Barnaby stared daggers at Lucius, an expression Hermione had only seen him have towards his boyfriend who called him in the middle of the work day to call it quits. He approached slowly, like a wildcat circling a vicious predator–knowing he had the claws to scratch him, but afraid to strike. His mouth bobbed open, but quickly shut itself, likely at the stench of blood. Hermione could only imagine what he was thinking, seeing his former boss covered in the blood of the prime suspect of this afternoon's visit.
"Barnaby," Hermione whispered. "It's only me."
"Oh gods no, oh bloody Merlin-"
"Barnaby-"
It was too late; Barnaby held his wand at Hermione muttering, "you." And at Lucius, "and…you?"
"Yes it was me," Hermione said, inching forwards. "Barnaby you were right, I… look at me…"
Indeed her own two hands were crimson as was the rest of her body. She flipped them over and not a patch of skin was left clear.
"I am a monster, and a bitch and every horrible thing you called me."
"Well-?" Barnaby stopped to wipe his nose. "When I Flooed in the Ministry, they told me you had gone home later than usual but when I Flooed your flat, nobody replied. I knew straight away you'd gone to visit Mr Malfoy to investigate the claims."
Hermione shook her head, tears coming down her eyes. "Oh Barnaby, I'm afraid I've done an awful and unforgivable thing-"
"-dont be ridiculous. I should have never spoken to you as I had. Maybe then you wouldn't have come here at a risk to yourself. Fuck." Barnaby walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "That's why Mr Malfoy put his hands on you."
"You don't understand, Lucius didn't hurt me. I hurt him."
It took Barnaby a while to process the information, but when he had, both of them tilted their heads to find that the large and nude figure laying in the pool of blood was gone. Wherever Lucius had gone, he had left his clothes in the pile Hermione made and left glistening prints all over the marble floors.
Oh no, I had done something awful, Hermione repeated to herself as she pulled up from the ground. Barnaby's hands quickly caught her.
"It's good you confessed. Now you're coming with me," he said.
"But...Lucius? Malfoy! We need to find him, I can explain everything."
"Hermione you've just sliced a wizard up! Merlin I can't under this. There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight," Barnaby lashed out angrily.
That's when Hermione ripped her hand out of his grasp. Yes, she was the very monster he said she was, but she was not about to let Lucius twist the story his way and make her the aggressor. What she had done was an act of mercy, first and foremost to herself, secondly for Lucius so he could really feel what she felt the night of her torture under Bellatrix's hand. Also, Lucius had asked her to carve him, so it was consensual and she reminded herself of it as she ran back out the doors of the large room and into the smaller corridors.
Mercy came at a cost, and she was not about to be made into some terrible figure for doing what a torture soul asked her to do onto him. Hermione was not a killer, she was no Death Eater or anything of the sort. She knew who was and that her ghost was her chance at location Lucius himself.
"Abraxus!" Hermione called, "Mr Malfoy Sr!"
The longer and fast she ran, the more lost she felt. While at first she heard Barnaby's steps behind her, now she could hear nothing but the blood pumping in her ears. The curse was lifted and she could leave the house—she'd done what Lucius asked of her. Her end of the deal was done, so why did she feel like she'd never find the way out?
"Abraxus? Lucius?" The names sounded in her mouth like a broken record.
Each corner looked like the last, each door leading down anouther empty corridor. Leaning against the damask wallpaper, Hermione drew in a deep breath. She wiped her hands on her trousers.
She smelled entirely the monster Barnaby saw her as. She'd never forget the look in his eyes: fear, disgust and hurt—hurt that came from seeing one's worst assumptions about anouther come true.
"It's what he wanted. Bad Miss Granger. Hope you're happy arsehole," Hermione said, trying hard to wipe Barnaby's face from her memory.
"I'm hurt Miss Granger," said the silky voice of the ghost. Hermione turned lazily to see Abraxus' figure floating before her.
"I did it. I did everything Lucius asked of me, all you've asked of me. I didn't ask questions," she said. "But I can't help but feel like I've done something truly horrible. I said I'd control myself, that I'd stop when I wanted to. I'm nothing like Bellatrix, and yet here I am, with my hands covered in blood."
"Yes, but the reward, I'm certain, is worth far more than a quick cleansing spell," Abraxus said. "How do you feel?"
"Confused." Hermione thought and replied slowly. "Reckless."
"Brave?"
Hermione smiled. "Not the word I would use. But sure. Where is your son?"
"Would you like to see him?" Abraxus' voice threatened as he looked closer to her. "Would you like to see a free wizard?"
"Yes."
She walked after Abraxus to the window and watched a figure walk into the distant forest. Lucius Malfoy, covered in an unmistakable red, was wandering deeper and deeper into the trees.
Lucius Malfoy was a bad man, an evil man, an unforgivable sinner, but he was also the wizard that submitted himself to her fully and completely. Hermione didn't know much of religion, her parents hadn't gone to church with her much, but she knew the Muggle term 'repentance' and thought it might apply here. She hoped she was right about Lucius as she ran after Abraxus through the secret passageways to the Manor.
-xxx-
Exhilarating and pure joy rushed through Lucius' body as the wind slapped against the bloody patches on his skin. His toes tangled in the damp grasses beneath him. Further and further he walked, no, flew into the all to familiar forest behind the Manor.
The trees had seen him there before.
They'd hid him as a young boy from his father who sought to whip him with a leather belt or a stinging hex for dressing up one of the House Elves in his mother's camisoles. It had been frightening then to be beat by the man who loved him—Lucius was sure he hit him because of how deeply he cared for him.
The trees had seen him snog the only witch he'd brought to meet his parents, his dear Cissy.
They'd seen him float his father's coffin down to the graveyard under the old sycamore tree.
They watched as Death Eaters trampled their roots and tore their branches; when werewolves and other creatures of the night came to support the Dark Lord who had taken residence in the Manor.
Now they saw a wizard run barefoot beneath them, and nude as the day he was born.
Lucius wished to see the moon tonight. It had called to him, somehow more beautiful and round than other wine filled nights. He'd seen it many times before but always distracted to notice it's beauty. Now he had nothing to fear. All his scars were open, all his sins revealed to the night. Lucius had bared himself before the Mistress of the Skies. He thought the moonlight might seep into his scars like gold onto the cracks of an old Japanese vase —perhaps he too could be born again.
-xxx-
"Lucius!" Hermione's voice called as the figure of the man strode to the edge of the cliff.
Lucius did not hear her, he did not see her either. His eyes were elsewhere—mainly on the skies above him. He placed his feet at the edge of the cliff, and rocked gently back and forth, swaying with the night breeze.
Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, braving the cold. It lashed against her face, her cold bloody marks freezing as she walked towards the Malfoy man.
"Please, don't go," she yelled.
Lucius had raised his hands in the air, and turned his head. He mouthed words that were swallowed by the abyss. Finally she could make out what he meant, inching forwards and squinting. "Hermione! Hermione!"
"Stay there! I'm coming," she yelled.
She'll never forget what happened that night, not even as Barnaby and a team of Aurors snuck up behind her and held her down to the ground. Lucius Malfoy had tilted back his head. And then, he did something remarkable, something no man on a cliff at the edge of his life ever did. He laughed.
His face lit up in all brilliant colors of red as the moonlight coated him in her embrace. He laughed like a young boy, like he had no other care in the world. He turned round and laughed to the wind and the night and everyone who's gathered to see him.
Hermione later confessed to all she did at the Ministry, confessed to Abraxus' manipulation and the wine and the farce of a show he'd put on. She said she didn't know what overcame her, why she went alone to face Lucius Malfoy.
But only Hermione knew the truth.
That night on the cliff, all Hermione could think about was how beautiful Lucius looked that night. He was as beautiful as an angel, and as carefree as a lark. She knew if he had some voice left in him, his laugh would ring as bright as bells, echoing in the great behind.
Lucius Malfoy was beautiful and the bloody smears on his back looked like two red wings, dripping down his buttocks and legs.
They said Lucius was dead, but they never found his body at the bottom of the abyss. He must have flown away, Hermione thought to herself, smiling, but no one believed her.
Here we are at the end of this story. Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting both here and on ao3 (I'm under the same username : mumka ) Happy New Years! Here's to many more stories in 2023!