Lucius Malfoy sat at the Head Table, glancing from left to right at all his fellow teachers. There was Hagrid, who probably wanted Lucius dead after the Hippogriff incident and what had transpired in the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. There was Professor Sinistra, who had rather ominously informed Lucius the night before that his future looked very different from his past. There was Professor Sprout, who glared at Lucius with daggers in her eyes when she wasn't eating. And then there was McGonagall, who made no secret whatsoever of the way she loathed the Malfoys, Lucius most of all.
He sighed and poked at the yolk of his egg, breaking it and dipping a piece of toast into it. He cleared his throat and ate with the delicate touch of a well-bred wizard, his fingers gripping the toast just so. He didn't make any sort of mess; he never did whilst eating. Then he sipped his pumpkin juice and dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin. The others, he noticed, were far more crass and coarse in the way they ate. Sprout, for example, shoveled eggs and rashers between her thick lips and chewed with her mouth open. Hagrid ate whole pieces of back bacon in one huge bite. Only Minerva McGonagall showed any manners with her eating; she was almost as careful with her spooned porridge as Lucius was with his own food.
Lucius took another sip of pumpkin juice and considered that he was trapped here. He wasn't welcome in the circles of old Death Eaters, or what was left of them. The ones who had escaped Azkaban sentences were mostly Snatchers and weaklings from the old fold. Not a single high-ranking Death Eater had escaped unscathed outside the Malfoy family, and that was precisely because they were defectors. No one who had fought for Voldemort during the last war would ever show Lucius Malfoy hospitality again. They were his enemies. But he also had enemies - many of them - among the ranks of those who had fought against The Dark Lord. They viewed him with enormous contempt owing to how he had spent the last few decades of his life.
He pulled out the letter he'd received the day earlier, extracting it from the breast pocket of his elaborate velvet robes. He unfolded the letter and read it again, for the fifth time since receiving it.
Lucius,
I know you are all alone. So am I. I miss you terribly already. I know we were parted for a long while when you were imprisoned, but somehow this feels worse. I don't know how I'm meant to rattle round this manor without you. Visit soon.
Narcissa
Lucius tucked the letter back away and huffed a breath. He wasn't about to go running home two days into the term. That would make him look like an absolute coward. If Narcissa had been able to stand Lucius' stint in Azkaban, she could surely handle him being away at Hogwarts.
His eyes flicked down toward the tables of students, and for a moment he contemplated that they all hated him, too - Ginevra Weasley and Hermione Granger most of all, he thought. His eyes settled on them at the Gryffindor table, and suddenly he felt his pale brows furrow. He stared at Hermione Granger and felt a strange tug in his chest, an odd sensation he couldn't quite pin down.
She was a Muggle-born. No, wait. A Mudblood. That was the term. A Mudblood. She was… no, that word didn't feel right for her. Not anymore. She had Muggles for parents. She was Muggle-born. Confused, Lucius dabbed at his lips again and thought hard about the Granger girl.
She had fought directly against Lucius at the Department of Mysteries. She had consistently beat Draco in academics. She was haughty and insolent in lessons. And, yet, Lucius didn't mind. Why didn't he mind any of that right now? He coughed a little and thought again of the girl's parentage. So she had a Muggle family. What of it? She was a brilliant witch. She was probably the most intelligent witch of her age. Had anyone ever told her that before? Someone needed to tell her.
He should hate her, a distant, quiet part of his brain informed him. He should loathe everything about her. But he didn't. He simply did not dislike Hermione Granger.
All of a sudden, Lucius thought back to the day before, when he'd crashed into Hermione in the corridor. They'd both been looking at parchments they'd been holding, and they'd run straight into each other. Then Hermione Granger had dropped something, a vial that had shattered. She'd Vanished it, and when they'd stood up, she'd reached out and touched - touched - Lucius' robes. He pinched his lips and shook his head, thinking something was off. He pushed back his chair and stood, stalking briskly over to where the Potions master was scarfing down a scone.
"Horace," Lucius said in a silver voice, "Might I have a word?"
"Oh! Erm… certainly." Horace Slughorn seemed acutely uncomfortable, but he pushed back his own chair and stood. He walked down from the Head Table with Lucius until they were in the corner of the Great Hall, away from tables and listening ears. Lucius put a knuckle to his lip and cleared his throat, his pomposity echoing in the gesture. Horace Slughorn raised his thick grey brows and asked,
"Yes, Professor Malfoy? How may I help you?"
The disdain in Slughorn's voice was more than evident. Lucius curled his lips up in a smug smile before asking,
"What potion did Hermione Granger leave your class with yesterday, Horace?"
"What potion did she have?" Slughorn's eyes went wide. "Erm… it was a peace potion. She won it, having achieved perfect marks in the lesson."
"A peace potion," Lucius repeated, articulating the words tightly. "Elaborate, if you please."
"Ah. Erm, well, it was Draught of Magnes. It was -"
"You let a seventh-year student walk out of your classroom with a vial of Draught of Magnes?" snarled Lucius. He blinked quickly, panting a little as the realisation hit him like a brick to the face. He shook his head. "You fool. You bleeding fool."
Slughorn bowed his head and whispered, "Am I to assume Miss Granger has utilised the potion?"
"She dropped it in the corridor," growled Lucius. He leaned forward until he hovered over Slughorn, his voice rumbling through his gritted teeth. "She dropped it and we both bent down and inhaled the stupid stuff. So, yes, it got used. Now what, Horace? I certainly hope you've got the antidote brewed and ready."
"Well, erm… no, not exactly," said Slughorn. His cheeks shaded ruby, and he seemed breathless all of a sudden. "I - I don't know that one could purchase a completed antidote. It's so rare, you understand. The Draught of Magnes. And of course, brewing the antidote is completely feasible; it's just that it takes -"
"Six months," seethed Lucius. "Six. Months."
"That's correct," Horace Slughorn nodded. Lucius shook his head violently and glared over to where Hermione Granger sat. But then he felt his face soften as he realised that this wasn't her fault. She hadn't meant to dose him with Draught of Magnes. She hadn't meant to spill the potion or have the two of them breathe it in together. She hadn't meant to do this to him - to make him stop hating her.
"Perhaps it isn't the worst thing in all the world," mused Slughorn in a thoughtful tone. "After all, you and Miss Granger have a terribly painful history. It might be nice, mightn't it, to move forward positively?"
"Move forward positively," Lucius repeated. He shut his eyes and shook his head again. "I want you to begin brewing that antidote immediately. I want it as soon as it's ready. I shall spend the next six months ignoring Hermione Granger if I must, but I won't be bamboozled into liking her."
"Right." Slughorn gnawed his lip and then said softly, "I am… I do… I'm quite sorry about this mess, Lucius."
"Don't be sorry. Be productive," hissed Lucius. "Now get out of my sight; I am enraged by this entire business and liable to Hex you right here in front of -"
"Duly noted, Lucius," Slughorn interrupted, and he turned around and walked up to the Head Table again, leaving Lucius standing in the corner of the Great Hall with clenched fists and a racing heart.
Lucius' first lesson of the day was seventh-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, which meant he had to see Hermione Granger again. He was absolutely dreading the sight of her, until the moment she walked into the classroom. She stared at him as she tiptoed with Ginevra Weasley, and in that second Lucius knew that Hermione had not told Ginny what had happened with the potion. It was a secret, shared between them and now Horace Slughorn. Lucius gave a little nod to Hermione, whose cheeks flushed scarlet instantly. Most of the students were chatting quietly about the Start-of-Term Ball that McGonagall had organised to raise everyone's spirits. But Hermione sat down beside Ginny Weasley and just stared. Lucius started to feel uncomfortable beneath the weight of her gaze, so he finally said,
"You will be requiring a quill and parchment today, Miss Granger."
"Yes, sir," Hermione said at once, licking her lips and reaching into her rucksack. Her hands visibly shook as she pulled out papers, a quill, and an inkpot. Suddenly Lucius wondered what it must have been like to be raised as a Muggle with conveniences like ballpoint pens and spiral notebooks in whatever school she'd attended before Hogwarts. Certainly, he thought, there were certain aspects of the Magical world that would have made for inconvenient adjustments. Perhaps, he thought, it had felt like going back in time to come to Hogwarts.
Then he realised he had never, not ever in his life, had a thought like that about Muggles - that some things they did were more advanced than their Magical counterparts. He tried to shove away the positive thoughts about Muggles, for they seemed like poison in his mind. But then other thoughts crept in. Her parents - he had seen them before in Diagon Alley. Dentists, Draco had told Lucius. They worked with teeth using instruments. Perhaps they weren't such terrible people, Lucius thought vaguely. Perhaps they weren't the scum of the Earth he'd always presumed every Muggle to be. Perhaps…
This is madness, Lucius! He could hear Narcissa's voice screaming in his head. He had descended into the depths of insanity because of Slughorn's damned potion.
He realised he needed to begin the lesson, so he cleared his throat roughly and waited for silence to descend on the classroom. Most of the students shot him surly looks of distrust and outright contempt. Ginevra Weasley was looking at him with her lip curled and her eyes narrowed, as though he were a puddle of Bubotuber Pus on the ground before her.
But Hermione Granger was gazing at him like he was a sky full of stars. She blinked a few times and folded her hands on the desk, then anxiously reached for her quill and dipped it into ink. She seemed out of breath, like she'd been running a long distance, and Lucius knew why. She'd reached out and touched his robes the day before. The Draught of Magnes had had a literal magnetic effect upon Hermione. She didn't just not hate Lucius right now. She…
She wanted him, didn't she? Lucius sank his teeth into his bottom lip as the horrifying comprehension washed over him. A student, a Muggle-born student who had always been his enemy, wanted him. But that could not be, because she wasn't completely in control of herself. She would never want Lucius Malfoy under normal circumstances. This peace potion had put her into a state of mind she never would have been under if she'd not inhaled the contents of the spilled vial.
"Vampires," Lucius said loudly, his voice trembling, "are the subject of lore precisely because they are so mysterious. They are creatures who mostly keep to themselves, although they are known to form Colonies in the underworlds of cities. For example, in Paris, there is a group of approximately twenty Vampires who share the territory of Paris. They have divided the city up in a similar fashion to the Muggle arrondissements that govern the territory of the city. Each Vampire has his or her own ground in which they may hunt without another encroaching."
Hermione's hand flew up. Lucius sighed but found himself entirely unable to be cross with how obsessively intellectual the girl was. Instead he painted a little smile on his face and said congenially,
"Miss Granger."
She just stared for a half second, then seemed to grasp hold of herself before asking,
"Sir, what happens if a Vampire does intrude on the territory of another? Do they, you know, fight? Are there ever wars between Vampires the way wizards have wars?"
"Good questions, Miss Granger," Lucius said with approval. Hermione grinned, and Ginny gaped at her friend as though Hermione had sprouted three heads. Lucius paced a little and said, "In the world of Vampires, individual disputes are settled with fights to the death. Barbaric, some may say, but it keeps things from escalating into larger conflicts. If someone has an individual problem, that issue is solved individually. Moving on, we can see that some cities, like Rome, lend themselves to the presence of Vampires due to narrow, winding roads and quiet parts of the city. But other cities, such as those in America, are significantly more difficult for Vampires to navigate."
Lucius carried on with his lecture, and Hermione asked three more questions before the lesson had finished. By the time it was over, Lucius was confident that he was beginning to get the hang of teaching. It wasn't so difficult, he thought. Convey information. Ask questions of the students. Answer their questions. Issue exams and essays every now and then. It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting.
"Miss Granger," he said slickly as the students began to pack up their books, "Stay after class, if you will."
"Yes, sir." Hermione lowered her eyes, as if she knew exactly what the conversation was going to be about.
"Again?" hissed Ginny Weasley, and Lucius snapped at the girl,
"Have you an opinion on the matter, Miss Weasley?"
"N-No. I mean. No, sir," Ginny said, looking angry. She pursed her lips and whispered to Hermione, "See you at lunch. You can tell me all about it."
"Right." Hermione bit a fingernail nervously as Ginny walked out of the classroom. Once all the students had gone, Lucius stood staring at Hermione and said to her plainly,
"I know."
She immediately understood. Her mouth fell open in horror, and her eyes visibly welled.
"I didn't mean to spill the potion, Professor," Hermione said, and a tear boiled over her eye and trickled down her cheek. "It was an accident."
"I know," Lucius repeated lightly. "It wasn't your fault. It was stupid Horace Slughorn, assigning a potion like that and then allowing a student to make off with it when the antidote takes six months to brew."
"I don't…" Hermione huffed and shook her head. "I just feel terribly. I didn't mean to do it. I've sent letters out from the owlery, just this morning. Asking around at all the potions shops in Britain to see if anyone's got any of the antidote. Even if there's just enough for you to take, sir, it would be -"
"No, I think you're the one who would require the antidote more urgently," Lucius clipped. Hermione's cheeks went quite red then, and she knew she'd given herself away. She coughed a little and said,
"I really am more sorry than I can say, sir. I told Professor Slughorn that it was wrong to use a peace potion, owing to the way it deprives people of their mental autonomy. I did say that I had no intention of using the potion."
"Perhaps it is for the best," Lucius shrugged. "At least for now. You and I have a complicated history. Perhaps it wouldn't be a terrible thing to simplify our future."
"Simplify it, sir?" Hermione repeated, and Lucius tipped his head as he said,
"I no longer hate you. This morning, I tried to hate you, and I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I didn't know why until Slughorn divulged the potion's identity to me. Even then, I could not hate you."
"And do you hate me right now, Professor Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Lucius looked her up and down, examining her wild curls, her wide chestnut eyes, her young form. Why was he looking at her, he wondered? He gulped and shook his head.
"No," he said at last. "I do not hate you right now."
"I don't hate you, either," Hermione said. She was still crying a little, and something compelled Lucius to walk closer to her. He stood just on the other side of her desk and impulsively reached to swipe away a tear with his thumb. He snatched his hand back like he'd been burned and whispered,
"I ought to hate you. Muggle-born. My son's enemy. A combatant who fought against me. And, yet, I find that you are the most intelligent and clever witch I've known in… in a very long time."
Hermione let out a shaking sigh. "I ought to hate you, too, Professor Malfoy. You tried to kill Buckbeak. You gave Ginny the diary. You were so cruel, so hateful. But now I see a wizard who is all alone in the world, who turned his back on wickedness and was met with derision, ridicule, scorn, mockery, and malice. I don't think you deserve it. Not after choosing the right way, even at the last moment like you did. I don't know why I don't hate you. But I don't hate you."
"Well, then," Lucius murmured, "Hostis amica mea est."
"The enemy is my friend," Hermione translated. She let out another long breath, this one far steadier than the one before. She nodded and said, "I've got Ancient Runes, sir."
"Right. Best go, or you'll be late," he said softly. He bowed his head and stared at his dragon hide boots, and he listened as Hermione packed up her bag and walked out of the room. She paused near the door and said,
"Goodbye, Professor."
"Have a good day, Miss Granger," said Lucius, flicking his eyes up to hers. She smiled just a little and nodded, and he watched her go.
Notes: Whew. So, Lucius knows about the potion and they've confronted one another about it. But… six months for an antidote? Way to go, Slughorn. Will Hermione hear back from any of the potions shops with an antidote? And what's this about a Start-of-Term Ball? Hmm…
Thank you as always for reading, and a huge, huge thank you for reviews.