HOUSE OF CARDS.
OCTOBER 31, 1997.
Four days after they made camp in an obscure part of the Forest of Dean, they were forced to relocate to a different place.
Hermione thought it would take at least a week before the Death Eaters or Aurors would find them, but she had severely underestimated how badly their foes wanted to catch them.
She was woken up by a frantic Harry in the middle of the night, telling them to quickly pack up their things, that he had spotted snatchers nearby while he was taking watch by the tent's entrance. Ginny groggily suggested that he might just be imagining things, that it was likely the hunger they all felt that made him think he saw something, but when they all heard the voices and the footsteps, any reservations they had about Harry's imaginations were immediately put to rest.
They waited until the snatchers were a good distance away from them before Ginny shrank back the tent while Hermione dismantled the wards and Lucius removed any traces of their presence in the area. Harry meanwhile kept a close eye on the surroundings. Everything was done in less than a minute. A second longer and they would risk getting spotted by someone else.
And then Hermione apparated them to another location but this time, they were near a small Muggle village. But two days later, they were forced to flee again when dementors descended upon the village.
And thus began their dance with the devil that was hunting them.
They decided to never stay more than two days in the same location, opting to leave at the break of dawn when people were still likely to be in their beds. Even Death Eaters need to sleep, right?
It continued like that for three weeks. The exhaustion from having to pack up and leave to setting up camp again along with the necessary protection spells was taking its toll on them. Harry became even more irascible while Lucius wasn't holding back with his petty taunts and insults anymore. Hermione's temper perhaps became a little bit shorter, and her silences were rather dour. Even Ginny, the usual levelheaded one in the group had become prone to bouts of anger as well especially when everyone was acting downright unpleasant.
By the third week of barely surviving on berries and edible mushrooms, Hermione decided to solve the problem of hunger first.
They managed to find a far-flung field belonging to a lonely farm but all it had were a few eggs and some stale bread that was likely beginning to grow mold. Despite Hermione's compunctions about stealing someone else's food, they still took it back to their tent. She swore that she would pay them back twice when this war was over. If I managed to live till the end of it, she grimly thought.
They found it easier to relax and sleep that night when their stomachs were well-fed. The niggling voices in the back of her mind were reduced to inaudible whispers. Even Harry and Lucius got along well, throwing out harmless barbs as they took turns watching the tent during the night.
The four of them had gotten used to having access to food during their early months on the run so this was their first encounter with the fact that a full stomach meant good spirits while an empty one would lead to arguments and an uncomfortable gloom settling around them.
Harry was the one who bore the hunger reasonably well during those days despite being a tad bit more irritable than his usual self. Hermione surmised that it was because he continuously suffered periods of starvation at the Dursleys.
They were on their second night and tomorrow morning, they would pack up again and leave for someplace else. There were still a couple of eggs and stale bread left for them to eat tomorrow and then it was back to eating berries and edible fungi. Hermione made a mark on her map of their current location.
"You could form a constellation on that," Harry remarked, his index finger connecting the little dots on the map as if a constellation would really pop out. Hermione stared at him before releasing a sigh she'd been holding back.
"I don't know how long we can keep doing this, Harry," Hermione confided. Ginny was outside taking the first round of guarding them for the night while Lucius was on the other side of the room, cleaning and packing up the rest of their things. "We are more likely to die of hunger rather than be killed by the Death Eaters. Between the two, I don't know which death I prefer more."
Harry winced at her words. "Don't think like that, 'Mione."
His index finger left the map and then proceeded to slip it under Hermione's collar, tugging the locket chained around her neck. "It's the locket affecting your mind. Take it off. It's time for me to wear it anyway."
Contrary to what Harry said, she didn't feel any lighter even after taking the locket off her. Instead, a more foreboding feeling crept upon her as she lay at the bottom of the bunk bed.
Winter was slowly replacing autumn over the countryside as they moved to another place. They pitched their tent on mulches of fallen leaves. Natural mists that joined those cast by the dementors added to their troubles, making it harder for them to watch out for intruders at night.
They were by a riverbank in Wales. Harry managed to catch a couple of pikes for food and together with the eggs and bread, they would not be suffering from hunger for two days at the most. The thought comforted Hermione but not enough to the point where that ill foreboding feeling she felt had completely vanished.
It was the day of Samhain, one of the most important festivals in the magical world. One where the barriers between the physical world and the spirit world would break down, allowing more interaction between humans and denizens of the Otherworld.
Hermione had not experienced yet how typical wizarding families celebrated it. Back in Hogwarts, some of the pureblood students would make offerings of food for the gods by the fireplace, and some like Luna Lovegood, would perform dance rituals around a bonfire in honor of their deceased ancestors. There were others though, like the Malfoys. She remembered clearly what Lucius said to her before.
There was a Samhain tradition the Pureblood families used to do. When the head of the house was finally transferred to the youngest heir, the oldest—in most cases it's usually the grandfather—would offer his remaining mortality to the gods and his magic to the new heir for strength and protection of the young family.
Perhaps it was naïve and rude of her to tell him that she found the ritual barbaric. Thinking about it now, she somewhat understood its significance, especially to families like the Malfoys. And perhaps if she was born into a wizarding family as well, she might've come to hold it in high regard as Lucius did. It was, after all, no different from a person giving up his life to save someone he loved.
"A berry for your thoughts?" Lucius said as he stood next to her. He was helping her scour the bushes for anything edible they could find. All they managed to get were a handful of elderberries.
"I was just thinking about Samhain," she replied. "And how I never really get to celebrate it the magical way."
He tilted his head to the side, studying her. The two of them never managed to talk more after that night outside the tent when he sat beside her. They were more concerned about the state of their supplies—or lack thereof—rather than bringing up their childhood experiences.
"How do Muggles usually celebrate Samhain?" he then asked. Hermione noticed how the word 'Muggle' easily slipped past his lips these days. No revulsion. Nothing. Or maybe he had become good at hiding it now?
"They call it Halloween nowadays," Hermione plucked a piece of elderberry and placed it inside the pouch she was holding before continuing. "Children would dress up in costumes and go trick-or-treating around the neighborhood. Although I think there are muggles who still traditionally celebrate Samhain by building altars and offering food."
"Trick or treat?"
"It's when someone in costume comes knocking on your door and they would give you the option of trick or treat. If you don't want them to play tricks or pranks on you, you would hand over a handful of treats for them like chocolates or candies."
"Sounds troublesome," he said.
"Not really," she smiled. "It is mostly the little kids accompanied by their parents who knock on doors."
"Did you participate in it?" Lucius asked. Hermione noted the amusement in his tone.
"I did for a few years," she said, remembering how her mum and dad would accompany her to the other houses across the street although she wasn't allowed to eat all the candies she got from them. "I quickly grew out of it."
They both went back to picking berries until they were sure that they had all they could find. As they headed back to the tent, Lucius spoke.
"That is one muggle tradition I would not mind doing with Draco."
Hermione looked up, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, imagining the two Malfoys in costumes going house to house, but the smile immediately died down when she saw the look on Lucius' face. They had not talked about his son in a while, the last time they did was when they were still hiding in her parents' house. Draco should be fine as long as he stayed with the Lupins but Hermione was cut off from what was happening in the magical world for a while now so she could not ascertain his status.
What if something had happened to him? What about her vow? Would that affect it?
"I'll keep the end of my oath," it was the only thing she could promise Lucius. "You'll see Draco."
"I know you will," he said, not glancing in her direction. "That is not what I am worried about."
They finally reached the tent. Hermione wanted to ask what it was he was worried about, but Lucius quickly entered inside, putting a good distance between them.
That image of him walking away from her never left her mind.
Harry prodded moodily at the lumps of charred pike on his tin plate. Now and then he would feel despondent whenever his mind would drift to the broken wand tucked inside his pouch. There was no one to blame but himself, he knew that, and that was what made it worse. He found out that guilt and anger were emotions that went hand in hand, and it was a horrible feeling especially if the root of those two things was none other than yourself.
He tried not to let it affect him but there were instances where he would snap and say something harsh especially when it was his time to wear the locket that was hanging around his neck as of this moment.
Three weeks of running from one place to another. He had begun to feel anxious about sudden sounds like the cracking of branches or the rustling of leaves would send him into a frenzy. Was this how Alastor Moody always felt before? He looked up to see Malfoy in a similar gloomy state. He was fine a while ago before he and Hermione went outside to pick some edibles. He even made fun of the fish that Harry caught. He didn't want to give it much thought since they had bigger problems to think about but as the days went on, he started noticing things, particularly the way Hermione acted around Lucius.
It was as if something had happened or changed between them, but Harry couldn't put a name to it. He glanced at Ginny, hoping she also noticed it, but she was focused on her food.
Someone cleared their throat. Harry looked around and saw it was Hermione. She had set her plate aside and was looking at them expectantly.
"I think we should go to Malfoy Manor," she said and everyone in the tent froze. The way Ginny was looking at Hermione, it was as if the latter had announced that she hated studying.
"W-What—" Harry stammered. It came as a surprise, but he had already half-expected it. "Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded. "The chances of finding a Horcrux or at the very least a clue about it there would be higher. We don't know the state Hogwarts is currently in. It could be surrounded by Death Eaters and Dementors. At least in Malfoy Manor, we have Lucius as our guide."
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Lucius. "Unless he betrays us."
"I have that unbreakable vow with Hermione," Lucius returned the stare. "Until I have my son safe with me, rest assured that I will not do anything that will put everyone in this tent in harm's way. If you cannot trust me or my words, then trust the vow, Ginevra."
Ginny looked away.
"But how are you even going to get us inside?" Harry asked. The prospect of venturing into an enemy territory filled him with dread but at the same time, having progress no matter how risky it was, was enormously better than what they were doing now—which was nothing.
"Truthfully, it will be difficult to cross you through the wards," Lucius sighed as he pushed his now empty plate beside Hermione's. "I was forced to add the Dark Lord to the wards, enabling him to come and go as he pleased. It also provided him the ability to know when an intruder passes through the wards."
"Is there any other way?" Hermione asked. "Like a secret passageway we could go to?"
"It does not matter if there is," he replied. "He would know once you stepped inside the property. And if you did not enter through the gates, he would assume you are an intruder. Unless…"
"Unless what?" Harry urged him. Lucius pinched his chin in contemplation.
"Ancestral wards are meant to protect families. It can be dismantled by anyone strong enough to do so but they cannot alter its conditions. Only the current head of the house can do it," he explained. "When a person marries into the family, that person will be added into the wards as is the case with my wife."
"So, she will also know if someone has crossed the wards," it was Ginny who spoke.
The elder Malfoy nodded. "Narcissa is alerted when someone outside of the family enters the property only if she is inside herself while I on the other hand would know even if I'm not there. The downside is I wouldn't know who."
"Do you feel it now? While we are here?" Hermione asked.
"I do but it is hard to keep track when your house is turned into some sort of a command post," he said, his tone annoyed. "Although I might be able to know how many people are inside if I managed to make contact with the wards."
"So, you're saying that we will be able to sneak inside only if the Dark Lord isn't in the Manor?" Ginny clarified. "And that the only other person who will be alerted is your wife? How do we know she will not turn us over to You-Know-Who?"
"Because Narcissa despises him as much as you do."
"Why? Isn't she like a devoted supporter of him?"
"She was," Lucius corrected then a pained expression crossed his features. "Until the Dark Lord tried to kill Draco."
"What?!" the other three said in unison.
"When I was sent to Azkaban for failing to get that prophecy, the Dark Lord decided to punish me by sending Draco out on a mission."
Harry's eyes widened. The memory came unbidden. Draco's words rang in his mind. I have to do it. I have to kill you. Or he'll kill me. He'll kill my whole family!
"You-Know-Who ordered Draco to kill Dumbledore, didn't he?" Harry asked. "That was the mission?"
Lucius nodded and Harry noticed his fists shaking. "But the Dark Lord did not care whether my son succeeded with the mission or not. He just wants Draco to get killed in the process."
"It was Snape who killed Dumbledore in the end," Harry hissed. "That bloody coward! Dumbledore trusted him and this is what he repaid him in return. By point blank hitting him with a killing curse even though Dumbledore begged him not to!"
"Harry," Ginny tried to calm him down by reaching for his hand but he jerked away.
Despite what he had recently found out about the former Headmaster, Harry owed a lot of things to him and had looked up to Dumbledore as some sort of a father figure even before Sirius came into his life. Harry can still recall that moment with perfect clarity, the day Dumbledore fell off the Astronomy Tower. It had haunted him that he was unable to do anything about it.
"If Severus did not do it, then someone else will," Lucius said. "At the very least, he gave Dumbledore a quick and painless death. If that were the Alecto siblings or worse, Bellatrix, I do not know what sort of horror they would do to him."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" he snapped. "Of course, you would defend that slimy git. You're his friend."
"I will not justify what Severus did," Lucius met his stare head-on. "But I owe him for sparing my son from the guilt that comes from taking a life. I know my son and perhaps you know that too since you were there that day. He is not like me. He is not a killer."
Ginny reached out again and held his hand, but Harry didn't turn away this time. He took comfort in it, letting the warmth from her hand reach his heart.
"Snape will pay for what he did, Harry, but right now we need to focus," she said. "Let it go for now."
"I don't want to sound flippant, but we're getting off track," Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly then looked at Lucius. "Your plan sounds solid but there's just one little detail we haven't addressed yet. You-Know-Who. How in the bloody hell are we going to make him leave Malfoy Manor?"
Harry didn't get the chance to hear Lucius' answer because a split second later after Hermione had finished her question, he was on the floor as if his scar was lit on fire. Sweat continued to trickle down his temples and he could barely make out what was happening around him or the one in his vision.
Give it to me Gregorovitch.
The voice was high, clear, and cold and his wand was held in front of him by a long-fingered white hand. A hand that was all too familiar to Harry. The man held at wand point was suspended upside down in midair, though no ropes were holding him. He had pure-white hair and a thick, bushy beard. His terror-stricken face, ruddy due to the blood that had rushed to his head, was on a level with Harry's vision.
I do not have it! It was taken from me many years ago, please! Someone stole it from me!
Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows, he always knows.
And then the hanging man's pupils were wide, dilated with fear and they seemed to swell, bigger and bigger until the blackness swallowed Harry whole, and then Harry knew that he had entered the old man's mind.
He was hurrying along a dark corridor, following a rushing Gregorovitch as he held a lantern aloft. They burst into what looked like a workshop—wood shavings and gold gleamed in the swinging pool of light. And then there on the window ledge sat perched like a giant bird, a young man with golden hair. The moment the lantern's light illuminated him, Harry saw the delight upon his handsome face as he fired a Stunning Spell from his wand and jumped off the window ledge with a crow of laughter.
The memory was cut off from there as Harry was yanked back to Gregorovitch's fearful face.
Who was the thief, Gregorovitch?
I do not know, I never knew him—no, please! I swear on my magic—PLEASE!
His screams echoed the entire room and it continued on and on.
Harry!
Then a burst of green light—
"Harry!"
Harry opened his eyes, panting, his forehead throbbing. He was sitting on the floor; half of his body was cradled by Ginny. He looked up at Hermione, whose face was just as terror-stricken as the old man in his vision.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" came her angry voice. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?! If you just learned to apply Occlumency—"
But Harry was not interested in being told off. He wanted to discuss what he had just seen. He gently pushed himself off from Ginny and slowly stood.
"He's found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he's killed him—"
"We know, Harry," Ginny said as she returned to her seat at the small table they shared. "You were speaking aloud You-Know-Who's words. It was kind of frightening to hear his voice come out of your mouth."
"I was?" a chill ran down his spine. Harry wondered how much control Voldemort had over his body when their minds were connecting.
"Yeah, you were," Ginny confirmed, she looked visibly shaken and it dawned on Harry that she used to hear Voldemort's voice when she was in possession of his diary.
"What was he looking for anyway?" Hermione asked, her initial anger had subsided and turned into curiosity. "What does he want with someone like Gregorovitch? I heard from Viktor that he's retired from making wands."
"It's quite obvious, is it not?" Lucius interjected.
"How is it quite obvi—oh," everyone in the room realized it at the same time. Hermione flopped in a chair beside him. "It can't be," she said disbelievingly.
"He's looking for the Elder wand," Harry said in a whisper that carried throughout the tent. It was real. The most powerful wand in the world was real and Voldemort was now chasing after it. With Gregorovitch dead, it was the merry-faced thief who was in danger now.
Harry's gut sank when he realized that Voldemort was getting closer to finding it while he himself was so far behind in his search for the Horcruxes. It was beginning to become a race against time and time unfortunately was not on his side lately.
"What do we do?" Ginny asked. "We'll never be able to defeat him if he finds it."
"We don't even know who this thief was," Hermione had started pacing across the room. "What does he even look like?"
Harry got the feeling that he had seen the thief's face somewhere before. Think, Harry, think! Stop relying on Hermione for answers and use your brain for once!
"He looks young, likely older than us by a few years," he tried recalling the memory, but it was too dark. The only light source was Gregorovitch's lantern, and it wasn't that bright enough for him to see clearly. "He has blond hair like Lucius. Do you think he's a Malfoy?"
In front of him, Lucius suddenly sat straight. "The photograph," he said. "Is he the man you saw in that photograph in Bathilda Bagshot's home?"
Harry remembered it now. The way he was drawn to that photograph when he had first laid eyes on it.
"I think I know who the thief is," Hermione spoke as she rummaged through her beaded bag. She then pulled out Rita Skeeter's book about Dumbledore and started flipping through the pages. She stopped about halfway and glanced at Harry. "Is it him?" she slid the book in the middle of the table for everyone to see.
There, printed in black and white was a moving photograph of a young man with blond hair and a pair of mismatched eyes. Beside him was unmistakably a young Dumbledore. The two of them were roaring with laughter at some long-forgotten joke. Harry's eyes dropped to the caption written below.
Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother's death, with his friend Gellert Grindelwald.
"I've been reading that book for a while now," Hermione confessed. "I didn't place much stock whether the Deathly Hallows were true or not until now. It suddenly occurred to me that Grindelwald was likely the one who stole it from Gregorovitch. After all, he used the Deathly Hollows sign as his personal brand."
"But Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald," Ginny said. "So that means the wand's allegiance shifted to him, right? Dumbledore has the Elder wand!"
Harry felt his stomach drop.
"But where is it now?"
"At Hogwarts," He finally had the strength to speak. "Professor McGonagall told me it was entombed with him."
The dots had finally connected in his mind. He looked up to see Lucius glancing at him apprehensively. "How long have you known this? How long have you known that the Hallows were actually real and that Dumbledore has the wand?"
"I was not entirely sure of it until you and the Dark Lord's mind connected just now," Lucius answered. "I thought—or rather hoped—that the Dark Lord was merely looking for a stronger, more compatible wand."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Ginny said furiously. "We have to go and get it before he does!"
"No," Harry shook his head. Dumbledore went out of his way to bequeath Harry the Sword of Gryffindor in his will but not his wand. That could only mean one thing. "Dumbledore did not want me to have it. If he did then he would have included it in his will. I think… I think Dumbledore wanted me to find the Horcruxes instead."
The enormity of his sudden decision not to race Voldemort to the wand scared Harry. But he felt it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, his two other companions didn't feel the same way. Ginny and Hermione kept bombarding him with questions until a voice spoke silencing everyone in the tent.
"I agree with Harry."
All heads turned to the elder Malfoy.
"B-but—but—" Ginny opened and closed her mouth, but no words came out. Lucius raised a hand to stop her.
"We would only be painting an even bigger target on our back if we retrieved the wand. Let him have it," a small smirk crossed his lip. It relieved Harry to know that Lucius' shrewdness and opportunistic nature were not directed at them this time but rather at their common enemy. "This newfound information also answers Hermione's earlier question. The Dark Lord is abroad and won't be back for a while—of that, I'm sure. We can use this opportunity to get into Malfoy Manor."
"But we need a plan!" Hermione countered. "We can't just waltz in there. This is way more dangerous than the Ministry of Magic and that alone took us a month to prepare!"
"To be fair, 'Mione, all those weeks of planning and everything went to shite even before we began," Ginny lamented. "Not that I blame you, but no amount of planning could really prepare us for any unwanted situation."
"You have a point," Hermione slumped in her seat. Harry could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves. "It's just… I don't want anyone getting gravely injured again. We don't have any Essence of Dittany left and I'm not well-versed with healing spells."
"It's a risk we have to take. It's either we keep going in circles or grab this one chance at finding a Horcrux. We might be able to discover something there too."
Harry saw Lucius nodding his head in agreement.
Hermione let out a shaky breath. "We're really going to do this, huh?"
"Apparently," Ginny said, seeming equally anxious as well.
"When do we leave?" Harry finally decided to ask the one question everyone was dreading to ask. There was a momentary stillness in the air before Hermione broke it, answering him with a determined tone.
"Tomorrow."
It was a cloudless dark sky as Lucius quietly slipped out of the tent. The cool night air was like a slap to the face as he spared a moment to admire the moon and the sea of glittering stars overhead that were arranged in familiar constellations, the ones that Cissa had pointed out to him during her early months of pregnancy with Draco. She had always wanted to continue the Black tradition of naming children from constellations—hence the origin of his son's name.
Lucius ignored the pang of pain he felt at the thought of his family so far away from him and made his way to where a lone chair was set up by the farther side of the tent. He paused, startled, as he noticed Weasley leaning against a tree facing away from him. She was looking up at the sky, like he had just been—at the stars and full moon, shining bright and silver.
Out of the three, she was the most apprehensive regarding him and Lucius could not blame her for that considering the things he had done to her and her family. The way she still called him Malfoy despite how the other two called him by his first name did not go unnoticed to him as well.
The rustling of fallen leaves alerted her to his presence. Weasley turned her attention to him, looking somber. Lucius debated for a moment whether he should stay where he was or approach the girl. Despite being on the run with her for a while now, he never felt that kind of easiness with her as he did with Granger—or even with Potter.
Lucius decided on the latter, stopping just a foot away from her. He could feel something tingling and realized that they were just near the edge of Granger's protective enchantments. Beside him, Weasley took a deep breath.
"Tell me the truth, Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange doesn't have a Horcrux in her possession, does she?" she said as she looked back at the night sky, her voice quiet but steady. "You're just saying that so we would all agree to go to your home."
Lucius tensed at the accusation. While he did manipulate them into agreeing to go to Malfoy Manor, he was actually telling them the truth regarding Bellatrix. He truly did think that his deranged sister-in-law might be in possession of one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes. As for its location, he was not entirely too sure.
He thought of lying but one of the things he had learned when it came to dealing with headstrong Gryffindors was that honesty was always the best answer—but that doesn't mean he couldn't omit certain truths from it.
"I do want to go back to Malfoy Manor," he admitted but leaving out the fact that he wanted to rescue his wife although he wouldn't be surprised if Weasley had figured it out all along. "But I was telling the truth regarding Bellatrix. I do believe she has a Horcrux with her."
The girl's vibrant blue eyes regarded him cooly.
"I hope to Merlin you're not going to sell us out to your friends when we go to your home, Malfoy," she warned. "If something bad happens to Harry or Hermione because of you, I would make sure you suffer the same—if not more so."
Frankly, Lucius was getting exhausted of this constant threat from her. He had proven countless times he could be trusted not to betray them, that they shared the same endgame for this war. He didn't need to win her trust but it would make this whole ordeal they were going through a lot better if she would place some trust in him even just a tiniest bit.
"What makes you so sure you can take me on, Ginevra?" he challenged.
"I've learned a thing or two while I was under that diary's spell, Malfoy," she retorted. "I'm not that fragile little girl anymore."
"I do not believe you are," he calmly stated. He had sensed a hint of darkness within her during those early weeks of them being on the run. It was likely the reason Weasley was able to withstand wearing the locket for so long. People who always see the good in others like Granger and Potter wouldn't have noticed it but Lucius had been around people like the Dark Lord for far too long. He could sense darkness the way a Dementor can sense fear.
Weasley huffed and pushed herself off the tree. She made her way back to the tent but stopped short a distance away from the entrance and turned back to him.
"Don't let Hermione get hurt, Malfoy. Just do that one favor for me and we'll call it even," she said. Lucius was surprised to hear the earnestness in her tone.
Without waiting for a reply, Weasley entered the tent, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He stood there feeling the cold wind on his face as he gazed at the stars in the sky. Apart from Draco's constellation, he could also see Polaris, the North Star. The one constant star among the sea of revolving ones. The one that travelers used in the early years to find their way home.
Home.
Oddly enough, returning to Malfoy Manor did not elicit some kind of longing in Lucius' chest. His home of four decades and yet he felt nothing. They could tear it down and he likely would feel nothing. He had feared for his wife's safety after they visited Godric's Hollow. There was no denying that the Dark Lord recognized him and even if not, there was that bloody snake who would undoubtedly tell him what occurred prior to his arrival. This was the reason why Lucius wanted them to go back despite the risk they would face.
Don't let Hermione get hurt, Malfoy.
Did Weasley know about his motives? Had he been that transparent the whole time? Surely, if that was the case, Potter would have said something already? Or was there something else she had noticed that he was unaware of doing? Lucius tried to look back at all his interactions with Granger and couldn't recall anything that would make Weasley suspicious.
He remembered all those times he would argue with the bushy-haired girl, remembered the little anecdotes she would tell him about her Muggle life, the way her face would pinch so hard when she was concentrating on something or the way her hair would puff when she was livid with him. He remembered when she took him grocery shopping, and how delicately she held his hand when they danced that night after he had recovered from the ritual.
Lucius hadn't realized he was smiling like a fool when he remembered the look of shock on her face when she saw him shaving and his smile died down when he remembered how he had inadvertently insulted her instead of thanking her. His mind quickly spiraled down and he kept remembering all the times he had purposefully hurt her. That mental image of her crying that night came unbidden.
This cycle of hatred has to stop, Lucius. Not all Muggles are out there to hunt and burn you at the stake. Times are changing and they are more open-minded about it now.
Like how open-minded your parents are?
He had tried to avoid her since that night, but it was not like he had any place to go. He had opened up and revealed more than he wanted to and he did not know what possessed him to do so. It left him so vulnerable and Lucius did not truly mean to lash out but he was furious. Whether with himself or with her—or both, he did not know. Besides, she had hurt him with her words as well.
Could you say the same for your parents, Lucius? Would they still love you and care for you even if you turned out to be a squib?
The question could be said the same for him if he was being honest. Would he and Cissa still love Draco if he turned out to be a squib? How far could a father's love extend? Lucius knew the answer immediately.
He would love Draco no matter what.
Even if his son despised him. Lucius would still love him.
When he realized that the Hallows were real and the Dark Lord was looking for the Elder wand, Lucius immediately feared for Draco's safety. What Weasley said earlier in the tent was true. Dumbledore had acquired the allegiance of the wand when he defeated Grindelwald—it was something the Dark Lord likely had not figured out yet. And when Dumbledore was killed, everyone would likely assume that the wand's allegiance would shift to Severus since he was the one who had cast the killing curse. What the others did not realize was that the wand's allegiance had actually shifted to Draco after he had effectively disarmed the former Headmaster. Severus told Lucius that Dumbledore was already unarmed when he arrived at the Astronomy Tower and Bellatrix was urging Draco to finish what he had started.
It did not take Lucius long to connect the dots but he was still missing the bigger picture up until Potter's recent mind connection. The Dark Lord likely did not care for collecting the other parts of the Hallows and had only sought the wand. There was no need for the Invisibility Cloak when Death could chase him and as for the Resurrection Stone, Lucius could not think of anything the Dark Lord wanted to bring back to life.
Lucius sighed as he thought this all over. He walked back to where the chair was placed and sat there contemplating, letting the cold wind and the noise of the night wash away his thoughts but unfortunately, it stayed in his mind, persistent on taking over. How in the bloody hell did Potter keep up with the mind connection?
So many promises and favors to fulfill it felt like a house of cards—one mistake and it would all come toppling down on him.
Promise me you'll keep our son safe no matter what.
Don't let Hermione get hurt, Malfoy.
"Why am I being held responsible for her?" he asked the darkness in front of him but it yielded no results. "I must be going mad."
Lucius rubbed his eyes tiredly. He should've made Potter take this night's watch instead. They will be heading to Wiltshire at the break of dawn and he could really use the sleep. He stared once more at the beautiful night sky and wondered if he would ever see such a thing again in the future.
