Part 8 – …SOUR LUCIUS

I go by - handsome, twenty-two-year-old.

The next morning Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table again, looking perfectly cheerful.

« Probably just missed his pretty mum, » mumbled Ron under his breath, when they passed him on his way outside the Great Hall.

Draco and his relational problems, however, were quickly forgotten as Sunday offered them the bliss of a real day off. Even Hermione was too depressed to continue her work in the library, and agreed to a snowball fight in the grounds.

But Snape's dark figure still lurked in her thoughts, and she entered Potions double period on Tuesday morning even less enthusiastically than usual.

Snape had had the brilliant idea of putting her and Neville in the front row, next to Malfoy and Goyle. She had already endured four periods of pure torture, and failed to see how today could be any better.

« So…blonde today, Granger? Doesn't suit you at all…A shaved head would go better with your personality – sorry, lack of personality.»

Hermione ignored Malfoy's hissing and concentrated on her cauldron.

« What a freak couple, » he continued, staring down contemptuosly at them. « The Mudblood and some Lemurum dung. »

Dung of what

Hermione stole a glance from Neville and saw on his face the same blank expression that she knew was on hers. Malfoy chuckled softly.

« I was told you were intelligent, Mudblood…Didn't do your Latin homework today, did you? »

Hermione didn't look up and continued to measure her Beetles eyes with calm, steady movements.

One pound of Beetle eyes…Add them and stir twice clockwise…

« I was merely commenting on how pitiful you are. Have you looked at Mrs Empty-Head, proud parent of Mr Fatty here? Well, I have and – »

Neville jumped noisily to his feet, quickly followed by Hermione. She didn't even check where Snape was – she was feeling ready to act, to do something. The helplessness she had been feeling for the past five days was forgotten. Goyle went for Neville, and Malfoy got slowly to his feet.

« Come on, Mudblood. I'm quite ready for you, » he whispered.

Hermione slapped him hard across his face, and he didn't parried the blow. She could see his point – standing there, utterly relaxed, his cheek a deep crimson, he was, to her eyes, even more menacing than he had been before. Desperately wanting to affect him, she tried to slap him again, vaguely aware of Snape's silky voice behind her.

This time, however, Malfoy raised his hand and took her by the wrist. His movement had been so quick that she hadn't registered that he had moved his arm at all.

Sensing Snape's glare on them, he didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke plainly enough.

Don't push your luck too far, Mudblood.

In the few seconds Snape took to free Neville from Goyle's powerful grip and turn towards him, Malfoy closed his fingers on her wrist, and she felt the bones snap.

Tears in her eyes, she lowered her head and nursed her broken wrist as Snape took a ridiculous little amount of points from Slytherin.

Without waiting for his permission, she ran to the hospital wing, tears blinding her.

Had she stood behind, she could have seen the musing look Snape had on his face after he'd dismissed the vociferous class.

There had been something very strange about Draco Malfoy. Breaking a wrist wasn't the action of a sixteen-year-old. Snape was reminded of an older version of Draco, of Lucius' quiet imperiousness.

He would most definitely keep an eye on him. The problem was, should he keep an eye on Miss Granger too ?

He still wasn't sure about that.

Well, if he was honest with himself, he was sure about it. He was sure that he would do anything to get at that book. And he was ready. He had learned from his mistakes. He could be as romantic, patient and gentle as she wanted him to be.

Another part of him, smaller every day, was horrified to think about Hermione Granger that way – as if she was but a sexual toy. She was no Pansy Parkinson, after all. Her mind was brilliant.

Snape sighed and looked down at the pile of essays waiting for him on his desk.

« Hermione! »

« Are you all right? »

« Madam Pomfrey wouldn't say – »

« You weren't in the Hospital Wing anymore – »

« I'm fine, » said Hermione, bemused. « What's wrong with you two? »

Ron blushed, while Harry said quickly,

« We couldn't find Malfoy, you know, and we thought he had gone to see you at the Hospital Wing. »

Hermione sighed. Madam Pomfrey had mended her wrist in five minutes, but she hadn't dared to come back to Snape's dungeon. Opening a large book on her knees, she listened vaguely at Ron's proposal to feed Malfoy to the Giant Squid.

« Are you reading a Latin dictionary? » he said suddenly.

« I'm not reading it, Ron. It's called consulting, » she replied absent-mindedly.

Hermione frowned as she found what she'd been looking for. Lemures was how Romans called ghosts; the stupid, evil ones, whom people needed to banish.

She didn't know that Malfoy was such an expert of Roman culture. And there was something stranger still, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

« …why did Neville attack Goyle? » asked Harry over her head.

« He didn't, » said Hermione, her nose in the book, « He wanted to attack Malfoy. »

« Yes, well, » continued Harry impatiently, « What did Malfoy say? »

« That his mother looked dreadful. »

Ron swore and kicked his Divination book all across the room, while Harry frowned.

« And how would he know? »

« He doesn't, » said Ron, closing his fists, « He's just saying shit as usual. »

Hermione's brain finally connected with what the boys were saying and she raised her eyes to them.

« I don't think so… » she said slowly. « He seemed…I don't know, but like he knew what he was saying. »

« And how would he have seen them? » asked Ron, his voice dropping to a whisper as Neville himself came in through the portrait.

Hermione looked at him, but he ignored them and went directly to the boys' dormitory.

« His father is always gliding around in that kind of places, » said Harry, dismissively.

« But Ron is right, » said Hermione, and Ron went pink. « The Longbottoms are in a closed wards, what would Malfoy do there? »

He sounded as though he'd seen them, though. As though he was there when –

« That's impossible, » said Harry sharply, and Hermione realised that she'd spoken aloud. « He was a child when it happened. »

Hermione looked at him, frowning.

He was…he was…but still…

After dinner, the three of them went quickly to the library, as Hermione insisted to pick up a book about corporeal charms and Harry and Ron didn't want to let her go alone. They stood near the entrance, bored, as Hermione scanned the shelves purposefully. Rapunzel's Braid – The Magic in Your Hair wasn't at its place, though, and in the end she found it on one of the tables, next to other books about fairy tales, medieval legends – and a Latin Grammar.

Of course, she thought, flicking hastily through its pages.

Ten minutes she was gazing dreamily into space, and Harry and Ron had to drag her out bodily.

« Malfoy doesn't know Latin, does he? » she asked, freeing herself.

« I don't think he does. He had bottom marks in that Potions essay about Roman alchemists, » said Ron with some satisfaction.

« Yeah, well, so did we, » Harry pointed out reasonably, and he and Ron argued all the way back to the Tower.

They took place in the armchairs closest to the fire, and Hermione started to read her Magic in Your Hair book.

Causing baldness to an enemy...that wasn't it.

A thickening solution...nice, but not exactly what she needed at the moment…

« What? You want to practice this Saturday? It's an Hogsmaede weekend! » Ron complained loudly to Katie Bell, the new captain.

Easy Braiding for a Goddess' Style...

« Oh, what rubbish! »

Hermione jumped to her feet, startling the boys. Without looking at them, she went to her room, leaving Katie to peer keenly at the diagrams for 'a Goddess' Style'.

« All alone today, Granger? »

Hermione whipped around. Draco Malfoy was walking behind her, looking even more smug than usual under a cap of white fur. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen.

« Want to lose some more points for Slytherin, ferret? » she said, trying to appear disdainful. « You must have set a record – fist time ever that Professor Snape has taken ten point from his own house. »

« If Snapey tries to protect you again, he'll lose more than the House Cup, » he answered viciously.

Hermione gaped at him, unsure about what to say, but he walked past her and did not look back. She watched him go.

Snapey?

The only teachers Malfoy had ever teased were, to Hermione's memory, Lupin and Hagrid. She had never heard him be impolite to Snape. And what did he say? Snape had protected her? That was how he saw it?

Ron is right, she thought angrily, as she resumed her pace, Malfoy's barking mad.

Snape had been cautiously following Draco Malfoy the whole afternoon, but the boy had done nothing unusual. A trip to the bookshop, a few Butterbeers with Theodore Nott.

But something was definitely wrong.

He had been looking at him closely those past few days, and he was ready to bet that, unless he was very much mistaken, Polyjuice was being used again. His long years as a spy had given him a chronical distrust and an unnatural sharp eye for body language. He had been trained to notice when someone occupied the body of someone else – just as he had learned to distinguish a man under Imperius from a man faking it.

And one man shouldn't have attempted both tricks under his very nose.

As Draco Malfoy started his way back to the castle, Snape wrapped himself in his cloak and followed him, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he walked.

Draco appeared to have chosen the longest way back, the one circling the lake, and Snape suddenly noticed that the snow wasn't untouched. He was following someone.

And when he saw whom, his heart hastened its pace.

Hermione had, even in the distance, the look of someone who had been wandering around without noticing how wet and cold and deep the snow could be. Her cheeks were quite red and she was lost in her thoughts.

She saw Malfoy coming, but had no time to defend herself.

He bent down on her fallen body, grabbed her around the waist and made ready to Disapparate.

A/N Mmmh, what will our dark knight do to save the girl?

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it's really really nice to know you're there…none of my friends cares about HP, so you guys are the first to read all this…sigh…a grown-up life is sad!

Lemures is the Latin word for 'ghosts', and what is bothering Hermione is that Malfoy is using its Genitive form, Lemurum (meaning: of the ghosts), which he shouldn't know…well, which Draco shouldn't know, of course; Lucius does, and he's old enough to remember, or at least know about, the typical mark inflicted to an unworthy woman: the shaving of the head. French, for example, shaved the women who'd slept with German soldiers during WW2.

Oh, and Rapunzel, if someone doesn't know that fairy-tale, was a girl kept prisoner in a tower; she used her long long long braid as a ladder for a nice warrior who was there to free her but couldn't enter the castle…

duj yes, as you see you can guess…I've seen you've read the manual too, and really, I didn't have a choice, did I? As is stated in Chapter 19, comma 3, "no third person should be involved in the ship under pain of unleashing havoc on said ship", or something like that…I've not my copy here, sorry… :D And, gosh, you're totally right, white-blond is so not gold! I'm gonna change that. I don't know about the eyes though; sexy Lucius has grey eyes, of course, but bratty Draco? Always seen them as blue…

Nore tchooo! Je suis vraiment contente qu'il n'y aie pas que des amerloques et autres ici…enfin qcun qui peut comprendre notre diaspora de lecteurs étrangers… ;)) Merci beaucoup de tous ces compliments! J'adore Lucius aussi, mais j'aimerais vraiment pas le rencontrer! Et j'ai une révélation rien que pour toi: du français va venir…beware

Next Update: Februray 21th