Eight years ago.
Hermione had rearranged the stack of parchments on her desk in a neat pile for the hundredth time. Harry, who she shared an office with, was slouching against his seat, idly twirling a sickle through his knuckles. It was a dull, monotone day at work that mostly comprised of unfinished paperwork from last week's equally boring raid but Hermione was glad for the reprieve. She and Ron are going to have dinner at the Burrow tonight and the thought of Molly Weasley bombarding her with questions about marriage and future children made her feel on edge.
It's not that Hermione didn't want to get married. She and Ron had decided to put it off in the meantime to focus on their respective careers. Hermione's still on the bottom of the totem pole, having only passed the Auror training six months ago. Receiving high NEWTS scores didn't really do much for her aside from securing a slot at the Auror academy. There's still a long way to go before she could settle down with Ron.
That, and the fact that she can't have kids. Ron knew, of course. He was there at the Hogwarts infirmary when Madam Pomfrey told her that Dolohov's curse during the Department of Mysteries battle had damaged her reproductive organs permanently, preventing her from carrying a child. But Ron assured her that it won't change anything between them.
The gravity of the news hadn't really sunk in with her. Hermione didn't really give much thought about her future after Hogwarts, what with the war going on, and worrying if she'll be able to make it out alive.
When Molly first brought up the topic of children, Hermione froze and panic had started to creep in. Ron placed a comforting hand over hers, answered his mother's questions for her—which Hermione was extremely grateful—but as the months wore on, she could tell that the pressure of keeping her secret was beginning to weigh him down.
The dinners became a dreadful affair for Hermione and had resulted in heated fights between the two, with her spending most nights at Harry's or staying up late in her office until she was sure Ron was asleep. Tonight was not any different. If only a miracle would occur and save her from this predicament.
Her answer came in the form of a disheveled looking Draco Malfoy barging in their office still in his healer robes.
"He's missing!" Draco said in between deep breaths.
"Who's missing?"
"What happened?"
Harry and Hermione both bolted from their chairs and asked Draco simultaneously. Harry grasped Draco's hand as the latter tried to regain his breathing.
"Father," Draco replied, wiping the sweat from his brows. He took a deep breath before straightening himself.
Hermione stepped over her desk and urged him to take a seat. "Wasn't Mr. Malfoy pardoned this morning?" She knew, of course. Hermione was actually behind the idea claiming there is still a great deal of tension between Purebloods and Muggleborns and isolating the other group from the new world the Ministry is creating would only strengthen that friction. Pardoning nonviolent or defected Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy and Corban Yaxley would be a great start at building the torn bridge.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry giving her a curious look.
Draco nodded and started to explain. "He was ecstatic when the news came. He'd been dying to get out of the house after being holed up in there for over two years. We agreed to meet for dinner at the La Finestra after my shift ended but he never came. I checked the Manor but the elves said he hadn't returned yet since he left that morning. Father would owl me if something came up."
Harry pondered for a moment. "Normally we'd have to wait 24 hours before filing a missing case report but your father's a high-profile wizard. Plus, we still haven't caught Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange."
Draco visibly gulped. "Do you think they've…" he'd left the unasked question hanging in the air.
"It's a possibility to consider," Hermione said. "Your family defected from the war, Draco, and some of your former… acquaintances are still out there. Where did your father last go to?"
"He dropped by the Ministry first to sign some papers regarding his pardon then he said was going to get a new wand and do some retail therapy," Draco rolled his eyes at the thought of his father shopping.
"He could've visited your company's office," Harry suggested but Draco shook his head no.
"Your mother's?" Hermione piped in.
"She's in Venice with a friend."
Harry sighed, raised his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. 'Mione, I want you to look at the last place Mr. Malfoy went to and look for traces of his magical signature. That's your specialty," he then looked at Draco. "Draco, you will go back to the Manor and try to look for clues or contact any of his associates to see if he'd paid them a visit. I'll ask around the lurkers in Knockturn Alley if they know something. We can't alert the others yet until we find some evidence of foul play."
Feeling energized all of a sudden, Hermione jumped immediately into action. She put her robes on and tucked her wand in her holster. But as she followed Harry and Draco out the door, a thought suddenly occurred to her.
Ron. The dinner. Shit.
"Let me just send an owl to Ron. We were supposed to have dinner at the Burrow in an hour," Hermione sighed. She was absolutely sure she and Ron were going to fight about this the next morning but Hermione realized with a start that she hardly cared.
The two boys nodded their heads before going to their destinations.
The scent of burning tobacco and mint was the first thing that registered in his consciousness as Lucius Malfoy slowly opened his eyes. He squinted a bit, trying to adjust to the harsh ceiling light. A few seconds passed when he noticed that he's not in the master bedroom at the Manor.
He jerked up into a sitting position but immediately double over when a searing pain shot through underneath his ribcage followed by violent fits of coughing.
Lucius was startled when he felt a hand began rubbing soothing motions across his back and it took him a while to notice that there's a feminine voice speaking to him. The smell of tobacco and mint was now more distinct.
He looked to his side to see none other than Hermione Granger leaning over to him, one hand on his back the other was holding a stick of cigarette. Lucius flinched away at the sudden closeness.
"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?" he frowned at her.
Miss Granger looked at him oddly before noticing the cigarette on her hand. "Oh!" She went over to the window and opened it before chucking the cigarette away.
Lucius pressed his lips together in a firm line. "Where am I?"
"A private ward in St. Mungo's," she said as she plopped down ungracefully onto a chair next to his bed. "I found you lying on a dark alley in Muggle London badly beaten with two stab wounds, one on your chest and one on your stomach. If I had arrived five minutes late, you would've bled to death. Care to tell me what happened, Mr. Malfoy?"
Deliberately ignoring that question, he continued asking her. "Where is Draco?"
"He went back to the Manor to get you some fresh clothes. He'll be back soon," Miss Granger said before running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Look, I need to know what happened so I could file a report."
He waved her off. "There's no need to file a report. I was assaulted and robbed by an armed Muggle, that's all there is to it."
She clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes towards the wizard.
"None of the money nor the things you're carrying with you were taken and I found your newly purchased wand discarded a few feet away. I checked it and the last spell you used was a stunning spell. I don't think you're stupid enough to use magic in front of Muggles, Mr. Malfoy, no matter how much you hate them or how much your life is in danger. And given the way you brawled with Arthur Weasley back then, I'd say you're also physically capable of defending yourself," the woman crossed her arms under her chest. "Do you want me to hand this case over to someone higher and risk the Ministry bringing you in for questioning, not to mention the press would have a field day about this or," she said, stressing the last word very precisely, "are you going to answer me?"
Damn the chit and her sharp powers of perception, Lucius cursed internally. He let out a long, slow sigh, and moved his eyes up to meet hers. "I'd rather the Ministry not know of this incident if you would be so kind."
"Why?"
"Because I just got my freedom back, Miss Granger. I don't want those Ministry lackeys breathing down my neck again for something so trivial as this."
"Trivial? You nearly died!" she snapped, and it was Lucius' turn to be surprised. Would she care if he died?
"Well," he said after another long moment of silence, "I didn't. You saved me just in time."
"And only ruined my dinner plans in the process," she muttered sarcastically and looked away, tossing her head in impatience. "No big deal."
Lucius could hardly help but smile at the petulant frown that was now creasing her brow and turning her full lips down in a pout. "My sincerest apologies. But I do hope you would forgo that report altogether."
Miss Granger looked at him in the eye for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "As if they'll act on it. Even if I decide to file the report, it'll probably take months before they notice it under a mountain of other unattended files."
"That's not new," he had to work very hard to keep from laughing at her—the indignant expression on her face was absolutely fantastic.
"I'm frustrated by the lack of progress!" she continued ranting. "It's been almost three years since the war ended and you'd think that we should've accomplished something by now but no, everyone's still on their post-war euphoria!"
"That's how it is, Miss Granger." Lucius settled back deeper into his bed, letting his muscles relax for the first time since he woke up. "If you wanted to make a change, take it by the helm and steer it yourself—or silently pull the strings behind the curtain and make them do all the work for you," he added the last part as an afterthought.
"You really enjoy playing the political game, don't you?"
"Oh, certainly," his eyes lit up at her comment. "I never would have bothered going into politics if I didn't. It's a fascinating combination of psychology, maneuvering, manipulation, and common sense, which is less common than you might think. Even when I was tied up in unimportant Ministry affairs, I wasn't often bored."
"I always thought it was just about money and power."
"It is, really, but it's not so simple in practice. To a certain extent, it's a game every player is in competition with every other player. It's almost impossible to overestimate the complexity of the playing field. It takes a remarkable strategy to even come close to winning. You need to learn that if you want to have any success around here."
"Huh," she said after digesting it all in. Lucius saw her stretch briefly before mirroring his relaxed position carefully. "And what? You're going to teach me?"
The only telltale sign of his surprise was a small twitch of his brow.
"If you'll have me," he said after a brief moment, smug confidence brimming up in every note of his voice. He could teach her. There was something about this woman in front of him, eyes wide with curiosity and a hunger for knowledge. Behind the slouch insouciance, Lucius could feel the ruthlessness, the ambition.
A potential. A challenge.
He could capitalize on that. Bring the Malfoy name into its previous prestige through her.
"Really?" she frowned. "But why? I'm a Muggleborn."
"There's always an exception to the rule, Miss Granger," he said but it seemed like the wrong answer. Her brows furrowed further as her eyes carefully observed him, calculating. "Let's just say I'm paying a debt long overdue."
"What debt?"
"You saved my son's life."
She raised an eyebrow. "Who says Draco hadn't already paid that debt?"
"Had he?" But the girl merely looked at him, waiting for his answer. Curious. But still. Lucius was hooked now. He wouldn't stop until she says yes. "Well, then, let me express my gratitude for saving me by teaching you how to navigate the intricate web of politics."
She pondered for a moment before giving her answer. "I'll think about it."
It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't an outright no either. He can work with that.
Their discussion was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the door. Hermione eyed him for a moment before making her way towards the door that gently swung open. Draco poked his head in before fully stepping inside the room, carrying a bag probably full of Lucius' necessities. Potter followed Draco and Lucius was surprised to see Narcissa entering the room as well.
"Hey, Hermione," Draco greeted her cheerfully before his eyes landed in his direction. "Oh, you're finally awake!"
Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes and turned his attention instead to the other new arrivals. "Mr. Potter, Cissa. It's great to see you."
Potter only nodded his head in acknowledgment while Narcissa went over and sat by the chair Miss Granger recently vacated. "Hello, Lucius. How are you doing?"
"Fine," he waved her off. Lucius didn't want to bruise his ego more by admitting the dull throbbing in his ribs.
"I brought you some clothes, father," Draco said as he dropped the duffel bag at an empty table near the bed. "I also asked the house-elf to bring dinner here."
His son glanced at Miss Granger and Potter before looking around. "On second thought, I'll have to ask the elf to bring an extra table and some chairs."
"Don't worry about that, Draco. I have to get going anyway," Miss Granger stopped him.
"Oh, Hermione. You don't need to leave; the house-elf will arrive in a moment with dinner. You should join us," Narcissa tried to persuade Miss Granger to stay but the young woman shook her head.
"Are you sure 'Mione?" It was Potter who spoke this time. Miss Granger whispered something in his ear and The Boy Who Lived only sighed in resignation before nodding his head. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine, Harry," she said before addressing the rest. "I'm really sorry, Narcissa but I have to head home."
"We must meet again soon when I return from Italy," Narcissa stood and gave the girl a kiss on both cheeks. "Thank you for finding Lucius."
"It's my job," Miss Granger smiled at her then turned to Draco. "Oh, quit the kicked puppy look, Draco. It's never going to work on me."
"Nothing ever works on you, ice queen," his son muttered with an endearing pout.
Miss Granger threw her head back and laughed at that and Lucius had to admit, her laugh, as boisterous as they were, was something he knew he could get used to hearing.
Then she turned her attention to him. Sure, it was just a mere gaze, but it was enough of a reason for a shiver to crawl across his spine.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said, bowing her head a fraction. "Get well soon. And thank you for the enlightening conversation."
Lucius tried to ignore Narcissa's questioning look at Miss Granger's parting words.
He must've fallen asleep after dinner because his son and Potter were nowhere to be found. Narcissa was sitting beside him reading a book.
"What are you reading?" he asked her, voice a little hoarse from sleep. Narcissa smiled and closed the book, showing him the front cover. It was one of those romantic fiction novels she enjoyed reading. He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. "You're still reading that?"
"Don't be such a priss, Lucius," she rolled her eyes at him.
Lucius eventually returned the smile. "Where's Draco?"
"He started his shift an hour ago. Harry left with him," she then frowned at him. "You should stop calling him Potter. He's part of the family now."
When Lucius offered nothing but a harrumph in response, Narcissa continued. "He's good for Draco. Hermione as well. I've never seen your son this light and happy."
Lucius looked up at the mention of the witch. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with the Muggleborn girl?"
"Since she saved your son," Narcissa simply replied. "She actually helped me clear out the remaining dark magic in the Lestrange estate last year."
"I'm not surprised. She's an Auror after all, and—from what I've heard from Draco—a very intelligent witch too."
"She is, indeed," Narcissa gave him a look and it took him a moment to realize what she's implying.
"Merlin's wand, Cissa! It's not like that. Don't give me that look!" he shot back, scandalized.
"What look?" The feigned innocence in her tone gave away the fact that she was having fun teasing him. "I'm just agreeing with you. She's young, intelligent, and has certainly grown into a beautiful woman."
Lucius refused to take the bait and kept his mouth firmly shut. For Merlin's sake, the girl was twenty years younger than him—the same age as his son!
But Narcissa prodded on, determined. "What were you two talking about earlier anyway? 'Enlightening conversation'?" she raised a perfect groomed eyebrow at him.
"Just politics," he shrugged.
"Already grooming her, I see."
"Cissa," he warned, sitting up to make his point across that he wanted this conversation to be dropped but the sudden movement had his ribs aching again. He fell back into the bed with a groan.
"Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern etched in her features. "What happened back there, Lucius? And don't lie to me."
Lucius reached out a hand to her and Narcissa grasped it. "I was attacked."
"By who?"
"There were three of them. Antonin, Rabastan, and someone I don't recognize," Lucius sighed and stared up the ceiling. "I was scouting for a new office for the company when they ambushed me. I hadn't anticipated that they would attack me out in the open, in Muggle London no less. My reflex was slow and I was immediately stunned. I thought for a moment that I was done for. I thought at least the Killing curse would be quick and painless. But then Antonin pulled out a knife instead, the one with the runic engravings."
Narcissa gasped. "Bella's knife."
Lucius nodded. "Rabastan and the unknown wizard beat me up first before Antonin stabbed me twice. He was actually planning on carving the word 'traitor' on my faded Death Eater mark but got spooked by the group of Muggles that passed nearby. I must've passed out before I could even ask for help."
"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa sighed. "Why didn't you tell the Aurors?"
"There's no point in telling them. It would only make Antonin and the others more careful," he said. "It's not safe here, Cissa. You need to stay in Italy until they're captured or killed. They're not going to stop until they've hunted down the ones that defected."
"What about you and Draco?"
"Draco and I will be fine. I've already fixed the wards on the Manor and Draco's either here in the hospital or with Potter and the Granger girl most of the time. He's perfectly safe."
"I'm worried about you, Lucius," Narcissa squeezed his hand tighter. "I know you're a skilled fighter but there are three of them, there might be even more. And Antonin's known to fight dirty."
Lucius smirked as he squeezed his ex-wife's hand in return.
"Then I guess I'll just have to fight dirtier."
Present.
The memories became hazy and eventually faded into a dark mist before Rita Skeeter pulled herself off the pensieve. The Daily Prophet had its own pensieve hidden in the main office. Most people refused to be interviewed and instead gave the newspaper a vial of their memories to view. Rita had to admit that it made her job a lot easier but it was known that memories can be tampered and altered by the owner to their own satisfaction. She glanced at the silvery substance swirling in the metal basin in contemplation before pulling out her notes and quill.
The story the Malfoys had presented her was consistent so far even the ones she had gathered from the people close to them but there was still something nagging at the corner of her mind. Like a huge part of the puzzle missing or left out.
Call it a reporter's intuition.
Rita had been writing stories for the Prophet since her sixth year at Hogwarts when it was still headed by Professor Armando Dippet. She'd nearly got expelled when she submitted an article about the late professor, criticizing his incompetence and lack of initiative to head the school. But the article became a sensation, prompting Dippet to step down from his post and had Albus Dumbledore to replace him.
She realized later on that the trick was exaggerating the facts. People loved gossip and drama as long as they're not the subject of it. Add a little lie here and there and then you'd have people hooked to the story.
But this? There was something off about it. She knew a lie when she saw one, having written a lot of it herself throughout the years.
The only other person who probably knew everything, the only other person who could shed some light on the Malfoys was dead—well, murdered. How utterly convenient for them. This was going to be a lot of work than she initially thought.
Narcissa Black. What secrets your ex-husband and his current wife were hiding?