December, 1981
The freezing wind tore through the front hall as the lord of Malfoy Manor flung the front door open. "Maman!" Lucius greeted his mother, the dignified former Lady Malfoy. "I'm so glad you could make it!" He stooped to kiss her cheek.
Melanippe Malfoy stood a full head shorter than her son, and she was so dainty she looked to be more elfin than human. The years had been kind to her, and she was still considered to be a great beauty. Her hair, silvery white and with a faint curl, was chin-length. Her eyes were so blue they were startling to look at, and they sparkled as they looked up at him.
He had not seen his mother since his wedding day. She had returned to France after his father's death, and had not been able to return while Voldemort was active.
"You look so thin, mon lapin," she cupped his face with her palm. "Are the Aurors still here?"
He shook his head, "I've been formally cleared of all charges."
She hummed under her breath, "And your wife? Where is she?"
He winced slightly at her tone. His mother and Narcissa had never gotten along. While his father had been attracted by the Black pedigree, his mother was prone to throwing around terms like "inbred" and "lunacy".
A cool voice floated across the gardens, "Melanippe. How wonderful it is to see you again."
Dressed in robes of black with her hair piled high atop her head, his wife looked more ready to fight dragons than have a cosy afternoon in with her family.
"Narcissa." She gave a curt nod, and let her hands settle on Lucius' shoulders. "Where are my grandchildren?"
"In the nursery, with our nanny elf."
"Hmmm," sniffed Melanippe. "In my day we didn't leave the children alone with the elves. It's not good to let them become too comfortable around the inferior beings. I suppose you have a Centaur nursemaid as well?"
Seeing his wife bristle, Lucius hastily wrapped an arm around his mother, "Why don't we introduce you to the children, Maman?"
Upstairs, Hermione and Draco played with brightly colored blocks under the watchful eye of the wrinkled elf.
"Mama!" Cried Draco the second they walked into the room. He held two chubby arms up to Narcissa and let out a laugh as she scooped him up.
Melanippe rushed forward, "Hello Draco," she said softly, tracing an elegant finger down his face. Draco peered curiously up at her, and shrank back against Narcissa. Lucius couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a satisfied glimmer in his wife's eyes.
Something tugged at the hem of his robes, and he looked down into the smiling face of his daughter.
"Papa, up?" She asked in her high voice.
He stooped to lift her, grinning himself as she let out a peal of giggles.
"And this must be Hermione!"
The girl stilled as Melanippe drew close, but did not shrink away as Draco had done. Instead, she pointed at the string of pearls around the older woman's throat and cooed, "Pretty!"
"What a precious girl," said Melanippe, reaching to stroke Hermione's cheek. "Do you know who I am?"
Hermione scrunched up her face, as if trying to remember. "Hmmmmm?" She looked up at Lucius questioningly.
Melanippe leaned forward, "I'm your mémère," she said conspiratorially.
Hermione leaned forward, "Memmy."
She chuckled, "Good enough for me. May I?" She asked, holding open her arms,
Hermione slid over to Melanippe, and clutched the pearls happily. "Pretty Memmy," she said, giggling again.
Relief spread through his chest at his mother's apparent delight with the girl. He was worried that she would be disinterested in the "orphan" he had adopted, but she spent the rest of the day cooing over the children equally.
He found out why that evening, when the two of them settled into his study.
"I'm very happy that Draco inherited the Malfoy coloring."
He hummed noncommittally, and swirled the contents of his glass. The wine was making him feel warm and sleepy.
"But Hermione is the spitting image of your Great-Aunt Lucie. Such a beautiful child. Everyone was devastated when she drowned."
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he drawled, "That's a remarkable coincidence."
Something hard flashed in her eyes. "When will you stop lying to me Lucius? I am your mother, not some common rabble looking for gossip."
Blinking in surprise, he set his glass down. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Two red spots appeared in her cheeks, "I know that she isn't some foundling you decided to take in out of the goodness of your heart. Anyone with half a brain can see how much you adore the child, and how much she adores you. I can also see Narcissa's coldness. I'm not judging you, mon lapin," she reached for his hand, and grasped it firmly. "I won't even ask about the mother, though I can't imagine why she would be willing to let such a darling girl slip from her life."
He let out a deep breath, "Hermione's mother is dead." It suddenly seemed easier to let his mother believe that Hermione was his. The thought made him happy. Unfortunately, his mother noticed the smile tugging at his lips.
"You are not the first Malfoy to love your bastard more than your heir-"
"I love them equally!" he protested, a curious guilt churning in his stomach. Of course he loved his children equally. Draco was his heir, for Merlin's sake! But Hermione… He downed the contents of his glass.
"I am pleased that Narcissa has agreed to the adoption." his mother continued as if he had not spoken. "It makes it easier for everyone. Half of our peers have forgotten that she is not Narcissa's, the other are too well bred to bring it up. In a few years Hermione will be considered just as much a Malfoy as Draco."
"Because she is," groused Lucius.
"Oh, I know," Melanippe's eyes sparkled, "She's not a timid one, is she? I see the same spark in her you had. It's a pity that Draco is so timid, but I suppose that's the Black in him."
He repressed the urge to chuckle. No one in British society would ever dare to call a Black timid.
"PAPA!"
A heart wrenching scream interrupted them, and Lucius was on his feet in an instant. Running down the corridor from his study to Hermione's bedroom had, unfortunately, become a normal part of his evening routine. He barely registered that his mother was following him as he tore into his daughter's bedroom.
"Nooooooooo!"
He had her in his arms in an instant, "Sweetheart," he crooned, swaying her back and forth, "Sweetheart, wake up."
"Cold," she whimpered, burrowing into his shirt. Her face was pale, and when she slowly blinked open her eyes they were tinged red from exhaustion. "Papa, cold."
"Oh, ma petite," Melanippe pulled flicked her wand, and a large, dusky rose shawl appeared. She draped this around the little girl, who was still sniffling into Lucius' chest. "Does this happen every night?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "The… circumstances in which her mother died were unpleasant," he explained, cuddling Hermione nearer. "Hermione was there when it happened."
Horror filled his mother's eyes, "Poor child." Drawing closer, she tucked the soft shawl firmer around Hermione, and placed her cool hand on Lucius' arm.
Footsteps were heard in the corridor.
"How is she?" whispered Narcissa, leaning against the doorway. "I heard her call out."
Melanippe gave her a hard look, which thankfully went unnoticed.
"She's fine. Draco?"
"Fine." Narcissa looked as if she would like to say something, but her eyes flicked to Melanippe, and she changed her mind. "I have some letters to finish-"
"Go," he said gently, offering up a smile. "I'll take care of this."
She nodded, and padded away.
It was not long before Hermione was slumbering in his arms, but he found himself reluctant to place her back in his bed. Instead, he wrapped her snuggly in his mother's shawl, and took her back to his study.
"It's good that she has you," his mother said softly, settling next to him on the leather sofa opposite his desk. She stroked an elegant hand through Hermione's unruly curls. "Every child should know that their parent will protect them."
"And I will," Lucius said, feeling more sure than he ever had in his life. He held her closer, smiling at her soft snores. "Always."
Always.
[Early July, 1996]
Lucius jerked out of his thoughts as a clang filled the small dungeon beneath the Ministry. His trial had been moved forward, and so he had been unceremoniously hauled from Azkaban to the Ministry building that morning.
The cells at the Ministry were warmer than those at Azkaban, and for this he was grateful. He had never felt anything like the bone-aching cold of the North Sea fortress.
His eyes strained as a bright light filled the dungeon, and he heard an authoritative voice say, "I've got a visitor for Malfoy."
The portly wizard who had been sitting outside his cell eased to his feet, "There've been no notifications that he was allowed-"
"Do you dare question me Billond?"
The man came into view, and though his jaw was set in determination, his eyes were strangely hollow. It was the sight of an unpolished Imperius curse, before the caster had fully mastered the art of unforgivable curses.
The Auror named Billond did not notice, however, and after a few grumbles about "lack of respect" he trudged to let the newcomers in.
Lucius crept closer to the bars, his eyes straining in the flickering light. They landed upon the person following the new Auror, and widened-
"Hermione!" he rasped. His hands curled around the rough bars, and he leaned his forehead against the iron, his eyes feasting on the most precious thing in the world. "Sweetheart, how did you-"
"Oh Papa," her chestnut eyes swam with unshed tears as she pressed against the cell. Soft, warm fingers wrapped around his chilled ones, and she leaned her head so that their foreheads almost touched.
A grubby voice cried out "You're not allowed to get that close-"
"Shut up Billond," rasped the new Auror. "Go find Lord Malfoy some lunch."
Billond grumbled again, but shuffled down the long line of cells so that he was out of sight.
"Is that your handiwork?" Lucius asked softly.
She nodded, "Bella's been teaching me."
Icy concern dripped through his veins, but he managed to shove that down. "So Bellatrix has been tutoring you then?"
She nodded, and when she glanced back up at him he noticed the deep purple bruises beneath her eyes.
"Have you been sleeping?" he asked, reaching his fingers through the bars to brush against her cheek.
She smiled, and his heart ached at the maturity he saw in her expression, "You don't need to worry about me Papa."
Something fierce gripped him, and the hand not touching her curled tightly around one of the bars. "I will always worry," he promised.
"I know," she said, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his.
"How's your Mother?" he asked softly, "And Draco? Does he- has he said…"
"Everyone's fine," she assured him. She looked consideringly at him for a moment, as if she was debating telling him something. "We're going to be staying in the Forest Cottage for the rest of the summer," she blurted. "I think Mother intends to stay there after we've gone back to Hogwarts, too. The elves have been frantically packing all week."
He nodded. "That's a clever idea. The Forest Cottage has the strongest wards. And it's unplottable."
Hermione's gaze dropped. "And it's not protected by blood wards," she groused, "so Bellatrix can't get in."
Ah. So many questions bubbled up, but he suppressed them, choosing to smile gently instead. "Perhaps it will do you three some good to spend some alone time together."
Hermione snorted, "I'm not going to be trapped there, Papa. I still have my Ministry position, and Bellatrix trains me in the afternoon-"
He felt sick at the thought of that woman training his little girl to be the perfect Death Eater.
A loud clanging noise interrupted her, and she tensed.
"They'll be coming for me soon," he said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "Listen, sweetheart, before you go… I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what Dumbledore or the Dark Lord tell you, I want you to protect-"
"I'll protect Draco and Mother," she cut in, laughing a little.
"I want you to protect yourself," he finished. Chucking her gently under the chin. "Draco is just as old as you are, and quite a capable wizard. And we both know your Mother is more than capable of taking care of herself. But you on the other hand…" He couldn't kiss her forehead, so he seized her fingers and kissed them instead. "If anything ever happened to you…" his voice broke, and the thoughts that had consumed him every moment at Azkaban pressed forward, threatening to overwhelm him.
"Papa," she whispered, keeping her tone light in spite of the suspicious glisten in her eyes, "nothing's going to happen to me. I'm perfectly fine, I promise. And you will be too. I'm going to get you out of here soon. The Dark Lord has promised me that you will be released as soon as we can overthrow the Ministry."
He nodded, and smiled, raking his eyes over her face as if he was trying to memorize her.
A rasping voice barked, "It's time, Miss Malfoy."
She pressed her eyes closed, and then squeezed his fingers. "Stay strong, Papa," she whispered, "I'll get you out."
"I love you," he gasped, struggling to maintain his composure, "more than anything."
Her eyes shone with unshed tears, "I love you too Papa, more than anything."
And then she was being ushered out, and he felt the last hold on his emotions shatter.