AN: So, the idea for this fic began as a 'What If' last October while my friends and I were watching Death Hallows Part 1. It started from "What if Draco Malfoy left the Death Eaters and joined the Golden Trio on the Horcrux hunt?" and then theories were passed around until it became "What if Lucius Malfoy was forced to go on the run with the Golden Trio?". And the idea just won't leave me alone so here we are.

This story will still follow the DH plot for the most part. Hermione will still get tortured in Malfoy Manor and there will be some canon minor deaths. Unlike my other fics where I mostly just wing it, this one is fully outlined except the last chapter which is the epilogue. The ending will depend on your feedback. Also, mind the tags.

This chapter is more like a character study with me trying to get into their headspace. I took certain liberties regarding Hermione and Lucius' backstory/characterization in this fic (esp. Hermione's) as well as the dates of events. The first time I read the HP books, I was honestly surprised that Hermione's parents were so open-minded about her magical powers considering her parents were from the medical field. Weren't they frightened of their child who, one day, suddenly lifted/exploded things with her mind?


We grow fangs instead of teeth, claws for nails, take apart tower prisons brick by brick with bare hands to stay alive.

-Nikita Gill, from Fierce Fairytales: Poems and Stories.


PROLOGUE.

JULY 29, 1997.

Hermione Granger flicked her wand and watched as the pristine white cloth slowly and carefully enveloped the grand piano. She glanced around the room to make sure she had not missed a thing before going to check in on the other rooms. When she was sure that every piece of furniture was securely covered and every door was locked, she made her way to her father's study.

Her father's study was much more lavish in design with intricate wooden moldings surrounding the edges of the ceiling while Victorian wallpapers decorated the whole walls. It looked similar to the rooms in Grimmauld Place but much brighter and less stuffy. Rows of bookshelves covered an entire wall containing medical textbooks, self-help books, and other trinkets his father had collected throughout his years of traveling abroad. There were no fictional books there compared to her mother's collection which contained a hefty number of classical novels.

It was Hermione's favorite room, the library only being the second. She remembered sitting in her father's lap as he read about the most recent medical discovery to her. Look, butterball. They had finally developed a vaccine for Hepatitis B. Isn't that wonderful? And little Hermione would clap her hands enthusiastically even though she understood none of it. She was just content to see her father's attention on her.

Unlike the other rooms, she decided to leave this as it was just in case… in case she could—decided to—bring her father and mother back.

They were probably at the airport right now.

The flight they had booked will leave in two hours. Where they will be going after the plane had landed, Hermione had no clue. That was all she knew after she had obliviated her parents and confunded them into migrating to Australia—a country they had been meaning to move to once she had graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione just expedited the process, she guessed.

Walking over to his father's desk, Hermione had let a single tear fall down her cheek at the sight of her parents' photograph sitting there, an inconspicuous empty space between them where she ought to be. The picture was taken during a trip to Greece when she was eight. It had been a good year where she only had two bouts of accidental magic—or 'episodes', as her father used to call it.

It was for their own good, she reasoned deludingly to herself. She had read multiple news of Death Eaters raiding entire Muggle villages and she didn't want to eventually hear her parents' names on the list of casualties. Didn't need their deaths to be on her conscience.

If she was honest with herself, her relationship with her parents was strained, to say the least. Logically, no one was to blame but fate itself because how could Hermione choose this kind of life? She was only a child. But she couldn't help but feel that her parents believed it was her fault that she was… this. A witch born from non-magical parents. A Muggleborn witch. An anomaly.

Her first bout of accidental magic started when she was four. According to her mother, her toothbrushes kept vanishing every time her mother would ask her to brush her teeth. One time it was there, the next it wasn't.

They didn't know it was magic, of course. Her parents mostly chalked it up to their daughter hiding these things from them. Hermione came from a long line of people in the medical field. Their whole lives were governed by irrefutable scientific facts. Her maternal grandfather was a neurosurgeon while her paternal grandmother was a pediatrician. She even had a great grandfather who was a combat medic during World War I. Thinking about it now, she remembered her father reading to her medical journals for bedtime stories in the hopes of enticing her to follow in their footsteps when she finally reached university. It wasn't until she was six when they realized that something was really going on with their only child and that their dreams of their daughter becoming a doctor someday might not come to pass.

Her maternal grandmother, of all people, witnessed Hermione performing a bit of accidental magic. She had thrown a tantrum and shattered the windows and the glass chandelier in the entrance hall when she refused to accompany her grandmother to church. A frantic call to her parents was made by their housekeeper saying that she was possessed by the devil.

In hindsight, she couldn't blame them. It was the most likely explanation.

Her parents came home to a crying child standing in the middle of the entrance hall, a halo of broken shards of glass surrounded her while the staff and her Nana, who clutched her crucifix necklace in fear, stood on the far end of the room. Hermione's parents initially refused to believe that something as fragile as a child was capable of such a feat but when her accidental magic started happening more frequently, they had begun to worry. A full body examination was made a day after she had exploded a jar of cookies just because her mother refused to give her another one but the test results yielded no answer as to what was afflicting their daughter. Her Nana even brought a priest home one day to perform an exorcism when Hermione had burst all the light bulbs in the library when she refused to go to bed without a bedtime story.

It went on for three years and her parents had chosen to medicate her, figuring that these unexplained circumstances only happened when she was under a great amount of stress. She hated it so much. The pills had dulled her senses and usually left her in a daze. By the time Hermione was ten, she had finally managed to control her temper, but the damage was done and her relationship with her parents was stilted. Gone were the warm embraces and soft kisses. Her parents had her homeschooled until her eleventh birthday arrived.

The family's butler, Bernard, had escorted an old man inside the Granger estate and into her father's study. Hermione could perfectly recall the man wearing an outdated style of a three-piece suit, a patterned scarf hung loosely over his shoulders while a purple coat dangled over his left arm. His eyes twinkled with wonder and he had conjured a handful of soft pink tulips from thin air which he then gave to Hermione before entering his father's study.

Hermione would soon figure out that the old man in the strange suit was none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. She didn't know whether to feel such pride or dread that the Headmaster of Hogwarts sought to personally deliver her acceptance letter. According to Harry, the only other person who Dumbledore met in person was the Dark Lord himself.

The relief though on her parents' faces was evident. Dumbledore had patiently and expertly answered her parents' every question. They finally had an answer to what was happening with their daughter although they weren't overjoyed in the notion that their only child was most likely going to give up her Muggle heritage in favor of embracing her magical one. She even overheard her father ask Dumbledore if there was a way for her 'magical abilities' to be removed completely.

At the time, Hermione considered it something as trivial as extracting a decaying tooth. She hadn't fully understood the implications of her father's question but now….

She reached out and turned down her parents' photo face down. Hermione had shoved it a little forcefully. She was briefly worried she might have broken the frame but she found that she hardly care about it. It does not do to dwell on the past.

Hermione made a brief stop to her bedroom to make sure everything she needed was in her beaded bag—a Christmas gift from her mother three years ago. There was a stuffed animal sitting on her vanity and Hermione had put it inside her bag. She had turned one of her old toys into an illegal portkey that will transport her back here. Hermione made it just in case of an emergency and she needed to make a quick getaway. Portkeys, after all, were untraceable, unlike apparitions where a person will leave traces of their magical signature.

She took in the room one last time, compartmentalizing every memory in the back of her mind. When everything was settled, she made her way downstairs and into the entrance hall where Bernard was waiting.

"All set?" he asked.

She nodded in affirmation. "Are you sure you don't want to be obliviated, Bernard? They might come looking for you."

"They might, but I don't think they would go as far as search the United States just to capture an insignificant old man."

"You're not insignificant," Hermione protested. "I probably would've been locked up in an institution if you had told my parents about my 'episodes' while they were gone. You're important to me, Bernard."

The kind butler who had served the Granger family since her father was just a young boy smiled sadly at her. He had grown to care for the young Granger like she was his own and he was proud of the strong, intelligent woman she had become now.

"Can I get a final hug at least?" he asked.

Hermione closed the distance without hesitation and wrapped her arms around Bernard. He smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warm earth on a sunrise. It smelled like home. "I'm glad I didn't obliviate you."

"I'm glad as well," the butler returned the hug. "When this is all over… if you still want me to work for you, I'd be happy to return."

Hermione pulled back to smile at him. "Of course, you're always welcome, Bernard. I can't run this house without you."

"Be safe, Miss Granger," Bernard ruffled her curls affectionately. "If you need any help, you know how to contact me."

He had let go of her and headed for the gates where a taxi was waiting for him on the other side.

Aside from her parents, Hermione had also obliviated the entire household staff save for Bernard who had asked Hermione to allow him to keep his memories. She had relented in exchange for him moving out of the country somewhere far away the Death Eaters wouldn't reach him.

She glanced around the place once more and felt tears pricked her eyes. It wasn't out of sadness but out of guilt. She felt guilty for feeling a sense of consolation. Hermione had loved her parents dearly and was extremely grateful to them for providing everything she could need when she began studying at Hogwarts but she couldn't prevent the feeling of relief washing over her when she had finished removing every trace of her presence from their life. Hermione wondered if they will try to have another child and a sob escaped her throat at the thought that they will probably love the child even more than they did her if it turned out to be a Muggle like them.

Hermione wiped her eyes hastily before she stepped outside. She then pulled out her wand and shakily lifted it towards the house. She cast a few Muggle repelling charms and a few disillusionment charms to prevent magical people from wandering around the area.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pictured the front doors of Grimmauld Place. Alastor Moody had requested a final meeting before they went over to Privet Drive tomorrow to retrieve Harry and transport him to a safe house. Molly Weasley had tried to dissuade her and Ron from participating in the skirmish but she insisted that the Order needed all the help they can get. That Harry's safety mattered the most in the grand scheme of things.

She soon felt the sickening pull of disapparition and Hermione instantly vanished, only leaving a faint gust of wind in her wake.


JULY 30, 1997.

Lucius Malfoy stood alone facing the fireplace inside his study. He watched mesmerized as the dull red and orange flames flickered unpredictably against the stone hearth. It was never warm enough for him. Somehow, the bleak coldness of Azkaban seemed to have seeped into his bones and settled there uncomfortably. Azkaban. A stark reminder of how far he had fallen out of grace from everything and everyone. The society, his peers, the Dark Lord, and even his family.

Especially his family.

His wife walked on eggshells around him like he's some wild beast likely to be provoked at the nearest physical interaction while his son couldn't stand to be in his presence and had resorted to taking his meals in his room. It hurt more than he would like to admit. Draco was Lucius' pride and joy. His chance to redeem himself through his son. Lucius sought to raise his only child differently than the one every Pureblood family was accustomed to but his father made sure that Draco grew up to be the typical Malfoy heir: full of hate and arrogance even at such a young age. If Abraxas was alive right now, Lucius was sure he would receive at least twenty lashes across the back and at least three days of starvation in the dungeons just like what his father always did when he was young.

After Albus Dumbledore was murdered, the Dark Lord broke all his followers out of Azkaban including Lucius himself. At that time, he had wondered why and it was only when Lucius arrived home that he realized his death would've been considered mercy for the Dark Lord. And everyone knew that the Dark Lord didn't bestow mercy. His family became the laughingstock of every meeting, a cautionary tale for the other Death Eaters should they decide to fail their tasks.

Lucius sought to blame the children for his current predicament but he couldn't bring himself to. They were only children—Potter and his miserable, pathetic band of friends. They only did what they assumed was right at the time when they stormed the Department of Mysteries. They were merely pawns in the game. That was why he refused to lift a wand to them, unlike all his comrades. He was many things but he wouldn't stoop so low as to harm a child, no matter how infuriating they may be.

It was his hubris that led to his downfall. Like Icarus that flew too close to the sun, Lucius volunteered to lead the attack even though he knew that straightforward incursions were never his forte. He had excelled in underhanded tactics such as gleaming information through torture and untraceable bribery or manipulating the law to his advantage. He had always kept his hands—or in this case, his wand—clean.

The first punishment began in the form of a visit from his colleague during the third month of his incarceration. Severus informed Lucius that his failure to secure the prophecy and his hesitation to maim helpless children incensed the Dark Lord greatly and had resulted in his son taking the mark. As if that wasn't enough, Draco was then tasked to kill Dumbledore with the Dark Lord hoping that Draco would be killed in the attempt, cutting off the Malfoy line completely. It was only due to his wife's quick thinking that somehow, his son was perfectly alive and well—physically. Lucius can only imagine the trauma Draco was going through right now.

He had punched the jagged walls of his cell repeatedly until he couldn't feel his hands anymore, his knuckles shattered and profusely bleeding. If given the choice, he would take a thousand Cruciatus curse gladly just to spare his son the burden of taking the Dark Mark but that had not been the case. Once you signed up with the Dark Lord, your choices were limited. It was a lifetime of servitude. Death was your only way out.

Lucius realized then that the fight was never about the importance of blood status and the preservation of magical purity. The Dark Lord's pretty words were only meant to entice people like the Malfoys into supporting him. Light and dark. Pureblood and Mudbloods. Everything was a lie.

It was always about power.

You only need to look to the past to figure it out. Grindelwald. Voldemort. Their lust for power was disguised under the cloak of blood supremacy. They were all the same, even Dumbledore. There was never good or evil.

Right or wrong.

Only power.

And Lucius hated himself for falling prey to it. For being a stupid puppet to a monomaniacal overlord. And now he had doomed his family.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings. It was either, his wife or Severus. Everyone else just barged in like they owned the place.

"Enter."

The doors creaked open and there stood Narcissa, his wife of twenty years.

Lucius couldn't bring himself to ask what happened while he was gone for over a year. He couldn't face the guilt of her unspoken words. Although Narcissa had never mentioned anything, Lucius still noticed and the shame had been eating him away. He had sworn to protect her and their son but he failed spectacularly. There were more lines on her face now while her crystal blue eyes had lost its usual sharpness. Her constant worry about Draco's safety while playing hostess to a mercurial madman definitely took its toll on her.

"What is it, Cissa?"

Narcissa went to his desk and poured herself a finger of firewhiskey. She twirled the glass before taking a sip. Lately, they had resorted to drowning out their sorrows with alcohol.

"I want Draco to stay in Hogwarts."

Lucius' brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you wanted him to be homeschooled for the final year?"

Even though Severus had been named as Headmaster following Dumbledore's death, Narcissa considered it wise to have Draco finish his final year here at the Manor. She was afraid students who looked up to the late Headmaster would take out their anger on Draco. They had every right to, Lucius thought darkly. But it didn't stop the heavy feeling from settling in his chest. If only he had secured the damn prophecy.

His wife glanced at the door warily before pulling her wand out to cast a few privacy charms. She then stepped closer and stood a foot away beside Lucius, her eyes trained to the fire.

"It's not safe. Not if he's here," she hissed, her voice low and cutting. "It's better if Draco is far away from him. At least Severus will ensure no harm would come to our son."

Lucius felt his chest tighten more at the implication. He couldn't even protect his son under his home. As much as he wanted Draco close to him, he had to admit that his son would be far safer if he continued his education in Hogwarts. He trusted Severus—hell, even McGonagall—to keep Draco out of harm's way.

He must've made a face because Narcissa took a step closer and reached for his hand. "I don't blame you, Lucius, and I don't think you're incapable. I know what we signed up for but we're practically a pariah in our own home now. He treats us like we're less than servants. He even took your wand!"

The last sentence was spoken with much more venom than Lucius deemed Narcissa was capable of. He squeezed her back in reassurance, trying to find some semblance of comfort in her soft, steady hands.

Their last gathering had ended up with the Dark Lord taking Lucius' wand and had used it to murder the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts. Charity Burbage. She was a half-blood if Lucius recalled correctly. Watching her there sprawled in the middle of their dining table, limbs bent in odd angles as Nagini slowly devoured her dead body sealed the notion in Lucius' mind that everyone was just collateral damage in the Dark Lord's quest for power. Pureblood, half-blood, or Muggleborn. They were all just cannon fodder to him.

But then an idea occurred to Lucius. And how he wished the idea never crossed his mind at all for even considering it would result in their immediate expiration especially now that the Order was on the losing side after their leader's untimely demise. But the idea kept persisting inside his mind now, like maggots infesting every inch of his brain until he can no longer ignore it.

Lucius looked away from his wife to the flickering flames in front of him. It was no use. Even if he did try to switch sides, he doubted the Light would take him and his family. He used to be the Dark Lord's lieutenant while his son had been an accessory to Dumbledore's murder. The Order would probably kill them just to spare them the trouble.

"What's on your mind, Lucius?" Narcissa tugged his hand gently.

"Nothing, my dear. I was—" he yanked his hand back as he hissed in pain. Lucius raised the sleeves of his shirt to see the Dark Mark glowing a faint green light. That's not good.

"Is it a meeting again?" she asked, her expression filled with worry.

"No. It's a private summon," Lucius couldn't help the fear lacing his tone.

"This is the first time he has called for you privately since… since your last mission," Narcissa gripped his hand tighter but not tight enough to bruise. "I'm worried, Lucius."

"Don't be. He probably just wants to humiliate me." Or torture, he added grimly. The Dark Lord was in a bad mood tonight. He'd found out from Avery an hour ago that they had failed in killing Potter during the ambush. Mulciber and Goyle were injured but fortunately, no one was killed. Lucius can't say the same about the Light. Bellatrix had bragged in the drawing-room that the Dark Lord had killed the paranoid Auror, Alastor Moody.

But as long as the Dark Lord's attention was on him and not on his family, Lucius was fine with that. He can endure being the Dark Lord's punching bag tonight.

"I should go," he said softly to his wife.

He could tell Narcissa was reluctant to let his hand go but she did eventually. The more he stayed here, the more anxious he will be. And it was never wise to delay a summon. Lucius lifted his wife's hand and planted a kiss on top of her knuckles before leaving the comfort of his study to find the Dark Lord.


The halls of the Manor were eerily quiet as Lucius made his way to the drawing-room. Most of his fellow Death Eaters had gone to their respective homes and maybe, a year ago, just before he was sent to Azkaban, Lucius would gladly welcome the absence of his ill-mannered comrades but now he wished at least some of them were here. The stillness of the Manor belied the mood of its honorary guest and having someone other than Lucius and his family would at least redirect the Dark Lord's wrath away from them.

There was a point where Lucius had loved this place. It was during the summer holiday when he was fourteen and his father was away in Dresden for a month. The Manor had never looked so alive back then. The roses and daisies in the gardens were in full bloom while the house oozed a sense of tranquility. He had spent most of the days reading in the pavilion with his mother or riding across the property while his nights comprised of staying up late playing wizards chess with Varka, his mother's house-elf. Lucius had wished then that things could stay like that indefinitely but it was a lesson he soon realized. All good things must come to an end.

The huge double doors groaned as Lucius pushed them open. His eyes scanned the room and found the imposing figuring of the Dark Lord gazing out the windows, his back to Lucius. The pet snake was nowhere in sight but he noticed a shedded skin was lying in a corner of the room. He made a mental note to make the elves dispose of it once the Dark Lord retired to his chambers for the night.

"My Lord, you called," Lucius went down on one knee a few feet away. He rested his palms face down on the floor to stop them from shaking out of fear.

Seconds passed and the Dark Lord still didn't move to acknowledge him. Lucius wondered if he heard him and was about to clear his throat to call him again when the Dark Lord finally turned around, glittering red eyes bored into his dull grey ones. Lucius lowered his head in false reverence.

"Lucius Malfoy," the Dark Lord spoke his name in a sibilant manner. Lucius watched from the corner of his eye as the Dark Lord strolled around him in circles. "Are you aware of what happened with the ambush hours ago?"

"Y-yes, my Lord," Lucius said, almost in a whisper but the room carried his voice like an echo. "Avery had informed me."

"Informed you," the Dark Lord repeated and Lucius couldn't gauge what his Master's reaction was. After a moment, he felt the Dark Lord stop a foot away from him. "Then you know that your wand is as useless as its owner."

Lucius bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. I don't think I'm the owner of that wand anymore. "Yes, my Lord."

He heard fabric rustling and Lucius nearly jumped out of his skin when his master threw his former wand ahead of him. It clattered noisily and rolled until it reached his knee. There were large cracks that nearly bisected the wand and Lucius fought the urge to touch it. He can still remember Ollivander's words the day he received his wand over thirty years ago.

"Eighteen inches, dragon heartstring, elm. Powerful indeed. Most curious…" the wandmaker trailed off. "There's another wand here that came from the same core. Twins. Definitely a rare occurrence but I wonder who the other recipient will be."

Lucius had always wondered if someone had finally claimed the other wand. Twin cores were a very rare occurrence in the wizarding world, and neither can harm the other but their power would increase tenfold if the two should join forces. The only other people he knew who possessed a wand with twin cores were the Dark Lord and Potter. Lucius found it ironic that the Dark Lord had borrowed another wand with a twin.

"Pick up your wand, Lucius," the Dark Lord ordered. "You will need it for this task."

Lucius momentarily stilled at his words. A task? Cissa was right. He tentatively picked up his broken wand and felt a glimmer of magic slowly ebb through his veins. At least the wand still recognized him. Lucius had to wonder if the wand's refusal to completely accept the Dark Lord as its owner was the reason why it lost to Potter's wand.

"A task, my Lord?"

"Yes, Lucius, a task," he snapped. "Do try to keep up."

It was taking a lot of effort not to hurl the wand in his master's direction. If he didn't have a family to protect right now, Lucius would've gone and tackled the man to the ground and beat him bloody senseless with his own bare hands until that pathetic excuse of a nose completely disappeared from his slimy face. It was worth dying for.

"I had intended to end Harry Potter's life tonight while he still has the Trace on him but unfortunately, unexpected situations have prevented me from accomplishing this bothersome chore. The boy will turn seventeen this midnight and the Trace will be gone by then, making it harder for me to locate him. I assume that the Order will hide him in a safe house. But I realize that instead of fruitlessly chasing the boy, why not make him come to me on his own will?" the Dark Lord then halted in front of Lucius. "And this is where you enter, my slippery friend."

"I—"

Lucius heard the doors creaked open and felt all the blood drain from his face when he discerned the unmistakable terrified voice of his son.

"My L-Lord?"

"Ahh, Draco. So good of you to join us," the Dark Lord ushered Draco in. Uncertain footsteps reverberated all over the room and Lucius fought the urge to turn his head back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco stop a few feet beside him and kneel before the Dark Lord, consciously avoiding Lucius' worried look.

"As I was saying to your father," the Dark Lord continued his pacing in front of his two followers. "It would be impossible to track Potter now that the Trace will disappear in a few hours so I have decided to lure him to us instead."

"What are you proposing, my Lord?" Lucius looked up then.

"It has come to my knowledge that the blood traitor Weasleys are hosting a wedding tomorrow and that Potter will be in attendance. Pius has informed me that Rufus Scrimgeour has wasted no expense and assigned nearly every Auror on guard duty to watch over the boy, leaving the Ministry vulnerable to a hostile takeover. It would be remiss of me not to take advantage of that opening," the Dark Lord laid a hand on his chest in mockery.

"You want me to hold a coup?"

"That will be Pius' task. I plan on installing him as Minister for Magic once he succeeds in killing Scrimgeour. No, Lucius. My task for you will be much greater than that and since young Draco here has proven himself remarkably skillful, I also require him to take part."

Lucius didn't like where this was going but he swallowed the proverbial lump in his throat and stared at the Dark Lord, determined. This was his second chance to make everything right for his family. "I am deeply honored, my Lord. I will not fail you."

"You better not, Lucius, for your entire family will extremely suffer the consequences this time," the Dark Lord threatened him. Lucius caught the sharp intake of breath at his side but he still didn't dare glance in Draco's direction. Don't let him see you afraid. "But don't you fret, my faithful servant. The task is rather easy but requires a rather blunt approach. Take as many men as you see fit. I want you to assail said wedding and abduct someone. Everyone will be quite distracted in protecting the boy, leaving this person open and unguarded."

"Who, my Lord?"

"Harry Potter's Mudblood friend, Hermione Granger."


AN: Comments are very much appreciated!