Sinner's Sighs Be Angel's Food
Hermione couldn't help staring at him. Each resounding clap rang in her ears and caused her eye to twitch with irritation as she cast a long glare at the shimmering white-blond head and tight muscles which shook with approving ovation.
It was impossible to remain composed since learning that the new Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was, indeed, an ex-Death Eater.
Lucius Malfoy. The Lucius Malfoy.
Torturer. Traitor. Death Eater. Professor at Hogwarts?
"Better be... Slytherin! "
A burst of applause followed the announcement from precisely three seats to her left.
"Bravo!" he called out.
Hermione felt her stomach curl at the mere concept of it; it was especially hard to bear the horror in reality. His name rang in her ears and reverberated in her head, and she could just envision his face, cruel and taunting. She didn't have to imagine it; she could just glance past the blur of professors sitting next to her and see it.
It was impossible to stop reeling from one conclusion to the other. Was Lucius here to infiltrate Hogwarts? For what purpose? Did he trick Headmistress McGonagall into giving him the position by means of coercion or Unforgivable Curse? Was the Headmistress in the right state of mind to even maintain her post given this clearly ridiculous decision she'd made?
McGonagall's words had been clear, "There's simply nothing I can do. Lucius was the only applicant for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position." The only applicant! As though Hermione would not have willingly taken the post of both Potions Mistress and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor if she'd only been warned. She had used the Time-Turner to manage a hectic schedule in the past; she would've been more than willing to do so again if it meant keeping the students safe from Lucius Sodding Malfoy.
McGonagall swore that she'd reached out to all her contacts from the Order and the Ministry to gather information on Malfoy's recent allegiance and behaviour. All results came back consistent: Lucius Malfoy had all but been a very good boy following the fall of Voldemort.
That wasn't enough, Hermione determined. Good behaviour for five years did not erase all the sorrow and destruction his actions had caused. There was no way in hell he'd get away with this.
Hermione pushed against her heels and forced her body upright as her back slammed hard against the wooden spine of her chair. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a heavy hand pressed against her arm, and she peered up to find the warm, chocolate eyes of Rubeus Hagrid staring down at her with sympathy.
"Don't think on i', 'ermione," Hagrid said. She mustered a small smile for the Care of Magical Creatures professor, whose own emotions were splayed clearly on his features.
"I know, Hagrid," she murmured. If Hagrid could have a calm head about it, why couldn't she?
Hermione's hands ached with each clap as another Hufflepuff was announced.
She was met with silence from her left.
Of course, he wouldn't clap for a Hufflepuff. And yet each time the Sorting Hat would boisterously announce another student sorted into Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy's blond head would bob with approval and hands would smack together to show their utmost support.
Hermione cast another glare in his direction. It was no doubt a strategic decision on McGonagall's part to place him next to Sprout, as the small, round-faced witch was amicable enough to befriend an Inferius.
No one seemed to bat an eye at the Death Eater sitting in their midst.
In all her five years teaching at Hogwarts, she had not felt quite so uncomfortable as she did sitting just a few seats away from him. The man whose face she associated so closely with evil that it was difficult not to get a knot in her throat when her eyes drifted to her left and she got a glance at the silver hair. It reached his shoulders and was brushed backwards with such precision that she could not spot a single strand out of place.
Lucius was clad in black robes, the fabric pinned together at his chest with an ornate snake-brooch and revealed a crisp dark-green suit, the colour of plush green velvet and expensive ink. She could see the slight lift of his brow and the way his eyelids were half-open, intent in their will of always looking down on others. The corners of his eyes were creased with thin lines, displaying both his age and an underlying amusement of the world as though, at any given moment, he was entertaining a slew of very saucy secrets.
Hermione's blood ran cold when the shrewd blue eyes, previously focused on the evening's festivities, darted toward her as though sensing her lingering stare.
Her throat jumped with a hard swallow, and she hastened to turn her attention, instead, to her plate which had previously glistened with the reflection of twinkling candlelight. Hermione glanced down with surprise, then, when she found the plate towering with delectable food. The Sorting Ceremony was over, and dinner had begun. She'd hardly noticed the transition.
Hermione fussed with Hagrid's sleeve, her wand hard at work to remove a pronounced stain that had started to seep into the fabric near his elbow. Flesh-Eating Slug Slime, he'd promised, though Hermione could smell the minerality that reminded her of fresh bog and noted the way the stain seemed to shine with green luminescence in the dim room. Her lips pursed in their tension as she slowly extracted the mysterious stain and rid him of any evidence of his misbehaviour - which Hermione determined was Hinkypunk solution.
The room was alive with chatter. The Professors, back from their breaks, caught up within the safe confines of McGonagall's office, sharing their tales of travel and adventure.
"Did you do anything fun during our break, Hagrid?"
Hermione twisted her whole body to peer up at the large man, with his warm-grin, fleshy nose, and eyes that could melt stone.
"If yer really wantin' ta know, I found a hive of —"
"Shh," she hissed, cutting off the rest of his incriminating sentence.
Hermione could sense Lucius Malfoy's presence before she saw him - the warm scent of clove, sandalwood, and leather filled her head and forced a sneer on her lips. Her head tilted instinctively toward the fragrance, and she was met with a faceful of silver. He ran a cool hand through his hair, brushing it aside to reveal his sharp features as he spoke with the Headmistress. His lips were fixed in a confident smirk, but his eyes were like those of a wild cat that had no cares in the world, utterly convinced of its own strength and power in the jungle yet painfully keen when the opportunity for its next meal sprung itself. Those eyes drifted, not out of boredom, but with acute observance as they took in the room and the inhabiting professors. What was he up to?
It stilled her heart to see him there, in the sacred space of Dumbledore's old office.
Though the Headmaster's office now belonged to Minerva, the only changes made were a few Celtic trinkets displayed neatly on her desk. Beyond that, everything — from the phoenix statues perched on spindly tables to the tall portrait of the late Headmaster fast-asleep — was characteristically Dumbledore, as though left in homage to McGonagall's mentor and old friend.
Hermione wondered what he would have thought of Lucius standing mere feet from her, now. What he would have said to Minerva had he learned of the Death Eater's new position as a professor at the school.
For a brief moment, Hermione considered whether her old Headmaster would have been able to see through the dark past of a man like Lucius Malfoy. She brushed the thought from her head as quickly as it came. Dumbledore always had a penchant for forgiveness that Hermione simply could not relate to.
Her eyes wandered around the room as McGonagall began her announcement regarding the newest addition to the staff, her typically terse start-of-the-year pep talk already garnering more attention than it had in years past.
"It is a pleasure," Lucius Malfoy spoke, his voice breathy and melodic. He stepped forward, away from the natural circle that had formed, and hovered instead at the Headmistress' right side. "It is a pleasure," he repeated, his gaze taking turns to linger on every pair of eyes that peered at him, as though obtaining their buy-in by mesmerization, "to be chosen as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and to give these students a real education."
"As if we had a choice..." She muttered, garnering a soft chuckle from Hagrid. And a real education, honestly. Who does he think he is?
The sound seemed to alert Lucius of her presence, and she could feel her skin prickle with anxious anticipation when he finished his speech and walked smoothly toward Hagrid with a smile that barely reached his eyes. He stretched out his hand, offering it to the half-giant. As though everything was fine. As though he had not tried to get Hagrid sacked in her second year of school. As though he had not attempted to have Hagrid's hippogriff executed for no real reason.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when cold blue eyes stared at her. The air around her felt clammy and cold, and the familiar scent of Lucius' cologne filled her nostrils, the masculine sweetness consumed her senses and made her want to recoil.
"Miss Granger," he said, his lips curled in yet another counterfeit smile as his eyes washed over her face. "My, how you've grown. It has been some time, has it not? Perhaps I've been away for too long. Perhaps I missed a memorandum, but — is the Ministry allowing just anyone to be a Hogwarts professor these days?"
Hermione felt frozen in place; the only things moving were her eyes as they darted from his outstretched hand waiting politely for hers, and his face. A smile, authentic this time, and full of familiar mockery. His eyes watched with quiet care for a flinch or sneer of disgust.
They flickered with surprise when, instead, Hermione responded with a smile of her own. Her head tilted to the side, her fingers slipped ever-slowly into his warm touch, and in the sweetest voice Hermione could muster, she spoke.
"Yes, apparently they are."