly believe that everything is for sale if one is to name the right price."
"Can't you fund the purchase privately?"
"I most certainly cannot." Lucius shakes his head at Snapes lack of fiscal acumen. "Even I don't have that sort of money and even if I did much of my capital is tied up elsewhere. He gives his head a meaningful tilt.
"Well, can't you untie it?" Snape ignores the meaningful tilt. "As far as I can see your son and his heir's lives are at stake."
"There's no point in continuing a dynasty if one doesn't have a legacy to pass on." Lucius doesn't really mean this. He would rather Draco alive and penniless than dead and rich. "Besides the point is moot. Even if I liquidate all my assets, mortgage myself to the hilt and add my funds to those of Ministry I don't have enough money to buy Gringotts. Even if I did it's a terrible idea."
"Why?" Snape absent mindedly eats another sandwich.
"Because having a country's national bank owned by the government is a recipe for disaster. Especially when that government is essentially a dictatorship!" They stare at each other for several moments. Lucius' chest is rising and falling rapidly. He has said too much. His words amount to treason. Perhaps Severus will summon the Dark Lord and turn Lucius over to him as a traitor.
Severus looks away first and selects yet another sandwich. "You've been doing some research," he says blandly.
"Of course." Lucius refills their teacups for something to do.
"It would be useful –" Snape breaks the pregnant silence which has arisen between them "- if Rowle were to find some trace of Potter. Something that might at least buy you a little more time."
Lucius gives and exasperated sigh. "Yes. That would be extremely useful. It would also be extremely useful if the Dark Lord decided to up sticks and relocate to some other wizard's ancestral home so that I could return from my exile in the Yorkshire moors. I was hoping for a little more than discussion of our fantasies, Severus."
"I would have credited you with having more exotic fantasies than these," Severus says mildly.
Again, Lucius feels as if his friend is hinting at something he has no business involving himself in. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
"You are the economic genius." Severus contemplates the sandwiches for a moment before pushing the tray aside. "So I'm afraid I cannot help you out of this predicament. I'm sure you'll find an appropriate resolution."
Snape stands and Lucius has the distinct impression he is being ushered out of the Headmaster's office. He rises and moves toward the door.
"Thank you for your counsel Severus. It is much appreciated." He doesn't bother to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Severus inclines his head. "You might find that if you first resolve the other matter that is bothering you, you will be able to deal with the Gringotts problem in a more clear headed manner."
Lucius somehow finds himself on the other side of the door leading down to the staircase before he can retaliate.
He walks back to the gates in a daze. How is it possible to have an hour-long conversation and yet to walk away having absolutely no idea what has been said? Either Severus has gone mad or he is trying to communicate with Lucius on a level so subtle that his meaning is indecipherable. His final dictate though was very clear. Lucius is useless while the issue of the girl still torments him.
Hermione is brewing and not thinking about Lucius. She is most definitely not thinking about the fact that he appeared to be in an even worse mood than usual the previous evening. That his reading has taken on a new and frantic edge. That he turns pages in an almost haphazard manner (surely he can't be taking anything in), switching from one book to another every few minutes. She woke that morning to find him asleep with the reading orb still ignited and several books strewn across his usually pristine bed. It was… unsettling.
But she isn't thinking about that. She is thinking about Harry. Sometimes it's hard to remember exactly what her her friend looks like. She can remember his dark hair and his broken spectacles and his green eyes. But when she tries to assemble all these features into the face of her friend they blur out of focus in a most frustrating way. Had Harry really killed those three men? Is this what he is now capable of? Is this what she wants? To have made Harry Potter a murderer? She can't see a way to defeat Voldemort without being willing to stoop to his level of aggression, but Harry has always seen the world differently from her. From everyone. It's one of the things she loves about him.
She sighs. She can't see any way out her own personal predicament even if she is willing to turn into a cold-blooded killer. She has grown closer to Severus and Lucius than she might ever have imagined possible. And Draco is now about to be the father of her only friend's child. The line between right and wrong and good and bad seems to have become as blurred as Harry's face. Does she even want to escape Lucius' capture? Of course she does. She tells herself briskly. But life here is infinitely preferable to living on the run. Try as she might to convince herself that her perception of safety and security in this house is false, it is hard to refute three good meals a day and a warm bed to sleep in even if she does have to share a room with Lucius Malfoy.
She feels helpless. As if she exists in a padded bubble somehow parallel to the rest of the world. It reminds her of viewing memories in a pensive nothing more than a passive witness as earth shaking events unfold around her. As her hands work her mind strays back to Snape's words.
"…to be sent an ally such as you." Such a peculiar turn of phrase. She had cogitated on it for hours the previous night as Lucius' angry page turning kept her from sleep and had come no closer to discerning Snape's true meaning. Had he misspoken? Perhaps he just meant that she was a useful academic assistant and co-brewer. But what if he had truly meant something more? What if he considered her an ally in another way? She catches her breath and the aromatic potions ingredients clog the back of her throat and make her cough and splutter. Eyes watering, she replays the rest of their conversation. If Snape is her ally in the true sense of the word, if they truly do share the same objective then his instructions were clear. Her role in this drama she is so desperate to play a part in is to influence Lucius Malfoy.
She has fantasised over the fall of Voldemort since she was little more than a child. She has played out a million scenarios in her head. In most of these she plays supporting actress to Harry's Oscar winning leading male. Occasionally, she indulges in flights of fancy where she is the chosen one and Voldemort is defeated by her wand. Never has her role been to subvert a Death Eater using sexual coercion. Hermione is in possession of many talents, but she freely admits a florid imagination is not one of these. Seducing a Death Eater, especially a pureblood muggle-hating Death Eater, is so far in the realms of fantasy that she has never bothered to consider it.
She can't think straight. Whenever her thoughts turn to Lucius they begin to lack in clarity. Her reasoning becomes clouded and emotion and common sense war for supremacy in her usually strictly compartmentalised brain. She doesn't even know where to start in confronting her feelings regarding Lucius. Sexual attraction, deep rooted dislike, fear and intrigue all overlap in her brain in a hideously ever-changing Venn diagram. She tries desperately to clear her mind to focus solely on her brewing in the hope that her subconscious will reach a conclusion without her input.
She is so lost in her introspection that she fails to hear the door to the lab open and she is unaware of Lucius' presence until he speaks.
"I wish to revisit our arrangement." He is standing next to the bench where she normally prepares her ingredients. He looks supremely relaxed, as if they are discussing the weather or how soon her next batch of dreamless sleep will be available. "What arrangement?" She doesn't pause in her slicing of the Boomslang skin. She is desperately stalling for time unwilling to make a decision she had moments earlier decided to put off. Besides, she doesn't want to make this easy for him.
"You know precisely what I am talking about."
She risks a glance in his direction. His eyes are diamond hard. She wonders what has driven him to this conversation when he has valiantly ignored her for the better part of a week.
"Why would you even consider doing it again?" She responds, hoping that he can't see the heat in her cheeks. She is not comfortable discussing sex with him, with anyone. "After what happened last time, surely we both know it isn't a good idea."
"What do you think happened last time?" He moves a little closer and she tenses. He is nowhere near her personal space yet, but she swears she can feel him displacing the air around her.
"You hurt me," she states baldly. "And you hated yourself. However much you might desire me physically you will never be able to reconcile yourself to it mentally. I refuse to be a punch bag for your hypocrisy." This is not how the conversation is supposed to go. She'ssupposed to be seducing him.
"What if I said it would be different next time?"
She tips the boomslang skin into her potion. The mixture hisses frantically and releases several foul smelling bubbles.
"In what way would it be different?" She hears herself ask. Self-hatred roils inside her. How can she even consider this?
"I am not a gentle man." He pauses and taps his fingers against the wood of the work bench. "But I would make provision for your inexperience."
"What does that mean?" Hermione stirs the potion a little more vigorously than the instructions suggest. "You'll gag me first so you don't have to listen to me scream?"
"If that is the sort of arrangement you desire then I would be willing to discuss it-"
"Bloody hell!" Hermione grips the work bench and forces herself to take several deep calming breaths. "I was making a joke.
"I do not understand why you would make a joke at this time."
"No, of course you don't. It's the only thing I have left, Lucius." He doesn't respond to her dropping of his title and she revels a little in the feeling of power making free with his first name gives her. "You have taken everything I had my friends, my family, my chance for an education, my freedom, even my virginity. I've reached the point where bad jokes are pretty much all I have left."
Lucius moves closer again and she picks of the stirring rod and brandishes it at him. "Unless you want half baked polyjuice all over your robes I suggest you back the fuck off."
Lucius winces. She is not sure whether it is her coarse language or her makeshift weapon which stops him but he halts in his progression toward her. "You still want me." His voice is deceptively soft.
"Yes, I still want you." She lowers the stirring rod a fraction. "I acknowledge that Mother Nature has played a sick joke on us and I find myself attracted to you despite the fact that I despise you. I acknowledge that you feel exactly the same. But I am also smart enough to remember that the reality of you was not nearly as pleasant as I imagined."
"Something which is easily remedied."
"So you say."
"My wife never had any complaints."
"If you treated her the way you did me, she was probably too scared to complain."
She sees him clench his back teeth and she takes a cautious step away still holding the rod in lieu of any better weapon.
"If you had explained your situation to me I would have behaved differently." She can see how hard he is working to control his temper. "Every encounter prior to us sleeping together had been of a similar nature - why on earth did you expect that me fucking you would be any different?"
She closes her eyes briefly as a stab of lust shoots through her. How can she still want this?
"Why are you even bothering to ask my permission. It's not as if I can stop you."
Lucius' face pales a little and he takes a step back as if she has struck him.
"You really think so little of me?"
"There are few people I think less of."
"But you truly believe I would take you or any woman by force?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Of course not. I find the thought…distasteful.
Hermione narrows her eyes. "But you were perfectly willing to hand me over to Dolohov after you found me. What do you think he was going to do? Braid my hair and paint my fingernails."
"My actions are not those of my political associates."
"Oh please." In her anger Hermione has forgotten to be afraid or of any underlying motive she might have harboured at the beginning of their encounter. She approaches him like a fencer,he stirring rod still brandished before her. "You cannot hold yourself above the others just because you draw an arbitrary line at one particular crime. You and Draco and Snape think you're so much better, don't you? You think that your nice clothes and good table manners make you superior to all those other dirty Death Eaters? Well, they don't. Just because you won't rape me doesn't change the fact that it is happening to Lavender and Parvati and Padma…" she tails off and to her horror bites back a sob. "You can tell yourself you are a good person all day long, but by standing around and doing nothing you are just as complicit as the rest of them."
She wants to leave. She's said her piece and she deserves a dramatic exit, but the door is locked and warded and Lucius is staring daggers at her. Lacking any other outlet for her anger she vigorously stirs the potion.
"Stop." The hand he places on hers is surprisingly gentle. It is the first time he has ever touched her without his gloves and they both stare at his large hand as it stills her smaller one. He releases her and she looks down at the potion which has not responded well to her haphazard brewing techniques.
"It's ruined anyway," she mutters. She blinks furiously in a desperate attempt to still the deluge of tears she is at risk of shedding.
"In my experience ruined but still in the cauldron is infinitely better than ruined and exploded." Lucius turns his nose up at the putrid brew and takes a step back.
"We can only play the hand we are given, Miss Granger. I would not judge my son, nor Severus too harshly."
She raises her eyes to his, but whatever he is thinking it is hidden behind his shuttered grey gaze.
"And you?"
He hesitates before he says, "I would like to renegotiate our agreement."
Hermione feels an enormous wave of exhaustion overwhelm her. Really, what does any of it matter? This is not a fairy story. She doesn't marry the prince and ride off into the sunset. She doesn't have to be Sybill Trelawney to predict pain, bloodshed and death in her future.
"Fine," she sighs. "But you will make concessions for my inexperience."
"I will."
"And you will stop if I ask you to."
"You won't ask me."
She folds her arms.
"Fine. I shall stop if you ask me to."
"And I want to see Ginny."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I want to see Ginny every day without you barging in and telling me I am unfit to around your unborn grandchild."
A tiny line appears between Lucius' brows. "Why?"
"Why? Because she's my friend, Lucius and she's eighteen years old and about to have the baby of a Death Eater. She needs me."
He looks about to argue.
"You can't have it both ways." She is surprised at how firm her voice is. "If I'm good enough for you to have sex with then I'm good enough to spend time with the mother of your grandchild. If I'm not then I stay here brewing potions and you go and find someone more socially acceptable to satisfy your carnal desires."
He is angry again. Two red spots colour his pale cheeks and his fingers are clenched around his cane. Hermione is almost afraid, but she refuses to back down.
"Very well," his voice is impossibly cold. "I accept your terms. Until this evening, Miss Granger." He turns on his heel and sweeps out of the room leaving Hermione to wonder what on Earth she has let herself in for.
A/N All opinions on banking systems and economics are those of Lucius and not the author - maybe having a nationalised bank run by a dictator is actually good for the finances of a country!