AN: I'm still so jetlagged. Been flying back and forth between Brisbane, Singapore and Manila these past weeks. I can barely squeeze any writing.
SOWING THE SEEDS.
He could not tell where he was. He was surrounded by darkness. A never-ending void. He was on his knees, half-naked, and even though he could not feel any wind, Lucius was shivering.
A sudden strike to his back made him scream in agony. He slumped to the ground, tears trailing along his cheek and down to the ground. Drip, drip, drip. He felt his back burning as if his flesh was cursed with incendio. Drip, drip, drip. Tears were a sign of weakness, his father had said. He wanted to wipe them away, but he couldn't move his arms. Drip, drip, drip.
Get up!
The sharp, commanding tone of Abraxas made Lucius freeze.
Father, please. He begged.
Wrong answer.
Another searing pain made contact with his back and Lucius involuntarily arched, his body twisting to alleviate the agonizing pain. Mother, help me. His sobs echoed across the abyss.
You disappoint me, Lucius.
He howled in pain when the third strike hit him near his shoulder blades. He was wavering now, treading between consciousness and the sweet call of oblivion. It would be easy, to just close his eyes and let everything go.
You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name.
Something cool and silky then coiled around his body. He groaned when it touched his wounds. The thing continued to surround him, enveloping him in a cocoon. Lucius thought it was pleasant until it came around his neck and fear overcame him when he came face to face with a snake.
Coward. It hissed at him.
He couldn't move. The snake bared its fangs and continued to squeeze him to the point of suffocation.
I don't want to die. He said into the darkness. His vision started fading as his body began to feel numb.
Mother.
Father.
Cissa.
Andy.
Draco.
Anyone?
The snake before him stretched its jaws wide open, preparing to swallow its helpless prey. Saliva dripped from its fangs as Lucius closed his eyes and waited for his end.
Lucius.
A female voice called his name. When his eyes remained closed, the voice called him again. Persistent and demanding.
Lucius. Come on, get up!
He opened his eyes and noticed that he was kneeling on the floor again, the snake had disappeared.
Lucius!
He looked up to see a hand reaching out to him. He followed that hand, his eyes trailing along her arms, her shoulder, her neck, and up to her face.
Hermione Granger.
She was the one calling him.
Take my hand, Lucius.
Without thinking twice, he raised his arm. His whole body was shaking with an unidentifiable emotion. His fingertips brushed hers then slowly slid across to grip her hand which was warm and steady. She smiled at him reassuringly as she helped him up, and he couldn't help but return the gesture.
But the smile immediately died on his lips the moment he noticed something behind her back.
In a flash, the snake that had been crushing him moments ago had curled itself around Hermione. The hand he was holding was forcibly yanked away from him and he watched helplessly as his supposed savior was squashed before his eyes.
No!
Blood dripped from her mouth. Her eyes were dull as she stared at Lucius.
Coward. It was the sound that came from her pale lips. He blinked and then Hermione was gone, replaced by a boy with eyes as brown as the branches of Sycamore trees.
You could have saved me. He said, tone flat and lifeless.
A disgrace. The snake hissed.
Lucius shook his head as tears blurred his vision. He couldn't do anything. He was powerless. Helpless.
You disappoint me, Lucius.
He looked up expecting to see his father. It was the Dark Lord who was standing over him instead.
I have no use for you now.
Please. He begged, but for what? Death? Life? Salvation? Either one was preferable instead of this hell he was in.
The Dark Lord raised a wand at him, and Lucius knew whose wand it belonged to. It was his. Dragon heartstring. Elm. At that moment, his heart sank, realizing that it was the end for him.
Avada Kedavra!
OCTOBER 10, 1997.
Lucius woke with a violent start. His body was trembling, and his breathing was ragged as sweat continued to soak through his shirt to the bed sheet underneath him. The nightmare had been so vivid that for a moment, he thought he was fourteen again lying face down in the Manor's dungeon after his father had meted out his punishment.
You disappoint me, Lucius.
You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name.
He wildly looked around and noticed that he was not, in fact, back in the Malfoy dungeons but rather in some sort of tent. When his breathing had finally returned to normal, memories before his loss of consciousness came back.
He sat up in bed and rested his head in his hands. Normally, these nightmares rarely affect him upon waking up. But last night's events left him feeling exposed enough for these dreams to permeate even in his waking hours. He did not even know what to make of it.
Was it only last night?
Lucius wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious. He remembered being bitten and being squeezed the life out of him but after Granger had transported them out of Godric's Hollow, he hated to admit that he had no recollection of what happened next.
Glancing down, he realized that he was not wearing the same shirt as before although his trousers remained in place. Someone must have changed his clothes while he was unconscious, and he did not know how he should feel about one of them touching him while he was at his most vulnerable.
Instinctively, he reached for his newly acquired wand only to remember that he had dropped it when the snake attacked them. He did not know what he was thinking, shoving Weasley out of the way, and taking the full brunt of the attack. Perhaps it was his way of making amends to the girl for what he had put her through before. Or maybe he was coming down with the flu or something similar.
He rubbed his hands across his face, erasing the last vestiges of Morpheus' pull. So much for getting a new wand, he dejectedly thought. Just when he was finally starting to acclimate to it, it was forcibly taken away from him by that blasted snake. First, the Dark Lord took his wand, and now his damn pet. Lucius was beginning to see a pattern there.
After a few moments of mourning, he decided to get up and see what his companions had been up to.
As he pushed aside the flap that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the tent, his senses were assailed by the smell of tea and food, and it was only then he realized how much he was starving.
He was greeted by the sight of Granger standing behind a sulking Potter. She was carefully snipping away parts of his hair that had grown considerably long. Lucius noticed that the boy's natural hair color was starting to show, an inch of it was fairly visible.
He patted his own and realized that it had reached past his ears. If he were to look in the mirror, he'd likely see blond streaks of it.
"And he lives!" It was Weasley who noticed his presence first. She was sitting on the other side of the room, holding a spoon. Behind her was a small makeshift campfire where four small tins were hanging above.
Granger and Potter looked in his direction. "How do you feel?" she asked.
Lucius sighed. "I'm fine," he said. "Just a little sore."
Weasley made a clucking sound behind him. "Told you so," she said to Granger.
"We're lucky I still had a few drops of Essence of Dittany left. It's all I feel safe doing," the other witch replied as she put down the scissors she was holding. She dusted off some of the clipped hairs on Potter's back before coming to stand in front of him. Lucius felt unnerved by her proximity as he suddenly recalled the dream he just had. "There are spells that would likely remove the poison and heal you completely, but I dare not try in case I do them wrong and cause more damage. You were already feverish then."
Lucius nodded. He could not bring himself to thank the girl outright. Not when Potter was around. Not when it was the boy's fault all along how all of them were nearly captured by the Dark Lord.
It was just like Potter, wasn't it? To get them into all sorts of complicated situations and only to escape by the skin of their teeth. He had heard from Draco some of the things the Gryffindor got up to. Lucius shuddered to think about the ones he did not know about.
"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked instead.
"Not really that long," Granger replied. "You've only been out of it for the entire night and the rest of the morning. It's a quarter past eleven."
Lucius' shoulder slumped in relief. He thought he had been asleep for far longer, remembering how he had been unconscious for days when they performed that ritual in Diagon Alley.
"And I assume my new wand was destroyed during the altercation last night?"
At the mention of the word 'wand', Potter abruptly got up and stormed outside the tent. The manner was reminiscent of how Draco used to throw a tantrum whenever he did not get what he wanted. His chest ached at the thought of his son. He could only hope that he was fairing much better than him somewhere out there.
Both Granger and Weasley sighed at Potter's rather dramatic exit that would give Severus a run for his galleons.
"The snake broke Harry's wand in half," Granger said softly with a hint of sadness in her tone. Lucius internally winced at that. Even though his former wand was not snapped in two, he knew the feeling of losing something a part of himself all too well. Then again, Potter deserved it, however unfortunate it may be. If he had not insisted on this foolish excursion, then none of this would have happened. Lucius could only hope it taught the boy a little lesson on acting on his impulses without considering the consequences.
"But yours is fine," Granger gave him a small smile. "I managed to grab it when the snake was distracted in trying to kill you."
She reached into her beaded bag, her entire arm nearly disappearing, and Lucius wondered how deep she had charmed that beaded bag of hers. Granger cringed when the sounds of crashing came out of the bag. She smiled sheepishly at his questioning look. "That would be the books, I guess."
He made a hum of acknowledgment but otherwise said nothing more.
"Here it is," she eventually pulled out the wand and handed it to him. There was a pulse of magic as he touched the bleach-white wooden stick. It was not as strong and familiar as his Dragon Heartstring, but it recognized him nonetheless, albeit a little reluctantly. His mood brightened considerably at the feel of a working wand in his hand.
"Thank you," he murmured, quiet enough not to be overheard by Weasley.
Granger nodded.
Lucius decided to stick the wand inside his trouser pocket for the moment since his wand holster had gone missing as well. He'll have to ask one of them to transfigure a new one for him.
As he slid the wand inside, he noticed something bumping into it. It was then he remembered about the book he had made Weasley shrink back in Godric's Hollow.
"I have something for you as well," he handed to her Bathilda's shrunken copy of Skeeter's book. "If you wouldn't mind returning it to its original size."
Granger's eyes caught the little note attached to the book as it was enlarged. She then frowned and looked up at him. "I really hate that woman." She crumpled the little note and shoved it in one of her pockets.
"You are not the only one," Lucius agreed, remembering all the disgusting articles Rita Skeeter wrote about him and his family. How they painted him as an abusive father and husband the moment he was sent to Azkaban. "Ginevra tells me Rita Skeeter is an unregistered animagus."
"She is," Granger nodded. "I thought she would change after the Triwizard Tournament but she's still the same horrible person. I regret not reporting her to the Ministry the moment I found out."
"You should have," he said. "You would have saved the world a lot of trouble if she was behind bars—or jars."
The last part made her chuckle. "Ginny told you about that as well?"
"Don't worry. I will not hold it against you," he teased. "I might have done worse if I were in your shoes."
"Of that, we're sure," Weasley said in a suggestive tone as she put out the fire. She then levitated the still-hot tins to a nearby table. "Food is ready. I'll call Harry."
And then it was just the two of them.
Granger and him.
Lucius recalled the nightmare he just had, and the tent suddenly felt so small, so suffocating. Like the snake was still there hiding behind the girl and was just waiting for him to lower his guard before attacking.
He instinctively stepped to his right and checked behind her just to make sure Nagini was not there. Granger followed his movement and glanced behind only to see the empty chair Potter had vacated before.
"What is it?" she asked.
But he merely continued to stare behind her, at her, through her—dissonant as he considered the dream that awoke him. Lucius squeezed his eyes shut, as though he might be able to shake off the after-effects of his nightmare.
"Lucius, are you okay?" Granger prodded him again and the worry in her tone made him open his eyes. He hated it when she did that—worry about him.
"It is nothing," he said, and she opened her mouth to argue but he held up a finger. "I'm just exhausted, Hermione. There is no need to fret."
"Okay," she mumbled, unconvinced but Lucius was glad she did not prod further.
Lunch was fairly quiet—only the sound of metal scraping off on the tin could be heard inside the tent. Potter barely ate his portion, opting to save the rest for later when his appetite returned.
"I'll just be outside gathering more wood," he said and then ducked out of the tent. Lucius was glad he was gone.
He glanced at his own tin, scraping off the last remnants of his baked beans in tomato sauce. He never imagined he would end up in this situation—out on the run from the Ministry and the Dark Lord and starving in the middle of nowhere. Years ago, he would not even deign to look at this kind of food let alone taste it but spending a year in Azkaban had made him appreciate some of the things he had taken for granted. Loathe he was to admit it, he missed his house elf's cooking.
It was troubling to add 'scarcity of rations' to their growing list of problems. He knew that Granger was already depleted of her Muggle and Wizarding currencies—the last sickles she had were used on that damnable Knight Bus—and Lucius doubt that they could go to that Muggle bank again to withdraw some more.
The Dark Lord knew where they had been and had almost caught them. It was likely that every Auror and his Death Eaters were now out there looking for the four of them both in the Magical and Muggle worlds. What anonymity they had left when they changed their appearances was thrown out of the window the moment they stepped foot inside Bathilda Bagshot's home.
But unfortunately, they can't keep hiding in this tent forever. They still have those Horcruxes to hunt and destroy and a certain Dark Lord to kill.
Speaking of Horcruxes…
"Who's holding the locket now?" he asked the two witches.
Weasley pulled out the object in question from underneath the collar of her shirt. "I'll wear it for now. Hermione and I could switch turns. I don't think it's best to let Harry wear it right now."
Lucius quite agreed with her. "I think it's time we discuss what to do about that locket and where to go next."
"We've already tried nearly all spells we could do before but it barely made a scratch. I think the only way to ever truly destroy it is by either using the Sword of Gryffindor or that basilisk's fang," Granger said. "As for the other Horcruxes, I was hoping you'd have an idea where they might be."
Lucius looked down at the now empty tin in front of him as he considered the last part of her words. He did have an idea where one of the Horcrux might be, but it was just speculation on his part.
During the height of the first wizarding war, the Dark Lord entrusted the diary to Lucius for safekeeping. The diary was hidden in the Manor's secret basement until the Dark Lord fell and Lucius was forced to dispose of it lest the Aurors discover that said location.
He remembered Bellatrix boasting about the Dark Lord entrusting her with something as well at that time. Knowing how paranoid his sister-in-law was, it was likely that she either kept whatever it was close to her, or she had stored it in the Lestrange family vault in Gringotts where, aside from the bank's extensive security measures, Bellatrix herself had placed multiple protective curses.
Between the two, the former was easier to check. Wherever the Dark Lord went, Bellatrix would follow, hence, there was a possibility that one of the Horcruxes was hidden in Malfoy Manor where the Dark Lord was currently taking residence.
"There might be one in Malfoy Manor," he carefully said. "Although I am not entirely sure."
"What do you mean?" Weasley asked. "I thought you were only given the diary?"
"Yes, I was, but I suspect there is another one whom the Dark Lord entrusted one of his Horcruxes for safekeeping."
He didn't further elaborate, letting them figure things out on their own on who this person might be.
"You said Malfoy Manor," Granger spoke up first, her tone wary and unsure. "Does that mean your wife is also keeping one?"
Lucius shook his head. "I would know if Narcissa is hiding something as dark as that diary. Unfortunately, I don't think the Dark Lord trusts her enough for that kind of task."
"It has to be within the inner circle," Weasley said. "Someone in You-Know-Who's close ranks."
"If we're going by rank, it's either Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, or Professor Snape," Granger supplied. "They're likely the ones the Dark Lord deemed trustworthy enough to hide his Horcruxes. Am I right?"
The question was directed to Lucius. He placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt. "I am truly offended you did not even think to include me on the list."
"Well, considering the diary you're supposed to guard is now gone and you're on the run here with us, I think it's only fair to leave you out of the list."
"Touche," he sighed dramatically. "But to answer your question, yes, you're right."
A contemplative silence enveloped them until Weasley looked him in the eye.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," she said. "It's her, isn't it?"
Ding! Ten points to Gryffindor.
"Being delegated a task by the Dark Lord meant that he favored you and my dear sister-in-law never failed to tell us how much he favored her above everyone else," Lucius rolled his eyes at that. He then proceeded to tell Weasley and Granger about an unknown task the Dark Lord gave Bellatrix and where she might have hidden it.
"It could be just another dark artifact," Weasley countered.
"At this point, I'm willing to investigate any kind of lead we may have," Granger said. "It's better than barely surviving day by day."
"So, we just waltz into his home and search every room for that Horcrux? We don't even know what it is!" Weasley argued. "C'mon, Hermione! Haven't we had enough of going to dangerous places?"
"But Ginny, going to dangerous places is part of looking for Horcruxes," Hermione pleaded. "Lucius has a point, and it's his home so he knows it better than us. He can guide us there."
Weasley pinched the bridge of her nose but before she could speak, Lucius decided to intervene. He wanted them united in this decision unlike what happened in Godric's Hollow. It seemed like the locket was getting to her than she let on.
"As I said, it is just speculation. Ginevra is right, it could be just another dark artifact," he raised his hand when Granger opened her mouth to retort. "We can talk about it again once we've exhausted all our options but for now, I think we should focus on making it through with our current state."
"But we don't have any more options," Granger grumbled under her breath but loud enough for him to hear.
"Hogwarts is another option," Ginny supplied.
"But Dumbledore would have found it. He was the headmaster—" Granger stopped midsentence when they heard footsteps coming from outside the tent.
The flap to the entrance was pushed aside as Potter strolled in holding an armful of wood. He glanced at their faces before placing down the wood beside the makeshift campfire.
"What were you three talking about?"
"We were discussing other possible locations of Horcruxes," Granger answered. "Ginny says that Hogwarts could be one."
"It is," Potter agreed. He sat on the empty chair he had vacated earlier. "Except for the diary, Dumbledore believed that You-Know-Who had hidden the Horcruxes in places that held some significance to him. Locations he had lived or visited. Dumbledore found the ring in the Gaunt shack although there were no Horcruxes in the orphanage where You-Know-Who had been born and raised."
"I don't think the orphanage held that kind of significance to him. If anything, he probably hated that place," Granger said. "Orphanages in the earlier years weren't exactly a good place to raise children. They were run by fear and violence, especially with the Muggle war waging on."
"Hogwarts meant something to him, though. It was his first real home, the place that meant he was special."
"You told us that You-Know-Who asked Dumbledore to give him a job after he left," said Granger. "And Dumbledore thought he only wanted to come back to try and find something, probably another founder's object, to make into another Horcrux?"
"Yeah," Potter confirmed.
"But he didn't get the job, did he?" she continued. "So, he never got the chance to find a founder's object there and hide it in the school!"
"Okay, then," said Potter sighed, defeated. "Forget Hogwarts."
There were several plunking noises on the canvas over their heads. Everyone glanced up and Lucius realized it had started to rain.
Unlike Granger, Lucius actually believed that there could be a Horcrux hidden inside the castle. Even though Dumbledore was the headmaster and may seem all-knowing most of the time, he could not possibly know all of Hogwarts's secrets. If he did then he would have prevented Draco from sneaking the Death Eaters inside the castle.
But he could not very well advocate for that option, could he? He wanted them all to agree that going to Malfoy Manor was the only viable option they had. Now that the Dark Lord was aware of his disloyalty, Lucius was worried for his wife's safety.
Plunk, plunk, plunk. The rain was falling harder and heavier; it pattered on the leaf-strewn bank all around them and into the river chattering through the dark. Dread doused him as he thought about his wife and son, hoping this war would end soon and in their favor.
Just hold on, Cissa. I'm coming for you.
The heavy rain had subsided as night crawled in, leaving the earth quite damp and the leaves still dripping. Hermione had volunteered to take the first watch as she let the others rest. She sat in a transfigured chair by the entrance of the tent looking out upon a deserted scene, noting the bats fluttering high above her across the single patch of starry sky invisible from their protected clearing.
The locket lay heavy and oppressive around her neck. From time to time, Hermione thought, or perhaps imagined, that she could feel the tiny heartbeat ticking irregularly alongside her own. And she felt hungry now, and a little light-headed. She didn't manage to pack any food upon leaving the jokeshop, as she had assumed that they would be able to return there or at the very least somewhere with access to food after their excursion to Godric's Hollow. The tins inside her bag were from the nonperishables she had stored when she and Lucius went grocery shopping a month ago and would only last them until tomorrow.
She had thought that she would feel elated when they managed to steal back the locket from Umbridge, but somehow, she did not. All she felt as she sat looking out at the darkness, of which her wand lit only a tiny part, was worry. About what would happen next. It was as though she had been hurtling toward this point for weeks, months, maybe even years, but now she had come to an abrupt halt, run out of road.
And then it had been quite the downhill from there. From running away from Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov to barely escaping the Dark Lord and his snake, it was one struggle after the next. She didn't know if she can continue doing this even if her life was at stake.
Nameless forebodings crept upon her as she sat there in the dark. She tried to resist them, push them away, yet they came at her relentlessly.
I could've just fled someplace else. Watch everything unfold by the sidelines.
Why didn't you?
She could walk away and they, as Ginny said, wouldn't hold it against her. Or Hermione could do her own search as well without the weight of three other people holding her down. And it seemed to her as she sat there trying to master her own fear and exhaustion, that the Horcrux against her chest was ticking away the time she had left.
Stupid idea, she told himself. Don't think like that. You're the only one Harry has.
Or is it the other way around? A voice inside her head said. Harry's the only one you have left?
"Are you alright?"
Hermione opened her eyes, her forehead throbbing. She hadn't realized her eyes were closed. She looked to her left to see Lucius standing a few feet away.
"I'm fine. Just a slight headache," she assured him.
"You look exhausted, Hermione. Go and lie down," Lucius ordered. "It's past midnight. I can take watch until the morning."
"I said I'm fine, Lucius," she insisted. "I can finish the watch."
He regarded her cooly before ducking back into the tent. Hermione thought that he'd returned to bed but was surprised when he came out holding another chair. Lucius set it down beside her and sat, crossing his feet in a leisurely manner. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and patchouli, the same soap she used when they were staying in the jokeshop and had to share some bathroom necessities.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm keeping you company," he drawled as if bored.
"Go back to bed, Lucius," she said. "You, of all people in this tent, need to rest more."
"I couldn't sleep," he said, unsure. He looked down at his hands before saying. "I don't want to sleep."
She noticed the slight waver of his tone at the last part. "Why?"
"For the same reason why you insisted on the first watch even though you and Ginevra agreed earlier that she should be the one to do it," he said.
Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. She hadn't placed much stock in what Lucius felt about this whole thing. She tried to avoid thinking about him these past few weeks ever since she had a revelation about her feelings for him. But it was hard to compartmentalize when he was just sitting there beside her, their bodies inches away.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
He looked at her, his pale blue eyes boring into hers. "You can, but I can't guarantee that I'll answer."
She smiled faintly at his response. Such a Slytherin thing to say.
"What was your childhood like?"
Lucius' eyes went wide, clearly not expecting this kind of question before they turned steely. He looked away then and onto the darkness that surrounded them.
"It was not exactly sunshine and rainbows. It was more like…" he trailed off, likely finding the right words. "I grew up as an only scion of a prominent Pureblood family. My father had… certain expectations of me the moment I could walk and talk."
Hermione remained silent as he continued to explain.
"Abraxas was a very strict father. Each move I make especially in the eyes of the public would reflect on the Malfoy name. In our world, one's image is everything. It could either make or break you."
Lucius had that faraway look as he drew himself in. "I grew up surrounded by tutors and house elves. And when I'm on my own, I would just lay on the grass in the garden sometimes reading, sometimes watching the skies, imagining myself as someone else. Someone not burdened with responsibilities."
"I'm proud of who I am. Of my heritage. And I understand why my father had to enforce these things at an early age," he amended. "But sometimes, it just gets too… much."
Hermione felt her heart ache at the image he had painted. She suddenly remembered the scars on his back and had a nagging feeling that there was more to it than what he wasn't telling her.
"Don't you have any friends?" she asked.
"They only befriended me because of my name and the weight that it carries," he said, then a sad look crossed his features. "Except one."
Hermione wanted to ask who it was but thought better than to push her luck.
"What about your childhood?" he then asked. "What was it like growing up and realizing that you have magical abilities?"
"You don't believe I stole that magical ability?"
Lucius scoffed. "Don't insult me with that kind of question, Hermione. My conviction lies deeper than a mere infant having the capability to steal one's magic."
She wanted to ask him: then what do you believe in if not that? Why do you detest Muggles and Muggleborns so much that you're willing to follow a reprehensible madman like You-Know-Who? But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to speak the words aloud. She feared that his answer might drive an irreparable wedge between them now that she had gotten this much closer to him.
"I spent most of my childhood alone. I was four when I had my first bout of accidental magic," she said. "I don't remember it, of course. My mum said I kept vanishing my toothbrush. At that time, they didn't know I was performing magic. They simply thought I was just throwing it out somewhere they couldn't find."
"I was five when the window glasses shattered. That, I quite remember," she said. "They were all scared especially my grandmother who had witnessed it at that time. It kept happening and my parents were forced to have me homeschooled for everyone's safety."
"Then Dumbledore came the day after my eleventh birthday and everything suddenly made sense," she smiled sadly. "But I guess it was too late then. My parents… they… it was a strained relationship."
"They resented your magic," he said, his tone sounding angry.
"It's not that they hate it. They just don't understand that of all people, why it had to be me," she sighed, feeling the weight of her own words. "We don't have any magical background, no known relative that has a magical ability. So, why me?"
She often asked herself that question. Why was she given this kind of power? Magic is wonderful, enchanting, and endless, but at what cost? How much more did she have to lose in this war?
"I was told at a young age that Muggles stole magic in infancy. It was how they acquired magic," Lucius said. "Out of all the things that were said about them, this was the one thing I never believed to be true. How can they steal magic when they didn't even know it existed in the first place."
Hermione looked at him, the very question was on the tip of her tongue.
"You look like you are going to implode, Hermione," he said. "Just ask what it is you wanted to ask."
She couldn't stop herself the moment he said the words. "Why do you hate Muggles so much?"
"You think me ignorant of the Muggle world? You think I didn't know how cruel and terrible they can be? I have seen the fruits of the Muggles' struggles up close," there was a hint of viciousness in his tone. Lucius stared ahead in the darkness although Hermione noticed that his hands were gripping the fabric of his pants tightly. "They're violent savages who would tear each other apart for a scrap of power. They've even built weapons made to tear down an entire city. What do you think they would do to us if our existence were made publicly known to them?"
Hermione didn't miss the way he said 'us'. "Magical people aren't any different, Lucius," she couldn't help but say. "We're just as capable of savagery and violence as them. The only difference is that we are aware of the power we held."
"They hunted us down and burned us at the stake for simply having a different kind of power. They are the ones who sowed the seeds of hatred," Lucius argued. "We were forced to hide in fear of ending up like our predecessors, the ones that died the same way."
"And now you're doing the same to them," she retorted. "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."
He sneered. "Like how open-minded your parents are?"
That hurt. Hermione felt like her insides were submerged in ice-cold water. Tears she had been suppressing came flowing along her cheeks, down to her chin, and onto her lap. "They tried their best to understand. They could've given me away and sent me to an orphanage, but they didn't. They loved me as much as they could even if they struggled to comprehend my world. 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?"
She watched him carefully, watched as his eyes hardened and his face shuttered off. Hermione knew she had hit a nerve. But Lucius surprised her with his response.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I was out of line," he whispered. Hermione wouldn't have heard it if she wasn't paying close attention.
She knew his words were meant to hurt, to lash out at her but that didn't negate the fact that it was partially true. Her parents did try to understand but Hermione felt like they didn't try enough. It was why she found it somewhat easier to erase their memories of her from their minds. It felt like relieving them of their burden but at the same time settling a dark and heavy weight in her heart.
And she supposed she must have hurt him too with her words. If she wanted him to change, she had to show him the opposite of what he grew up believing. That Muggles are capable of love, empathy, and compassion as well.
Hermione rested one of her hands over his as an act of apology, feeling the difference in size and power, as well as experience. He had been trained since childhood, presumably. She just had to hope that being the brightest witch of her age would at least lift her to an almost equal footing with him.
She felt him go rigid at her sudden gesture and Hermione was about to remove her hand but to her surprise, Lucius intertwined their fingers together, holding her hand rather protectively. Hermione was all too conscious of his warmth beside her, the rise and fall of his chest, and the steadiness of his heartbeat, as she glanced down at their joined hands. And for the first time, the thought of their paths finally separating after the war didn't give her the same pleasure and satisfaction as it once had.
Hermione's free hand was fisted around the lining of her jumper, holding it in a white-knuckled grip. The last time she had felt quite like this was when Viktor had led her across the dancefloor during the Yule Ball. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, struggling to come to terms with the feelings rising in her chest.
She closed her eyes, focusing instead on the one coherent thought chasing itself in circles through her mind: there is hope for them.
AN: Also in the middle of writing chapter 5 of Morning After.
