Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

I'm away on vacation! Let's hope to fuck this thing posts! Peeps, I'm not gonna lie... My internet access is INCREDIBLY sporadic and will be until Monday. Just a warning that I may not be able to put up a new chapter until then. :(

This chapter: we fall a little more in love with Draco (did you know that was even possible?) and we all bow down to Lucius's badassery. The ending might also give you something to think about if I am without internet for the next few days. OH YES I DID. xo

"Mate, you're losing me," Blaise said, topping up Draco's glass of Firewhiskey. "Granger was popping pills?"

He winced as pain radiated along his cheekbone where Stacey McLorrow had knocked him out several hours prior. Apparently he had told her Hermione's location in some sort of dazed stupor. The day had been increasingly fucked up ever since.

"For years," Draco slurred, his eyes red and drooping.

They had been drinking together nearly all day, from the moment he returned from the disastrous lunch to now, when it was nearing dinnertime. At first, Draco had remained tight-lipped about the situation, insisting that he and Hermione had simply gotten into a fight and she had decided to take the rest of the day off. Now though, he was completely sloshed and his chest was starting to ache with the knowledge that Hermione was somewhere far away, confused and angry. The details were sliding out in jagged shards. Blaise, for his part, was trying his best to understand.

"Okay," Blaise said. "Let me get this straight. She got addicted after the War to cope with all the shite she had to deal with – "

"Her parents disappearing, the Weasel's infidelity, all the expectations she felt she had to live up to – "

"Right, and she hid it from everyone – "

"Not even Potter knew!" Draco exclaimed, shaking his hand for emphasis and managing to cover his feet in alcohol. "Not even Potter!"

"Right," said Blaise, being as patient as he could with Draco's drunken interruptions, given that his friend looked more upset than he had ever seen him. "So she had this big secret, because frankly, nobody would ever guess that Gryffindor's princess would be some sort of closeted addict, but you found out when you took her to the hospital – "

"And she didn't want me to tell."

"And you hired her, started to fall for her, and then found out that this wasn't your typical crush – "

"It was never just a crush!" Draco yelled to the room in general. "That witch got under my skin! It was like magic," he added, a little dimly.

" - Beat the snot out of Weasley - "

"Not sorry about that, the fucking tosser."

" – Learned more about this Malfoy trait thing, your parents got a little too enthusiastic – "

"To be fair, it was the portrait's fault."

"Your mum in the meantime had cured Hermione of the drug problem – "

"Disastrously clever woman, my mother – "

"But Hermione took the news about her apparent destiny badly - "

"Wouldn't you?"

"Ran off in a huff and told you not to look for her."

Draco nodded, his eyes glassy with booze or tears, Blaise wasn't sure.

"I'm not even sure what to tell you," Blaise said, watching his friend sink deeper and deeper into misery with every second that went by. "She's really your mate? Like, your destined partner? For life?"

"Apparently."

"And you believe this to be the truth?"

"Do you think I would care otherwise? Do you think I would be feeling like this?" He gestured wildly for emphasis and Firewhiskey dribbled down his wrist.

"Probably not," Blaise conceded.

Draco polished off his glass and glared at the empty cup, motioning for Blaise to give him a refill. "This is the part where you tell me I'm completely fucked."

"Why's that?" Blaise said.

"Because a large part of her drug problem came from feeling out of control, feeling like her life was being dictated for her. She said she never wanted to feel that way again. Now she's wrapped up in something that involves her destiny, of all things."

"Ah."

"Also, she's more stubborn than – "

"Than a bloody mule, I know."

"So this is the part where you tell me – "

"You're fucked."

"Thank you."

"How do your parents feel about this?"

"Surprisingly awful," Draco slurred. "My mother actually feels guilty, if you can believe it. My mother. I didn't think she was capable of that particular emotion. Seemed to adore Hermione, which is interesting because of, well, you know."

"Because of her absolutely drastic about-face of her views on Muggle-borns? And that whole torture thing?"

"Exactly. And my father seemed unconvinced at first, but now that he believes it, he's on some crazed mission to make things right."

"And how is he planning on doing that?"

"I haven't the faintest," Draco shrugged. "Just told us that he was going to change the family to suit Hermione."

Blaise shook his head in disbelief. "I never, ever expected to hear your father say something like that about Hermione Granger. Has the world gone mad?"

"Right? Right. He seemed to be annoyed with her assertion that Malfoys lack compassion."

"But you do! All of you! It's a fact of life! You dislike everyone."

"Trust me, I know. But my father wants to show Hermione that we can be different or something. Maybe then the idea of being one of us won't freak her out so much. Don't know why he cares, honestly. I thought he hated her out of principle."

"Drake, I'm sorry, but this can't end well. Your father is the least compassionate, least cuddly, least empathetic man I know. And I don't mean that in an offensive way."

"No offence taken. It's always been a point of pride for him. I haven't a clue what he's got planned."

"Maybe he's going to hug a Ravenclaw."

"Kiss a Gryffindor."

"Help a Hufflepuff."

"Frankly, to win Granger, he'd have to snuggle a house elf."

They both snickered at the mental image of Lucius engaging in an affectionate embrace with one of his servants. Draco stopped snickering as abruptly as he started, looking forlornly into his glass.

"I can't fucking believe this is happening to me," he said. "I'm not supposed to feel things like this. I'm a Malfoy for Merlin's sake. I always figured I'd have an arranged marriage for business purposes or something with one of those frigid Pureblooded women. Hermione's nothing like that. She's a hot-blooded menace. She probably thinks marriage is a tool of the patriarchy."

Blaise snorted with amusement. "I can't believe it either. The universe has a totally perverse sense of humour, matching you with a woman like Hermione."

"What do you mean, a woman like Hermione?" Draco said, somewhat defensively.

"I mean you two are like fire and ice. I can see the attraction, actually, and I think I understand how you two work. You either hate each other with everything you have, or you love each other with everything you have. There's almost no in between."

"Except right now," Draco said.

"Well, right now you're both falling in love, apparently."

"I meant for her. I'm already there," he mumbled.

"Really? Since when did you decide that?"

"Just now," Draco said, his voice wobbly. "I love her so much I feel like vomiting."

"That might also be the booze," Blaise said.

"Don't belittle my feelings," Draco replied. "This feels too inconvenient not to be love. I've turned into a complete sap. I could write a fucking poem about it."

"Oh Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd reached the point of poetry."

"I need her to come back."

"She will, mate. I just don't know when."

"That's not good enough. I asked her on a date. She owes me an answer."

"I'm sure she'll go on a date with you."

"But what if she doesn't? I could take her on the best date, you know. Several, even. And what if she doesn't fall in love with me?"

"I thought that wasn't an option with this Gregales thing," said Blaise, trying very hard to keep a straight face over Draco's ramblings. He had never seen the man dissolve so dramatically over a girl before.

"With my luck, maybe it is!" Draco said, looking panicked. "With my luck she'll find me so repulsive that she'd sooner die than date me! Oh my God Blaise… What if she dies?"

"Drake, listen to me," Blaise said, firmly. "You need to calm down. I've been watching you and Hermione interact and I can tell you definitively that she returns your feelings. I just don't think she's quite come to terms with it yet. She's had a lot going on. Maybe being apart from you will help her see things more clearly."

"Really?" Draco said, looking up with the slightest hint of hope in his eyes.

"Yes, really. She just needs a few days to cool off. Maybe your father's secret mission will speed things up."

"All I can say is that he'd better be doing more than hugging a house elf," Draco sniffed. "He's got the world's angriest Gryffindor on his hands. It's got to be a genuine gesture or she won't even bat an eye."

"I'm sure he's doing his best," Blaise said, quietly wondering what on earth Lucius Malfoy was planning.

Lucius dismounted his broom silently, shrinking it down to fit into the pocket of his black robe. His long hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail for travel – four hours of flying to reach this miserable, remote castle undetected seemed abominably stupid, but apparition would trigger the wards and nobody in their right mind would grant a portkey to this godforsaken place. Rodolphus Lestrange had gotten crazier and more violent over the years, and most people were just happy to leave him on the "missing" list. Nobody wanted to know that he had made it out of the War alive.

Unfortunately, he did, which meant that there was good reason to be cautious. The man was a monster, and Lucius knew all about those. The element of surprise was a necessity. His former colleague could not be awarded even a second of prep time.

Hence the plan.

On foot, Lucius would be able to walk up the rugged stone path that wound through the snarled trees and dumped out at the side door without alerting anyone to his presence. He wanted those precious few minutes to prepare himself. Rodolphus, after all, was more than a former brother-in-law. He was a Death Eater who had been truly consumed by the hate he preached so passionately. Hate was something Lucius understood, used when convenient, and worked to his advantage, but Rodolphus had bought the whole package and jumped in head first. Misery was not a tool to him; it was something he thrived on.

Perhaps it was not surprising then that he also made more people disappear than the Dark Lord's entire army combined. Something about the thrill of erasing someone's existence that called to him. It's a detail about the man that Lucius never forgot, and when Draco had mentioned that Hermione's parents vanished sometime during the War, he had a sudden itching feeling that Rodolphus was behind it somehow. The man was a sneak and a liar, and he loved to watch the fallout of his actions as the years went by. It's what kept him going. Stealing the parents of a famous War heroine would be like a feather in his cap.

The stone pathway was slippery and uneven, but Lucius walked the length of it like a king, majestic and elegant, and completely unrushed. Even when he and Narcissa were at the point of starvation, he never let his image falter. Pride was a powerful thing, and it governed him, he knew. There was no point in denying it. Lucius also knew that the world saw him as cold and self-obsessed, and they were partially correct. Malfoys were cold people by nature. It wasn't an insult; it was a fact. They didn't waste energy on little earthquakes. They were too busy orchestrating the storm.

But he wasn't self-obsessed, not exactly. He was obsessed with the very few people he cared about in the world. No matter how it might seem on the outside, he would do absolutely anything for them. He would beg. He would kill. He would let others beg to be killed if they had the misfortune to cross him. It was all the same, wasn't it? Death and such. As long as the people he loved were safe, he made no bones about his actions.

The universe knew this about Lucius. The universe also knew he was a man who had done some very bad things. That, he decided, must be the reason his son had been bonded with Hermione Granger. To humble him. To teach him how to swallow his pride for once and make an effort for an outsider.

Well, someone who used to be an outsider. Lucius could tell the bond was genuine because he was already growing fond of the girl. She was brilliant and feisty and just a little damaged, the way all Malfoy women were. If she ever came back, she would probably be the perfect partner for his son, and Lord knew his son had fallen hard. Narcissa had been right, as she usually was. Therefore, if his future daughter-in-law needed to be shown that Malfoys weren't always uncaring, it would be done. It was a fucking inconvenience, but she was kin, and he couldn't really blame her, anyway. He would probably never live down that whole torture debacle. How embarrassing.

So here he was at miserable castle in God knows where to set things straight. This was his good deed. There would be no overtures of regret, no convincing and sweet talking, no Gryffindor honour. This was a Slytherin operation through and through. Lucius was a noted psychopath in the home of another noted psychopath, and he may well have to kill someone to get the information he wanted.

He'd just have to leave out any mention of murder when he related the story to Hermione. The idea didn't seem to resonate with her the way it did with him. She was a little odd that way.

The side door came into view and Lucius sucked in a deep breath. Out went his thoughts of Narcissa. Out went his thoughts of Draco, of Hermione, of the Manor. This was war. Focus was of utmost importance if he was to get out safely.

A silent spell flitted across his mind, and the small door opened. Lucius smirked darkly. Goodness, Rodolphus was slipping in his old age. His security was positively flimsy. Well, to a Malfoy, at any rate. Lucius ducked inside. The layout was exactly as he remembered it, but the smell had gotten worse. It was as though Rodolphus had been leaving bodies to rot in here.

Ah, Lucius thought, scrunching his nose with distaste. That was probably exactly what the stench was. Hopefully Hermione's family had been spared, otherwise this mission was about to go very wrong.

He stretched out his mind and tried to locate the presence of his target. Something was moving in the west part of the building. He sped up, wanting to get there before Rodolphus had the good sense to do a quick sweep of the castle. Time was of the essence. This was to be a quick mission - no dallying about.

When he finally approached the room where Rodolphus sat, reclined with his back to Lucius, lazily throwing daggers at the wall, Lucius allowed himself a small smile. His planning had paid off. It had been a while since he had been able to use his carefully-honed skills to extract information from someone. After all, Lucius's skill with a wand was legendary. This could actually be quite enjoyable.

Time to see if he still had the touch.

In one move, he had disarmed the man. A second restrained him invisibly and hung him in mid-air. A third cleared the room of traps and harmful spells, sharp snapping sounds echoing as the more dangerous ones broke. Lucius performed each move so quickly that Rodolphus barely had time to blink his leaking, bloodshot eyes, grunting as his feet dangled above the ground.

Ah yes. Still had it.

"Greetings, old friend," Lucius said, pocketing the man's wand and strolling towards him with a cordial smile. "Sorry for the intrusion, but I just happened to be in the area." He eyed Rodolphus carefully for a reaction and tried not to show his revulsion. Rotten teeth, overgrown and matted hair, unwashed skin, and the eyes of a lunatic. His jaw was deformed and badly scarred in some sort of accident that clearly didn't heal properly. Combined with the smell and the clear sight of dried blood on the floors, walls and rusting steel chandelier made Lucius thankful he wasn't staying long. Rodolphus was disintegrating into his own filth.

Those bloodshot eyes, however, were shining with glee.

"Lucius!" shouted the man with a cackle. "You're still as quick as ever. Didn't even hear you arrive."

"It's good to keep up one's skills," said Lucius. "I trust you've been been well?"

"Oh yes," rasped the man. "I find ways to keep myself busy."

Lucius eyed the blood stains again and nodded. "So I see."

"How's that beautiful wife of yours?" he leered. "Heard about your son, too. Such a shame he's become such an embarrassment, wouldn't you say?"

Anger nibbled at the edge of Lucius's mind, but he refused to give in to the taunting. He had expected this. Rodolphus had always been extremely predictable, always hating Draco, always salivating after Narcissa.

"I'd love to chat old chap, really, but I'm in a bit of a rush," he said, cutting him short. "Just came for some information, I'm afraid."

"Ah, I have a feeling I know why you're here," chuckled the man, seeming unperturbed at the fact that he was hanging from the ceiling with no hope of getting down.

"Really?" said Lucius strolling a bit closer, examining the veritable carcass in front of him. "Enlighten me, please."

Rodolphus met his eyes and smiled widely with all his blackened teeth on display.

"You've finally caught on about the Weasley boy."

Lucius frowned. Perhaps this mission was more complicated than he thought.