Author's Note: Another update! Finally, a more active interaction between Hermione and Lucius. I shan't give anything away, enjoy!
Monday, the first day of August, brought terrible rain in the early morning that roused Hermione from a fitful night of sleeping. Dreams that were filled of friends' heads shaking with disapproval and the high, cold voice of Voldemort whispering things she would not allow herself to comprehend were washed away by the booming noises the storm made outside her window. The apartment was chilly and a draft seemed to be rising off the very walls as she sleepily slipped into her slippers and dressed for the day. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found, presumably hiding under the bed from the storm, and ignored the food the witch carefully laid out for him in hopes of enticing her breakfast buddy into the kitchen. Without luck, she ate in silence and alone. Deciding that the floo would be the safest with the frightful weather, an hour since she had awoken and lightening was still brightening her home every few minutes, Hermione grabbed her wand and prepared herself for a day of fresh letters. A new beginning.
When she stepped into the main lobby of the Daily Prophet, then, she was quite surprised as the blatant reminder of her past arriving out of the fireplace opposite her. Careful to keep her face passive and nonchalant, she blinked up at his intimidating stature without registering the bustling movement of arriving wizards around them. With a grim smile, Lucius Malfoy gave her a small nod before disappearing in a swirl of emerald robes into the thickening crowd of journalists. Shocked stiff, it took a bit of cajoling from Vanessa, a strawberry-blonde journalist on the floor below Hermione's, to get her moving towards the lifts. Unable to stop her anxious, and rather sleep-deprived thoughts, from spiraling her mind led her into wondering what exactly Lucius Malfoy thought of her article—if he had read it at all. He would be unaware, Hermione reassured herself as she rode the lift upwards, that it was she that had written so passionately about rehabilitation wizards' rights and privileges in modern society.
Even if he did know, she silently decided, his thoughts and opinions wouldn't matter as he was just Lucius Malfoy. A man who had proven to hold a black heart the day he watched her tortured by his very own sister-in-law without uttering a word of restraint. Hypocrite. It was Harry's voice that swam through her head, her well-guided conscience she supposed who was in fact correct. If she held such a sturdy grudge against the older Malfoy, or younger for that matter, she would not only be as horrible as they had been during the war but would also be acting against her own advice. A heavy sigh of resignation left her lips as she promised herself she would treat both Malfoy men with polite respect from here on out, especially when the elder of the two had so kindly purchased the book she had devoured a measly hours after its purchase. He was making amends, and thusly so would she. So, when she opened the door of her office to find him sitting in the chair across from her boss who sat where she usually worked Hermione attempted a smile that she knew worked itself into more of a grimace.
"Ms. Granger, do come in." It was her boss, Marshall Fitzherbert who beckoned her into the room and conjured a chair beside the straight-backed, blonde man.
"Mr. Firzherbert, Mr. Malfoy…to what do I owe the pleasure of you two in my office so early on this Monday morning?" Placing her purse beside her chair, Hermione perched herself on the edge with nerves she wished she could tackle down into submission but the vision of Malfoy combined with her boss was one that nearly made her fingers tremble with panic.
"It's rather gloomy out, isn't it, Ms. Granger?"
"Indeed it is, Mr. Malfoy." Lucius was a peculiar man with a remarkably distinct voice that she did not think she would ever be able to erase from her memory in this lifetime. It was not altogether unpleasant, she nearly rather enjoyed the calm tones of his voice. Or at least she would have, Hermione reckoned, if they did not remind her so supremely of the privileged life he lead and all of the negative connotations that came with his upper-class pureblood upbringing. She forced herself, still, to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps for once, this man's presence would not leave a wreckage of bad news in his wake.
"You see, ," Marshall spoke as many older wizards do to young women—as if they must explain everything as simply as possible in case witches' small minds cannot comprehend his complex and brilliant thoughts, "Mr. Malfoy has brought to my attention your latest article." Ice ran through her veins as she vaguely wondered if she was dreaming, it would explain her feeling of exhaustion surely.
"Oh and I take it you've then told Mr. Malfoy that I—that she—of who-" A bright laugh caught her off-guard,
"Yes, Ms. Granger, I know you are Miss Jane." Amusement danced in his eyes as he studied her profile, her eyes still locked upon her boss' figure.
"I see."
"To get straight to the point, Ms. Granger, as a rather influential person of interest at the Ministry you can understand why he is concerned with your article." Confusion spread across her face and she felt herself losing the calm exterior that she trying to maintain. It was rather impossible to remain calm when her cover had been blown and the Ministry had taken person offense to her article.
"No, I'm sorry but I don't. I've done nothing but support the Ministry's rehabilitation program and give support to ex-Death Eaters. Why would that be concerning?" Breathy and feeling rather unstable, Hermione wished she had had a second cup of tea that morning or at least a pepper-up potion. The tops of her eyelids felt heavy and her eyes suddenly itchy as brown eyes glanced between the two men. Sweaty palms rubbed along the soft material of pencil skirt and she felt her boss' eyes follow her hands; in the back of her mind she wondered if he was looking at her legs or watching to be sure she didn't reach for her wand, both were plausible. A measured pause was taken as the men contemplated the train of action that felt terribly pre-planned to Hermione, before Lucius' voice interrupted her troubled thoughts,
"Ah well the fact of the matter is, Ms. Granger, that while your thoughts are indeed noble they directly conflicts with what our rehabilitation program has been promoting amongst those enrolled to recover."
"I beg your pardon?" The measured eyes that she had known this whole time to be a cold grey, were actually an electric blue. Shocks of grey rippled through the blue so light that she did not blame herself for all of these years of confusion. The eyes were neither measured nor grey in that moment but blue and pleading. Pleading for what, the young woman did not understand. With a tilted head and lips pursed to speak, Lucius took the girl in but struggled to say everything he wished to clarify then.
"Ms. Granger, the point of the matter is we need you to write an apology letter to the Ministry and a second occurrence of this insolence will result in the removal of your column." Ftizherbert's voice broke a trance she did not realize she had been under and fury rushed to the surface and boiled past her self-control,
"Removal of my column? How was I to know what the Ministry has been telling Death Eaters! We have a disclaimer, it says it's my own personal opinion not that of-"
"Ex- Death Eaters but yes, Ms. Granger, but we at the Ministry do not know who Jane is. She does not exist, there is no person for the readers' to place their blame on except for the Daily Prophet and I daresay that is not an option is it, Marshall?"
"Certainly not. Well, I think that resolves this matter. Lucius, thank you for your time as always and Ms. Granger I look forward to that retraction statement." Bottom jaw dropped, Hermione spun quickly to watch her boss close her office door behind his rather robust figure.
"And what exactly, Mr. Malfoy, should my retraction statement say?" A nastiness she dare not throw around with her boss in the room revealed itself to him as he stood, looking quite out place in her quaint office. She hated him then for letting his judgmental blue eyes sweep around her office in a dismissing once-over, she hated him for being the one to cause her torment, she hated him for wreaking havoc on the relief and peace she had only just created for herself.
"I imagine that it should mention that you retract your statement." Teasing amusement that she did not find charming glinted in his eyes and she hated his antagonistic tendencies even more. Fury brought a blush of deep crimson to her cheeks and her hands fisted by her sides as her voice rose several octaves,
"What did I say, Malfoy? What I do that was so horrible? Was it my kindness or my acceptance that the Ministry hates so much?" Snarling her questions she stepped into his personal space with blatant disregard for propriety or the worried lines which made themselves visible upon his forehead. Raised eyebrows remained quirked as he spoke down his nose to the short woman who reached no higher than his collarbone.
"Rather the opposite, I expect. Your little column inspired an onslaught of letters of complaint to the Ministry. Both from present students and alumni of the rehabilitation program." Surprise forced her to take a step back, wanting the full ability to study his eyes for dishonesty as he spoke.
"Complaining about me?"
"Decidedly not," An entertained smirk befitted his cautiously measured expression, "must I spell it out for you completely, Miss Jane?" Heat rose to her cheeks on only in frustration with his allusiveness but embarrassment that her identity had been revealed to one man that she never wanted to be vulnerable in front; the power of her anonymity with the column did not fully resonate with her until it had been torn out from under her and her identity had been revealed to a person whom she did not trust to respect her secret.
"By your silence, I suppose I must. Your compassion and your…loquaciousness overpowers the Ministry's by a long shot, Miss Jane. Attendees of the program wrote in frustration that they had not received proper treatment by Ministry officials and that the Ministry was," A long pause wrought in tension and anxiety hanged heavy between them as he struggled for the proper word, "neglectful in a program supposedly built to lift up those engaged in the project." A thoughtfulness was revealed in him that Hermione did not expect him to allow her to see, it was nearly vulnerable and felt incredibly intimate to watch him run his gloved fingers over the head of his cane as he avoided her gaze. Each movement he made, every word, every action, felt incredibly planned but Hermione could not figure out his ulterior motive than to deliver the Ministry's message.
"And you?" The gentility in her voice made him flinch, "Did you find the program to be neglectful?" Sympathy that she did not realize she could feel in the case of Lucius Malfoy fled through her as a look of abandoned desperation fled through Hermione. Her own writing had been from the heart and to see a man so bereft of good will from the common wizard hurt her soul. How had they come so far from discussing her column? How was it that she felt so serenely concerned over this man's problems rather than her own job security? Perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps it was her Gryffindor tendencies that made her want to do good, to fix, to save. But whether Lucius Malfoy wanted to be saved or not was another question entirely.
"As a Ministry official, I support the Ministry's actions without question." Poor Lucius, the quiet voice in the back of her mind was exasperated with the grown man's habit of blindly following the power of those that would be most beneficial for him.
"I would not do so with such complete abandon, Mr. Malfoy." Finally, the smile she had attempted in the lobby came to fruition, it was genuine and she felt rather proud of herself for managing a smile to a man it was so easy to hate. Did pity override hate? She could not say. The blonde granted her a rare smile that seemed genuine and rather amused at her words, but then the curtain of despair fell again over his entrancing eyes. Then he was studying her quite closely with a look of complete concentration as his squinting eyes darted across the features of her face.
"Why Jane?" Desperation in his gaze nearly matched the torment in his voice, she was quite taken aback and managed to stumble a step backwards as he descended in a slight bend to take a closer look at her.
"I'm sorry?" A loud clearing of his throat broke the tender gaze he had bestowed upon her, any trace of the nostalgic expression he had upon his face was erased. The aristocratic façade was back in place but Hermione was pleased to know, at least, that it was indeed a façade.
"I simply question the significance in the name Jane for you. Assuming you did pick it for yourself, I suppose?"
"Yes, I did." Again, scared to be vulnerable to a man she did not trust. One could pity without trusting, she reassured herself; her lips remained sealed after that addition.
"Ah," His eyes trailed past her desk and to the book shelf in the corner which was not only stuff full but had a precariously unbalanced stack growing on top, "a muggle reference, I presume?"
"Yes," She would not falter under his scrutiny of muggle history, "Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, I highly suggest it. My middle name, too, is Jean so it's rather close." Unsure of what made her reveal such an intimate fact to this man, Hermione's calm expression faltered slightly as her head tipped further back to gauge his reaction of her admission. All traces of trained manners or hospitality evacuated the room at her words and a sneer crossed his face once more,
"Yes, well, I look forward to your retraction statement, Ms. Granger. Good day." The door snapped shut behind his suddenly brooding figure and Hermione stood in the center of her office feeling horribly out of place, horribly whiplashed by the morning's tumultuous events. Anger bubbled through her and it took quite a great deal of self-control to keep from throwing any personal effects at the wall. What was she to do?
The letters that week were as banal as the previous ones and she felt herself hard-pressed to concentrate on the twittering words before her. Bitterness was not an option for Hermione Granger, not anymore she convinced herself naively that one could outgrow hurt or pain. Too old was she, in her belief, to sulk in a downtrodden state or wallow in the depression of the moment. She had faced far worse things that Lucius Malfoy's disapproving stare, the Ministry's insecure demand of a retraction statement, and her boss' insecure and blind support of the government's wishes all combined! With a huff of indignation she yanked her robe on with five minutes left in the work day and used the floor early, a rebellious air about her though she knew her small rebellion mattered not as she joined a handful of coworkers in the lift. A large rebellion it was not, but it was a rebellion all the same!
Dear readers,
The Ministry of Magic has insisted that I issue both a retraction statement and apology for my response to The Fallen One's letter. My intention was not to undermine any of the work the Ministry is pursuing with its well-intended rehabilitation program. I cannot stress how important it is to be rehabilitated after the war, for those on each side of the fight. Please let it be noted that I make no claim of affiliation with this program nor with the Ministry itself. Nor, do my thoughts and opinions express those belonging to the management of the Daily Prophet. Put quite simply, I am my own being and in my opinion I believe that everyone deserves love and happiness regardless of their backgrounds. Take care, be kind, and live with love.
Yours truly,
Miss Jane
The retract statement was released below her usual replies and Hermione was rather pleased with her wording. She'd managed to sound compassionate and caring without giving the Ministry the pleasure of reading that she wished to retract or apologize for her words. As Minerva had said, sticking to one's beliefs was a noble act and Hermione prided herself in being noble and brave when push came to shove. So it was to her complete devastation that when she arrived home from work that evening that a larger stiff looking owl of a bland grey carried a Ministry sealed letter. With a groan, Hermione gave a knut to the bird and took the envelope that was addressed to her in black, swirling ink. Desolation seeped through her cheery mood as she peeled open the parchment to read her letter which requested her presence in one weeks' time at the Ministry of Magic to discuss her retraction statement in the Daily Prophet:
By request of one Mister Lucius Malfoy in respect of Miss Hermione Jean Granger's blatant disrespect and slander against the Minister of Magic, himself.
A loud screech of frustration swept from her lips, much to Crookshanks' annoyance as Hermione balled the summons into a ball that she had to restrain from hurling into the fire. Blood boiling and fingers clenching, Hermione copied the crumpled letter onto fresh parchment and attached a note,
Harry,
Sorry to inconvenience you at this hour, feel free to share this with Ginny though I'm sure you're already reading this out loud. I hate to call names, as you know, but Lucius Malfoy is a right bastard! How was I so blind to his motives?! Please respond quickly with word of whether you might be willing to support me in this case, I fear I may need your word and legacy with me while facing Shacklebolt.
Best wishes and much love,
Hermione
She'd sent the letter with a flourish of her wand and waited in agitation while she slammed pots and pans around in an attempt at dinner. Furious was a tame word to describe the feeling coursing through her veins. Lucius Malfoy was a backstabbing traitor, same as he had always been. Not only had he belied her identity to the Ministry (and who knew who else) but he had admitted to her exactly what the Ministry's fears were in some sort of confidence, an attempt to gain her trust, before completely disregarding their interaction. He was a good for nothing cad and Hermione was infuriated with herself for ever pitying the weak excuse for a man.
"In fact," Her high pitched voice was pointed to the blasé looking feline prowling around her ankles, "I bet that entire meeting was just an act to get me to feel sorry for him! He put on a whole performance for my benefit, making me thinking the Ministry was scared of me and really he was there to sabotage me. Blindside me just for the sake of humiliating another muggle-born—he hasn't changed one bit!" Chest heaving and curly tendrils flouncing around her shoulders, Hermione was out of breath with her frustrated ranting. More tears of frustration were threatening to pour when Harry's response arrived,
Hermione,
You know I'll be there to do anything I can to help. You'll have to fill me in on everything, I think I'm missing pieces of the story. I'm not understanding his motivation. Let's meet for lunch tomorrow. Don't stress, we'll get this sorted out. Ginny says hello!
With love,
Harry
Hermione wasn't completely positive how she ended up sitting at the Weasley's kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea set in front of her, but she was pleased to be there all the same. Ginny had charged up the stairs about twenty minutes into Hermione's visit with Molly, drenched in mud and stinking of sweat but grinning ear to ear, but had not yet descended. Curiously, Harry had wandered through the front door about five minutes behind Ginny supposedly looking for George but he had not descended yet neither.
"Well Lucius Malfoy is an awful man, Hermione, we all know that." Molly had listened sympathetically to Hermione's tale while busying herself in the kitchen. Now she stood shucking the hair off the corn while the dishes magicked themselves to completion behind her bustling form.
"That much is obvious to me now, I don't know how I ever gave him the benefit of the doubt! And to think, I was the one standing up for his rights! He has the audacity to bring me to trial!" Taking a big gulp, her mouth and tongue were scorched and her eyes watered at the burn but anything to get the taste of defeat out of her mouth felt worthwhile.
"You'll figure it out, Hermione, you always do." Though Molly's voice wasn't quite as convincing as Hermione needed it to be in that moment.
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