A/N: Joy of joys, I love the feeling of finishing another chapter! Please forgive any inconsistencies, I'm trying to piece all the threads together as seamlessly as possible. Thanks for reading :)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY

She took her time showering even though she expected him to be gone when she came back regardless of how long she took, because she wanted to make extra-sure he was gone when she returned. It worked; he wasn't there when she walked into her room, and strangely enough he'd made the bed very neatly, and he'd left on top of the creaseless bedcover Encyclopaediea Protectionis and a note which read:

See you at the manor.

She heaved a deep sigh. The note smelled like him and she flung it away as she caught herself sniffing it like a lovesick Juliet.

Yes, she will see him at the manor, and they will abandon all of this foolishness and get straight to the point of things. They'd get straight to what was really important here, and they were going to fix it, by Merlin. Combined, she and Lucius were formidable. Between their respective intelligences and talents they could do anything. Today was the day Jacques Malfoi was going to rescue Draco Malfoy from the asylum and she was going to be there beside him when he did.

Once again she found herself within the boundaries of Malfoy Manor, but today she was surrounded by budding green of spring and the rays of a very accommodating sun. The grounds were disorderly but pleasant as things were in the mode of springing to life all around her, and, sitting quiet beyond, the manor itself waited for her, seemed to welcome her and, in fact, the door creaked open as she arrived on the doorstep, whether by a burst of air pressure, wind, or magic, she knew not. She entered like a friend to the thing which surrounded her.

"Lucius?" she asked, turning around the doorway to Lucius' office, and finding the object of her search sitting neatly at his desk, perfect in every way, his hands occupied with a quill and papers, his pale roman hair falling across his temple, his sleeve cut and pressed to the cross of his wrist, his countenance docile with the promise of dormant power.

He didn't smile, exactly, but his face showed he welcomed her presence, despite the circumstances.

"Hermione," he said, and she wished he'd always say it like that.

"Are you ready to get Draco?" she asked.

"Right," he said, rising, and gathering himself. "Mais oui," he amended.

Hermione smiled.

-oOo—

"Father, you've come back for me," said Draco, his blithe face blank as a basket of wool in the white-scrubbed surroundings of St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward.

"Cher garçon, I am not your father," said Jacques Malfoi, signing the papers for Draco's release.

"Of course you are," replied Draco.

"He is your second cousin, twice removed," informed Hermione, casting a smile at the bored attendant behind the desk. The bored attendant didn't seem to care what relation the two Malfoys shared, as long as it was legal. "From France."

"I learned French," said Draco, looking misty.

"Ah, oui?" inquired Jacques in a way that meant he wasn't really listening, as he was reading over the papers.

"Mais oui, mon pére."

"Je ne suis pas ton pére," insisted Jacques.

Frappy the ghost appeared, or perhaps he had always been there, but he became relevant due to the

way he was eyeing Jacques very critically.

"You're going to fix him, aren't you," said Frappy, and it wasn't a question, despite grammatical choices.

Jacques didn't deign acknowledge Frappy's existence.

"We hope," said Hermione.

"He's more fun un-fixed," said Frappy.

"Did you know him before?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Frappy.

"Then how should you know if he's more fun now?" asked Hermione.

"Was he fun before?" asked Frappy.

"Well," said Hermione, considering the teenaged Draco. She had to make the admission: "No, not at all."

"See!?" yelled Frappy, pointing at Hermione like he knew everything all along.

"But he could have been!" objected Hermione.

"No," said Frappy. "I know people, lady. He's not the fun type. Not when he's sane, anyway."

The ghost cast a doleful, yet meaningful glance at Jacques, who continued to pretend the ghost did not exist. Jacques handed the signed papers back to the attendant.

"Zere," said Jacques in a final way. The attendant looked over the papers and stamped them with an overlarge stamp that said:

-RELEASED-

ST. MUNGO

… in red ink.

"Have a nice day," said the attendant without meaning it, and he turned to file the papers away.

Hermione shared a glance with Jacques, and felt relief when she saw the same on his face.

"Take care of him," said Frappy, who had begun to float back against the wall and looked a little resigned.

"You're not coming?" asked Draco.

"You won't need me anymore," said the ghost.

"Of course I will!" said Draco.

"No, you won't," said Frappy, and Hermione started to wonder about the ghost.

"What are you implying?" asked Hermione.

Frappy just gave Hermione a smile that appeared kind of sad, but she wasn't sure if that's just how ghosts smile.

"Do you know something?" she asked, feeling prompted to approach the ghost. "Something that can help us?"

She felt Jacques hand grip her arm, hard, and he meant for her to stop and put a lid on it in front of people.

Frappy shrugged and said, "Enh. Just get him home. You'll see."

"Frappy!" cried Draco.

"Go home, kid," said Frappy, and he disappeared in a puff.

"Frappy!" repeated Draco.

Hermione put her arm around a mourning Draco as Jacques led them all to the front doors of the hospital.

"Well, at least that's over," said Hermione, as Jacques opened the doors to reveal a cacophony of flashing lights and reporters, each with a face and voice that screamed anxiety and the desperate desire to know everything about Jacques Malfoi.

"Ack, where did this all come from?" is what Hermione said, but was impossible to hear above the din and fray, which is probably a good thing, considering the lameness of her exclamation.

"What will you do with Draco now that he's been released?"

"Who owns Malfoy Manor, you or Draco?"

"Is it true you have no plans to go back to France?"

"Are you going to marry Miss Granger?"

"Is Draco going to marry Miss Granger?"

Hermione wondered why her value was reduced to merely who she was going to marry. Didn't anyone care about her plans? The ones that didn't include marriage, that is. Not that she had any marriage plans. She'd spent her whole life pursuing the acquirement of knowledge and for the benefit of shared research and all anyone cared about, when it came to Hermione Granger, was which Malfoy she would marry. It stung a little. It stung a lot.

"Pardon moi," said Jacques gracefully, "I believe you are scaring Draco, who needs to recover at home. If you will indulge us, I will be happy to entertain your inquiries at the manor demain."

With that he forced his way with as much dignity and grace as Hermione could imagine a person could force their way through a crowd of reporters with both herself and Draco intact. Once they were out of the chaff, he gripped them both by the wrists and muttered:

"Allons-y."

They disappeared and moved, and shifted, and hurtled, and landed outside of the manor near the hidden door in the fields.

"There's a lot of sun today," remarked Draco in wonder, despite Frappy-separation tears still wet on his face.

Hermione had to admit he was right. The sun was everywhere. Lucius seemed overly occupied with opening the door and getting inside with Draco, and didn't seem to notice the sun at all.

"Lucius, are you in a hurry?" asked Hermione, following along inside, and having to increase her step to keep up.

"Yes," said Lucius. "Is Luna here?"

"She should be," replied Hermione.

"Let's get to the dining hall," he said.

"But what-," began Hermione, cut off as Lucius shoved his way through another door and began to ascend the steps, his hand gripping Draco by the arm.

"Ow," said Draco.

"Hurry up," said Lucius. "I don't think we have much time."

"What?" asked Hermione, and then: "Why?"

Climbing the stairs strangely fast, they all became out of breath to varying degrees, Draco most of all, as he'd had little exercise in the hospital.

"Did you get a good look at that crowd outside the hospital, Hermione?" asked Lucius.

"There… were a lot of flashing lights and a lot of yelling," replied Hermione as an explanation of why she didn't notice every detail of the crowd outside the hospital.

"Mmn," said Lucius. "And not just reporters."

"Who?" asked Hermione, but they'd arrived in the dining hall, and Luna was there.

"Hermione! Lucius!" said Luna, moving towards them, but then she stopped to gaze at the man being held up by Lucius. "And… Draco?"

Draco crumpled to the floor of the dining hall.

"Draco!" cried Lucius, kneeling beside his son.

A low buzz began, inaudible but felt at first, and then sound came from what seemed like the walls of the room.

"Luna, what is happening?" asked Hermione, looking to her friend, hoping for explanation.

"Ah," said Luna, who seemed to be guessing. "Energy seems to be building up?"

It wasn't very comforting, nor informative. A white static formed on the walls, shifted, and travelled like electricity across the walls and then the floor towards a central location, and that central location was Draco's crumpled form. It all happened so fast even Lucius hadn't time to take out his wand before the static had collected and entered Draco's body.

The long moment in which they all stood wordlessly and stared at Draco waiting for something to happen might have been funny if taken out of context, but of course it wasn't funny. It definitely wasn't funny. Hermione had brief anxiety strike her over whether or not she'd start panic-laughing, but it was over as fast as it came, because there was a sudden drop in pressure and a boom, and from Draco came the supernova, a darkness, and a blindness, and a circle of light expanding out, and out, and the sudden feeling of release, the cold burst of air in a hot room, and then it was over.

"Draco," said Lucius, hesitant.

Draco groaned and shifted, moving himself up on his hands to look at the room around him. He made a decidedly pained, very Draco-Malfoyian face.

"Augh, who let the dining hall get like this?" he asked.

Lucius gasped audibly.

"Oh Merlin, Draco!" he cried, pulling his son into a crushing hug, and within the hug he went on: "It's you!"

Yes, it was a definitely little strange seeing Lucius being so overtly emotional, and she knew him well. For Draco it was probably worse. Draco looked over Lucius' shoulder at Hermione with a very confused expression. Hermione smiled at him.

"Hermione Granger? What are you doing here?" Draco inquired, and then with a subtle tinge of disgust which was not lost on Hermione: "And why are you so old?"

Hermione stopped smiling.

"Never mind that!" said Lucius, pulling out of the hug and gripping Draco by the shoulders. So much for chivalry. "Draco… it is imperative that you tell me right away everything you know from the last night you were in the manor."

Draco's eyes shifted and flickered and he broke eye contact with his father, and his imperious expression crumbled away to a vulnerable place that few had seen. Hermione had to fight the urge to look away, as if this was too private for her to observe.

"Why?" ventured Draco, clearly hesitant to speak of it.

"Because I need to know immediately, and then I need to add wards to the manor. Also immediately."

"Lucius," said Hermione, needing more information.

"They're onto us, Hermione," he said gravely.

"How should you know that?" she asked.

"I know," he said. "Is there anyone you can call for help?"

She knew he meant Harry Potter.

"Yes," she said. "Now?"

"It's now or never," he said.

"Why are you calling my father by his first name?" asked Draco, looking like there was information he suspected but really wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

Hermione decided she wasn't going to stick around to inform Draco of her dalliance with his father, so she pretended not to hear Draco and busied herself with casting a handful of floo powder into the cold fireplace. A green fire erupted instantly, and she called for Harry.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" asked Harry, with his trademark immediate intuition.

"I need you at the manor, Harry," she said, and then cast a glance at Lucius, who returned her glance with a grave one, a glance that stunk of steely determination and a certain fatalism and she didn't like it at all, not one bit, but she turned back to Harry's green floo-head and went on: "I think… I think it's going to get nasty. Get Ron. Be ready to fight."

Harry exhaled, absorbing the fact that, yes, this was happening now, and merely replied, "Right."

"We're going to go put up as many wards as we can," said Hermione. "Before… before they get here."

Whoever "they" are. Oh, crap, she hated that this was happening.

"Draco…"

Hermione turned at the sound of Lucius' voice, her communication with Harry over for now, and saw Draco looking askance at her.

"We can trust both Hermione and Luna," said Lucius to his son. "But you need to tell us now. What happened?"

"Are you even my father?" asked Draco, who looked like he suddenly suspected the use of Polyjuice potion and this was all a big, elaborate Harry-Potter-esque Gryffindor scheme meant to ruin the Malfoys once and for all… if only he had known the Malfoys had already been long since ruined.

"Of course I'm your father!" spat Lucius, in a perfect Lucius way that certainly could not have been mimicked by anyone who was merely posing as Lucius. Draco consequently flinched as was his wont when his father began to lose his sempre cool.

"Then please tell me what is happening," said, or muttered, Draco, his gaze falling to the floor.

Lucius drew a deep breath and then let it out all at once: "The year is 2015. I was time-travelled by our manor two weeks before your mother's death to this time in order to, we believe, uncover what happened to her and to you. You have been in St. Mungo's Asylum all this time, completely mad. The manor fell into disrepair as no one claimed it. Miss Granger and Mrs. Longbottom initially came to pilfer our rare magical books-,"

"Hey!" objected Hermione, but Lucius went on as if he didn't notice.

"-but discovered me instead. We believe the manor has orchestrated all of this, including the repressing of your memories until now, for the correct time to bring them to light."

"You married Longbottom?" asked Draco of Luna, who just grinned.

Draco then looked at Hermione.

"I really didn't expect you not to marry," he said.

"What did you expect?" asked Hermione, not sure how to take that.

"I thought Potter would come to his senses and notice you."

That just felt awkward.

"What? Harry? How silly and ridiculous!" said Hermione, trying to make it sound as if she hadn't ruminated on the same thing once or twice. "I don't know why anyone would ever think that, that's just silly. And completely ridiculous!"

Draco's gaze went flat and he said, "Oh, right. Now I remember how annoying you were."

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Now I remember why I always wanted to punch you in the face," she said.

Lucius put his hands on both of their shoulders.

"Let us refrain, for the time being, from reverting into teenagers and focus ourselves," he said… condescendingly.

This whole addition of Draco in the mix really messed things up, but Hermione let it rest.

"Now Draco, please tell us what you remember," said Lucius.

"I don't want to say anything in front of her," said Draco.

"You can trust her," said Lucius.

"Ha!" said Draco, and then: "Ha, ha!"

Lucius looked like he was losing his patience.

"What spell has she cast on you, father?" asked Draco. "You know who this is, don't you?"

"Hermione By-Merlin Granger, yes," said Lucius.

Hermione kind of liked that nickname.

"Do you really want her in our business?" asked Draco.

"I'm here, too," added Luna dreamily.

Draco looked at Luna for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder and said, "Enh."

Clearly Luna wasn't a threat in Draco's estimation.

"Draco," said Lucius, quite serious. "You can trust Hermione with your life."

Draco stared at his father.

"You mean 'Miss Granger', don't you?" he asked Lucius with a scarcely-hidden subtext question lurking behind it.

Lucius gave him that look. It was the look that said, "I am your father and you will obey, or else it'll be the cane for you," or whatever it was Lucius used in the past to threaten his only son and heir.

Draco appeared as if for-everything-and-all he really didn't want to spill the beans in front of Hermione "By-Merlin" Granger, and his gaze plead as much with his father for a moment, and, upon failure, he cast a doleful glance upon Hermione, drew a breath, and returned himself solely to his father's focus.

"Father," he said, hesitating. And then: "You know Mother had been acting different than usual, right?"

"I suppose," said Lucius, seeming reserved yet curious where this was headed.

"Colder," said Draco.

"Than normal, that is," he quickly addendum-ed.

Lucius didn't make a sound.

"That night… I think she didn't know I was at home," said Draco. "I had come downstairs and I overheard her talking with someone in the parlor, and I had meant to announce myself when they started talking about you."

"Stop," said Lucius, and he grabbed both Draco and Hermione by the wrists.

"What-," Hermione half-objected.

"Luna," said Lucius, "Would you be so kind to cast up as many protective wards, and possibly some traps, as you can while I fish out Draco's memories?"

"Sure," said Luna with a wink.

"Make sure Harry and Ron can get through," added Hermione.

Draco let out an exasperated whimper at the mention of the rest of the Golden Trio.

"And when they get here, maybe they can help you set up some more wards?" suggested Hermione as Lucius all-but dragged her and Draco towards the stairs.

"Right-o," called Luna, disappearing towards the manor entrance.

"Lucius, what are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"The pensieve," he said as they clambered up the stairs to the second floor.

"Ah, yes!" cried Hermione. "Perfect!"

"A pensieve?" asked Draco as they arrived at Lucius' office.

"Lie there," said Lucius, pointing to the uncomfortable green velvet couch. Draco obeyed without objection for once, and Lucius brought the altered pensieve to the side of the couch near Draco's head.

There was a crack in the distance and they all turned to the window at once, as if it would answer the question that was equal among them, though from their perspective there was nothing to see.

Lucius came to himself first, his focus becoming air-tight on Draco and the task at hand.

"Stay still, Draco," he said, turning on the altered pensieve with a whirr and affixing Narcissa's wand to the side of it, towards Draco's prone temple. He began flicking through Draco's memories, back, and back, until he reached the point where they'd been blocked before.

"Hermione," he whispered, gesturing for her to come close.

The scent of Lucius drifted across her as she leaned over his shoulder to see the scene within the pensieve, and then he took hold of her and he pulled her, and they both fell headlong into Draco's memory, into the hallway outside the parlor so many nights ago where the teenaged face of a curious Draco Malfoy was dappled with a stripe of light, and into the heady sound of Narcissa's voice and the voice of a man Hermione thought she recognized.

Draco was peering through a crack in the parlor door, completely unaware of Hermione and Lucius coming beside him in his memory to take in what he saw and heard.

As Hermione looked through the door, she felt Lucius' hand take hers. She didn't know if it was for her comfort or for his own, but she welcomed it if only because she didn't know how much longer she'd have the luxury of affection from Lucius Malfoy.

Through the crack, she saw the cold beauty of Narcissa Malfoy, the bearing of a queen in her features, resplendent in perfectly tailored robes of forest green, and she knew Lucius saw her, too. How was she so perfect? Hermione felt all of her imperfections on her shoulders like the weight of a thousand rocks, but Lucius' hand, through some logic Hermione didn't comprehend, testified otherwise.

"Do we yet know where he is?" asked a man's voice, rich and deep, from somewhere out of sight.

"Nothing yet," said Narcissa. "We can't find anything at all, not a trace."

"Well, we know he was in the manor when he disappeared," said the man, whose voice nagged at her because she knew she'd heard it before. Perhaps often. "And we also know he never left the manor."

"Well, he isn't here," said Narcissa, sounding testy. "And he took my wand with him!"

Narcissa didn't sound happy about that at all. In fact, strangely enough, she sounded more upset about her missing wand than her missing husband.

"It sounds to me that he simply obliterated himself," said the man.

Narcissa put her hands on her hips and huffed out a puff of air.

"He's gone, anyway," he added.

She merely stood there, brushing a strand on blonde hair back into place, which prompted the man to add more.

"And if he comes back, we can deal with him," he said.

Deal with him? Deal with him how? What –

Her thoughts were interrupted by the man approaching Narcissa and coming into view from behind. He took her hands in his. The way she looked at him... Lucius' hand fell away from Hermione's. It sent chills through Hermione that Draco was seeing this, that Lucius was seeing this, that she was seeing this.

"Don't worry, Narcissa," said the man, "He's gone. We can move forward with the plan."

Narcissa gave the man a petulant look, but then she smiled, and… horrors upon horrors, they kissed passionately, and Hermione couldn't help but wish she could throw a blanket over Draco's eyes so he didn't have to witness it.

"Do you see?" said Lucius' voice, utterly cold.

Hermione turned to Lucius' drained face. He glanced at her and then gave a scarce nod to the parlor. Hermione looked into the parlor and, due to the revolution of the kiss, she could now see the face of the man for whom Narcissa Malfoy betrayed her family.

It was Kingsley Shacklebolt!

-oOo-

A/N: Dun dun duuuuuunnnnnnnn...

Although this fanfiction takes second fiddle after my main creative project (the webcomic Lintier), here's another chapter. And hopefully there'll be another one, soon.