Wanderings in the Darkness
Winter Storm
Malfoy Manor had always impressed her. Whenever she would show up here, there was something oddly attractive about this place. Fascinating, magnetizing.
With each subsequent visit, she was discovering new details. Each time Manor made her getting to know it better. She always was trying to appreciate this unusual place.
" Mrs. Weasley. "The voice came from outside the door. Low, poignant. If the voices had a color, his would probably be silverish. " What did I do to deserve ...?"
He broke off in the middle the moment she pulled her hood down and he saw her face. He opened the door wide and practically pulled her inside.
She was silent as he led her into the living room. She was silent as he hung up her coat and set her down in an armchair. In the blink of an eye, he waved his hand and she was given a cup of tea.
Only then did she realize how much her hands were shaking. She couldn't control that trembling.
"Hermione," his voice was strained. She didn't even have to look at him. "You can't go back there."
She looked up to see his ice-blue irises.
" I do not agree. " He continued.
At these words, sobbing shook her body. If it were all that simple.
" You know I have to."
She muttered and her voice sounded as if it came from a distance, from the depths of her body.
She took a sip of the warm drink with difficulty.
"You. Do. Not. Need. " The warning notes in the tone of his voice heralded no good. For months, she had been afraid she would hear them. Just like then.
She wondered many times when they would sound, at what point, in what situation. And will she be able to make the right decision this time. Or at least better than then.
"Hermione, by Merlin!" He walked over to her and shook her. Immediately he regretted his decision, as he seen her eyes streaked with fear. He released her immediately, and she cringed.
He knelt beside her and whispered, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't."
He touched the skin of her hand with his fingertip. He ran it over it as if to stroke it. A gentle, intimate gesture.
"Hermione, you can't go back there."
This time the timbre of his voice sharpened considerably, the tension giving way to anger. And Lucius Malfoy's wrath was like hellfire - furious, burning and leaving nothing but ashes.
" I know, but I have to. " She replied with the last of her strength. " Rose stayed with him. "
Huge tears appeared in her eyes. She no longer had the strength to hide them. Not in front of him.
It froze him for a moment when he heard Rose's name.
"Hermione, it's time to stop it all. It has gone too far. I won't let him hurt Rose. " He stood up, his eyes on fire. "We have to meet the Minister of Magic."
"Lucius, please…" Her voice cracked. The meeting at the Ministry meant one thing: everything that has happened over the years will come to light.
Everything up to the last memory will be resurrected and made public.
"Hermione, do you want him to kill you? Did we not see enough suffering during and after the war? Haven't seen enough all these years?"
Lucius' words were sharp as the best sharpened knife. They hurt, but he knew he must hurt her.
To make her sober. Awaken. Broken out of lethargy.
He needs to made her to make a stron decision. This time the right one.
"I won't let him continue to hurt you and Rose with impunity. Especially now." He lowered his voice. "Especially today."
He paused and turned his face away.
Hermione realized what day it was today. December twenty-second. Fifth anniversary of Draco's death. The fourth anniversary of their ... acquaintance.
It would never have occurred to her in her life that she would ever be in a place like this. The dirtiest English pub imaginable in the wizarding world.
The White Wyvern located on Nocturne, one of the most disgusting streets in London. Streets that until recently belonged to the Wizards and Death Eaters who were followers of Voldemort. Today the street itself wasn't holding any black magic traces, but it was still hideous. Even sluggishly falling snow in the light from the lanterns did not make the area any kinder. Quite the opposite.
A grotesque feeling of exaggeration - white, fluffy snow covering old, rotten, black walls where a lot of evil has happened.
A nearby clock chimed the full hour as Hermione appeared in the middle of the street.
Twenty-two on December 22, and she was standing in a loosely thrown robe in the center of the Nocturne. When she realized that someone might recognize her, she quickly pulled the hood over her head.
The logo of the pub was slightly skewed, badly chewed by time. Lights were on inside, but it was hard for her to see anything clearly through the glass, covered with dust and black sediment.
She swung the door open with a brisk movement, causing the bell to ring.
The pub inside looked even worse than from the outside. Gray from cigarette smoke, spilled beer and sweat. Not the best place in London.
Hermione stepped inside, but absolutely no one noticed her. There were no crowds, but those present were absorbed in conversation, drinking or chess.
She felt a little relieved and headed for the bar. She sat down as the only one next to him and said to the bartender:
" Double Fire Whiskey. Without ice."
The bartender didn't even glance at her and just waved his wand. He was busy flirting with a waitress whose style might be considered promiscuous.
As soon as the glass appeared in front of her, she took it and emptied it in a few gulps. She felt the liquid trickling down her throat, creating a fiery trail. It feels as if something is burning her inside.
As if something else could burn anything else inside.
" Same thing again.-" Hermione rasped, which drew attention of the waitress. She looked at her with a slight disgust as if what she was doing was immoral. The bartender did not express any emotions and after a while she had a new dose of scarlet liquid.
This time she embraced the glass with her hands, which involuntarily tightened on it. If it wasn't a glass ...
She let go of the glass and took her first sip. Slightly sweetish taste, with an imperceptible bitter note left on the tongue.
December twenty-second. A date that meant so much to Hermione. So much. Or is it just that?
And what was she doing that day? She was sitting in a vile pub with a glass of whiskey. Hooded to avoid recognition.
She felt her throat tighten, she was heartily fed up.
"Well, well, well ..." She would have recognized that voice anywhere, even at the end of the world, roused from sleep. "The greatest witch of our time here, what a surprise."
Hermione felt she freezes. She didn't dare to look at Lucius Malfoy.
"Can I join you?" His cool, low voice was strangely… uncomfortable.
The woman nodded and, summing up her courage, raised her head a little.
Lucius Malfoy sat beside her with the greatest grace, wearing a dark, fitted cloak. In his hands he was holding, of course, a glass of whiskey. On the surface he looked as always, and it was only a second glance that Hermione saw that this perfection was only an appearance.
The man who was famous for his impeccable reputation and appearance was evidently far from top form today. It was probably influenced by the large amount of whiskey already circulating in his bloodstream. His skin was gray, sallow, his eyes were dark circles and his hair ... disheveled, tied casually in a ponytail.
"What, let's have a toast ..." He picked up his glass and looked at it expectantly. "Miss Granger," he added in a lower tone, as if he was enjoying the conspiracy.
"What should we drink for?" She dared to look hat him.
"For whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me today." He tapped her glass and emptied it before any reaction from her. He must have noticed her surprise because he just snorted. He pulled out the bottle hidden behind the coat and refilled the liquid.
"For freedom, Granger." He raised in a gesture of toast and this time waited for her to move.
"For… freedom." She swallowed hard and hesitated, tapping her glass. After a while, they both drained the drink.
Silence ensued, only the other guests could be heard, coarse laughter and glass reflecting off the glass.
Lucius was staring at her, which made Hermione uncomfortable. In her head, he was still the brutal Death Eater who had hurt her a few years ago. He called a Muggle, in practice he wanted to kill her. And now he was sitting across from her and they had just toasted.
The absurdity of this situation could only be compared to the reason she was in that inferior pub.
"A bottle of vodka, please," Lucius waved the waiter, "The best one as always. And two glasses."
Hermione was about to say she didn't drink vodka, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand.
"I assume, Miss Granger, that your presence here today has something deeper than just drinking whisky. Usually, distinguished wizards do not land on the Nocturne. We can talk about it, I don't see any obstacles. "A sarcastic smirk twitched his lips." But there are some things that shouldn't be discussed while being sober. "
He swiftly pushed the whiskey glasses away, set the glass down and refilled it in one smooth movement.
"To the bottom, Miss Granger." He looked at her expectantly, and it wasn't until she drained her glass, then he followed her step.
The fire that poured down her throath was unlike whiskey. She grimaced mercilessly, which amused Lucius.
"Have you ever drink vodka?" He asked, replenishing her fluid for a new turn.
She denied it, and he sighed.
"You have lost so much in life, Granger. But take it easy, we'll make up for it." He took his wand from his coat and waved it at the lemon on the bar. He cut it into quarters and handed her one. "Bite after another glass. It should help you."
Hermione's head was getting dangerously buzzing, she had never in her life had drunk so much alcohol at once, let alone stirring. Nevertheless, she obediently took a lemon and a glass.
"Go ahead, Miss Granger. For life!" He tapped his glass and she felt frozen as she recalled something.
December twenty-second. Exactly a year ago...
Lucius snorted at her expression. He already knew she realized what he was doing here.
"And that's what they say about you, that you're the brightest of the trio? It's strange that you won the war." He paused because Hermione was still motionless.
She was struck by everything that happened a year ago, what happened this year and what has happened today. Her hand trembled and she felt she could no longer hold the glass. At this, surprising both her and himself, Lucius took the glass from her hand.
The moment their hands met caused a spark, some strange energy was unveiled. Hermione unconsciously withdrew her hand, and Lucius was in mild shock. To break this unexpected situation, he said in a light tone:
"Draco committed suicide a year ago. But you probably know that, Miss Granger." He looked at her carefully. " We have entered the New Year, which turned out to be even worse than the last one. "He pushed her glass towards her, this time avoiding body contact." A year ago I had a family, now I'm alone. " He picked up the glass and looked at her expectantly. She took it in her hands hesitantly." Today I have signed the divorce papers with Narcissa. She couldn't stand it all. So let's drink for… freedom. "
Hermione tipped her glass to the bottom and took a bite of the lemon. Meanwhile, she has analyzed his words and thought she could identify with Malfoy's pain. As ridiculous as it might sound, this year was similar for them. Only, in her life, suffering was covered by pretend
"Although it all probably sounds ridiculous to you. " He continued. " If I am to believe the newspapers, the exact opposite is true in your life. Joy, anticipation, excitement " He mentioned all adjectives without taking his eyes off her face." Wedding in two days, isn't it? "
She felt dizzy with too much alcohol, her thoughts and the words she heard.
Lucius Malfoy has always been one of the most informed Wizards in the magical world. But on the other hand, Hermione and Ron's wedding was no secret. Indeed, they were a tasty morsel for newspapers, journalists and wanted to say something, but her mind was blank. Only the echo of Ron's words sounded like a sound in a vacuum.
I regret it, Hermione. Get out. I do not want to see you. I do not love you.
"Miss Granger?" Lucius' low, overly sober voice snapped Hermione from the depths of fresh memories.
She looked at him, and he couldn't hide his surprise at how blank Hermione's gaze was. Evidently, painful things were happening in this girl's life. But has her suffering already reached the limit to be able to break out of this snare? He sincerely doubted. Until now, her life was more of a success story, so each failure was a personal failure.
"True, wedding is in two days." She confirmed, and immediately stopped as if the words she had spoken were burning.
"You don't have to do this, Miss Granger." Lucius tried a light, slightly drunk tone, but Hermione knew he was serious.
" I have to." She poured herself a glass and drank it down, regretting she had met Lucius Malfoy.
"It is not a herald of a successful marriage, Miss Granger. Believe me, I have lived many things in my life," His voice grew darker, she recognized these tones flawlessly from the past.
"You don't know anything about me, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione hissed and got up from the stool. Or rather, she was trying to do it because she felt dizzy. Lucius grabbed her elbow at the last moment, keeping her from a painful fall.
"Perhaps not about you life indeed, Miss Granger, but I know quite a bit about life in general." He stated wryly and released her as soon as she grabbed the plumb. "And about relationships. I learned a lot through my own, often not very nice, experience. But you probably know that." There were dark shadows in his eyes, as if she had accidentally awakened old demons." If we are made to do something, the effects are meager in the long run.
She knew he was probably right. But what was her way out? Cancel the wedding two days before, when was everything ready and the guests on the way? Besides, Ron wasn't really saying it. She was convinced of it.
Except perhaps for a part of her soul that cried all year round and now was screaming 'Run'.
"You will do as you please Miss Granger. You are free and you have only one life. It is worth not regretting the past in the future." Lucius Malfoy's dark voice appeared right in her ear. Surprised, she realized that he was getting ready to leave. She wanted to pay the bartender, but the man stopped her.
"Please don't bother Miss Granger. I'm a regular here, already settled. You can go." His voice was ice-cold.
Hermione walked to the door and out the threshold. She was surprised to see that the snow was falling. It had been pouring densely and had already covered the streets and roofs with a thin layer.
Winter storm in London.
She reached out and grabbed some snowflakes, smiling gently.
"Do you need transport home, Miss Granger?"
She was about to say something, but the world blurred before her eyes, and all she remembered were the blue eyes that bent over her face.
The tremendous pain woke her from sleep - it burst her temples and paralyzed her thoughts.
Hermione, still bewildered, tried to figure out where she was, what she was doing, what time it was. All recent events have been a blur, a million puzzles thrown out of order and without composition.
"Missy brought tea, headache powder, and a message from the Lord."
Hermione squealed in horror as the house elf reappeared against her face. The elf jumped back as if burned, after the woman's violent reaction.
"Missy is sorry, Missy will be gone. Missy leaves and disappears."
The tea, powder, and letter were left in the tray, and Hermione, still in shock, tried to glue the last hours together. She looked around and the memories hit her like a bludgeon.
She passed out outside the pub. And now it has probably landed… at Malfoy Manor.
With trembling hands she took the note and the blood drained from her face as she saw the beautiful calligraphed letters on the parchment.
Miss Granger, you have passed out outside the pub. I have allowed myself to provide you an accommodation, because my appearance in front of the Burroow could arouse an unwanted sensation. I sincerely hope that you do not hold me against this willfulness. At the same time, I would like to emphasize that it will be our secret and you can trust me. Missy is at your disposal if you have any needs. I wish you a Merry Christmas and all the best on your new way of life. Yours sincerely, Lucius Malfoy.
Christmas this year were hard for Lucius. He didn't remember much about the night before. Now, in the morning, drinking his coffee, he was considering the choice of alcohol for the coming evening. Drinking helped him forget.
"Missy brought the newspaper. Anything else Lord would need from Missy? "
The elf put the latest edition of the Daily Prophet on the table and he dismissed her shortly after.
Lucius picked up the newspaper and there was a big headline on the cover.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley - and underneath a photo of Hermione and Ron standing under a garland of flowers. They both smiled. Lucius glanced at them and snorted.
"And yet." He got up and threw the newspaper into the fireplace.
He thought whiskey will be perfect choice for today.