Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.
Holy crap, I'm back! I got lost on the New York subway system about FIVE TIMES, at which point I handed my boyfriend the map and put him in charge of navigation. Given that I am a bit of a navigation control freak, please imagine me doing this with a hint of CRAZY EYE. I digress.
Presenting: the chapter. Interesting to see what you were all guessing regarding the Weasley hint. All will be revealed! And yes, this was always part of the plan. I have a little extended Author's Note at the end of the chapter because I need your input on something, just a heads up. Vacation was sexy, but it's nice to be home! I have reliable internet here! xo
"The Weasley boy," Lucius echoed, keeping his tone even, careful not to give away the fact that he had no idea what Rodolphus was referring to.
"Yes, that little prank I played. Not that I had a choice, mind you! The boy had me cornered. Had to tell him something!"
"Of course," Lucius said smoothly. "And what exactly did you tell him?"
"Told him you killed that filthy sister of his, of course!" Rodolphus cackled. "Oh, you should have seen the look on his face. Said he would hunt you down, he did. Said he would make you pay."
"I see," said Lucius, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And you left it at that? No follow-up? Doesn't quite seem your style, Rodolphus."
Rodolphus grinned. "Fine, you've got me. Might've arranged to have a little Malectio potion slipped into his pints at the pub. I knew you wouldn't mind, Lucius. Just wanted to have a little fun. Not like the boy could really do much damage."
"Malectio? To impair judgement?"
"Correct," nodded the man. "He wouldn't have done anything interesting otherwise. Sense of duty and honour and all that nonsense. The boy is a Gryffindor, after all. Oh, but he did make some bad choices. It was endlessly entertaining."
"How interesting," said Lucius. How terribly unnecessary, he thought.
Ron Weasley. Hermione's former fiancé, one of a million Weasley children, best friend to Harry Potter (or former best friend, if the reports were true), and the person responsible for sabotaging Draco's life since the War. Suddenly, it all made sense. If Lucius had to guess, he would say that Ron had likely targeted Draco to harm the entire Malfoy clan; everyone knew that Draco was the only source of support for his parents. Would he have done it without the influence of the Malectio potion? Tough to say, but it was unlikely. That insidious substance acted a bit like a devil on one's shoulder... Always pushing the host to act on bad impulses. A drop here or there, and a well-meaning person became their own worst enemy. Ron had been fed the stuff for years.
It could certainly explain all his philandering. It could also explain the passive way the boy got his revenge - stretched over many years, secretive, death by a thousand paper cuts. Reluctant and vengeful all at once. Teaming up with Stacey McLorrow was a no-brainer - she had a long history of detesting the Malfoy family, stemming from her father's old rivalry with Lucius. Stacey and Draco were still children when Lucius outright refused to consider a future arranged marriage between the two. Old Duff McLorrow took it a bit too personally, but then again, it was personal. Lucius didn't want Duff's penchant for unpredictable rages and his baggage of bad debts poisoning the Malfoy line. Stacey had probably dealt with a lifetime of vitriol against the Malfoys ever since. Ron sold her information, at first, and then made her one of his many affairs as things progressed. Hurt Hermione, stupidly and carelessly, in the process.
If it weren't for Ron Weasley's interference over the years, the press wouldn't have gotten constant tips about Draco's activities. Draco's businesses might have survived. The public might have been a little more forgiving. He had been stoking the flames in a misguided attempt to hurt Lucius. He'd succeeded, and he'd nearly ruined the rest of the family in the process.
All because Rodolphus wanted to avoid being killed by someone who was grieving the loss of their sibling.
Lucius was not the sort of person who felt badly for people, but he did feel a twinge of pity for the Weasley boy. Revenge was a natural reaction to losing a loved one. Unfortunately, he was misinformed about who he should be targeting.
"Now that you mention it, Rodolphus, I'm not entirely sure I know how the Weasley girl died."
"I killed her, of course," he boasted. "She was trying to protect the Longbottom child. I wanted him dead too. Slit both their throats. These Gryffindors need to be controlled - can't let them keep running around free, Lucius. Blood traitors, the lot of them."
"Blood traitors," Lucius repeated, tapping his fingers against his lips. In the past, this sort of information wouldn't have phased him. He used to believe quite strongly in his superiority, his impeccable bloodline, the filthiness of Muggle-borns and their true place in society. But these last five years had done their work on him, and although he would probably always be proud of his family name, he had also been humbled by it.
In fact, it was clear that as long as people like Rodolphus existed, the newest member of his family would be in danger. Something growled in his chest at the thought. Nobody would touch a hair on her head, especially not this filth in front of him. Granted, she seemed more than capable of protecting herself, just like Narcissa, but it was the principle of the thing.
"Well, you've certainly been busy," Lucius said with a polite smile. "I have one last question, if you'll indulge me."
"And then you'll cut me down?" said Rodolphus, hopefully, swinging slightly by the invisible ropes. "I know you like to be cautious, but I can't be hanging around here all day, you understand. I have some business to attend to in the dungeons."
Lucius wondered vaguely what poor creature was down in those godforsaken cells. The whole place looked like Rodolphus used it as a spacious torture chamber. Bad form, really. Torture should be reserved for necessity, not for fun.
"Of course I will," Lucius lied. "Now about my question. I'm curious: what do you know about the disappearance of Hermione Granger's parents?"
Rodolphus's whole demeanor changed, his jovial expression turning into a twisted grimace, his entire face radiating with hatred. "Looking to punish that fucking whore for ensnaring your son? Can't say I blame you. Those Muggles need to be put to rest for raising such a worthless little know-it-all."
The look of serene calm on Lucius's face faltered, and he twitched and gritted his teeth before daring to speak. He would have to tread very carefully here lest he lose his cool and murder the cretin in front of him before he'd gotten the information he needed.
Information first. Murder after. A nice relaxing mantra to get through the rest of the encounter.
"Those are big words, Rodolphus. You seem quite angry about the Granger girl."
"She'll get what's coming to her," he snapped. "But it's her filthy parents I want hanged."
"They're just Muggles, Rodolphus," Lucius reasoned. "Why let them get under your skin? Aren't you... Above that?"
"Look what they did to me!" the man cried, jutting his mangled jaw out towards Lucius, saliva dripping out of his glistening mouth. "She'd hidden them, wiped their memories to keep them safe, but I found them. It could have been so easy. So easy." Rodolphus moaned, hanging his head, muttering under his breath.
"But something went wrong?" Lucius said, somewhat fascinated at the reaction two Muggles inspired in a man like Rodolphus.
"They were getting parts of their memories back by the time I found them. They knew the girl was in danger, that there was a War, that they were targets somehow. They were ready for me."
"Two Muggles. Two Muggles fought you off?"
"The girl had warded the place," he spat. "My magic didn't work there, but they had a weapon. A shotgun. Blew my jaw to pieces. Said if I ever came back, they'd do what was necessary."
Lucius's mouth dropped open. He'd always understood Hermione to have been somewhat of an anomaly in her quiet Muggle family, but it appears she came by her courage naturally. Weren't they tooth Healers? Sounded like a dangerous trade.
"I went back with support, but they were gone," he grumbled. "Checked all the neighbouring towns. I think I've narrowed down where they are. A place called Adelaide in Australia. Was going to go there next week and get my revenge." His face perked up then. "You should join me, Lucius! It will be like old times. Brothers in arms. We'll gut them like the animals they are." Another sick smile displaying a rotting mouth.
Lucius smiled with satisfaction. He had the name of a town. That was all he needed. Thank Merlin - he was quite tired of this damp hellhole. The stench really was abominable. Now what to do with this lump of flesh in front of him? A quick kill would be too good for him, which gave Lucius no shortage of ways to dispose of the body.
It was so nice to have options in one's line of work. Lucius made his choice, and then smiled contentedly.
"Alas, my dear Rodolphus, I have no desire to relive those old times," he said, taking out his wand and polishing it with the corner of his robe. "I'm somewhat reformed now, haven't you heard?"
"Rubbish rumour, I thought," said Rodolphus, eyeing Lucius's wand with suspicion.
"I'm afraid not," Lucius replied. "You know," he said, wistfully, "I can't complain. It's really been quite nice."
"Nice?" gaped Rodolphus. "You think it's nice to be a fading power in the world that is becoming overrun with Muggle-borns? Who will lead our world into the future, Lucius? Haven't you thought of that?"
"Of course," Lucius said, cheerfully. "And to answer your question, I think it's quite likely that my future daughter-in-law will be leading our world in due time. She's really very bright. Stubborn as a mule, but delightful overall."
"Your future dauther-in-law? Surely you don't mean that filthy, loudmouthed - "
Rodolphus stopped speaking abruptly, and Lucius was pointing his wand right at the man's face.
"I'll thank you not to insult her," he said, calmly. "Your manners are slipping, Rodolphus. Now the question is, of course, what to do with you, old chap. Can't really have you running about, threatening my family." A dark smile took over Lucius's face. "Tell me... Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die slowly from hours, nay, days of Cruciatus? I ask because I've discovered a brilliant way to keep the spell running without me having to be here. Isn't that wonderful?"
Rodolphus gurgled in pain. The spell had begun.
"It's really been lovely catching up with you," Lucius said, walking away from the convulsing man. "I'll give 'Cissa your best wishes, since she won't be seeing you ever again. I'm sure you would have wanted to say goodbye under more pleasant circumstances."
As Lucius left the old castle, he looked back and sent a quick spell over his shoulder. Down in the depths of the dungeons, all the locks opened.
Ugh. This Gryffindor honour nonsense was rubbing off on him. He'd have to get that looked at.
Now how on earth was he going to get to Australia?
Two days passed, and Draco went from bad to worse, eventually locking himself in his office and only coming out to use the loo.
"Mate, you need to eat," Blaise said, knocking at the door for the third time that day. "I've got a sandwich here for you."
"I don't want your fucking sandwich," came the muffled reply.
Blaise sighed. "You haven't eaten in a day and a half."
"Not hungry."
"Hermione will be upset if you fall ill from malnourishment," Blaise said, feeling only mildly guilty for pulling out the Hermione card. Draco was going to collapse if he didn't start eating soon. It wasn't like he was fabricating her eventual reaction. She'd go ballistic if she saw the state Draco was in. Two days and he looked like a zombie. What was he going to look like in a week?
The door creaked open.
"You're an arsehole," said Draco, quietly taking the sandwich out of Blaise's hands.
"An arsehole who loves you," said Blaise with a smirk. "Now eat. She will come back eventually."
"Don't fool yourself, Blaise. I'll probably be dead by then." The door clicked shut.
Blaise frowned. That was the second time in as many days that Draco had hinted at death. Perhaps it was time to bring in reinforcements. He strolled over to his desk and scribbled a note on some parchment, rolling it up and fastening it to his fastest express owl. "I know this is probably redundant, but be speedy, yeah?" he whispered to the bird.
It blinked at him, unimpressed, before taking off.
Blaise watched it leave, hoping that Harry would understand the urgency behind his messy cursive.
Potter. Time to leave the farm. Bit of a situation here. Make haste! BZ
"Hold on... Malfoy and Hermione are soul mates?" coughed Harry as he choked on his Butterbeer. He had arrived in England only minutes earlier after getting a rather cryptic note from Blaise, and rushed to London in record time expecting the worst. Now they were at a local pub and Blaise was trying to explain what had happened since Harry left the previous week.
Quite a lot had happened, as it turned out. It wasn't exactly the worst, but it was completely fucking weird.
"Yeah, cosmically fated and everything," said Blaise, signalling to the bartender to bring more alcohol. "Apparently it progresses quite fast. Draco's totally lovestruck."
"Draco. Draco Malfoy. Lovestruck over Hermione."
"Having trouble believing it?" Blaise grinned.
"Fuck yes," Harry said, running his hand through his already-messy hair. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm doubtful Malfoy could be lovestruck over anyone, but Hermione? They used to hate each other!"
Blaise leaned in with a whisper. "He's been talking about writing poetry."
"Oh, Jesus."
"Exactly," Blaise nodded. "It's serious. And apparently Hermione was starting to show the same symptoms before she ran off."
"What, she was feeling poetic?"
"No, she nearly killed Stacey McLorrow because she threatened Draco, among other things."
"Ah. Yes, I suppose that is a bit extreme, especially for Hermione."
"But the problem is that Hermione is as stubborn - "
"As a mule. I see your concern. You're worried that even if she's falling for him, she won't allow herself to admit it, or act on it, at least."
"Which would be stupid, but not impossible. They would both suffer. Draco's already feeling physical pain from being separated."
"Physical pain? Merlin's beard! I wonder what Hermione's feeling then."
"Probably something similar. Sounds bloody intense, if you ask me. You know her hair is changing colour?"
"Excuse me?"
"It's going platinum, like Drake's."
"You're not serious."
"'Fraid so."
"Good Lord." Harry stared at his Butterbeer, turning all the information over in his mind. It sounded insane, completely ludicrous, but Blaise wouldn't have called him all the way here over nothing. Even more unbelievable was Blaise's assertion that the elder Malfoys were actually ready to accept Hermione into the family. After all, if Blaise was correct, they were extremely familiar with the effects of this trait, and they probably knew there was no fighting it.
Apparently Hermione hadn't been given the memo. She was going to fight this thing every step of the way.
Why was Harry not surprised?
"So Hermione is missing, we have no idea where she is, and we're just patiently waiting for her to come back so Malfoy doesn't die of heartbreak or something?" Harry asked.
"That's about right," said Blaise. "Draco hired a private Auror to try and find her, quietly, of course, given her request, but there's no trace of her."
"Of course there isn't," Harry scoffed. "If Hermione doesn't want to be found, she's not going to be found. Knows how to disappear better than most."
"I've got no doubt."
"And the Malfoys aren't going to intervene? If you're right about this, Hermione is their... Their... Future daughter-in-law. Wow, that sounds completely barmy."
"Doesn't it? But Lucius is off on some undisclosed mission, and Narcissa apparently feels so guilty for intervening the first time that she's insisting things resolve themselves naturally. She doesn't want to scare Hermione off again. I guess she didn't anticipate Hermione's reaction."
"Because who wouldn't want to be a Malfoy, right?" Harry said, dryly.
"They are pretty proud of the family name," Blaise shrugged.
"Hermione was tortured while they watched!"
"I'm not arguing, I'm just saying that they don't think of these things the same way as we do."
"Fine," Harry sighed. "But just waiting for Hermione to come back is a terrible idea. She'll hold out beyond the point of reason, and they are both suffering in the meantime. If what you tell me about Draco is true - "
"He's barely eating. Won't leave the office. I think he might actually hurt himself."
"Well, we obviously don't want Draco to reach that point. Besides, on a practical note, Hermione would murder us all if we let him come to any harm."
"Exactly," Blaise smiled. "I'm glad we're of the same mind." He cleared his throat in an official manner to signal that he was about to let Harry in on a devious plan. "Harry, I'd like to let you in on a devious plan."
Harry looked surprised, but then leaned in, curious. "I'm all ears," he said.
"The way I see it, if we leave Hermione to come back on her own, we could be waiting ages. They will both be in danger if we let that happen. I say we give it until the end of the week maximum and then entice her back."
"Entice her how?"
Blaise whispered something in Harry's ear, and Harry's eyes lit up.
"What do you think?" asked Blaise. "Do you think it would work?"
"Blaise, it's dirty, conniving and completely sleazy."
"That's not what I asked," Blaise sniffed.
"Of course it will work."
"And you don't mind being party to something so... Underhanded?"
"Are you kidding?" Harry grinned. "I'm not sure how we haven't become friends sooner."
AN: I've written this story to end in a few chapters, which means there are many things you have all expressed an interest in that won't get a lot of page time to be explained. With that in mind, I am considering adjusting the ending and writing you a sequel. That will let me flesh out some sub-plots that currently only exist in my brain, and will also allow me sufficient Smut Time (capitalized because it's important). Question is: does that appeal? Writing takes an assload of time, so I want to make sure I'm investing it where you've got a real interest. Otherwise I can wrap this puppy up and move onto something completely different. Talk to me.