A/N: Vielen Dank LiterallyLiterary for Beta-reading and thank you all for your reviews; You're great! HP belongs to JKR.

Here's the music for this chapter (all by Antonio Vivaldi). It's absolutely divine, so check my profile for the playlist link:

Laudate pueri Psalm 112 RV 601 (Magda Kalmar) II. Sit nomen

Choral Works (Budapest Madrigal Choir, Liszt Ferenc Chamber Orchestra/Ferenc Szakeres; Soloists) Gloria RV 589: II. Et in terra pax

Laudate pueri Psalm 112 RV 601 (Magda Kalmar) IV. Excelsus

Laudate pueri Motet RV 626 (Magda Kalmar) III. Aria

This chapter was a tough one to write (content-wise but also emotionally) but I hope you like it.

Please read & review.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts." – Winston Churchill

7 The Sorcerers' Apprentice

Hermione and Lucius Malfoy were sitting opposite of each other; she in the chaise lounge, he in the armchair, scrutinizing her like a wolf that could not yet decide on how to devour its prey. It was still dark outside and the only source of light came from the candles, which dipped the suite in an eerie glow, casting large wavering shadows on walls and floor.

The grace period of a quarter of an hour gave Hermione enough time to regain her composure and analyse the situation for what it was: a negotiation. What Lucius Malfoy said back in the Magical Law Enforcement Department was enough for her to understand that he had an agenda – otherwise he would not have paid her fine. Also, she had a very clear notion about the consequences should she not comply, which most certainly consisted of an utter and thorough destruction of her professional career and respectable reputation. Therefore, the best she could do was to exercise in damage control.

Mildly astonished, she noticed that the Dark wizard wore a dark woollen jumper instead of his usual high-collared shirts, thereby exposing the inked runes on his neck. He must have received them from his attempt to steal Harry's prophecy because they showed the Wizarding community for what crime he had been sentenced. It was a pity that only few people were able to read them these days, Hermione thought. But Futhark runes could not be read as a phonetic alphabet; they were determinatives representing various meanings and concepts, which only made sense in context of each other. Correctly read, Eihwaz, Algiz, Naudhiz, and Wunjo revealed that Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced for being an important member of a malign secret society; who almost achieved to purloin something of great power; under great risk, but also great constraint, in order to maintain his powerful position in that society. And Hermione was certain that if she had stripped the Dark wizard of his clothes, she would have found more runes beneath, providing a much more detailed depiction of his criminal record.

But this was neither the time nor the place to ponder about how Lucius Malfoy might look like bare-chested – or why she even thought about it.

Focus, she scolded herself silently.

Fact one: Hermione had to admit that Hit Wizard Provoorst was right in the assumption that someone casted a magic-ban curse on Lucius Malfoy, thus clearly overstepping the boundaries of British Magical Law. And if it indeed was an inside job, it implicated that some bigwig within the ministry was rather disappointed to see the former Lieutenant of Voldemort walking out of court as a free man, despite his seven-year wand-ban. Thus, fact two: someone wanted him dead. That would also explain why he kept the incident to himself; after all, to whom could he turn that was capable and willing to help the ultimate persona non grata in this matter?

Fact three: considering that all-to-friendly handshake with Auror Gysbert, Hermione was profoundly convinced that money changed its owner. For what purpose she did not know but probably to affirm discretion. Fact four: the Dark wizard paid her fine instead of letting her rot in the cell, which was, in her opinion, very suspicious. But after careful consideration of those aforementioned facts, his reasons for bailing her out were hidden in plain sight: Lucius Malfoy was an infamous, sentenced, and wandless wizard in danger of being killed, and who suffered from an illegal magic-ban curse. So, why not seize the opportunity and demand reparation and help from the witch who nearly got him killed? If this was his plan indefinitely, it revealed what a dangerous quick-thinker he was by recognizing the opportunity that lay in the worst of situations, coming up with a plan, and acting upon them.

However, the witch had leverage against the Dark wizard. Specifically, a name: Marius Malfoy. It was beyond doubt that this Malfoy was not in any way magical. Although she did not know how the lawyer was related to the patriarch, the circumstance that he was related sufficed to put him under pressure. Furthermore, after what she had seen in his mind, Lucius Malfoy was, underneath his expensive clothes, deflating demeanour, and icy stares, a breathing human being, perfectly capable of emotional depth – perhaps even empathy.

But no matter how she looked at it, the plain truth was that Hermione was at his mercy; he'd paid her fine and it was well within his power to slip the incident to the public or not. And by the looks of him, he revelled it. That sly fox knew she felt guilty for the incident and Hermione could almost hear the wheels of his mind grinding and ticking, working out scenarios, assessing them, making momentous decisions. And by the calculating looks he gave her, the Dark wizard intimated that he knew she did the same with him.

Lucius Malfoy tilted his head and scratched his Adam's apple lazily. "So, you and Draco…" he said in a voice sounding as pleasant as fingernails scraping a blackboard.

"…reconciled," the witch answered dismissively and flashed him a nervous look, to which the blond crossed his legs and remained silent. She knew why; they both recalled the painful and humiliating experience of the violent intrusion into their minds, the most intimate and vulnerable part of their being.

As far as Hermione was concerned, she would have locked away that whole incident into the deepest corner of her mind, leaving it there until the end of times. Oddly enough, the blond seemed to come to the same conclusion, dropped the subject, and came straight to business.

"Miss Granger, how much is your freedom and career worth?"

Hermione's knuckles went white from clenching her hands into fists. Knowing that she was being blackmailed did not mean that it made the experience less dreadful.

"I'm willing to make amends," she answered stiffly.

"You may continue," he voiced coolly and made a rolling gesture with his hand.

"I'll pay you every Knut back and won't disclose anything about what happened."

Lucius Malfoy flared his nostrils in displease. "Don't tell me you didn't understand the magnitude of my intervention."

Aggrieved, she answered pointedly "I made my assumptions," and rendered her conjectures during which he curved his lips into a dark, affirmative smirk, not quite showing his teeth.

"You missed a crucial point," Lucius Malfoy said, "The fine I paid in your stead wasn't a fine in the traditional sense. It was rather an…investment I've made."

"Investment? Since when are bribes dubbed 'investments'?" Hermione asked sardonically.

"That's an inaccurate and utterly inappropriate term to describe what I have done for you," the wizard said patronizingly. "I cleared up a misunderstanding and guaranteed a discrete handling – on your behalf. You should count yourself lucky that the original files are now in my possession; somewhere save and out of reach."

Hermione went pale as death.

"Y–You d-didn't…" she stammered, enraged as the missing pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Her fingers began to twitch, demanding to be wrapped around the wizard's neck to strangle that smug expression off his face.

Instead, she dug her nails into the upholstery and screeched, "You convinced the Auror it was my sole fault in order to keep your own slate clean! You coaxed the Auror to fine me with an astronomic sum you knew I was never able to pay so you could pay in my stead to seal the deal and have me indebted to you!"

On the verge of losing countenance, Hermione drew her wand and bawled lividly, "Accio Hermione Granger's files!"

Nothing happened.

"Tut-tut, Miss Granger." Lucius Malfoy rested his chin in his hand, his fingers tipping lazily at his temple, "Don't insult my intelligence."

"How dare you," she spat, inflamed with rage, pointing the wand at him as he merely stared at her with an impenetrable expression, not giving away the slightest emotion.

Her bottom lip quivered from the struggle of keeping her composure. All she needed to do was form a focused command in her mind in order to hex his balls off…Merlin knew how much she wanted to make a lasting statement!

But after an agonizing moment during which prudence won over rage, Hermione finally lowered her arm.

"How did you manage to…convince the Auror?" she asked with suppressed temper.

"I rather regard it as an exchange of favours between Gysbert van den Bergh and me," the Dark wizard answered coolly and unfazed by her outburst. "Did you know that Auror Gysbert is a proud father of three beautiful, ambitious daughters? One of them recently got engaged with an offspring of a well established and very respectable family – quite a good match for that little parvenu I daresay. And since his family's reputation is at stake, Gysbert wants to do everything within his power to avoid his daughter's wedding being associated with compromising terms like 'commonness' or 'inferiority'. Unfortunately, the local government is not known to be a generous employer, which poses quite an obstacle. But Daddy would do his utmost to please his little Darling Princess, wouldn't he?"

Hermione snorted in disbelief. "So, you're telling me the Auror wanted money for the wedding? Seriously?" she asked incredulously, forgetting for an instant that her professional standing was at stake.

Lucius Malfoy flashed a colluding look at her. It was sickening.

"But still, there are enough witnesses who knew what happened," Hermione said briskly, "The Hit Wizards, the secretary – Gysbert could not have possibly obliviated…"

She paused, irritated, and could not help but groan aloud as she remembered how Gysbert shouted at the employees to come to his office.

At least no one could say that Lucius Malfoy was not thorough.

"A Knut for your thoughts?" the blond asked, bemused with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Only if it reduces my debt," she retorted audaciously.

He chuckled. "Freedom is invaluable, Miss Granger, invaluable. But people tend to put a price on it without realising that every number they set is below its worth."

Well, she quite agreed with him.

"So, what is…priceless to you?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Oh, you're progressing," he drawled satisfied. "What do you think is invaluable to a wizard like me but not in possession of it?"

The witch sucked her teeth. "Exerting magic?"

Lucius Malfoy repeated the rolling gesture.

"A wand?"

"Go on," he insisted.

Hermione hesitated before she pressed out with violent effort, "Restored reputation? Influence?"

The wizard inclined his head approvingly.

"Alright, Mister Malfoy, I'll help you finding out who did this to you and how to break the curse, and help you on reversing your magic and wand-ban. I'll get you a wandmaker who's willing to make you one. But how can I possibly aid you in restoring your influence and reputation?"

"Miss Granger, don't you see the opportunity that lies in there?" he drawled.

"What opportunity?"

"To achieve your political aims."

"How?"

"Through me."

"Through you?" She let out a false laugh and was not sure why she even deigned to respond. "This is absolutely ludicrous. Our attitudes oppose! I'm fighting for equality, for Muggle-borns and half-bloods, for magical creatures and against corruption –"

"– And in order to do so, you need votes, allies, influence, money – in short, power," Lucius Malfoy enunciated every word and stood up, closing the distance between them. He reached under her chin, pulling up her gaze to meet his. Warning bells were ringing in Hermione's head. She should have pushed him off –

"Did you never wonder why you achieved so very little despite your reputation, your role as a war-heroine?" he asked, penetrating her with his adamant grey eyes. "It isn't your heritage or your blood-status that hinders you, it's the lack of understanding of our world that comes with it. As you might have noticed already, politics in the Wizarding world doesn't work like a democracy or any sort of degenerate Muggle-state form. It's a Bastard Feudalism in which anyone could become a lord, where services are made in return for money and influence. But to become a truly influential member of our society in order to push through reforms, one has to seek patronage and provide it, form allegiances and alliances to secure the backing of the opinion leaders and decision makers."

Lucius Malfoy's thumb traced gently along her jawline, educing highly embarrassing sensations and conflicting feelings from the young witch.

"Miss Granger, what you need is thorough guidance in statesmanship. What you need is a proper mentor who helps you…thrive."

Hermione caught her breath. Despite the undeniable truth of his words, she started to seriously doubt his sanity.

"You really think I'm interested in becoming the devil's apprentice? You're delusional," she said brusquely and pushed his hand from her face.

But the Dark wizard was not that easy to shake off and moved cautiously behind the chaise longue. She could feel him leaning in to her ear, inhaling deeply, humming lightly in the attempt.

Oh God! Hermione thought desperately as she felt her nipples stiffen, and bit the inner side of her lips. This is so wrong!

"There's so much potential in you," he said, his voice reduced to a mere whisper, dripping like honey into her ear. "You're highly intelligent, a powerful and exceptionally skilled witch despite your youth. You already formed an allegiance with Dumbledore's Army but you're still raw and imperfect, a diamond that needs to be cut and polished. You don't know how to use the means within your reach to achieve your goals. Instead you let yourself be used by the Ministry as a pawn. But I can guide you from the chessboard, help you in leaving behind the life of a pawn and groom you in becoming a player."

He was so near now that her skin started to tingle where his lips almost touched her ear, making her shudder in a very inappropriate manner.

"Regard this proposition as an opportunity to finally succeed where you couldn't, to enfold your true potential those dunderheads in the ministry failed to recognize. You would be able to turn our world into a place of equality, a place you could call home."

A stretching silence pervaded the room as the implications of his offer sank in. Hermione mulled over Lucius Malfoy's words. He's good, she had to admit reluctantly. He hit the mark with the precise accuracy of a seasoned hunter, intriguing her –

Shocked as she had realised how well indeed he managed to intrigue her, she recoiled hastily from his proximity. "And what would you possibly gain from this?" she croaked, her voice sounding strangely foreign.

"As I said, in return you'll help me to restore my family's former influence and reputation." The expression on the wizard's face was deathly serious.

"Why should I want that?"

"Believe me, I make a much better ally than enemy," he answered with unaltered confidence.

"I wouldn't say so," Hermione retorted.

Narrowing his maliciously, Lucius Malfoy did not need to voice a threat to issue one.

Reminding herself of her precious research and decent life, abroad, in blissful peace, Hermione asked nervously, "But aren't you against everything I stand for?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is that you have the possibility to reform politics to your liking and I will be there to help you achieving your goals – whatever they are. If you bend, I'm willing to bend with you. If you turn, I'm willing to turn with you. This is my offer in exchange for my family's well being, for Draco's well being and every future descendant's of mine."

Hermione gave him an appraising look. "You of all people are willing to give up your treasured beliefs just to restore your reputation? Aren't you rich enough to just give a fig about it? Can't money buy you influence?" she asked provocatively.

"Do you think it's that easy?" Lucius Malfoy sneered. "Well, let me tell you, it isn't. Money can't buy you everything. It cannot protect my descendants from the humiliation of carrying a disrespectable name."

The Dark wizard went to the window and stared out, his hands folded behind his back. "None of my future grandchildren shall be ashamed for being a Malfoy…nor should my son. When I had joined the Dark Lord as a young wizard, I believed that the agenda he pursued would serve my goals, my family. It was a foolish notion, nurtured by the arrogance and impatience of youth. By the time I had realised the error of choosing to champion the Dark Lord, it was too late to back down. When the Dark Lord called, you had to obey or you died along with everything you kept dear."

His gaze shifted back to her and he continued with settled conviction, "Ideologies are made to serve men, not the other way round – not in my case…never again. But to clarify my position; I still believe in the superiority of wizards and witches over Muggles. However, I had to accept the plain truth that the era of pure-blood supremacy is over. Moreover, the zeitgeist of our world requires a new approach on handling things if we want the Wizarding world to survive and prosper, and I strongly believe you came to the same conclusion."

"Yes," Hermione said astonished and shifted uncomfortably, abashed and unsure what to make of his surprisingly honest sounding concession. Diving into the world of Muggles must have been quite a trip if it resulted in such a profound change of attitude. But she could not trust him. He was probably only saying those things to win sympathy-points and lure her into his trap.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said with patient determination, "Our world needs reforms and I want the Malfoys to be part of this new world. But we both know that no profound changes can be introduced as long the seats in the Wizengamot are occupied by wizards and witches who can't even spell the words 'nuclear bombs' – let alone know what they are, that they had been used, and in possession of mad Muggles who are just waiting for an excuse to drop them on their enemies. You do realise that?"

"I do," she said quietly, staring at him as if he were a stranger.

Hermione was checkmated. He played well. Lucius Malfoy pointed out all the problems and opportunities, the implication of his offer, choosing the right arguments to emphasise the ingenuity of the suggestion and its compatibility with her attitude. She was thorn between being angry and impressed by the convincing but manipulative nature of his reasoning, and his openly admitted caring for his son. Hermione desperately wanted to believe him wrong, knowing that he was right, already making her believe it to be stupid if turning him down, that whole kettle of experience and expertise that could be at her disposal. Refusing was losing and wrong, accepting was winning and right. It was simple as that. There was no point in denying it.

Of course, she could refuse him, but what would she gain by that? Nothing but more trouble. However, by accepting, Hermione would be able to maintain what was important to her and win what yet had to be won without betraying her beliefs.

And Lucius Malfoy wanted help. As sad as it was, people like him never learned how to simply ask for it. Their pride did not allow admitting that they suffered from injustice. But he was very well aware of Hermione's commitment to fight injustice. And by suggesting such a mutually beneficial agreement, both would be able to keep their face.

Damn him! She thought, exasperated. But she had made up her mind.

"Mister Malfoy," Hermione said calmly, "what assurance can you give me that you'll not precipitously turn against me someday? That you'll make other alliances to cross me?"

"None," he voiced smoothly, absentmindedly drawing something into the fogged-up window with his finger. "But why should I cross my protégée? If you don't give me a reason, you'll have nothing to fear."

"Protégée…" the witch murmured, letting the word roll over her tongue to test how it sounded, recalling the exact meaning of it. "So, you want to take me under your wing? You, the once so fervent follower and lieutenant of Lord Voldemort, offer me, a Muggle-born, a Mudblood, your patronage?"

"Yes, I do."

"But how am I sure you won't slip any information about this incident to the public one day?"

"It will be at my sole discretion," the wizard answered, "But there's nothing to gain if I would harm my own protégée. Therefore, I'm willing to hand you over the original files, if you manage to fulfil the first part of our agreement."

She could live with that. "And this…arrangement will be treated with the same discretion?"

"Naturally, but I wouldn't like to keep it a secret from my son," Lucius Malfoy said, to which she nodded slowly.

"But if you want me to believe that you're serious about this whole thing," Hermione said carefully, "I need more proof, more assurance."

Breathless silence dominated the air between the two. He knew exactly what she meant. And he did not approve.

"You are in no position to negotiate, Miss Granger," he said frostily.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Hermione whispered, said the name, and hit her mark.

Slowly, the wizard moved away from the window, resumed his seat, and studied her intently. Vigilant observers would have noted a slight unevenness in his breathing, an uncanny glistening in his eyes but to her surprise, he neither displayed hostility nor fear. No, Lucius Malfoy stared at her rather curiously, as if he had seen her for the very first time, and after for what seemed like an eternity, he finally inclined his head lightly.

Waves of adrenaline coursed through Hermione's veins. Slowly, as if approaching a dangerous animal, she drew closer to him, holding his gaze, took out her wand and drew a cut into her palm until the first drops of blood seeped out. There was a sharp intake of air. It did not come from her.

"My blood and yours," Hermione said expectantly and knelt before him, his wide-open eyes following her intently. "Your hand, if your really mean everything you just said."

The Dark wizard was breathing heavily but he did not wince as she cut him; he just stared at the blood gleaming in the same shade as hers.

Without further warning, Hermione pressed their palms together, mingling their blood.

"I hereby accept Lucius Malfoy's patronage and recognize you as my patron," she said with a quivering voice, capturing his gaze.

"I hereby take you, Hermione Granger, under my patronage and recognize you as my protégée," Lucius Malfoy added in the same manner.

Billows of magical energy jolted through their hands. Their blood pact was sealed.

Hermione really did it. She coaxed Lucius Malfoy to make a magical blood pact with her, a Mudblood, who was now literally under his protection.

A smile played her lips and to her surprise and utter displease, the Dark wizard returned her smile in the same manner.

How dare he to act so bloody smug!

"Mister Malfoy, don't offend me by thinking I'm oblivious to the fact that I'm just part of a bigger plot," she growled, "I might not yet know its content but I do know that it exists and I will find out sooner or later. And just so you know; I won't dance after your pipe like some stooge."

His smile turned into a smirk. "I know. I would have never taken you on if I found you dull."

She was not exactly sure if she should read it as a challenge or a compliment – probably both.

"You may now heal it – carefully," the wizard drawled and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Of course," she murmured slightly embarrassed and cleared her throat. "Just give me a moment."

The witch closed her eyes briefly to gather her concentration, laid her other hand on his, and breathed "Sanemur."

Lucius Malfoy's expression turned into astonishment as their wounds closed, his steely grey eyes glowing for a fraction of a second.

"Interesting spell…Durmstrang, I assume?" he said genuinely impressed and pulled her up.

Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath. "Yes" she admitted and averted her eyes, earning her a quiet chuckle and a gentle kiss on her hand.

"Pacts create undeniable intimacy. I think it appropriate to address each other by our given names from now on."

Hermione reddened and withdrew her hand, which still tingled where his lips had touched. "You should be careful not to spoil the meat of your prey with too many bullets…Lucius," she warned him.

"Hm…Trust me, Hermione, I know exactly how many bullets a lioness can bear."

"How do you possibly know how to use a firearm?"

"I am a man of many talents."

"Is that so? Well, then don't forget that it's the lioness which hunts the prey for its pride."

He arched an eyebrow. "How could I? I'm the one you hunt for now."

Half a bottle of Firewhisky later, Hermione was back in her room, leaning against the bathroom door, trembling, trying to cope with the anger simmering in her.

Lucius provided the ministry with the best intelligence on Lord Voldemort and his followers in exchange for his and Draco's freedom. But the ink on his release papers was not yet dry when the Ministry already broke their bargain by failing to protect him. He had been attacked right after the passing of judgement when he was collecting his scarce possessions in his cell. Hit Wizards had found him passed out on the floor with deep cuts on his back and without any recollection of what had happened, the guards stunned and obliviated in the same manner. As Lucius suffered from his first magical seizure, he chiefly assumed it was the result of some sort of stress disorder. Only after Narcissa had tried out some simple spells on him, did they realise he had been cursed. Unable to identify the exact spell, let alone break it, Lucius had no choice but to move out from his ancestral seat; it became too dangerous with all the magic it held. But the ministry denied his application to set up proper wards on the new house to keep him safe from Death Eaters on the run. Lucius was their bloody asset and they did not give a shit! Worse, certain members of the Wizengamot tried to overrule court sentences and sabotage investigations whenever the Auror Office pushed charges against ministry officials or their relatives Lucius named as Voldemort's followers. There were ongoing investigations against half of the members of the Wizengamot. Half! After six years, the ministry was still infested with that craven and opportunistic scum who had done Voldemort's bidding. It was a fucking travesty.

Hermione stared at the freshly healed cut on her palm. She was done with licking her wounds. It was time to lure the rats out of their holes.

Sanemur = We will be healed (lat.)

A/N II: I don't know how you feel like after reading this chapter but I got goosebumps from the tension between those two.