Song Suggestion: Madalen Duke- "How Villains are made"

SURPRISE WEDNESDAY UPDATE!

TRIGGER WARNING: Child Abduction

A/N: When I first wrote the last chapter, I originally had our couple talk it out, but it didn't make sense because there's no reason yet for her to trust him, even if he told her everything. The power dynamic is still there, even if he never used it. He's lucky Hermione didn't knock him the fuck out right away for surprising her like that haha.

-I'll update both on Sunday and next Wednesday to ease anxiety, because the last scene of Part 2 is a good one for our couple, and I'm excited to get to Part 3.

-I do solemnly swear that Part 3 will be filled with sunshine. A little bit of violence and drama too, of course, but mostly good things. It's the Dramione reward for making it through Part 2.

Lessons on Humanity

Hermione

They landed in the middle of a giant room with a long dining table. The hall was built in the old style of pureblood architecture, even older than Nott's or the Malfoys. A giant fire roared on one side with a concrete fireplace that reached lofty heights. A Hungarian Horntail stuffed dragon head took a prominent place on the opposite wall filled with trophies of other dangerous magical creatures.

Several tapestries hung side by side, various battles and achievements of the family, and in the center was the Flint family crest.

If she concentrated, she could almost forget she lived in the twenty-first century. She doubted the décor changed for hundreds of years.

"Nice place," she said.

Flint gave a snort, showing his disdain. It seemed all the purebloods hated their ancestral homes in different ways.

"We don't have much time," Flint said. "We need to begin right away."

"Begin?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Lucius Malfoy will be arriving as soon as he gets a warrant from the ministry."

Hermione lurched back in surprise.

"Lucius Malfoy? How would he even know I'm here?"

Flint leveled her with a dark look. It reminded her of Snape, and it irritated her a little, as if he knew a lot more than she did. Which, admittedly, he did.

"Lucius has charms up to alert him as soon as your son enters the wizarding world. The moment you stepped out of Nott wards he knew you were close. From there, they can track the boy here. Come on." He grabbed her upper arm in a firm hold. "I'll explain everything as we go."

Hermione

He didn't explain as much as he promised while dragging her though the dark stone hallways of what she began to suspect was a castle. In a few short sentences, he explained Lucius had been searching for them for a few years.

"But why is he searching for me? He wanted me to leave!"

Flint sighed but didn't look around, keeping a brisk pace.

"He wishes to regain his heir, since Draco moved out of the manor and practically gave up his title."

Hermione gave a little gasp at that.

"Draco gave up his title?"

"Not yet, but Lucius is finding it hard to control him. I think he wants your son as leverage, so Draco will return to the manor."

That gave Hermione a lot to think about. She flipped the situation over in her mind, but it didn't lead to any conclusions. Instead, it only added more confusion and questions.

Hermione studied her surroundings. Flint Manor reminded her of the inside of Hogwarts, but dustier and a lot murkier. A twist and a turn. Then another twist and another turn. Hermione wondered if Flint ever got lost.

After climbing an untold number of stairs, Hermione arrived in a tower room, legs burning. The top of the stairs ended at a foreboding metal door.

Inside was an octangular room, designed for complicated spell casting. The center of the room only contained an eerie circle of maroon, which could only be blood. The air crawled along her skin as if the dead whispered. Hundreds of years of sacrifice, some of it probably unwilling, seeped into the stone, and the power vibrated around her.

Hermione hesitated, wondering if she should trust Flint. Everything about the room told her to exit and never return, but the man in question just examined her.

"Don't be afraid. The room recognizes you."

"What do you mean?"

Flint walked over to a little wooden cabinet on the wall. Inside was vial after vial of blood, lined neatly side by side with names scrawled on labels. Most of them looked yellow and ancient, but Marcus grasped one with a crisp white label.

She understood what it said even before she could read the name. Her blood. The vial he took from her.

"I've already added your blood to the wards."

"But how—"

"As the master, I can add whoever I want."

"Why would you add me? Why are you doing all this?"

He flinched.

"I knew you as a baby."

Hermione grew frustrated with everyone lying and evading her questions. She raised her wand.

"Tell me now."

He just shook his head.

"Lucius is a master legilimens. He may not use it on you, but I can't take the risk. Not yet. I promise by tomorrow I'll tell you everything. We don't have time for me to explain everything. We need to start, or you'll have everything taken away."

Hermione nibbled her bottom lip, indecisive on the next course of action. Flint saw her hesitancy.

"Look…" He grimaced. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me. I'm honestly shocked you've followed me this far, but if you want to survive Lucius then you need to do as I say. We don't have the time for talking."

Fuck it.

"Okay," she said.

Hermione stepped into the circle, and Flint followed her holding a long ceremonial knife with multiple jewels on the hilt. She almost flinched away, but Flint put it to his own palm and sliced. A few droplets of blood welled up, and he squeezed, tilting it over to splatter on the ground.

"I already have some of yours, so I don't need to take it." He held up the vial of blood and poured a few droplets on the ground right on top of his. It made a funny sizzling sound.

"I've never seen a spell like this."

"You wouldn't have," he said. "It's not one taught at Hogwarts or in any book you could get your hands on. Not even in that grimoire of yours."

"What does it do?"

He hesitated, mouth once again twisting into a grimace.

"Again, I can't tell you. Not yet. Just… believe that what I'm doing is for your good." Flint looked at Scorpius with a little regret. "I'm going to need a drop of his blood too, or it won't work properly."

Hermione sucked in a breath, hating she had to put herself into such a vulnerable position. Her son hung heavy in her arms, taking tiny breaths into her neck. Hermione didn't stop Flint as he reached over and picked up Scorpius' little pudgy hand, pressing the tip of the knife into the tiny thumb until blood pooled at the surface. Scorpius flinched in her arms but stayed asleep. Flint let her son's hand go as soon as the blood dripped and mingled with theirs. The sizzling increased, making odd popping noises.

Flint brought out his wand, giving a guttural hum and then whispered a low chant in what she thought might be old English, as he waved his wand around their conjoined hands. A silver light erupted from the wand, and the blood on the ground rose into the air and twirled around the light until it fused together. Then the light rotated around their arms. As quickly as the light arrived, it vanished. Hermione watched as the blood on the ground formed little beads and trickled to the circle, drying into the line.

"You better explain what just happened."

"I promise I will after this is all over."

"What's next?"

Flint hesitated and then reached out and grabbed both her shoulders. He squeezed and leaned down so that their eyes leveled.

"You need to listen carefully and do everything I tell you."

"Why—"

"No, Hermione, you need to listen. In a few minutes, Lucius will arrive with a warrant and the authorities. They will take your wand and place you in a holding cell where you will await trial."

Hermione felt like someone punched her in the face. She grasped Scorpius to her chest tighter, as if that would protect him. His breath made the side of her neck hot as he slept. As time went on, she found it harder to hold him. But she'd let her arms fall off before she let him leave her hold.

"Trial? For what?"

"Stealing an heir is a very serious crime."

"But I'm the mother!"

"The head of household has more rights over children in cases like these." Flint let go and his face morphed into a scowl. "They'll also charge you as a muggleborn with an unregistered wand."

Her whole body went cold.

"Unregistered wand?"

"The world has… changed since you've left. Lucius' confinement didn't stop him from passing an anti-muggleborn law through ministry officials. Now that's he's out, it's only going to get worse. I don't have time to explain everything in detail right now."

"How could Draco let that happen?"

"I'm not sure what Draco knew or even what he could have done to stop it. What matters right now is they'll try and take away your wand through trial."

"On what grounds?"

"Because it's not even yours. It belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione shifted Scorpius and glared.

"Very well, the bigots can take it. Or they can try. I give no guarantees I'll go quietly." The last word came out hard. The anger built in her. At Lucius for the anti-muggleborn law. At Draco for not intervening. At Ginny and Theo for not telling her. At herself for leaving. Muggleborns suffered because the one woman brave enough to face him fled at his behest.

Several distant noises interrupted them, and Marcus flinched, looking like he was in pain.

"They're here. The wards have alerted me. If I don't let them in, they'll arrest me too, and that can't happen if you want to survive this. Look at me, Hermione." The tone of his voice was dark and deep, scarier than he'd ever spoken, showing his seriousness. "You will not fight them. Do you understand? If you do, you'll lose all chance of regaining a wand."

Hermione grit her teeth, and Marcus lifted his wand and flicked it down, bringing down parts of the wards so the Aurors could enter the property. Fear filled Hermione, crawling up her body, digging its claws into her skin as it went. Everything was happening so fast and out of control. She wished to find some traction to steady herself, but Flint gave her none.

"The next thing I'm going to ask you will be the most important." He paused, making sure she listened to him. "When they enter, they will take your son from—"

"Over my dead body!"

Hermione gripped her son tighter, clutching the middle of his small back, curling her fingers into his racecar pajamas.

"You will need to put up no resistance." Marcus warned sharply.

Hermione bared her teeth in her fury.

"You expect me to give up both my son and my wand without a fight?"

"If you want to keep them, you will."

Hermione's whole body erupted in tremors, a mixture of adrenaline, fear, and rage.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering if she could trust him with something this important. Her son and her freedom hung in the balance.

"I'm not giving up my son," she said. "If they want to take me to a cell, fine! I'll march there like a good little witch, but I refuse to hand Scorpius over to that monster."

"You will." Flint loomed over her

"Are you going to make me? I assume you remember Romania and what I can do to people who threaten me."

Flint paused, looking her up and down, as if assessing the situation.

In the distance, she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. They were almost here.

"Actually, I will make you." He sighed. "Hermione Granger, I'm calling in my last favor—the wizard debt you promised me. When the aurors enter the room with Lucius Malfoy, I demand you give up your wand and your son without a fight."

The magic sizzled along her skin, cementing the request. Hermione had no time to respond, when the door opened. Five aurors barged into the room. None of them were wizards she knew, dressed in their uniform capes with wands drawn and in defensive position. Despite doing their job, their mouths stayed in grim lines.

A last set of footsteps walked up, slower than the aurors. Each step measured and intentional, echoing around the room, until Lucius Malfoy arrived at the doorframe. When he set his eyes on Hermione, he showed no emotion. Not rage or hate or triumph. His eyes flicked over her once and then over her son, sticking for a moment longer than for her.

"Hermione Granger," he said in the slow way of his, emphasizing each word as if he owned them. "I am here with a court warrant to retrieve my heir."

"He's not your heir."

Finally, the mask broke, and Lucius let a sneer through.

"Not officially, but I intend to change that at trial. By tomorrow night, you'll be stripped of your parental rights and your ability to do magic beyond simple spells. If you ever wish to see your son or regain your rights to magic, you will do everything I say from this point onward."

Violence almost spewed out of Hermione. Her free hand clenched with the effort to control herself. She wished to boil the blood in his veins like she did Nott, show him exactly who he was trying to fuck over. Show him what a mudblood could do to a pureblood when provoked. It went against every instinct in her body to withhold it, obeying Flint's edict. Instead, the magic boiled her own insides as she swallowed it.

Energy crackled around the room, torches flaring, as an auror extracted a set of obsidian shackles. She felt the weight of them by sight.

"Hermione," Flint warned.

Lucius gave a sudden laugh.

"I see you've taken on another pureblood lover, Miss Granger. Say goodbye, Flint. You won't be seeing her again for a long time."

Flint gave a dark look toward Lucius, clenching his wand hand.

Everyone in the room stayed still a moment, as if a slight movement would descend everything into chaos. The aurors knew who she was and knew what she was capable of. She might not be able to take on five highly trained aurors at once, but she'd at least bring down a few.

"If you go gently, I may just allow you to see your son… occasionally." Lucius Malfoy almost sounded bored.

Two aurors edged forward, each with a wand trained on her.

When they got to her, the one with dark hair held out his arms.

"Give me the boy."

The auror must have sensed her distress.

"Miss Granger, I promise not to hurt him."

She didn't move, but the auror went forward and grabbed her son by his waist. A little cry escaped her mouth, but she could make no more sound when he took her son from her arms, rearranging his sleeping form on his broad shoulders. It was as if someone slit her throat. The pain was too severe. Was this what Draco felt like when she vanished? If so, she didn't blame him for hating her.

Her chest ached when thinking of him. She regretted petrifying Draco. It had been an impulsive decision. She'd been surprised and afraid finding him in her son's room, thinking he might hate her for what she put him through. She thought he might do the same to her in revenge. But now, separated from it, Hermione understood Draco would never do what his father was doing, even if he was terribly angry at her. He could never be that cruel.

She had no choice but to comply. If she refused, the wizard debt would extract a harsh punishment. Hermione didn't resist as the second auror placed the shackles on her wrists. She dropped them, remembering the heavy pull to the ground. The magic sizzled under the constraints, but everything felt muted, and when the auror gently pushed her forward she obeyed in a dazed stupor.

Lucius took her son, and she might never see him again. Ron warned her of this. She wished she had listened to him.

Before exiting, Hermione met Flint's stare.

"Trust me," he mouthed.

Draco

Hermione's spell took a long time to wear off. When it did, Draco stood in a panic and went to Theo first. After many threats, he extracted her next location, which had been viewed by Theo's elf, and went to Flint's.

"If you want to see your son, go to your manor," his former schoolmate nearly growled while flinging him out of the Flint wards.

It could only mean one thing. His father got to her first.

Cold terror gripped him. Five years ago, Lucius let Hermione go, urged her to go, thinking Draco would grieve and then move on to someone else, preferably a pureblood. Instead, Lucius lost any leverage he had over Draco. He moved out of the manor and never looked back, despite his father's pleas. Lucius revoked his access to the Malfoy funds, but he didn't have the authority to revoke him from Black funds. Those were in his name, transferred wisely by his mother after Scorpius' birth.

But now with his son in his father's grip…

Draco apparated into the manor. He found his mother first.

"Where is he?"

Her face softened.

"Upstairs," she said. "He's asleep again after… you need to see for yourself."

"Where's Granger?"

By his mother's sudden dark look, he knew he didn't want the answer.

"Your father placed her in a holding cell in the ministry. She'll be going on trial tomorrow. In front of the entire Wizengamot."

"In a cell!"

His mother placed a cold hand on his arm, and it gave him just enough comfort for him to think. His father managed to convince the entire Wizengamot to attend a custody hearing within a day. It was unheard of. A waste of ministry time. The only other time he could remember them assembled for something so trivial was Potter's underage magic. If his father wanted to instate Scorpius as an heir, there was much gentler ways to go about it.

But his father wanted more than an heir. He wanted a lesson to be learned. His rage was always long. He never forgot a slight and always waited until he had an opening to strike. Hermione sent Lucius to Azkaban and confined him to the manor for five years. That was far more than a simple slight. Lucius wanted blood not peace.

All his plans to surprise Hermione, all his work… he might as well flush it down the loo. After the trial, she would never want to see him again.

"I need to see Scorpius."

Draco

His mother led him upstairs to his old nursery.

"We didn't have much time to prepare."

They stopped in front of the nursery door, but before he could go in, his mother interrupted him with a hand on his forearm.

"Draco, the boy was frightened. I don't think Hermione raised him with magic. It shocked him when he woke, especially when Mipsy appeared and sent him into a panic. The poor child destroyed the room in his distress."

"Destroyed the room?"

He opened the door. The curtains were ripped from the walls. Glass shattered. Blankets unraveled. Stuffed animals ripped. Nothing was in its place.

On the bed, his son slept. Mipsy must have come in after the boy collapsed from exhaustion and put a blanket on him and a pillow under his head. He slept with feet towards the headboard, curled in a little ball.

Draco glanced around the room again, a little awed, understanding now what his mother tried to tell him.

"He has magic."

His mother nodded.

"Powerful magic," she whispered. "His emotions were high, and the magic burst from him. I'm not sure I've seen anything like it from someone so young. He wanted to see his mother, and nothing soothed him. Sometimes it even looked like he was in control of it, flinging toys at your father."

She bit her lip and refused to look him in the eye. Draco wished he could have seen his son flinging objects at his father.

"What else?"

"Your father…" she hesitated. "He found it… impressive, to say the least. I believe he planned to put Hermione in Azkaban, despite my pleas. But after seeing the power of your son, the way he manipulates magic at such a young age, he wishes to bring her back to the property."

Un-fucking-believable.

His mother didn't elaborate, and she didn't need to.

The only way Lucius could overlook blood status in an heir was pure, raw power. If Hermione produced such a gifted magical child one time, then she could do it again. And again. And again. If father had his way, she'd stay pregnant for years, a broodmare, and then discard her when done. Maybe he believed he was even doing a favor for his son. A gift to lure him back to the property. Afterall, Granger would do anything to stay near her child.

Draco refused to go along with the plan. Yes, he wished to be with Hermione. But not this way. She'd resent him forever. Eventually, she might give him affection, but it wouldn't be in the way he wished. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

No, he needed to stop this farce of a trial before it even happened.

But first, he needed to meet his son properly.

Draco walked to the bed and kneeled beside it, letting his palm rest on the boy's silky curls. The color was darker than his own, more like golden wheat.

Scorpius blinked his eyes open in sleepy confusion with the touch. Their eyes met. Grey with grey. In some ways, it was like looking in the mirror with small differences. Dark freckles made a little line across the top of his nose and cheeks, and instead of his pallor, he sported a healthy tan.

"Who are you?" The boy asked.

Draco hesitated.

"I'm your father."

The boy sat up, more interested than afraid.

"You're Draco Malfoy?"

Draco blinked in surprise.

"I am. How did you know my name?"

"Mum told me." He gave a little smile that made everything melt inside him. An instant love, overwhelming. Draco had always been selfish, only giving sparing pieces of his heart to various people. Granger came through his life and yanked what she wished from his chest. But he gave it freely to Scorpius. He'd give it all, if the boy asked.

"Your mum spoke about me?"

His whole body warmed with the thought.

Scorpius nodded his little head, curls bouncing.

"She said I'd meet you one day. That you looked like me and wanted to see me more than anything in the world."

"She was right."

The boy's lip quivered, and then he opened his arms and flung himself at Draco. He caught him in a shocked hold, and Scorpius put his head into his shoulder and cried. Draco bunched the boy closer, finding the movement instinctive. The tears wet his shirt.

"I want mum," he cried. "And I want Blankey."

"I know you do. It won't be long before we see her again."

The boy sniffled and let him go. Draco wished to hold him longer, wanting to make up for all the times he couldn't.

"You promise?"

"I do. But for now, we need to get back to sleep. Maybe tomorrow you can show me the magic you can do." Draco motioned to the room. "And then I can show you my magic as well."

"You have magic too!" The boy exclaimed and then he looked serious. "Don't tell mum I can do things like that. I think it might scare her."

Draco shook his head.

"I don't think many things scare your mum. Besides, she already knows."

"I don't know…" The boy looked around the unfamiliar room. "I don't like it here. I'm a big boy, but there's monsters here."

The house elves. Poor Mipsy only wanted to care for the boy.

"It wasn't a monster. It was just a house elf. Mipsy would never hurt you. But if you're scared, I can sit in here with you until you fall asleep."

"It looked like a monster, and I don't like it. Sometimes I call Batman before bed, but I don't remember the number." He gave a little yawn. Draco didn't bother asking for an explanation. The only male Granger would call would be Theo or a Weasley, and he didn't like to remember the fact that Ron fucking Weasley spent more time with his son than he did.

"I'll find out the number tomorrow. Go to sleep, Scorpius. I promise I won't leave your side."

Scorpius gave another adorable yawn, betraying his exhaustion. Draco dimmed the lights and crawled on the other side of the bed, sitting back against the headboard, and Scorpius gave him a trusting sleepy look and snuggled up to his side. Draco watched his son as his eyes shut and slowly drifted off.

"I'm not going to lose you," he whispered. "And I'm not going to lose your mum. Not again."

Darkness gathered in his heart as he thought of how to stop his father.

He could play the blackmail game too.

Hermione

The ministry cells were in the lower levels, dark and musty. Her cell was bare and old, with only a small cot and a toilet. A small sliver of light filtered in from the outside, but it stayed rather dark. Upon arrival, they'd stripped her of clothes, her wand, and her purse, and gave her a basic uniform. After, they led her to her cell, one made for high profile criminals, the very walls dampening her magic to a miniscule amount.

Since she arrived, she lay on her cot, eyes on the ceiling. Sleep escaped her, afraid if she closed her eyes, nightmares would assail her. Afraid she'd remember with clarity her son ripped from her arms again and again.

An untold amount of time later, a door opened down the hall and footsteps approached. She didn't get up or even look over to see, even when the footsteps stopped in front of her cell. A lumos lit the interior, clashing with the shadows. Lucius walked up to her cell, cane clicking on the floor, heralding his arrival. It could be no one else. The sound of his footsteps belonged to him, recognizable even in a crowd.

He tapped against the metal bars of her cell with his cane to get her attention.

"There are some lessons you need to learn about this world, and I'm magnanimous enough to teach them to you before you get hurt from someone far worse."

Very few people were worse than him. Though, Hermione agreed, he did teach her lessons on humanity, on cruelty and narrow-minded bigotry. The first time she'd met him as a child he'd snarled at her, and there had been a moment—a fleeting irrational thought— where she wished to change his mind. Prove him wrong. Even after the war, she believed the wizarding world was on the brink of change, but it had been a foolish notion. Men like Lucius found power and security in their superiority. Nothing was worth more to them than their place in the world. He believed her blood to be filthy, and she'd never change his mind, no matter what she did.

The best thing for society would be to hobble men like him, make them ineffective. He was past redemption, past reflection. If he wanted a war with Hermione, then she'd give him one. She was done capitulating, allowing him to control her life.

Hermione rose from her lumpy cot, turning slowly, letting her feet touch the ground. She schooled her features like a Slytherin, taking notes from Draco, studying her opponent.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked. "The trial starts soon. Is there any need to bother me?"

Lucius' nose crinkled as if he smelled something foul.

"I have a singular, important problem." He glanced her up and down. "And that is where you come in. Believe it or not, you are still useful to me outside Azkaban."

Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she looked away, staring at the small sink, letting her fingers dig into the pathetic mattress. She felt his eyes on her, probably cataloging every flinch and fault to use against her later.

"It doesn't matter what you say or do at the trial," he finally said, breaking the silence. "This time I didn't even need to bribe them. You made enemies of them yourself. A foolish thing to do with your blood status. By the end of the day, you'll be charged as guilty and sentenced to the maximum years possible."

Lucius pressed for a trial with the entire Wizengamot, so there would be a guaranteed win. If Hermione wasn't so angry, she'd be impressed with his schemes.

"I've already gathered that," she said with a little bite, finally looking back at him with a glare. "If nothing matters, then I'll make sure to leave an impact."

Lucius gave a click of his tongue.

"Typical Gryffindor, looking for a fight without considering other options. Have you not figured out I plan to let you go? With conditions, of course."

"Let me go?" Hermione seethed. "You orchestrated my exit from wizarding Britain in the first place. Was this some warped plan all along?"

"Of course not," he said. "I only capitalized on the situation. The wizarding world was an improvement without you. However, I admit that sentiment wasn't shared with my son." He paused and frowned, and Hermione's eyes narrowed at the brief show of emotion. "I thought he'd finally see sense without your influence. Rarely am I wrong, but I admit I misjudged the depth of his affections. I let you go, and now it's my responsibility to gift you back, so he can return to his birthright."

Hermione stood up, balling her fist by her side.

"Gift me?" She took a step toward the cell bars. Magic snapped around her, buzzing in the air, though the cell suppressed it. "I know this is a hard concept for you to grasp, but I'm a person. You can't gift me."

Instead of being afraid of her snapping magic, Lucius pressed forward with his own sneer, as if holding back his own simmering violence.

"This arrangement cost me five thousand galleons in bribes to overlook the charges, even if I was the one that levied them. The Wizengamot loathes you and wanted this trial as much as I did. Pulling them back cost money. An amount as exorbitant as that is a gift. We'll call it an early birthday present for Draco." He flashed a hateful smile, white teeth glittering in the dark. "So here are the choices, mudblood. You can go back to the manor, where you'll partly raise your son and any other children you have in a comfortable atmosphere… or you can decay in Azkaban. All you need to do is a sign a testament of guilt."

"Both are prisons."

He tilted his head in agreement, clicking his cane against the floor, making her flinch with the noise.

"True, but one is far more comfortable."

"I'll choose Azkaban before I concede to you ever again."

Lucius gave a low chuckle.

"As you wish, but it'll take three months in that depraved place before you crack and change your mind, and you'll be lucky if you aren't sentenced to fifteen years with the combined charges. What I'm offering is mercy, little girl."

Hermione took a moment to consider—only a single, pathetic moment—before her soul hardened.

"See you in court, Lucius," Hermione said "But hear this warning… I'll find a way to be out from under your control, and when I do, you'll regret forcing me to be your enemy."

Lucius blinked his eyes, as if unbelieving his bribes didn't get him what he wanted.

"Foolish child, you think you understand desperation because you fought in a war? Even in war there's hope. Azkaban is bereft of any form of humanity. I'll come visit you in a year when your hair has been half-ripped out from stress, when your ribs are showing, when even moving to eat is painful. The mental torture is enough to break the most honorable men. Even a proud mudblood war hero will be dying to get out. When that day comes, I may just let you have mercy once again… if you beg me."

Hermione didn't respond, only glared. Lucius looked back as if studying some wild animal he wished to tame, knowing he might have to break it first. And then twisted and walked away, cane clicking the ground once again as he went.

But Hermione wouldn't break.

In the end, her soul was made of iron.

If they wished to take her son and her wand, then she'd give then blood and terror. She'd become a dark creature, a fate Dumbledore feared from her. She'd tear down every brick of the ministry using the worst twisted curses from the Grimoire and build it back up into something more suitable. She'd show them magic simmered in her veins, and they couldn't take it from her even if they tried.