Lucius Malfoy took a deep breath as he stepped into his bedroom at the manor. Narcissa was off ordering the elves to make his favorite dinner. Draco was busy brewing potions and managing the business. His life was his own again. The Ministry had made the terms of his release quite clear. Lucius knew all of it, but none of it felt real.
He'd been assaulted with his own sense of self. He glanced around the dove grey room and frowned at the ornately worked dark wood. It was his room, but it was not comforting. The white roses in the dark green vase were lovely. The linens were sumptuous. The Aubusson beneath his feet was perfectly plush. None of it was what he wanted it to be.
"The elves are overjoyed to serve their master again." Narcissa stood just inside the door. "I've kept the room exactly as you like it."
"Yes. You've done a marvelous job." Lucius forced a smile onto his face. "It all looks exactly as I remember it."
"Healer Yamamoto was very clear that familiar surroundings would help you." Narcissa sighed. "It's a shame that he had to leave for Japan so quickly."
Lucius made the appropriate regretful response and moved toward his dressing room. He didn't need to be in this giant room with all its ostentation. He needed to find himself and a mirror. They hadn't had one for him at Saint Mungo's.
He flinched as the lights flared to life when he stepped into the smaller room. The candlelight wasn't harsh, but he'd forgotten about it. He blinked and looked at the dark brocades and wools on the racks before him. There was nothing merely serviceable. It was all elegant and refined. He looked down at his tanned and calloused hands. The hands were his. There was no denying them, but they seemed foreign now. They'd been used and worked in ways he never considered. An image of his fingers wrapped in brindled curls flashed through his mind like a ghost. He fought the urge to chase that memory. He didn't want to dwell on that other life. He needed to be himself. He needed to be Lucius Malfoy.
He looked into his ornately framed full length mirror and tilted his head. His skin was darkened from time spent in the sun without the proper spells for protection. His hair was too short, but he recognized himself.
"Are you well, Lucius?" Narcissa stepped next to him. His eyes traced along her elegant robes up to the reflection of her lovely face.
"I will be." Lucius took a deep breath. "My body seems unfamiliar in some ways."
"The healers said that you might experience some difficulties as you settle back into your life." Narcissa fluttered around the room and continued on in her chatter about the healers, but he stopped listening.
His life was his own again. There was no dark lord with a hold over him. His life was his own. Finally.
"George Weasley has agreed to talk with you as he went through a similar experience after the war." Narcissa sighed. "It might be awkward with the long standing issues between our families."
"And his brother's repeated torture of me." Lucius glanced toward his wife. "I don't know if accepting his help would be for the best, but perhaps, I should put aside the petty squabbles of generations for the betterment of our family's status."
"Are you thinking of allowing the Weasley that caused you all this pain to walk free?" Narcissa blinked as she met his gaze.
"He won't walk free, but if I don't object to lesser charges…." Lucius frowned. "It might benefit us. We have no standing with this government. We are dependent on the largesse of a foreign family for protection. If letting the boy escape Azkaban helps us, how can I not?"
Narcissa nodded and turned away from him to examine some of his robes. He knew she was considering his words. He knew she was formulating a response. He didn't care. His world was upside down, and he wanted to speak plainly.
"I'm tired of measuring every word and considering the weight of every action. I want us to be able to live in peace." Lucius ignored his burgeoning headache. "I don't need to exact some petty vengeance. What good would it do us?"
"I want the stupid boy to suffer for what he did." Narcissa sighed. "I do, however, see your point. Why borrow trouble? We will have enough of our own."
Gawain Robards frowned as he examined the Wizengamot's docket. He didn't like the direction in which the Minister was headed. Using draconian laws against citizens had never been a good idea, but for a so called reformer to do it stank of corruption.
He sighed and considered the fact that their failure was assured because they had not done any research into their intended victim. Assuming the woman had not changed from the girl they had once been acquainted with was foolhardy.
He'd heard a great deal about Hermione Granger Martel over the years. If even half of it were proven true, the hearing would be a show worth seeing. Claude Martel would applaud as she embarrassed the Minister and his supporters, then the old wizard would ruin them. It would be vicious and all perfectly legal. This man had thumbed his nose at all the great lords, light and dark, with impunity. There was a reason none of them ever did more than approach him. He was formidable, his adopted daughter was a living legend, and neither seemed to be afraid of anything.
He looked at the papers on his desk. Dumbledore had ignored them and countless others like them. He had believed himself to be a force for good, acting above the law. The old fool hadn't seen the damage he'd done. He didn't see the lives he'd so carelessly trampled over.
Shacklebolt knew better than to trod this path, but playing fast and loose with the law was still wrong. The laws governing pureblood Houses were sacrosanct for a reason. He had no doubt that The Martel family knew those laws.
"May the Gods and Goddesses protect us from their wrath." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He needed to talk with Potter soon.
Hermione stared at the ruined room and sighed. It had taken her a week to figure out a way to trace the other death eaters that were under the same workings as Lucius Malfoy. The Ministry had refused to provide her with a list. The fools were insisting that Lucius Malfoy had been an aberration.
Edmund Parkinson had been living as Etienne Sonne outside of Paris. His magic had splintered and was causing cancer like growths throughout his body. The chemotherapy had no effect on the growths but it was weakening the wizard quickly.
She'd sent him on to Asa with a healer provided by the French Ministry.
Nigel Jugson had been found in the Pyrenees. He'd cast off the muggle personality and knew his own name. He'd escaped from three separate hospitals. His magic was intact and dormant, but he'd taken to cutting himself again and again looking for what was missing. His partial amnesia had left him terrified. She'd said his name and he'd flung himself at her feet. He'd cried in her arms as the French Ministry official summoned another healer to take the poor wizard to Japan.
She'd thought the others would be similar, but this latest case was decidedly worse.
Thorfinn Rowle had not done well under the magical modifications. His core power was heavily influenced by his family's Viking ancestry. The spell simply hadn't been strong enough to properly suppress his magic.
The mental hospital kept him thoroughly sedated, but the drugs did nothing to quell his magical urge to protect himself. Even in his drugged twilight, he perceived the muggle caretakers as threats. She frowned as she stroked the poor wizard's matted hair. This facility was well kept and clean, but Rowle was left in his own filth amid broken furniture that his magic had attempted to form into a wall.
"We need to contact the German Ministry." Hermione looked back to her father who was standing in the doorway. "I think their muggles have been the victims of England's aurors. There is no way a patient in this facility should receive such substandard care."
"I will have them here in a moment, my dear." She saw him smile and knew he was enjoying causing grief throughout Europe. "I am rather looking forward to the next meeting of the ICW."
"I suppose a complete accounting of these recent findings will be discussed." Hermione sighed. "The British Ministry needs to be pulled up before it is swallowed down the deep well of corruption again."
"I think it is time we returned home, Daughter." Claude took a deep breath and met her gaze evenly. "We've found proof that the British Ministry has been abusing those in its power. I don't want you chasing more of these monsters, not in your condition."
"You know." Hermione's shoulders dropped. "I didn't know what to do."
"Yes, you did." Claude frowned at her. "Don't play weak and soft with me. You didn't want to risk anyone telling you to end this. I've let you ignore it long enough. The child you carry will be my grandchild. There will be love and magic and acceptance for this blessing. Your child will be a boon to our family."
"I didn't want anyone to find out before…." She licked her lips.
"You didn't want anyone to discover your pregnancy before the time to terminate had passed. You wanted to be sure you could keep this bit of your lover with you." Claude smirked. "I never had the option myself. I'm a rather difficult and disagreeable man."
"You are a kind hearted and wonderful man." Hermione sighed and stoked her fingers through Rowle's hair as the poor fellow drooled on her lap.
"You are petting a warrior that has tried to kill you, Hermione." Martel smirked. "It does make one doubt your judgement. I do believe I should go fetch the Germans. It's time to let them sort out the various crimes that have been committed here."
Hermione nodded and watched as he disappeared in a swirl of fabric. She took a deep breath and examined her future. It wasn't going to be easy. Raising a child as a single mother was all but unheard of in the magical world, but her family would stand by her."