Trigger warning: brief mention of self-harm
Lucius hid his grin behind the Daily Prophet as he listened to Narcissa explain once again to to Hermione that she could not leave the manor in her nightgown.
"Please Mother," begged the girl, "I promise to wear my cloak the whole time. I won't take it off!"
"Absolutely not. You will go upstairs and change this instant. No child of mine is going to leave the house without clothes on."
Lucius' grin stretched wider. While he now considered Hermione to be very much his daughter, Narcissa tended to view the child more as a ward than an actual member of the family. The only time she dropped her stoic demeanor was when the two were arguing.
"I wouldn't be going out without clothes on! Nightgowns are clothes!"
And at five years old Hermione was quite the debater.
"Hermione Malfoy, if you do not get dressed- in proper clothes- you will not leave the house at all!"
There was a sharp inhale of breath, and then the sound of tiny feet running out of the room.
Lucius peered at his wife over the top of the newspaper, "Perhaps we should just put a wrinkle-resistant charm on her robes and let her sleep in those. It would certainly make our mornings smoother."
There was a pink flush in Narcissa's cheeks as she joined him at the table. "I'm not going to encourage this kind of behavior, Lucius." She jerked the teapot towards her, and sloshed the tea into her cup, "I blame you for this. Ever since you let her sit in on that Wizengamot hearing she's been trying to argue her way out of everything."
He could not help feeling pleased, "She's going to be quite the politician one day."
His wife shot him an irritated look, "No hearings for Draco. Ever. I don't think I could handle two of them."
"No hearings for Draco," he agreed. Draco did not seem to care much for the Ministry anyway. He was far more interested in Quidditch. So Lucius reserved his Saturdays for playing a modified version of Quidditch in the makeshift pitch he had set up on their lawn.
But while his Saturdays belonged to Draco, his Wednesdays belonged to Hermione. Every week he took her to the Ministry, where she drank in everything with a refreshing eagerness.
He glanced again at Narcissa, who was moodily nursing her tea.
"Has Draco woken up yet?" He asked mildly, trying to distract her from her thoughts.
She shook her head, "He wasn't feeling well last night, so I figured I'd let him sleep for a few extra hours."
"I told him not to eat that third piece of cake."
She smiled fondly, "He's a little boy, Lucius. What do you expect?"
"Well, I hope he feels better."
There was a bang as Hermione threw open the dining room door and ran towards him. Her cheeks were bright pink and she panted as she stood in front of him.
"Papa!" pant "can't reach-" pant "buttons! Would you-" pant "please!?" She turned around so that he could button up the back of her green dress.
"Hold still, Mione," he laughed, bending to button the dress. "There! All done."
"Thank you!" She flashed him a wide grin, which he returned.
Narcissa cleared her throat, "Let me see."
Hermione obediently moved to stand in front of Narcissa, and clasped her hands behind her back as the blonde examined her.
"Much better," approved Narcissa, "It just needs-" she waved her wand, and conjured a sage green ribbon the exact color of Hermione's dress. With expert hands she tied the ribbon into Hermione's hair. It had taken her months to master Hermione's bushy mane, but she had finally found the right concoction of hair potions so that the unruly mess had been tamed into ringlets.
"Perfect," her hand rested briefly on Hermione's shoulder, and then she gave the girl a gentle push. "Don't forget your cloak."
Lucius watched the interaction closely, and then glanced down quickly at the Prophet when Narcissa looked back over to him.
"Are you ready Papa?" Hermione chirped, looking over expectantly.
"Of course, sweetheart," he folded the Prophet, and laid it beside his empty teacup, "Would you like to fetch to Floo box? I'll meet you in the study."
The little girl nodded eagerly, and took off.
"Don't let her eat too many sweets," Narcissa commented with a knowing look. "Last week she was talking to herself in her room for hours after her bedtime."
"She was just excited. She's a little girl, Cissy." He slid his hand through his hair with a sigh, "But I'll keep the sweets to a minimum."
"I just don't want her to get sick again. She needs a regular sleep schedule."
There was something in her eyes that made him soften, "The nightmares are over, Cissy. They won't be coming back."
Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. "And if you see Severus remind him that he agreed to come for Sunday dinner."
"I will, dear. Is there anything else, or do you want me to make Hermione wait even longer?"
"That's all, have a nice day."
He stooped to kiss the top of her head, "Tell Draco we said good-morning," Then he headed upstairs to his study, where an eager five year old paced.
He held her close as they used the Floo, and laughed as she squirmed to get down once they arrived.
"Papa can I have a sickle for the fountain, please?" She darted across the atrium, and leaned over the fountain's edge to look into the water. "I want to make a wish!" she chirped unnecessarily.
He fished one out of his pocket, and tried not to laugh out loud as she clutched it to her chest and screwed up her face in concentration.
A moment later the coin plopped almost anticlimactically into the water a moment later, and she turned to beam up at him.
"And what did you wish for?" He asked, taking her hand and steering her towards the lifts.
She narrowed her eyes, but her smile did not fade, "You know I can't tell you, Papa! It only counts if it's a secret!" She shook a finger, as if she were the parent and he the child, "One should never speak a wish out loud if they want it to come true."
He did laugh then, and squeezed her hand in his. "My apologies, then. I stand corrected."
She giggled, and swung their hands as made their rounds. They visited the courtrooms first. Lucius, as promised, did not take Hermione into one of the cavernous rooms. He did, however, allow her to peer curiously in through a cracked doorway while he spoke to one of his acquaintances.
"Papa," she asked once he had finished conversing, "what's counter-fitting?"
"Do you mean counterfeiting?"
"That's what I said!" She said in exasperation. "What is it?"
"It's when you make something fake that looks like something valuable."
Her little brow furrowed in confusion, "Like what?"
"Well, like if I gave you a twig and told you it was a wand."
"Wouldn't I know it was a twig when I tried to do a spell?"
"Maybe," he shrugged, "but suppose I was a very talented counterfeiter who charmed the twig to shoot sparks. I could sell it to some unsuspecting schoolboy for a fortune, and then disappear before he realized it was useless. Or suppose I made toy money feel like a real Galleon. By the time the charm wore off I could have run away to France-"
"But wouldn't the Aurors catch you?"
Lucius smiled, "I don't think they could catch your dear Papa, do you?"
She chewed her lip for a moment, and then shook her head. "No, you're much too clever Papa."
"I'm glad you think so. Let's keep that to ourselves, sweetheart. A good Slytherin never brags about their talents in public." He winked at her, and she scrunched up half her face in an attempt to wink back.
"Lucius!"
Lucius turned to see a tall, smiling man wave from the doorway of one of the offices.
"Andrew! I thought you were in Belgium until Monday." Lucius steered Hermione towards his old school friend,
"I decided to come home early," Andrew ushered them into his large office. The enchanted windows were bright and sunny this morning, and they illuminated the wall opposite Andrew's desk, which shone with plaques commemorating his service to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
It always unnerved Lucius that he was so close to a high-ranking official in the DMLE. He and Andrew had been school friends, and then it had been Andrew who defended Lucius during the investigations following Voldemort's fall. He had been among the few Purebloods who were neither blood traitors or supporters of Voldemort's cause, and that made him an invaluable friend.
The man had no idea that Lucius had not been under the influence of the Imperius Curse during his service to the Dark Lord, and his unwavering trust always made Lucius feel a bit guilty.
Hermione instantly shot over to the typewriter that clacked away independently in the corner. Lucius knew that it typed a summary of the Auror Department's arrests and investigations, and he looked over to Andrew.
"It's fine," the man waved a hand, and moved to lean against his desk. "Nothing that Narcissa would disapprove of, I think Moody's investigating a rabbit smuggling operation."
Lucius arched a brow, but decided he did not want to know. If it was interesting Hermione would tell him all about it.
They spoke for a few moments, catching up on each other's family. Lucius was happy to brag about Draco's flying lessons, and Hermione's aptitude for learning, and Andrew shared a few anecdotes on his three daughters.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on Hermione. "My youngest is about Hermione's age. I'm sure she'd love a playmate- her sisters are always telling her she's too young to play with them. Perhaps we should set something up."
Lucius nodded carefully, considering this. "It might do Hermione some good to have a girl to play with. She and Draco are very close, of course- the boy worships her."
"Well then it would be good for her to have an equal!" Andrew laughed, and Lucius felt a twitch or annoyance.
"Hermione!" yelled the man, motioning for her to come over. "How would you like a new friend?"
Her little eyes widened in curiosity, and she listened as Andrew described his youngest.
"-she's a little boisterous, but I'm sure the two of you would be close as sisters in no time. I hear you love to read-"
"Oh yes!" gushed Hermione, "Papa just got me all the 'Tales of Young Morgana' books!" She glowed at the mention of the picture books that she loved so much.
"Lottie loves those books! And she has all the dolls and toys that go along with it. Including Percival the Pegasus."
"Percival isn't supposed to come out for months," Lucius said over Hermione's squeal. He had been hearing about that pegasus for weeks, and he had intended to pick one up as a birthday present for Hermione.
"A friend sent one over as a thank-you for helping her get out of a little trouble. Would you like to see it sometime?" He asked Hermione.
The girl seemed to be mute with surprise, and she nodded so vigorously that Lucius was certain her head was about to pop off. He could not help but feel irritated that Andrew had not allowed him to speak to Narcissa about it, and then bring the subject up on his own, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
"I'll have Anne owl Narcissa about the details," Andrew promised a few minutes later when they left his office. "We'll see you soon!"
"Give my regards to your family," Lucius nodded, hoping that his smile looked a lot more genuine than it felt.
They continued along, but now Lucius was much quieter than before. This was his least favorite part of their visits. He could already feel the headache pulsing behind his eyes, but Dumbledore thought this was a good idea. And what Dumbledore wants…
"Arthur!" Hermione practically sang as she ran down the corridor. "Arthur!"
A familiar redhead stuck his head out one of the doors, and smiled broadly, "Hermione! What a surprise."
Lucius stood near enough to keep an eye on them, and pulled the prophet from an inside pocket in his robes.
Dumbledore had encouraged the interactions between Hermione and Mr. Weasley with the reminder that it was a way for Hermione to learn about her Muggle heritage without Lucius needing to "completely recover from his prejudices."
So Lucius grudgingly allowed his daughter to visit Weasley every week and ask endless questions about the various trinkets he kept in his office.
He could hear snippets of their conversation as he skimmed the Prophet, Hermione was asking about a photo, and Weasley was jabbering on about his brood.
"-first Weasley daughter in generations-"
The Holyhead Harpies were getting a new chaser.
"-I've never seen Molly so angry, I thought she would spit fire!"
Someone had been caught using the Imperius curse on a Muggle. Apparently the idiot had tried to make the poor Muggle attempt to rob Gringotts.
"-I have two brothers, and Molly had two brothers, unfortunately-"
There was a group of youths who were breaking into homes and stealing everything. Lucius actually read this article, as it was noted that they "targeted noble houses". He decided that they would visit the Aurors next and see what protections they recommended. Hermione would probably love learning about warding charms.
"-the Death Eaters, who followed a very bad wizard. The worst wizard to ever hold a wand, I'd say."
Lucius dropped the paper, his blood boiling. Then, before he could move to ask Weasley what in Merlin's name had possessed him to tell a five year old about the Dark Lord, he heard Hermione cry out.
"No, don't say that. Don't say that!"
"Hermione," he gasped, running into the office, and nearly trampling his daughter, who had come sobbing out to find him.
He scooped her into his arms, and felt her arms tighten around his neck. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and whimpering "Stop, stop!" into his neck.
He looked up into the eyes of a very pale Arthur Weasley, "What did you do?" He seethed.
"Nothing, I swear!" He held up his hands, "All I did was say-"
"I heard what you said," scathed Lucius, "and I don't think you should repeat it, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and swept away.
Hermione did not calm down when they got home. Lucius tried everything he could to calm her down, but to his surprise it wasn't until Narcissa took over with a lullaby from her childhood that the girl stopped crying. She looked up at them with her miserable eyes, and whimpered, "I'm not, Papa, I'm not."
"Of course not, sweetheart." He kissed her on the forehead, and stood, "We'll be right outside the door."
Narcissa followed him into the corridor, "What was that about?"
"I don't know. She was talking to Weasley, and she was fine. Then he…" Lucius exhaled and slammed his fist against the wall, making the portraits that lined the corridor rattle and let out little screams. "Damn him! He started talking about the Dark Lord-"
When the story was done, Narcissa peeked into Hermione's room and sighed. "She's sleeping. Let's go downstairs and write Dumbledore. We're going to find another way for Hermione to learn about Muggles. She's never going to speak to that man again!"
The afternoon was spent writing letters. Several went to Dumbledore, one to Weasley's supervisor, and then Narcissa sent a particularly vicious Howler to Weasley himself.
"We should do something to traumatize his child," she hissed as she watched the owl fly away.
He laughed mirthlessly, "I think their lives must be traumatizing enough," he swirled the contents of his wine glass, and stared contemplatively at the burgundy liquid.
"You're probably right," she came over and sat beside him, laying her head against his in a rare show of affection.
The sky was darkening through the window, and the fire was crackling so merrily that he felt the tension begin to drain from his shoulder. Maybe the rest of the night would be peaceful. Perhaps after a night of sleep Hermione would be the same cheerful girl he knew, and they could put this whole incident behind them.
Then Draco burst into the room. "Mamma! Mione's hurt!"
Lucius was vaguely aware of Narcissa's voice saying, "Alright, Darling. You stay here and have a biscuit while we go check on your sister."
He had never moved so quickly in his life. He burst into her room, only to find it empty. A quick check in Draco's room revealed that it was empty as well.
"Lucius, in here!"
He sped down the corridor towards Narcissa's voice, and found her in their bedroom. She was cradling Hermione in her lap.
He sucked in a breath as he took in the cut on her arm, just under the scar Bellatrix had left years earlier. A pair of silver scissors lay open on the rug beside them, and he kicked them away.
"Episkey!" He sighed in relief as the cut vanished, leaving no trace.
"Sweetheart, what has gotten into you?"
She mumbled something incoherent, pressing her face against Narcissa.
"What's wrong, darling?" Narcissa crooned, stroking Hermione's hair. "Is it what that man said? Because-"
Hermione's shoulders shook, and she wailed louder, "I want to be a Malfoy!"
Lucius shared a shocked look with Narcissa. "You are a Malfoy, sweetheart."
"Not by blood!" She wrenched away from Narcissa, her face red, and scrunched up with tears. "I'm only a Malfoy by name. It doesn't count. I want to be a real Malfoy."
It would have been almost funny to see her throw such an uncharacteristic tantrum, except that it was terrifying. She let out another cry, and kicked her heels against the rug.
Then, Lucius had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly.
Hermione's hair was turning a familiar platinum blonde, and when she looked up at him her eyes were the exact shade of blue as Narcissa's. In a moment she looked exactly like Draco would if he were female.
Her sobs quieted, and she asked in a broken whisper, "Why can't I be a real Malfoy?"
He opened his mouth to contradict this, but to his immense surprise his wife got there first.
"Darling, you are already a real Malfoy." She scooted closer, and pulled a slightly hesitant Hermione into her lap. "You don't need blonde hair," she tapped Hermione's head with her wand, and the chestnut color flooded back into her hair, "or blue eyes-" she passed her wand in front of Hermione's eyes so that they became their usual honey brown, "to be our daughter."
"My real parents-"
"Are in this room," Narcissa said in a firm voice. "You are Hermione Malfoy, our daughter, and nothing can change that, right?" She looked up at Lucius expectantly.
His chest was so full of pride and love that it hurt to speak. "Right."
"Promise?" Hermione asked meekly.
"We promise," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of her skin concerned him, and he decided to floo Severus once they were done, to see if he had some fever-reducing potions.
Narcissa sighed, "We'll go downstairs now, you've scared Draco half to death. But know that tomorrow we will be having a very long talk about safety. It is not ok to play with scissors. You could have seriously injured yourself."
Lucius was pretty certain that she was not playing, but he decided to talk to Narcissa about that later.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, tears starting again.
"Hush, it will be fine. But first we need to get you out of this nightgown. Look, you've stained it."
Hermione looked down at the small red splotch on her skirt, and a triumphant smile came over her features.
Her next words chilled Lucius to the bone.
"See, Bella? I told you it wasn't mud."
Author's Note: I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!