Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far!
And much love goes to Adie for Brit picking!
xxxxx
Lucius whistles quietly to himself as he strolls down the bustling halls of Little Red Books. Hermione's office is easy enough to find, although hidden away in a little used corridor. The door is wide open and Lucius steps inside a large room that is cluttered with the most inane devices.
Hermione is nowhere to be seen, but her co-worker, Dean Thomas, sits behind a desk, illustrating a Muggle bicycle that is magically suspended in the air.
"Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" asks Dean, looking up with confusion, and Lucius is glad to note, quite a bit of fear. With an unsubtle quickness, the boy reaches for his wand.
"I am here to see Hermione Granger," says Lucius, towering over him.
"Hermione?" repeats Dean, as if he has never heard the name before. The grip on his wand tightens. "What do you want with her?"
"That is none of your business," snaps Lucius. "Is she in?"
"No," Dean says hesitantly. "She is out conducting field research but she should return very soon."
"I will wait."
"Okay..." He sounds as if it is anything but okay.
Lucius sits the burgundy carpetbag he has brought with him on a small table and then watches Dean with genuine interest. Although unnerved by Lucius' looming presence, he artfully recreates the bicycle on a thick pad of parchment. His quill chases after the moving illustration.
Most Wizarding artists prefer to work with static images, only bringing them to life at the end with a few charms. Dean, however, uses the long abandoned method of animating as he sketches. The process is extremely difficult as the illustration never stays in one place, but will be well worth it. The end result will be far superior to others of the same ilk.
What a pity such talent is wasted on Muggle inventions.
"You are very much like your father," observes Lucius. "He, too, liked his art to be dynamic as he created it."
"My father?" Dean asks incredulously, looking at Lucius with wide eyes. "That's impossible. My father is a Muggle."
"Oh?" asks Lucius. He must be mistaken then. Lucius had been certain the boy was Jackson Thomas' son. Dean resembles him greatly in both looks and artistic style. "I assumed your father was Jackson Thomas."
Dean is silent for several seconds. "He is...but...but that must be a different Jackson Thomas. It has to be."
Lucius supposes that could be a possibility, but highly doubts it. "Mr. Thomas, I don't know who has been telling you those slanderous lies but your father was no more a Muggle than I am."
xxxxx
Hermione makes certain the third floor lavatory at Little Red Books is completely vacant before touching up her glamour charms.
Her face radiates with good health. Her cheeks are flushed with pink and her brown eyes are shining and bright.
Too bright.
She looks like some vapid doll, plastic and unreal.
Hermione grimaces as she looks away from the mirror. Still, it is better than her true face, a face marred by tired, blood-shot eyes, withered cheeks and a thin, drooping mouth.
Since encountering the Knight Mares she has endured six pain-filled nights of green-tinged death and murder. Hermione boggles to think that she once believed the Killing Curse to be painless. It seems so oddly innocent from an outside perspective, almost as if they are merely being put to sleep.
In reality, it is the most excruciating pain Hermione has ever known, making the ache associated with the Cruciatus Curse almost feel like pleasure. It's as if every cell in her body is being destroyed at once, lasting only a fraction of a second but feeling like it goes on forever.
Hermione knows the truth now, and unless she finds a way out of this mess, she'll know it for the rest of her life.
Over the past week, she has exhausted every resource at her disposal but has learned nothing new about the Knight Mares. This lack of information is dismaying, but not surprising, given the nature of the beasts. But Hermione is not ready to give up. There has to be a way to dispel the Knight Mares and she will find it.
Hermione splashes cold water on her face and practices a fake smile in the mirror. The Knight Mares have made her beyond irritable and it is hard to not lash out at everyone and everything. Not wanting to call attention to her horrible condition, she, instead, smiles when she wants to cry and laughs when she wants to scream.
Satisfied that her veneer of serenity is in place and unfaltering, she goes to her office. When she enters, her stomach lurches violently at the sight of Dean and Malfoy chatting amicably over tea as if they are old friends.
Although she is loath to admit it, deep down Hermione is aware that her run in with the Knight Mares had been an unforeseen accident. Yet, she still blames him. It is just too suspicious that she should be inflicted with a horrible, life-altering condition while in his presence.
"The Dark Lord was very interested in recruiting him," Malfoy is telling a very attentive Dean. He pauses briefly to take a delicate sip of tea. "At that point it was unknown that Jackson had secretly taken up with a Muggle woman and had a child on the way."
What are they talking about?
Hermione comes in closer, attracting their attention.
"There you are, Hermione," Dean says with a smile. "We were waiting for you. Lucius and I were to about to have some lunch, if you'd like to join us."
Lucius? Since when does Dean refer to Malfoy as "Lucius"?
Completely ignoring a very bewildered Hermione, the two males gather their things and leave the office, not bothering to see if she follows.
Hermione does indeed follow, in order to get to the bottom of things. She wonders what Malfoy is up to next and how it involves Dean.
She soon learns that Jackson Thomas had not been some irresponsible louse who abandoned his pregnant wife, as Dean has always thought. Instead, he had been a pure-blood wizard - of a very distinguished line, Malfoy emphasizes - who had been murdered by Death Eaters after refusing to join their cause.
In the Leaky Cauldron, many eyebrows are raised at seeing Lucius Malfoy freely partaking a meal with two known Muggle-borns.
Well, only one Muggle-born, if Malfoy speaks the truth.
With growing sadness, Hermione realizes she doesn't want it to be true. She doesn't want Dean to be anything but a Muggle-born.
Like her.
Dean had been very kind to her in those first months of Hogwarts when she had been completely friendless. Although she has never grown as close to him as she has with Harry and Ron, over the years, the two have enjoyed a special camaraderie in being the only Gryffindor Muggle-borns of their year.
Hermione shamefully shakes the thoughts away. Really, she is being no better than Malfoy, putting so much importance on blood. What does it matter if Dean is really a half-blood? It's not as if anything will change.
All the same, Hermione can't help but feel as if she is losing something as Malfoy regales Dean with stories about his wizard father. How he had been a Slytherin Beater a few years older than himself. How, like Dean, he displayed a great talent for the arts.
"If I am not mistaken, some of Jackson's paintings still hang in Slytherin," says Malfoy as they leave the Leaky Cauldron after their meal. He has not looked Hermione's way once the entire time. She is strangely annoyed by that. "You should ask Professor Snape to grant you entrance so that you may see them. He might allow it since the school is currently closed but should he refuse, contact me. I will entreat him on your behalf."
Malfoy accompanies them back to Little Red Books. Dean walks ahead, quietly lost in his own thoughts. Malfoy's steps fall in line with Hermione's. He looks over at her from time to time but does not speak.
Once back in the office, Malfoy goes to Dean's desk and writes something down on a scrap of parchment. He hands it to Dean and says, "This is for you. It is the last known address of Morgan Thomas, your father's brother." Malfoy pauses. "I would refrain from telling him how you got it. I am not exactly...well-regarded in some circles."
"Thanks!"
"And this, my dear Hermione, is for you," says Malfoy, finally addressing her for the very first time that afternoon. He reaches into his carpetbag and pulls out a square box wrapped exactly the same way as her first L'Amour Contractuel gift.
"Oh no, I don't want that," Hermione says quickly, pushing the gift back at Malfoy. All week she hasn't spared a single thought to L'Amour Contractuel, her mind plagued by Knight Mares, and well...nightmares.
"Don't be foolish, girl," lectures Malfoy. He sets the box on her desk and stares at her as if she is an impertinent child. "You should never decline something with no knowledge of what it is you are refusing."
He snaps his bag shut and nods to Hermione and Dean. "Good day to you both."
"I didn't know you were friends with Lucius Malfoy," says Dean, eyeing the gift after Malfoy leaves.
"I'm not," says Hermione. She tries to think of a plausible explanation for the present. Nothing comes to mind but it soon doesn't matter. Dean has already lost interest as he gazes at his uncle's address. Hermione knows he will be no good for the rest the day, distracted by the news of his father. "Dean, why don't you take the afternoon off?"
"You know, I think I will." He slips the piece of parchment into his pocket and rises from his desk. "I need to ask my mum why she lied to me about my father."
Hermione is taken back at the sudden fury in Dean's voice. "She probably didn't know!"
Dean shakes his head as he huffs out of the room. "I think she did know. She wasn't very surprised when I got my Hogwart's letter. It was like she expected it."
Hermione shuts the door after him and returns to her desk. For several minutes, she merely stares at the gift, wondering what Malfoy thinks is so valuable that she will risk another date with him to have it. Unlike her first L'Amour Contractuel gift, this one comes with a small folded letter tucked in the golden cords. She reads it first.
'Hermione,' it says in Malfoy's tidy script, 'contained within the box is a Stone of Jenetti.'
A Stone of Jenetti? What would she need with one of those?
Hermione has a passing familiarity with them. When held, the stones infuse the carrier with happy memories, magically amplifying them until no other emotion but joy can be felt. They also act as a barrier to Dementors. The aberrations will not Kiss a person holding a Stone of Jenetti. The gems had been highly coveted during the war, when several Dementors ran free. However, due to the scarcity and expense, even the wealthiest families had difficulties obtaining them.
Hermione, her curiosity now roused, reads the letter further.
'As you are doubtless aware, a Stone of Jenetti will work against Dementors. However, it is a little known fact that they also counter the effects of Knight Mares. Take the stone, Hermione. Keep it with you always and you shall suffer the Knight Mares no more...'
The letter continues but Hermione is too enraged to read on.
That rat-faced bastard!
Malfoy may not have caused her condition but he is certainly willing to take advantage of it.
Well, she will not let him!
Hermione angrily crumples the letter and grabs the box. She violently shoves them both deep into her satchel, vowing to return the gift at the first opportunity.
By the time evening rolls around, the gift is still in her possession. She sits it on top of the dresser in her bedroom upon returning home. She has yet to open the box and look at the stone, afraid she will be lured into accepting it.
Hermione had plenty of opportunity to send it back to Malfoy when visiting the owlery at Little Red Books in order to send a few reports to Professor McGonagall. At the time, she had told her herself that it would a great misuse of company resources to use them for personal correspondence.
She will return it though.
Tomorrow, she'll owl it to Malfoy and that will be the end of this sorry affair.
And the end of any chance she has of getting relief from the Knight Mares.
Hermione tries not to think of that as she changes out of her work robes and into some Muggle clothes appropriate for Sally's. She isn't especially enthusiastic about going, but after last week's nonattendance, another absence will be suspicious.
When dressed, she goes to the kitchen to take another dose of the soothing potion Malfoy has given her. The potion cannot be taken directly so she adds it to the disgusting sugar-free lemonade her mother insists on buying.
Hermione has tried to go without the potion, not keen on relying on it to get by, but the results have been disastrous. While the potion does nothing to dispel the Knight Mares, it does make the torment associated with them far easier to bear. Without it, Hermione is a sobbing wreck, unable to function at all.
Two loud cracks sound just as she is about to leave for Sally's. She rushes to the back garden and discovers that Ron and Ginny have Apparated to her home.
"Hermione!" exclaims Ron, a dazed look on his face. "What's this nonsense about Lucius Malfoy trying to court you?"
"What?"
Ron points an accusing finger at Ginny. "That's what she said!"
Ginny steps forward. She clutches a thick book to her chest. "I think we should go inside," she says somberly.
Everyone moves into the kitchen and settles around the large Oak table.
"What's all this about?" asks Hermione, forcing down her panic. She is not going to admit to anything until she knows what evidence Ginny has. She will not hesitate to lie her way out of this, if she can.
"This is an old edition of Nature's Nobility," says Ginny as she sets the book on the table. "Neville's gran was making me look through it today so I'd know which oh so important families to invite to the wedding." Ginny scowls and then opens the book to a marked page. "You can imagine my surprise when I came to the Malfoys' section. Look, Hermione. That's the Malfoy family crest. It's the same one that came with your L'Amour Contractuel gift!"
Hermione peers down at the book. The Malfoys' crest is emblazoned across the top of the family's entry.
Damn it!
"Erm, yes," Hermione says nervously. "I already knew that."
"You mean it's true?" Ron shrieks. "I thought Ginny was taking the piss!"
Ginny looks miserable. "I had hoped I was wrong."
"Who the hell does he think he is?" asks Ron, his face growing red with rage. "Trying to court you? As if you'd have anything to do with his wrinkled, old arse!"
Both Ginny and Ron begin loud tirades against Malfoy. Hermione rubs tiredly at her brow. She's infinitely glad Doris is not home yet. Her mother would doubtlessly jump in to sing Malfoy's praises.
"Stop! Stop!" yells Hermione, halting the rush of invectives. "Yes, Malfoy gave me the L'Amour Contractuel gift but...it was just a joke. He doesn't really want to court me. He just wanted to scare me a little. It's all over now, so it doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter?" asks Ginny. She slams a fist against the kitchen table. "Hermione, you can't let him get away with it! That man should be locked up in Azkaban but instead he is running free, terrorizing people!"
"He didn't get away with it. Not exactly. Er...Harry had a row with him."
Ginny nods with approval but Ron frowns.
"You told Harry but not me?"
"Harry found out by accident," Hermione quickly explains, seeing the guarded hurt in Ron's eyes. "I didn't want anyone to know - but as I said, it's all over now so can we please drop it?"
Ron, however, does not drop it. He continues to grumble about Malfoy all night.
"I just don't like being the only one kept in the dark," he says as they sit at Sally's later that evening. "And you, Harry! Why didn't you come and get me before you went after Malfoy? Don't you think I would have liked to hex him a time or two?" Ron flexes his fingers into a fist. "I might yet."
"You will leave Malfoy alone!" exclaims Hermione.
"Why do you care?" shouts Ron, drawing many stares of distaste their way.
"I don't want you to get into trouble," Hermione says in a lowered voice. "Malfoy didn't press charges against Harry but you probably won't be so lucky."
"Let him press charges!" scoffs Ron.
"Yes, and watch you kiss your Auror career goodbye!" says Hermione. "You know the rules. If you get in trouble with the Ministry then you'll get thrown out of Auror training. Malfoy isn't worth it!"
Ron fumes and abruptly leaves the table to go to the bar for another drink.
"Is it really over?" Harry asks softly as he peels the label off his cider bottle.
"Yes," Hermione says resolutely, though she thinks wistfully of the Stone of Jenetti sitting in her bedroom.
"Then what has you looking so tired?" Harry reaches out to gently turn Hermione's face towards him. "I can see past your glamours, Hermione."
Hermione pushes Harry's hand away. The lie comes quickly.
"You'd be tired too if you had to work late every night to make up for a week's absence!"
Harry blushes with guilt. Hermione would have felt guilty herself if not for the fact that she is still very miffed about being locked up in Grimmauld Place.
Hermione has only learned to appreciate sleep in the last few years. In her time at Hogwarts, she had viewed sleep as a great waste. Time lost when she could have been engaged in more fruitful activities like revising her Potions notes or mastering the latest Transfiguration spells.
It was during the war that she realized just how welcome slumber could be. A sweet respite from the horrors of the day. A brief but very welcome break from reality.
Now sleep is not just some annoying, necessary function but a dreaded enemy. Hermione wishes she need never close her eyes again. She wishes there is some way she can stay awake forever.
There isn't; there is only a powerful sleeping potion. A potion that gives her sleep whether she wants it or not.
After casting a Silencing Charm on her bedroom so that Doris will not hear her nightly screams, Hermione takes her customary dose and then rests on her bed with her eyes wide open. She won't shut them until the potion forces her to do so. In the meantime, she wonders which of her three victims will visit her dreams tonight. It is a different one every time.
Not long ago, her victims were only nameless Death Eaters. It was so much easier then. She needn't think of them as people, only malevolent monsters in billowing cloaks and white masks.
But the Knight Mares are cruel beasts and have stolen that luxury. Not only does she dream of their deaths but of their lives as well. Just as she is with them as they take their last breath, she is there for their first and all the ones in between.
That night she dreams of Oscar Kuhn, a moon-faced German boy fresh out of Durmstrang. Oscar only followed Voldemort to make his Death Eater father proud. He was just a scared little boy who got caught up in something far worse then he ever imagined. The day Hermione killed him had been one of his first in the war. There had been a sad sort of relief in his slackened face as he fell to her wand.
Hermione wakes up sobbing and screaming. Her body shakes with the lingering vestiges of the Killing Curse. More than an hour passes before Hermione is able to get out of bed. She aches for the soothing potion but first indulges in a long, hot shower.
She always feels so very dirty in the mornings. She reeks of sin. She can smell it's acrid bitterness seeping from her every pore. Hermione scrubs her body until it's red and raw even though she knows she will never truly rid herself of the filth.
It's a soiling of the soul, not the flesh.
After getting dressed, Hermione glamours on a happy face before she goes down to the kitchen. Doris is already awake and making breakfast from the smell of things.
What she does not except to find is Lucius Malfoy sitting at the table, nibbling on the end of a fat banger while Doris scrambles eggs on the hob.
"Good morning, Hermione," he says jovially, between bites.
"Lucius heard you were still feeling poorly and came by to see if he could be of some help," says Doris, smiling as she scrapes the eggs on his plate. "Wasn't that nice of him?"
"Quite," Hermione manages to say with a modicum of civility. She eyes him with distrust as she pours the soothing potion into a cup of milk.
"Oh, honey," says Doris. "I don't think you should take that anymore. It doesn't seem to be doing you any good."
Doris believes Hermione to still be suffering from the mysterious 'magical virus' and that the soothing potion is some sort of cure. Hermione is more than fine with that. The truth will probably kill her mother.
"It's working, Mum. Trust me."
"Your breakfast is in the oven," says Doris as she reaches for her car keys hanging on a hook by the back door. She looks back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy, a coy smile on her lips. "I just remembered that I need to finish some NHS paperwork before Monday."
"I bet," Hermione mumbles sourly as sips her milk.
Doris leans into Hermione before leaving. "Invite him over for supper tomorrow," she whispers.
"I will not!" shouts Hermione, drawing an interested look from Malfoy.
Doris purses her lips then does it herself. "Lucius, would you care to join us for supper tomorrow night. Around seven?"
"I'd be delighted, Doris!"
Doris smiles smugly at Hermione as she leaves the kitchen. Hermione shakes her head. She will never get over the fact that her Muggle mother is Lucius Malfoy's biggest fan.
"So why are you really here?" asks Hermione, glaring at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirks as he leisurely smears a pat of butter on his toast. "Did you have a pleasant rest last night?"
"You know I didn't!"
"Yes, I do." His eyes narrow on her. "Tell me, Hermione, why haven't you used the Stone of Jenetti? Are you really that stupid? Or perhaps you find my company so abhorrent that you'd rather suffer for the rest of your days than bear it for just a short time?"
"I don't think you want me to answer that." Hermione slams her now empty cup on the counter. "But, I'm glad you came. That way I can give you back the stone in person. Wait here!"
Hermione marches past Malfoy, frowning at him as she goes. The arrogant bastard merely continues to happily eat his breakfast as if he hasn't a care in the world.
In her bedroom, Hermione taps her fingers against the gift and sighs deeply.
This is it. She'll give it back to Malfoy, she will.
Several minutes pass and finally, curiosity getting the better of her, she opens the gift.
Hermione has never seen anything so wonderful in her life. The stone inside is a sparkling blue, slightly smaller than her fist. It radiates a mesmerizing light and she feels a warm rush of happiness wash over her as she looks at it. Her fingers itch as they move towards the stone.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" says Malfoy, lounging in the doorway. He takes a scorn-filled look at her bedroom, which hasn't changed one bit since she left for Hogwarts all those years ago. His lips curl with disgust as he takes in the numerous Oasis posters adorning her walls and the vast collection of Care Bears her Aunt Eloise foisted on her as a child.
"I told you to wait downstairs!" Hermione snaps, though she is secretly glad he interrupted her musings. She had been very close to taking up the stone.
She thrusts the open box at him. "Here it is. Take it!"
Malfoy moves to stand behind her. Before Hermione can react, he wraps an arm around her chest, pinning her to his own. He presses a hand against Hermione's face, forcing her to close her eyes.
"Is this what you really want to live with?"
Hermione shudders against him as the Knight Mares haze her mind. The clapping hooves of the specters beat madly, feeling like thousands of nails being hammered into her head. The box holding the Stone of Jenetti falls from her hands as she claws at Malfoy. Her strength steeled by desperation, she is able to break free.
"It isn't so bad," lies Hermione, refusing to meet his eyes. "I do just fine with the soothing potion."
"And for how long?" asks Malfoy, lifting his pale eyebrows. "I know you excelled at Potions. You should know that after prolonged and heavy use of the potion, you will grow immune to its effects. At the rate you are going, I'd wager you have less than a month."
It is a hard, horrible truth that haunts Hermione whenever she chances to think of it.
"Then I'll find something else that will work! There has to be another way. I don't need you or your damn stone!"
"Oh, but you do," Malfoy says with an awful smile. "Until you come to terms with your crimes there is only this."
He reaches down to pick up the Stone of Jenetti.
Hermione watches, fascinated despite herself, as he closes his eyes and the hard lines of his face melt away. A smile of pure joy stretches his thin lips. He mutters inaudibly then erupts into rich, deep laughter. She has never seen Malfoy look so vulnerable, so utterly unguarded as he is transfixed by the peculiar powers of the stone.
Malfoy does not move for minutes. He is not there, she knows. He is lost in a powerful memory of a better time, a better place.
"Mr. Malfoy?" she queries, breaking the spell.
With his free hand, he fumbles in the pocket of his robes and pulls out a large handkerchief. He shifts the stone so that it rests in the center of the white fabric. No longer is Malfoy completely spellbound, but his gray eyes still twinkle merrily in the light of the stone.
He holds it out to her. "This is your last chance, Hermione."
Hermione backs away, frantically shaking her head. "I can't..."
"You can't or you won't?"
"I can't!" Hermione gives him her back. "And I won't! I won't let you win!"
Malfoy presses against her once more and then wraps one arm around her waist in a half embrace. He raises the Stone of Jenetti to her face. The brilliance of the stone stings her eyes yet she cannot look way from it.
"It's not about winning or losing, Hermione," Malfoy says against her ear, his voice a lulling caress. "You are a bright witch and maybe you will find another solution someday but your time is running out. Are you willing to risk it? The Knight Mares will steal your sanity and corrode your mind. Are you going to let them? All for the sake of preserving your pride?"
Hermione stares unwaveringly at the stone. It looks like a tangible beacon of hope, hers for the taking if she only picks it up.
And then she does.
Hermione doesn't have the time for regrets or shame for her weakness. A complete and sudden explosion of happiness quickly overwhelms her as she is immersed in a memory of long ago.
She is herself at age three, short and chubby in a flowery purple nightgown. Her father's meaty arms hold her close as he rocks her to sleep. His deep, gravelly voice lacks any bit of musicality yet his halting lullaby is an aria for the ages.
In the back of her mind, she aware of other arms holding her. Arms that are long and lean, pressing her against a solid, compact body that is nothing like the oversized bulk of Reginald Granger. She is nearly jolted into reality when she feels soft lips capture her own in a very unfatherly-like kiss.
But it doesn't matter.
The whole of her existence revolves around her father's song; it's melody wrapping around her like a warm blanket of love and protection.
"Sweet dreams, Hermione," she hears a drawling voice say, just as the darkness of sleep overtakes her.
xxxxx
Well, I hope this chapter was to your satisfaction. I couldn't let Hermione suffer for too long. Although, sometimes the cure is worse than the ill. On the surface, being happy all the time may seem pleasant but I personally wouldn't like it. You'll soon find out how Hermione reacts to it.
And also, those of you wanting things to heat up will be a little pleased with some developments the next chapter. It was a pretty fun one to write.