Lucius Malfoy looked around the cramped Defence Against the Dark Arts office. It was a round chamber with stone walls that were bare. Perhaps, he thought, other teachers had decorated the space, but it would seem to Lucius that they had done so with aspirations of staying in their position long-term. He had no intention of being here any longer than he had to be, so he had decided to leave the walls blank. He did, however, reach into his leather briefcase and pull out a photograph framed in silver. He propped it on the desk and sighed, staring at the image of Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco. Slowly, they all gave a little smile, and clouds moved behind them, for the photograph had been taken in the garden of Malfoy Manor.

Happier times, Lucius thought rather bitterly. Draco had been nine or ten when the photograph had been taken. That was back when Lucius and Narcissa believed their days as Death Eaters had been over. Reflecting upon his time serving Voldemort in the First Wizarding War, Lucius had found that he was proud of his work in many ways, but had also come to realise just how foolish it had been. After all, at any moment, his entire family could have been killed, and the reality was that nothing in the world mattered more to Lucius Malfoy than his family.

The Dark Lord had returned, and when the Dark Mark had flushed and stung again, it had taken Lucius a solid three minutes of abject panic before he finally Apparated to the graveyard in Little Hangleton. The Dark Lord had not exactly been pleased with Lucius' conduct over the preceding decade and a half. Then there had come the time when The Dark Lord had asked Lucius for his diary, and Lucius had admitted that it had been destroyed in a foolhardy attempt to discredit Arthur Weasley.

The Dark Lord's rage in that moment had absolutely made Lucius fear for his life. Blasted windows in Malfoy Manor, torn portraits, Blasting Curses that had blown up furniture and chandeliers. And then the Cruciatus Curse, for an hour without ceasing. Lucius had never known such pain, and it had driven him nearly to insanity for weeks afterward. He had never quite fallen back into favour with the Dark Lord after that. The Dark Lord had repaid Lucius' mistake by setting up his Headquarters at Malfoy Manor, utilising every financial and hospitable resource the Malfoys possessed for meetings and lodging.

The Dark Lord had taken (and broken) Lucius' original wand. He'd been left to scramble for a new one, and it had never worked quite as well as the one he'd received as an eleven-year-old. The Dark Lord had demanded that Draco go on a suicide mission to kill Dumbledore. He'd cast the Cruciatus Curse on Lucius again when Draco had taken too long to succeed. All of it combined to inform Lucius at the Battle of Hogwarts that he was on the wrong side. He'd always been on the wrong side.

Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord's face, risking herself and Lucius and even Draco. She'd said that Harry Potter was dead, when in fact he was living. She'd done it to try and get her son, she'd told Lucius later. She'd done it to save Draco. But Lucius knew the deeper truth. By the time she'd lied to Lord Voldemort, Narcissa Malfoy had lost all her faith in the Dark Lord. She had, really and truly, defected by that moment.

After the war, matters had settled like dust. Kingsley Shacklebolt had almost immediately been named interim Minister for Magic, and the trials of the Death Eaters had begun in earnest. Lucius still vividly remembered his meeting with Shacklebolt in June, when the Minister had suggested a deal.

"We all know you spent years fighting for Lord Voldemort," Shacklebolt had told Lucius in his office. Lucius had curled up a lip but had sat in silence until Shacklebolt had continued, "We also know that you and your family disavowed Voldemort before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. We know that he mistreated you and your family. It doesn't begin to excuse all the terrible things the Malfoy has done, mind you, but it does matter. It does matter."

And then Shacklebolt had posited that Lucius might prove his worth to wizarding society by serving in a less-than-shiny capacity for a little while. Gone would be his luxury surroundings and his position among Voldemort's elite. If he wanted to show, really and truly, that he was no longer a Death Eater at heart, Lucius Malfoy needed to spend a term teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

Lucius had balked. No; he'd laughed. He'd laughed more uproariously than he'd done in ages, his head flinging back as he cackled with dark amusement. But Shacklebolt hadn't been joking, and it had quickly become clear to Lucius that this was his only real way out. He could avoid Azkaban. He could grant Narcissa the reputation she deserved. He could absolve Draco of his family's stain. He could do all of that by teaching students.

"I am not a teacher," Lucius had warned Shacklebolt. "I know nothing at all of teaching."

"Neither do a good many of the professors at Hogwarts," Shacklebolt had shrugged with a grim smile. "Look at Binns. You can't be worse than Binns."

"You expect me to work alongside Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick?" Lucius had spouted in disbelief. "You honestly think they will grant me the -"

"I expect you to keep your head down, give the students a solid curriculum, grade fairly, and accept that most people in the wizarding world view you with suspicion at best and disdain at worst," Shacklebolt had replied. Lucius had gulped and had realised he hadn't had much of a choice.

On the morning of the first of September, he'd kissed Narcissa goodbye and had wrapped her in his arms in a way he hadn't done for years. He'd embraced her like he loved her. He only sort of loved her; they'd been a strategic match made between scheming parents at the time of their marriage. But he felt great affection for her in the wake of the war. Leaving her now was not an easy task.

"You'll visit," Narcissa had nodded, reassuring herself far more than Lucius. He'd licked his lip and had said coldly,

"I'll come when I can."

"Often," Narcissa had insisted, but Lucius had just shrugged and said,

"I have no idea how frequently I'll be granted any sort of leave from the school, Narcissa. This is penance. Punishment. Contrition and atonement, and, if we are lucky, absolution. I must do as I am bid by McGonagall. You know I haven't got options here."

"It could be so much worse," Narcissa had noted. "They could have put all three of us into Azkaban."

"Well, they did not," Lucius had said, raising his brows and tipping his head. "Though, I confess, a year spent with children at Hogwarts may be just as bad as Azkaban."

Now Lucius stood in his office and stared at the photograph of his family on the desk. He cleared his throat and pulled out some parchments and a textbook from his briefcase. He had seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins in ten minutes' time - the very first lesson he'd be teaching. He was anxious, if he was honest, because he knew all of the students loathed him. The Slytherins hated him because many of them had parents who had suffered the fate Lucius had escaped. The rest could simply be cajoled into hating "Professor Malfoy" by the children of Death Eaters. Peer persuasion was a powerful influence, Lucius knew. Meanwhile, the Gryffindors despised him because they all still viewed him as a Death Eater, as someone who had committed grave acts against their families and friends.

None of them were wrong, Lucius thought. He had no right to demand that Slytherins or Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws view him as anything but a coward who had evaded punishment. Still, it made his stomach churn to think of standing before a group of young people who all probably would have rather he'd received the Dementor's Kiss than the teaching post.

He could hear students filing into the classroom out and down the stairs from the office, and he sighed as he realised it was time to actually teach. He picked up the textbook and his wand and headed out of the office, descending the stairs with a straight back. He tipped his chin up imperiously and adopted the same look of abject confidence he'd worn for many years. His dragon-hide boots clacked a little on the stone floor as he headed toward the desks. The conversations that had bloomed among the present students fell silent, and as more students came into Classroom 3C, they were hush and red-faced. They all took seats, and Lucius surveyed the room.

He recognised a great many of the Slytherin students. There was a Rowle, an Avery, a Mulciber, and a Yaxley. He knew all of their Death Eater relatives well. Yaxley's father had already been administered the Dementor's Kiss for the nature of his crimes. Mulciber's uncle had gone kicking and screaming into Azkaban, screaming in the Wizengamot that a new Dark Lord would rise to take Voldemort's place. Lucius felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked from one Slytherin to another, at the faces of the ones who had been too young to properly serve the Dark Lord but had vigorously supported him. They all glared back, and Lucius just nodded slowly.

The Gryffindors he did not know as well. There were a few Purebloods among them whom Lucius recognised, but for the most part, they were foreign faces. He wondered how many of them were Mudbloods who hadn't been allowed to attend the year before and were back to finish their Hogwarts education. Lucius had enthusiastically backed the idea of banning Muggle-borns from the school under the Carrows' reign, though of course his opinion had hardly mattered seeing as The Dark Lord thought him subhuman by then.

There were two faces among the Gryffindors whose appearance made Lucius' throat go a little dry. Ginevra Weasley, the daughter of Arthur, to whom he had given Tom Riddle's diary in her first year, was here. She had wound up possessed by Lord Voldemort, they'd said, and had been compelled to open the Chamber of Secrets. Lucius felt an odd twinge at the sight of Ginny Weasley. He certainly felt no compunction over what he'd intended to do, which had been to shame Arthur Weasley. Lucius Malfoy had always and would always loathe Arthur Weasley. The two of them had been in school together, and they'd been enemies through both Wizarding Wars. But Lucius had not, in all honesty, intended for a young girl to be possessed into conducting attacks and nearly dying. It hadn't registered at the time how… wrong… it had been. Only after the fall of the Dark Lord had Lucius reflected on what he had done to Ginny Weasley and had begun to feel a sharp sting of regret.

Just the same, he wasn't going to be kind to Ginny Weasley. She was still a Weasley, after all. A Blood-Traitor and a poverty-stricken little thing, one of a horde of Arthur's offspring. Just because Lucius thought badly of the diary incident didn't mean he pitied the girl as a witch.

The other face who gave him great pause was Hermione Granger. Ah, yes. Hermione Granger. The brains behind the trio who had brought down The Dark Lord. They had a long history, Lucius and Hermione. Draco had always been second in academics to Hermione, and the idea of a Mudblood being superior in marks to Draco had always perturbed Lucius immensely. He knew that she'd been deeply affected by the sentencing of the Hippogriff Buckbeak, and Lucius had long suspected that Hermione had had something to do with freeing the creature from Hagrid's hut. He'd seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, and Draco had reported seeing the girl afterward, during the riots.

Just five months earlier, Snatchers had brought Hermione Granger to Malfoy Manor, along with her friends. Lucius and Bellatrix had argued over who would call The Dark Lord to alert him, and then Bellatrix had noticed the Sword of Gryffindor. Bellatrix had tortured Hermione for information, and Lucius had just stood there and watched. He still remembered Hermione Granger's wretched screams as the Cruciatus Curse ripped through her body. He remembered her mewling cry as the word Mudblood was etched into her flesh. Hermione had lied about the sword being a copy, and subsequently Lucius and his family had been punished by Voldemort with Cruciatus Curses of their own. They'd been confined to the manor for some time - even Bellatrix.

So now, looking at Hermione Granger and realising everything that had come to pass between them, Lucius felt nervous energy ripple through his core. She likely despised him more than any other student in this room. She looked up from her notebook and actually met his eyes for a moment, and then she narrowed them and shook her head a little, looking down again. Her cheeks coloured red, and he knew why. Anger. Hatred. She whispered something to Ginny Weasley, who nodded as they pulled out quills and ink.

Lucius cleared his throat loudly and held up his wand hand, glancing imperiously out over the students. They went even more quiet than they'd been, and they all seemed to collectively glare straight at Lucius. He lowered his wand and then aimed it at the chalkboard, nonverbally incanting a Scriptus charm to write, 'Vampires.'

"Sir," said a voice from behind Lucius, and he whirled around to see that Hermione Granger had raised her hand. She squared her jaw and said tightly, "We learnt of Vampires under Professor Snape, sir."

"Perhaps," said Lucius quietly, "Severus did not teach you everything I wish for you to know about Vampires. Five points from Gryffindor for the insolence… Miss Granger."

Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide, her face boiling up with rage. Ginny Weasley huffed loudly from beside Hermione, and her hand flung up. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Professor Snape spent almost two weeks on Vampires. What could you possibly teach us that he didn't?"

"Five more points from Gryffindor," Lucius drawled, "and if you or Miss Granger speaks out of turn again, it'll mean detention. Now, shall we commence our lesson?"

Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were silent for the rest of the lesson, diligently taking notes as Lucius explained the ways Vampires attempted to disguise themselves as witches and wizards in order to lure prey. He was certain Severus wouldn't have taught them much about this, and sure enough, the students seemed enraptured. Lucius drew on memories he had from an encounter with a female Vampire in Paris who had nearly killed him, telling the story whilst subtracting the identities of those involved. By the end of the lesson, when the bell rang, the Slytherins seemed significantly more upbeat than they had when they'd first come into the classroom. Even the Gryffindors murmured to themselves that at least this class might be interesting. Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger packed their rucksacks, and Lucius felt compelled to walk over to their desk and say softly,

"Miss Granger, stay after class."

"I've got Ancient Runes next," Hermione said, and Lucius tipped his head as he told her,

"I'll write you a note. Stay after class."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Ginny Weasley looked very worried, but Lucius rolled his eyes and said sarcastically,

"Yes, Miss Weasley, I'm keeping her here to murder her."

Both girls looked at him like he was mad, and then he realised they had absolutely no assurance of safety around him. They didn't trust him one bit, and they shouldn't. He let out a long sigh and said,

"Good day, Miss Weasley."

Ginny touched Hermione's arm and then headed out of the classroom, leaving Hermione Granger all alone at her desk. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"Yes, Professor Malfoy?"

"Earlier this year, you were tortured at my home," Lucius noted. Hermione gnawed her lip hard, then suddenly ripped back the sleeve of her uniform and revealed her forearm. There it was, in rivulets of raised white scar tissue. Mudblood.

"I should like to begin anew, if we might consider the possibility that wars breed significant alterations of the spirit," Lucius said, and Hermione scoffed loudly.

"You want to start fresh by taking points away from me and threatening me with detention… Professor?"

"I realise we got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, but you were attempting to undermine me before what I'm sure you'll agree turned out to be a fascinating lesson on Vampires."

Hermione was silent. Even she would have to admit that Lucius' lecture had been interesting. He coughed into his hand and said,

"I extend an olive branch of my own. You are Muggle-born, and as you know, in the past that has been a reason for my family treating you badly. But those days are past, Miss Granger."

"Oh, you're not hung up on Blood Purity anymore?" Hermione asked sceptically. "Forgive me if I'm just a little hesitant to believe that, Professor Malfoy."

"I didn't say…" Lucius shut his eyes and shook his head. "I merely wish for it to be known that the wartime deeds committed against you are in the past."

"That's not an apology, sir," Hermione protested, her honey-coloured eyes welling a little. Lucius tipped up his chin and admitted,

"No, it's not. I can't apologise for who I was or what I did. It serves no purpose to dwell on the past. I wish to look forward."

"Right. May I go now, Professor?" Hermione asked sharply. Lucius nodded and gestured toward the door.

"Good day, Miss Granger."

"Professor Malfoy," she mumbled in response, standing up and tossing her rucksack over one shoulder. She hustled out of the room, practically running for the door, which she threw open. Once she'd gone, Lucius realised she had been afraid of him, and disgusted by him, and he just stood there with pinched lips.

He was alone, he thought, with enemies still everywhere. Even in Hogwarts robes, the shadows of his past taunted him as vigorously as The Dark Lord had done.

He would never escape any of it, Lucius thought, feeling a swell of hopelessness go through his veins as the next students came filing in.

Notes: This is definitely a slow-burn Lumione, but I promise we'll get there eventually. For now, they just don't like each other. Next up… Hermione hears from Harry and Ron, whose letter makes her second-guess herself. Hmm…

Thank you so very kindly for reading and a huge, huge thanks for reviews.