Chapter Four: Perdition

Intelligence is deeper in those who push past what they believe they already know.

Seeker

April 30, 2009

"Take a seat, Mudblood."

Violated.

Her autonomy was stifled, for years. Numbness set in as gray eyes stared back at her. Her childhood tormentor hated her simply because she did not belong. It was drilled into him that she was an abomination that needs to be dealt with. An ideology that fueled the greatest war of Wizarding history. Innocent bloodshed, families were torn apart and a hierarchy enforced that frankly did no good to both sides. Fighting in the name of what they believed to be right, a new world was created. The darkest days of history as people cowered behind closed doors, laughter seldom heard, waiting for the penny to drop as there was only one thing certain for everyone. Death could come knocking on the door any second. There was no immunity for anyone.

The educational curriculum was altered to suit the New World's requirements. Children regardless of their family background were taught that Muggles are an abhorrence to the world. A divide was created that served to foster an ideology that would only result in further conflict.

One would assume that verbal sparring between two children would run its course, but it never did for Hermione and Malfoy. Perhaps it was their intelligence or disdain that seeped through their veins for neither Hermione nor Malfoy ever shied aware from an attack. Not one to concede defeat, both of them rose to the challenge and gave it their best every time. Insults that hit the mark recycled frequently as they got bolder and more creative requiring Professors to step in with an intervention. Hogwarts has seen a lot of rivalries, but theirs is a particularly memorable one.

Had it not been for the War, things would have remained unchanged. Eyes that once promised her ruin and destruction, now a cesspool of sympathy. How things have changed.

A testament to the influence that the family has on a child.

She stared back, seeing, but not truly seeing. His mouth moved, but she could not hear any sound. Small creases appeared on his forehead which was the only visible imperfection on his face. It seemed unjust for those few lines to appear there. Did he inherit it from the Malfoy Family or from the Black Family? Having had Bellatrix crooned at her up close on a daily basis, her face is forever imprinted on her mind. Not a single mark, spot, or crease. The skin was flawless. Similar to Malfoy's. Probably similar to his Mother's and Father's. Despite his pale complexion which remained unchanged over the years, which fueled speculation that he must have the Veela gene or the more absurd one; that he is a Vampire, his features are more defined and sharp indicating his maturity from both his appearance and his conduct. More appealing than ever, he carried himself with confidence and poise that can be intimidating to many, but then, what does one expect from the Malfoy Heir?

Was he standing or leaning over her? He has filled out over the years and Hermione had to tilt her head to meet his gaze during their brief interactions. His figure added a layer of complexity to his mysterious character. Despite the circumstances of their recent reacquaintance, Hermione found her eyes drifting over to the man who hardly ever met her eyes. Like a fly drawn to the light, her interest piqued every time she saw him. The mere mention of his name was thought-provoking.

Intriguing, but dangerous.

She could feel a hand gripping her which summoned other bouts of emotions. The terror shook her to the core as she recalled the numerous times she had been accosted inside the safety of her home.

No. Not home.

Her prison.

The roaring in her ears deafened the sounds surrounding her.

She had been nothing, but a puppet to them for years. Obstructed from living life as she chooses.

A slave.

No.

Worse than that.

Even slaves had some autonomy over their bodies.

Manipulated and bent to their will, Hermione felt like a stranger in her body now. She felt ill in her own skin. From the meals taken to the clothes that were worn, all the decisions were made for her. Such a level of controlling to avoid the risk of having her break free from their clutches. Nothing was left to chance. Walking on eggshells constantly, they paid attention to every indrawing breath and every twitch of her hands. Potions poured down her throat every night and morning, the Imperio renewed daily, it was obviously a well-executed plan to infringe every aspect of her life.

A fight, she did put up.

Everyday.

She wakes up tired and goes to bed even more exhausted. Never once did she give up. She fought, begged, and cried all the time. Being locked up and Polyjuiced would have been much more merciful.

The gravity of the poignant and harsh reality descended on her as her life flashed in front of her eyes. Not one suspected a thing. One would assume having spent years together, people are familiar with the personal preferences of their peers. Surely they know her likes and dislikes, but they simply frowned in response to the little changes. From starting to drink tea every morning instead of her usual cup of coffee to eating croissants instead of muffins, several changes overnight were not questioned. However, if they came across a man who hunched in a suspicious manner, they were after him like a dog with a bone. It all obviously came down to priorities and she wasn't one to them. Hermione felt the ground be dragged from under her feet propelling her into a dark bottomless pit. The struggle and attempts for emancipation flooded her mind as she felt something crack within her. Pain consumed her as she was engulfed by darkness.

Falling.

No light.

Nothing.

No one.

Alone.

"Hermione!"

Harry rushed towards her as she went suddenly limp in Malfoy's arms catching the wizard by surprise as he hurried to lower her down gently, one hand supporting her head. Sometime during the Legilimency Malfoy propped her up on her feet, but even he probably failed to register it. Minerva's protests fell onto deaf ears as Malfoy performed Legilimency. Accidental magic lashed out against each attempt of interruption causing Minerva to angrily stride out of the room muttering about the stubbornness and recklessness of the younger generation. Seeing others wearily watching on, she knew the need to know outweighed the moral ethics of letting Hermione recover. Having heard the phrase "For the greater good." her entire life, she decided to attend to more pressing issues rather than engage in verbal sparring which would do no good to anyone.

"Fuck!"

Malfoy wretched his left hand from her neck as drops of blood spattered onto the floor. Paying no attention to his injury, Malfoy gripped his wand from the injured hand and prodded the necklace around her neck causing a spark to zip off of it.

"Wait! Don't touch her."

Malfoy threw a hand out at him without taking his eyes off the woman who lay unconscious once again. Her pleas to break free from her captors are still loud and ringing in his ears. Her tortured screams at the Ballroom haunted him for years, but what he just witnessed threw a harrowing, haunting punch to his heart. He could not help, but pity the woman who spent years subjected to the flaming gavel of the judgmental eyes of her friends, condemning and questioning her daily, ignorant to the fact that a microcosm of a great war was raging and wounding her slowly and painfully for years. The intractable physical laws of her own body waging a war for the most basic of needs. Held captive in endless perdition.

Ignorance is truly bliss.

A voluntary misfortune.

The domination of absurdity.

"Get the Minister."

Malfoy spoke as he slipped his hand under Hermione's knee and lifted her up. Grimacing slightly on recalling her discomfort of being touched, despite their history, he felt a wave of anger towards those who are responsible. Skin-to-skin contact gave her the sensation of being pricked by thousands of needles and yet she clung to them desperately. Gritting her teeth through the ordeal, she prayed that one would notice, but no one did. Assuming that she was seeking comfort and strength, they simply held her and rubbed circles on her palms, but they were oblivious to the eyes that begged them for help. Being the overly affectionate crowd who interacted daily without fail, it is astonishing that this has gone on for so long.

Following their first acquaintance after several years, Malfoy and Nott spent an hour, sipping whiskey in Malfoy's study, discussing the peculiar mannerism of the once fierce witch. Prior to their arrival, Harry briefed them over Hermione's area of expertise which was the reason why they refrained from inquiring about the lingering effects of Dark Magic in her residence. It made perfect sense that Hermione brought several artifacts home and worked on those after office hours. The fact that she achieves breakthroughs at her home was sufficient enough reason for the Ministry to allow her to work wherever and whenever she wishes. Both of them set forth to the meeting with high anticipation, ready for battle for they weren't sure how welcomed their presence would be in her sanctuary.

Their intuition screamed throughout the entire meeting, for the woman in front of them was a shell of the person they knew. Harry briefly explained it as PTSD, when she stepped into her home office to gather some documents. Neither familiar with the terminology nor wanting to admit it to Harry, they held their tongue and made mental notes which were later discussed in the confines of Malfoy's office. Scouring through the texts summoned from the Malfoy library, their findings did not ease their skepticism. However, with more pressing matters at hand, they decided to put their investigation on the backburner for a while. A grave mistake indeed.

Not stopping to see if anyone did as he asked, Malfoy turned to make his way out of the half-wrecked room with Harry hot on his heels, yet surprisingly silent. Taking purposeful strides, Malfoy entered a room on the far left corner of the long hallway and gently laid her on the huge canopy bed in the middle of the room. Paying no attention to his blood-soaked shirt, Malfoy rolled his sleeves as he summoned a chair near to the side of the bed where he stood. Grabbing his wand from his pocket, Malfoy hesitated before wandlessly casting a spell that would ensure that she sleeps through the entire ordeal.

She has suffered enough, yet there are wounds gaping and seeping in the silent chamber of her soul.

Both physical and mental. Emotions battered her soul, fierce waves rocked her to her core as she struggled to stay afloat.

Wings clipped and caged, the Wizarding World deprived of the full potential of Hermione Granger.

A knock broke through the silence of the room, drawing everyone's attention to the door. Kingsley looked on questioningly, as Malfoy gestured him to enter with a slight tilt of his head. He was not at all surprised to see Percy and Ron follow him inside. Malfoy tracked all the movement from the corner of his eyes as he ran his wand over Hermione's wound.

"Draco."

Nott's voice slashed through the room, effectively cutting through the thick tension mounting in the room as he walked in with a Pensive hovering in front of him. Setting it on the table in the opposite end of the room, Nott looked at Malfoy expectantly as Malfoy placed his wand on his temple and drew out a long shimmering silver thread of memory which floated across the room into the Pensive.

No further prompting was required as the rest of the occupants gathered around the Pensive, eager and apprehensive of what they were about to witness.

"God!"

Harry leaned heavily, heaving as beads of perspiration dropped onto the ostentatious table. Bile rose to his throat as he gulped down air hungrily. Mind racing miles away, he struggled to draw up his Occlumency shields in an effort to compose himself.

Wiping his forehead with his sleeves, Harry glanced at Ron who had crumpled to the ground next to him. Back against the leg of the table, Ron stared off unfocused at the bed that Hermione lay on.

Guilt propelled him forward to Hermione's side. Tears threatened to fall as he slipped her hand into his. The coldness from her hand seeped through him, as he cradled her palm in his hands, in an effort to provide her some heat. The telling signs of shock were visible from her face even unconscious as she lay on the huge bed that seemed to swallow her tiny figure.

Memories of her mumbling cry for help and torturous screams of despair ringing loudly in his ears, Harry was beyond furious and frustrated. What seemed to him as mournful eyes, haunted by the losses and stress suffered at a young age, were actually eyes screaming for help, stranded in an ocean in the middle of nowhere. Her outcries were nothing more than a whisper in the dark that surrounded her constantly, the complete control of her body and her mind were at someone's hand, she could not even utter 'help'. Her voice stolen, she has been silenced.

The brightest witch of her age indeed. She fought like a hellcat and kept on fighting despite being drugged and placed on imperious by 5 casters. No, she was anything but weak. The concoction poured down her throat twice a day was a testament to how much of a struggle she put into breaking free from her captors.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

"That was Antonin Doholov."

Harry jumped in surprise, unaware that Nott had walked up to him.

"What?" Harry sat on the side of the bed turning slightly towards the silent wizard next to him.

"Antonin Doholov. The one who kept on drugging her. His skill in potions garnered a reputation for him in Knockturn Alley." Nott pointed to Hermione as he continued.

"I can recognize his voice anywhere. That was him, undoubtedly. Few were privy to his creations. If I recall correctly, he gifted a Journal to Draco as a Christmas present. It might not be much, but it is the place to start. I am heading to the library to find a potion to counter the one administered."

Nott clasped Harry's shoulder briefly before turning to head out of the room, understanding that others needed to discuss what they had seen. Pausing slightly, he cast a warming charm on Hermione and conjured additional chairs around the bed as others were still reeling from what they witnessed. Each in their own turmoil of emotions, the full extent still sinking in, they clearly needed some time to knuckle down and address the current predicament.

With a nod to Kingsley who had his head hung, he turned his attention to Malfoy who stood near a painting at the corner of the room, speaking in a low voice, ignoring the stare he undoubtedly felt at the back of his head.

Knowing better than to offer him assistance, Theodore held his tongue.

The index and middle finger of his left hand bleeding profusely dripping down to stain the white carpet on the floor, it was evident that his injury was due to dark magic. Obviously rare too judging from the fact that it is still unhealed. Mentally adding it to the growing list of things that needed to be researched, he recalled and cast an ancient healing spell his mother used to tend to his father's wounds back in the day. A sigh of frustration escaped him involuntarily as the wound reopened almost immediately as Malfoy turned towards him with his eyebrows arched. It was worth a try.

"Dean is good at research," Percy spoke, drawing Nott's attention to him. Down on one knee, hands clasped on his brother's shoulder, the usually composed wizard seemed at the seams of unraveling.

"I will join you soon."

"Third floor, second door to the right." With that Nott headed out of the room with one last glance at Malfoy who had turned his attention back to the portrait.

A knock brought everyone's attention to the door.

"Oh, Draco!"

Narcissa Malfoy rushed over to her son who was still conversing with the portrait in a low voice. Whipping her wand out from her robes, she took his bleeding hand in her hand and started murmuring healing charms. Soon enough, the bleeding stopped and the wound was wrapped around with heavy bandages.

"You need to soak your hand in Murtlap Essence for 10 minutes. I will bring it along with some blood replenishing potion. Where else are you bleeding from?"

"Did they breach your ward?" Malfoy asked his mother as she continued to fret over him.

She tended to the cuts that covered his body, she brushed off the ruined suit all the while muttering unhappily under her breath. Far cry from the usually composed nature of the witch, she still commanded the attention of the room. Dressed to impress, her hair and makeup kept minimal to draw attention to her green robes which undoubtedly cost a fortune. They once again caught a glimpse of the desperate mother who lied to the Dark Lord, risking her life to protect her son. There is no heroism greater than motherhood.

One would assume that the Malfoys were cold and incapable of emotions. Their flawless public façade masked their true nature, just as they intend to. It was essential for their survival for all the eyes of the Wizarding World scrutinized to see their weakness, a weapon that could bring them to their knees. Not knowing who would turn against them explained why few dared to claim to be friends with the Malfoys. Those who associated with the Malfoy name walked a fine line and bravely weathered the storm that followed. Despite Lucius Malfoy's apparent involvement and dealings that raised plenty of eyebrows, no one could contest that he wasn't a successful businessman. With Gringotts Vaults filled to the brim with more money than one could imagine, the Malfoys need not work to live a luxurious life. Nevertheless, Lucius Malfoy founded and made a fortune out of the Malfoy Industries which he then later handed over to his son who doubled their revenues.

Determined not to live in his father's shadows, the young Malfoy made plenty of changes that asserted his take over and steered the company from the brink of collapse following the Battle of Hogwarts. To the public, this was what Draco Malfoy had been doing since his trial, but one hardly ever saw him. Choosing to keep his interaction with others to a bare minimum, he only met with a handful of trusted advisors and conducted daily meetings with the heads of various departments all of whom refused to give anything to the News Agencies no matter the sum of money offered. Not a single employee filed a complaint regarding their boss but rather sang praises of him. News reporters staked out the Malfoy Industry premises, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man behind all the speculation. With the last published photograph being the one following his trial, the public was very much intrigued.

Only reports of his presence abroad made the news, but no photographs ever surfaced for he went to great lengths to ensure his privacy is not violated and he hardly spends more than 24 hours at a place. Malfoys only rarely dined at the most exclusive restaurants and made multiple reservations at the same time and date. If not for the leaks from the Transportation Department, the News agencies would never have found out about his activities.

The same goes for Narcissa Malfoy. She entertained a handful of trusted individuals and opted out from attending social events. Despite her absence, her presence was noted in the form of various contributions and her involvement in different charities. Many gushes about having the privilege of receiving a letter from her and sing praises for her kindness and generosity. She was revered by the public.

"No. You know they can't. Where are Astoria and Scorpius? Are they hurt?"

Someone drew a sharp breath in as Malfoy suddenly went rigid. Immediately sensing the shift, Narcissa brought her hands to her side slowly as she peered into the blank expression of her son apprehensively. Occlumency shield firmly in place, it was evident that Narcissa would be kept waiting as her son seemed unable to string the words together.

Having witnessed the depths that Narcissa would reach for her son, her grandson unquestionably would have her wrapped around his finger. A mother's love remorselessly crashes down all that stands in its path. A heart and soul connection that transcends the test of time.

Harry could not help but be gravitated towards the small family knowing that the least he could do for Malfoy was break the news to his mother. Malfoy's conduct is commendable for if it was Harry, he would not have had the strength or the discipline to handle the matters as methodically. His heart ached at the thought of his children being in the same position as Malfoy's son. His occlumency shields rose as he stopped merely a foot away and cleared his throat. Well familiar with the harsh realities of life, he understood better than anyone that the family is in dire straits.

"Mrs. Malfoy. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but umm the child, that is uh- Scorpius, has been taken away."

"WHAT?"

Blue eyes raged in anger as sparks flew from her wand.

Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry continued cautiously as she displayed a myriad of emotions.

"Unfortunately there is more. Mrs. Malfoy was killed during an altercation before we even reached here. It seems she fought valiantly trying to protect her son, but we were able to reach her in time. My condolences to you and your family for your loss. We assure you that we will do everything in our power to bring your grandson back safely."

"YOU!"

A spell from her wand had Kingsley flung onto the wall as she marched over angrily. It suddenly dawned on everyone that this indeed was the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange as she dropped her calm façade. Her mannerism eerily similar to her sister's there was no doubt that she was as skilled as her sister, perhaps even better.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" Percy rushed over, throwing a shield in front of the Minister only to have it shattered as he too was flung across the room.

"This is all your fault! Did we not inform you that such a circumstance would arise? Did we not ask for more protection? Did we not endlessly beg the Ministry to let us put more secure impenetrable wards around the Manor? Have we not proven ourselves in the past 10 years?"

Narcissa seized Kingsley's robes as she slammed him harder into the wall behind displaying a surprising strength. Wincing in pain, Kingsley groaned as he hung his head rolled forward heavily.

"That is enough!"

Harry pulled her off of the Minister placing himself between them. Narcissa whipped her wand threateningly, eyes narrowed in anger as she watched Harry and Ron stand in front of the Minister with shields drawn up. With a snarl, she fired off a curse at them which shook their shield and bounded off to the side. Heaving heavily, hands on their knees, Harry and Ron watched in trepidation as the enraged witch stalked out of the room throwing a charm above her shoulder, to Hermione, whose body rose from the bed and floated behind her.

"Draco!"

Stopping at the entrance of the room, the witch turned left after firing multiple stinging jinxes over her shoulder, following her son who had left silently some time during the altercation.

"Bloody hell!"

Ron collapsed to the ground holding his stomach as he groaned in pain.

"She- She-" Lost for words, Ron scrambled to complete his sentence as he pointed to them and towards the door.

"Yeah, mate." Harry sat on the ground with his legs stretched in front of him as he wiped his face with his sleeves.

"She's right."

Ron whipped his head back to Harry in surprise as he met his stare with a grim expression. Mouth drawn into a line, Harry sighed for the umpteenth time before flicking his wand at Kingsley uncaringly as the man fell down onto the ground with a thud.

"Agreed." Kingsley groaned as he pushed himself onto his hand only to stumble back down.

"Damn, that witch is powerful!" Kingsley's words were muffled as his face was buried into the carpet. Groaning once again, he tried to turn only to have Harry shoot a spell at him which had him thrown off the ground and back on the floor again.

"Thank you-"

"Oh, shut it!" Harry groaned, pressing his hands into his eyes as he curled on his side. Blinking back tears that threatened to fall, Harry felt his chest tighten. Guilt was eating him away as memories flashed before his eyes.

"Most of the Anjelica seemed to be destroyed in the fire, but I managed to get half a sprig. Would it be sufficient?"

Neville walked into the makeshift laboratory with arms full of ingredients. Depositing the harvested ingredients on the table carefully, he turned to wash his hands from the washbasin at the corner of the room only to recoil at the sight of Percy who sat bent over the basin with his head hanging forward as blood dripped out of his nose slowly.

"Blimey! What happened?" Neville rushed to his side and whispered, "Episkey."

Loud crunch resonated through the room with a painful groan as Nott let out a cough in an attempt to disguise his amusement. Feeling Neville shoot daggers at the back of his head, Nott rolled his eyes at the typical Gryffindor characteristic subtlety.

Some things never change.

"He refused my assistance, choosing to suffer through as it is the honorable way to nurse a wound that he believes is more than justified."

Not bothering to look back at their expression, Nott placed a bubblehead charm on himself as he increased the flame on the cauldron. Normally he wouldn't have offered a justification, but it did not seem right to dismiss the elephant in the room given Neville's eager assistance so far. Perhaps being surrounded by Gryffindors is rubbing off on him.

"Justified?" Neville echoed Nott's words but was met with silence.

Neither man elaborated as one focused on brewing while the other rested his head on the basin, groaning softly. Unhealthily pale, Percy obviously needed a blood replenishing potion which he would refuse. Having learned to pick his battles wisely, Neville decided to leave that task to someone else as time was of the essence.

"Right. I am needed back at patrolling. Let me know if you need any assistance."

Clapping his hands together, Neville hovered near the door, questions at the tip of his tongue. With a sigh, he looked back once again before walking out knowing that this is not the time for questions either.

"Neville! Have you seen Hermione?" Harry called out from the opposite side of the corridor as he opened the nearest door and poked his head inside.

"What do you mean?" Neville whipped out his wand from his holster and cast a point-me charm that failed.

"That doesn't work. Must be the additional wards. Have you seen Mrs. Malfoy?"

"No, I haven't. Didn't you follow Malfoy?"

Neville jogged alongside Harry as they both opened the doors, but it was like searching for a needle from a haystack.

"I heard you cursed the Minister. "

Malfoy spoke from the doorway as he watched his mother cast healing charms on the woman who still laid bleeding in a bed which seemed to swallow her. Paying no attention to the ruined bedcover, the old witch bent her head as she continued chanting softly, ignoring her son. After what seemed like ages, the usually composed witch all but collapsed into the chair next to the bed, mopping the beads of perspiration running down her temple. Her face was ashen white and lips trembling as she leaned back with her eyes closed.

"Mother?"

Malfoy placed a hand on her back as he pressed a glass of water to her lips.

"Thank you, Draco. Could you bring me some-?"

She began only to have a vial of Invigorating Potion pressed into her palm.

"Oh, Draco. Thank you. Aunt Bella's work, I presume?"

Tipping back the contents of the vial, Narcissa sat up in her chair and tilted her head at the witch that lay still on the bed in front of her.

"It is a curse invented by your Great-Grandfather. His spell work puts the rest of the Black's family inventions to shame and mind you, we have plenty of toe-curling, unimaginable curses invented. I have managed to seal the wound, but she won't recover until all traces of Dark Magic are removed from her body. Her magical core is fighting against the Dark Magic, but her strength is depleting as we speak. One of the potions Theodore is brewing is a variant of an invigorating potion, but you only have a short time frame to get it done. Administer that followed by the rest. Start with the necklace. It has been left long enough. I have done all I can and I am afraid that even your best will not be sufficient."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked as he handed another glass of water to his mother.

"Come now, Draco. You understand how it works. It is both a relief and dread for me, that both you and Theodore's expertise in Dark Magic is not up to par with what is required to deal with the current situation. Simply put, anyone who can cast the Patronus Charm is simply too pure to handle this. I sympathize with her. A bright witch, I have no doubt, and a huge loss to the Wizarding World if it comes to it. I wonder, would the Minister still stick to the rules and his flawed belief system and let her die or would he make an exception?"

Raising an eyebrow at her son, she gripped his hand tightly before standing up with a heaving sigh. Guiding him into the seat she vacated, she removed the bandages and placed his hand in a bowl of Murtlap Essence murmuring as he hissed in discomfort.

"You have had plenty of blows today my dear boy. I am so proud of how you are holding up, but there is more to come. You bear so much weight on your shoulders and it pains me that you are still very much in the dark. I hardly believe in God, but I find myself praying to give you strength for your road ahead."

Narcissa placed a hand on his cheek and murmured before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Neither spoke as they sat in contemplation, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Go. Clean up and we better get changed. I will do my best to keep her alive. Minerva approached me and provided her assistance in making the necessary arrangements. I have given her the instructions, but please do seek her out and see that everything is as it should be. Make any changes as you wish. Send a word when you need me."

Narcissa broke the silence as the timer set off indicating it is time to tend to Hermione again.

"Malfoy is expecting us in the library."

Theodore informed them from the doorway prompting everyone to their feet. Only the platter of feet against the heavily carpeted floor could be heard as everyone clamored into the library, most choosing to lean against a bookshelf leaving the floor to Kingsley, Harry, Ron, Percy, and Theodore who stood facing the back of the wizard who was intent on staring out of the window.

Freshly showered, his hair not quite dry, and dressed in the ceremonial mourning attire reminding everyone of the loss that had taken place. Instead of spending his last minutes with his wife or ensuring that all the funeral arrangements were perfect, here stands a soldier, ready for battle. They hated him for who he was as a child, but the man in front of them demanded their respect and appreciation more than anyone else in the room.

"Mr. Malfoy." Kingsley cleared his throat and started only to wince seeing the wizard stiffen instantly.

Not quite sure how to proceed, he looked at Percy for his assistance to only be met with eyes filled with uncertainty and a hint of reluctance. How does one begin to start explaining, especially when the consequences of one's decisions greatly influenced the events that took place?

Time to pay the piper.

Composing himself to begin again, Kingsley straightened himself up only to be interrupted by Ron who stepped forward.

"Malfoy. Thank you. For what you did for her. And your mother too, Mrs. Malfoy. Especially given the circumstances. I- We all really appreciate it. And- I am sorry. About your wife and your son."

Everyone murmured their condolences as Malfoy slowly turned to face the room. Crossing his hands on his chest, he leaned against the window frame and he stared straight at the Minister, chin silently raised goading him to begin. The atmosphere changed as the unspoken challenge was issued, causing everyone to nervously grip their wands tighter.

"I don't suppose there is anything that can be done about it now, is there?"

Malfoy spat out angrily. His nose flared as he dropped his Occlumency shields and emotions painted a canvas on his face. It made him more human and dangerous at the same time.

"Mr. Malfoy, I assure you-"

"You've assured me quite a lot in the past. None of which you seem capable of delivering, let alone implementing."

Lights flickered as Malfoy drew himself away from the window taking measured steps towards the Minister.

"I need it in writing that the entire Malfoy Manor and its estates are brought under my full control with the removal of all Ministry implemented surveillance, restrictions, and the reinstatement of the ancient wards that were brutally taken down as per your orders to make it convenient for you and anyone to barge in whenever they pleased. I want the Malfoy House-elves returned to their duties and the trace placed on me removed. Effective immediately. No one is going anywhere until it is done so if you wish to drag your feet, know that you are solely responsible for keeping several families apart. The news would have reached the public by now causing a frenzy in the public. Your perfectly sculpted illusion shattered, Ministry workers would be scrambling with no one to turn to for guidance. Seeing as how no post or Patronus charm can enter through the wards I have placed, I imagine it would be distressing to those awaiting a reply, both professional and personal. If that isn't enough to prompt you, I hope for Granger's sake, you would make haste. Delay on if you wish, and there will be two funerals under this roof tonight."

With that, Malfoy stormed out of the room with Nott hot on his tails.

"Blimey! Kingsley! Has there honestly been no wards here?" Harry clutched a fist full of his hair as he turned towards the door debating to follow Malfoy and hound for answers or to get it out from the Minister who looked properly chastised like a schoolboy.

"Hardly any." Percy retorted as Kingsley frowned in displeasure.

"There were some. You have to understand, the wards in place made the Manor nearly unplottable and that was without the Fidelius Charm. Mr. Malfoy has done a lot for our community, but the fact remains that he was a Death Eater who carried out tasks that resulted in the death of innocents. Had it not been for your involvement in his trial, he would be behind the bars in Azkaban. Surely it comes as no surprise that there were stipulations for his freedom. He is a powerful wizard with knowledge and training from the Dark Lord himself and several other Dark Wizards. In fact, I dare say that his knowledge and skill in that area exceed far more than all of us combined. As the Malfoy heir and a son of the House of Black, he has access to resources that are considered folklore. These are his birthrights and no one except the family members is privy to such information. Son of Lucius Malfoy, the right-hand man of Voldemort, we could not leave anything to chance! Especially with Lucius Malfoy as the highest level Prisoner. It is for the greater good."

"Lucius Malfoy is not at Azkaban." Ron interrupted causing a ripple in the room.

"What? How did he get out? When?" Harry hissed as he started to walk out of the room, orders on the tip of his tongue. Mentally going through all the possible strategies, his thoughts racing miles away.

"I thought you knew. He hasn't been there since the first breakout." Ron withdrew a parchment and unrolled it on a table nearby. Adjusting the reading lamp, he stepped back as Harry pivoted, changing his direction, and marched over going through the contents with a fine comb.

Hermione would have been proud of the meticulous job of maintaining the records. Soon after the initial breakout from Azkaban, they were each assigned an individual role in the prison. It was common knowledge that Hermione had been involved with the wards, but the rest of their responsibilities were kept in the dark from each other too. The fewer people who knew, the safer it would be. Kingsley called it not putting all eggs in the same basket. A policy he employed in every aspect of his decision-making, obviously. Although effective at times, deeply flawed too as evident by today.

"Considering how we are set off to fight the danger, every day, hadn't it occurred to you that it is important to mention that Lucius Malfoy is wide at large? Given that, as you say, he is the right-hand man of Voldemort surely makes him the biggest threat of them all. We spent hours studying everything possible on other dangerous wizards and witches just so that we can be prepared when we come across them while we are actually being sent out as sacrificial pigs? Tell me, Minister, how did such a thing escape your attention that you couldn't have taken a minute to pull the Head Auror aside and mention it?"

Harry voiced his questions, his authority, and his anger clearly obvious from his tone.

"Yes, Lucius Malfoy is not at Azkaban, but he is still a prisoner of the Ministry. Rest assured, he is very much locked up as he should be." Kingsley drew a chair on the opposite end of the table and settled in.

"I am going to need more than that. Where is he?" Harry turned in his chair and issued the order.

"And I am not at liberty to disclose the information. Especially given the current circumstances."

"No. You would have to or you would find that all the Aurors are otherwise engaged and unable to assist as the Ministry requires. Effective immediately! As the Head Auror, let me remind you, I do not and am under no obligation to answer to you. My responsibilities outline and give me the jurisdiction to make any decision for the greater good, as you say. I cannot in my right conscience withhold this information from the public and my employees. Let this be your official notice. If you change your mind, you can find me at Hermione's bedside."

With that, Harry strode out followed by Ron, Neville, and George who did not pause to look back. Their orders are crystal clear. No question of their loyalty.

Dean and Luna silently followed them out, throwing an apologetic look at the Minister which prompted the rest of those gathered to do the same leaving behind only Kingsley and Percy.

"Neville and I are heading down to help Minerva. She is at the Greenhouse. Would you be fine patrolling with- " Luna's voice trailed off as they broke off and went separate ways.

"If I may, I agree with Harry. I support his decision and had it not been for the document that Mr. Malfoy requires, you would find me alongside my brothers. I have voiced my opinion regarding the security, or rather the lack of, provided to the Malfoys all of which fell on deaf ears. Had I been privy to the extent of control the Ministry forced upon the family, I would have taken it upon myself to ensure that it was rectified. I lost a brother to war in hopes of a safer future. This is quite the opposite and I believe it is time that I review my role as your advisor. While a lot of good has been done, there is wreckage growing glamoured from our sights. Destruction comes in many forms, but having witnessed plenty in my life, no amount of magic can conceal the sight in front of us. I would condone myself forever if I support and aid in any form of catastrophe, involving innocent lives, for the greater good or not."

Kingsley recoiled at the look on Percy's face as shame crept on, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Commander in chief, honestly

If I did the things you do,

I couldn't sleep, seriously

Do you even know the truth?

We're in a state of crisis, people are dyin'

While you line your pockets deep

Commander in chief, how does it

feel to still

Be able to breathe?

Demi Lovato

Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.

A/N:

This was a tough chapter to write as most of it isn't in Hermione's POV. I struggled with this for weeks and I am still not satisfied with the delivery. However, the story needs to go on so here it is. Go easy on me. I really did try my best, but it was so hard. So glad that I can go back to writing from Hermione's POV next chapter!

Many happy returns of the holiday season and a Happy New Year to all! Praying and hoping for a better year ahead.

Next update: Hopefully 8/01/2022