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CHAPTER 15

We were waiting in the kitchen when Hermione limped through the door, and I couldn't help but wince. She'd called to tell me she would be a bit late since she'd taken a tumble in class and bruised her hip. She'd told me not to worry, that she'd fallen harder and hurt herself worse before, but seeing her grimace with every step she took told me this wasn't just a bruise.

"This looks like more than a bruise," Katie said, voicing my thoughts. "Are you sure you're alright?"

We were meeting with Hermione's friends and Draco and Katie had decided to come to my flat first so we could all go to dinner together.

"Honestly, I'm fine, just a bit sore. And seriously, this is nothing." She leaned into my side and I noticed she took the weight off her right leg, and my concern grew.

"We can cancel," I told her. "I'm sure everyone will understand."

"No, they'll tell me you've turned me soft. Pansy threatened my life when I rolled my ankle and didn't think I would make Sunday lunch a year ago. They're not all that sympathetic when it comes to my chosen profession."

"An ankle you can elevate, a hip you have to sit on," I pointed out. "And since you are struggling to walk, I'm sure sitting will be much more painful."

"Lucius, I promise you I'm fine. I took some painkillers and have tomorrow off to recover."

"A day doesn't seem long enough," Draco said, his face a picture of concern.

"I'll probably take Monday off as well," she added, then winced. "But I have Bridget's class to visit on Monday afternoon."

"Bridget?" Katie asked.

"A young girl we met while out at dinner one night," I explained. "She recognised Hermione and was adorably sweet and shy when her mother brought her over. Hermione has visited her dance school a few times now. But this class might have to be postponed.

"Actually, no." Her face lit up. "It's the perfect opportunity to teach about injuries and how to manage them."

"Hermione…"

"Will you please stop worrying?" Hermione said, exasperated. "I made a stupid beginner mistake and fell on my hip. I've probably put my SI joint out, which means a chiropractic adjustment. However, since it's still inflamed, I'll take anti-inflammatories and use ice on the injury until the swelling goes down. Then the physical therapists will work on it."

We all looked at her like she was speaking jibberish.

She shrugged. "This is not my first injury. Nor will it be my last."

"That might be so, but this is my first injury with you," I said. "So, excuse me for worrying."

She smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms around my neck, and not caring that my son and daughter-in-law were standing right there, she kissed me.

"You're too sweet." She winked at me. "Maybe I'll take Tuesday off as well."

"I'll worry less if you do."

"God, you two are so cute," Katie gushed.

"Yeah, it's positively adorable," Draco drawled, but he was smiling.

"Yes, well, let's get this adorable show on the road," Hermione said. "Pansy's patience only lasts so long."

"Are you going to be okay on the stairs?" Draco asked as he handed Katie her jacket.

"I climbed up them, so I should be fine."

"Maybe Romeo here can carry you down them."

I swatted the back of my son's head. "I'll happily do it if she needs me to."

He looked at Katie. "I think nauseating might be more accurate."

"Funny," Hermione said with an eye roll. "Where's my little Romeo tonight?"

"He's with my parents," Katie answered. "We didn't dare tell him we were seeing you or there would have been a tantrum."

"Wait!" I protested as Hermione reached the top of the stairs. "Draco, walk in front of her in case she slips."

"Cheers, Father. Let her fall on me."

"I won't fall," Hermione insisted as I looped my arm through hers, refusing to let her walk down first. "Lucius, you're being ridiculous."

Katie patted Hermione's arm as she and Draco stepped around her. "You'll never convince him otherwise, Hermione. Malfoy men are very stubborn creatures."

The restaurant was casual, and I was glad. Now I was on the other side of the 'meet and greet,' I understood Hermione's nerves about meeting with my friends. In hindsight, the formal nature of my choice of restaurant would have only served to heighten those nerves.

Her friends were already seated, and since I had met them, I recognised Pansy and Ginny immediately. I assumed the man seated on Pansy's right was her husband. He looked familiar, and I had the oddest feeling of having met him already.

"Alright?" Hermione asked quietly, a small frown creasing her brow.

"I am, why?"

"You have a weird look on your face."

"Nerves," I said and she shook her head.

"I don't believe you. Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing, I'm sure. Just an odd feeling."

"A premonition they'll hate you?"

"Perhaps," I said. "But let's not spoil our evening by being concerned."

"Oh, so you can worry about me, but I'm not allowed to worry about you?" she teased.

"Yes, that's the rule."

"Finally," Pansy said by way of greeting. "How hard did you fall?"

"Landed on my arse," Hermione said as she sat down gingerly.

"But you're okay?" the man sitting beside Pansy asked.

"I'm fine. I'll be sore for a few days," she told him. "But, as delightful as it is, we're not here to discuss my arse. Everyone, this is Lucius Malfoy, and his son Draco and daughter-in-law Katie."

Everyone said their hellos as we sat down and Hermione continued the introductions.

"Lucius, you've already met Pansy and Ginny."

"Good to see you again, Lucius. Officially," Ginny said.

"And you, Ginny. Pansy, I believe congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Lucius," Pansy replied with a grin. "I was hoping we'd see you again… as more than just the neighbour."

"This is Ron and Susan Weasley," Hermione continued. "Ron is Ginny's brother, and this is Pansy's husband, Harry Potter."

My spine stiffened; the name raised goosebumps all over my skin.

Potter.

It was why he looked so familiar. James Potter was one of the boys who had bullied Severus so severely at school, and this man was the spitting image of him.

I did my best to smile politely, but a flare of anger and hurt shot through me.

There was no way Hermione's friend wasn't his son.

"You were awfully subdued at dinner," Hermione said cautiously as we stood side by side in her bathroom, readying ourselves for bed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be," I replied lamely.

"Lucius, something was wrong when we walked in." She squeezed my arm. "Can you please tell me what it was?"

"I'm not sure you'll like it. And I'm not sure if it's anything really."

She shifted her weight from her injured side, wincing at the movement. "It doesn't matter if I like it or not. Something's upset you and since we're an us now, you should tell me what it is."

"Maybe you should lie down," I suggested, lightly touching her hip. "I don't want to have this conversation while you're uncomfortable."

"That bad, huh?"

"No, not bad… At least I don't think so, but this could be a difficult conversation."

"Lucius, what's going on?"

"Bed first," I said and waited for her to limp out of the bathroom before turning out the light. "Are you sure that's not more serious than you're letting me know?"

"No, it's really not. I'll be walking normally tomorrow, I promise."

I watched as she climbed into the bed, manoeuvring herself so she wasn't laying directly on her injured hip.

"I know I'm new at this, but I find it hard to believe that you will be fine in the morning," I argued and climbed in beside her, being careful not to jostle her too much.

"Well, you'll learn just how wrong you are tomorrow." She folded the pillow beneath her head and her face became serious. "Now, tell me what's going on."

Where did I start? If my suspicions were true, where did it put our relationship? I knew Harry wasn't to blame for his father's actions, but would she understand my hesitation in engaging with him?

"It wasn't my intention to be standoffish with anyone tonight. I had been looking forward to meeting your friends. But—" I paused and took a steadying breath. "Your friend Harry, his surname is Potter. One of the boys who bullied Serverus was named James Potter."

She sucked in a breath and I instantly knew I was right.

"When I walked in tonight and saw him, I actually thought he was James, and all those memories of how horrid life was for Severus all came flooding back. Everything those boys put him through, all the taunts and name calling and nasty pranks… it shouldn't have been, but it was difficult to separate him and his father."

"Lucius, I'm so sorry."

"This is not your fault. How could you possibly have known? I never told you their names, I didn't think I would ever have to. And I definitely never thought I would encounter them again… Well, at least their offspring."

"Harry's father was named James, but he doesn't know a lot about him." She reached for my hand and squeezed it. "You should probably know both his parents were killed when Harry was just a baby.."

My stomach lurched; I hated this man down to my very soul, but I wouldn't have wished death upon him.

"He was killed?"

"Yeah. Someone broke into the house and killed both his parents, but left him. Apparently it was all over the news at the time, and it's why Harry became a cop."

"And I was so incredibly rude to Harry tonight."

I rolled to my back and covered my face with my arm. This was the last thing I had expected — both meeting Harry and finding out about his father.

"Lucius, you saw Harry and flashed back to how Severus had been treated. I'm not surprised you acted the way you did. It was an already nervous situation and this just heightened it."

"Yes, but I'm certain Harry isn't his father and I treated him like he was. I should have at least given him a chance. Instead, I became those boys that I hated."

"You weren't that bad," she assured me. "And they all may have noticed something, but they probably put it down to nerves. Besides, Draco and Katie got along famously with everyone."

"It doesn't excuse my behaviour. I'm a grown man. I shouldn't be acting like an immature teenager."

She tugged my arm away from my face. "This really is bothering you, isn't it?"

"The way I acted, yes."

"And you're going to be torturing yourself for a while?"

"Most likely."

Smiling at me, she shuffled closer and pressed a featherlight kiss on my mouth.

"Well, stop. You did nothing wrong. You had a traumatic recall, and you shouldn't apologise for it." She placed her hand over my heart. "We can talk to Harry about it if you want, I know he'll understand, but don't feel like you have to. And I'm sure that next time we meet with them you'll have a different reaction."

"Perhaps," I responded, unable to see any way in which Harry would understand nor that my behaviour could be so easily excused.

She kissed my shoulder and let her hand run down my stomach, but I stopped her. I lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

"You're hurt, and I'm…"

Not in the mood wasn't how I felt, but I just didn't have the enthusiasm to give her what she wanted.

"You're not in the right headspace?"

I smiled and huffed a laugh. "No, I'm definitely not."

"Are you going to just lay here and brood for the next few hours?"

"Possibly."

"Fine," she said and shifted carefully to lay in her usual sleeping position on her stomach. "Brood away, Broody McBrooderson. But if you do feel the need to expend some of that broody energy, please wake me."

"I promise," I told her and reached for the nightstand to turn off the lamp.

An hour and a half later, I was still staring at the ceiling in the darkness. Hermione's breaths were slow and even as she slept soundly beside me, but my mind was too jumbled to switch off so easily. A constant stream of memories from my days at school played like a movie inside my head. And those memories were ones I wished I didn't have.

The callous jibes, the harsh words, and the lack of regard for how their cruelty affected Severus always burned me. And how they got away with it burned me more. But the quiet child who preferred learning over loud larrikinism would always be looked down upon. And when that same child was oftentimes more intelligent than his teachers, he was rarely treated fairly.

However, despite how they treated him, he never once retaliated, never once allowed them to see the effect they were having. He chose to ignore them, which unfortunately only provoked them to pursue him harder.

And that was why Antonin, Corban, and I befriended him.

He became our brother and, for a while, the taunts and bullying lessened. The four heroes only targeted him when we weren't around, which only infuriated us further. The stealth-like tactics they began to use were even more cowardly. And I hated to admit it but I did wish harm to befall them.

And that harm I wished was now tearing me apart.

I turned my head to look at Hermione. She hadn't been overly concerned that Harry wouldn't understand why I pre-judged him, but I knew it wouldn't be as simple as an explanation and all would be forgiven. Harry had every right to be as horrified at my behaviour as I had been at his father's. I wasn't sure what came over me. I instinctively knew it wasn't James I was seeing, but the image of him and the terror he raised against Severus outweighed any rational thoughts I might have had.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I huffed out a low sigh; sleep wasn't going to come any time soon with my mind churning as it was. I rolled over slowly so as not to disturb Hermione and eased out of the bed. Grabbing the robe I'd taken to leaving in her flat, I slipped into it and left the room, closing the door quietly, heading for the living room. And — despite the hour — I poured myself a scotch, and stood staring out the window.

It had been a long time since I'd been so affected by his loss. I thought of him often, but I'd always been reluctant to talk about him; I blamed myself for not protecting him and my guilt weighed heavily on me. But tonight, with so many memories flooding my mind, it had been difficult to decipher one from another, and Harry became the target of my guilty anger. And I'd not even given him a chance — I just immediately assumed the worst.

Despite her denials of my behaviour, Hermione was wrong. I had acted as badly as the four boys who tormented my friend had.

I poured myself another scotch and sat in the armchair by the window, turning on the small table lamp beside me and staring at the amber liquid in my glass. I often wondered what Severus would be doing had he still been here, and always came to the same conclusion; he'd be a genius recluse who would throw the scientific world into a spin with Einstein-like equations on a regular basis. He had been like no one I had ever known. His mind was a wonder, and his ability to look at the world around him and instantly recognise where improvements could be made was astonishing.

He'd been wise beyond his years, and once we'd won his trust, loyal to a fault. He was our friend but he also became our teacher. He taught us that quiet observation was always the better option than the obnoxious smartarsery of those around us. He taught us to listen, to see the reactions of others before reacting ourselves. And he taught us that being loyal to those who were loyal to you was more important than anything.

That was, however, my downfall when it came to my ex-wife.

But for all his wisdom, we never saw the torment inside him. He never allowed us to. And his death truly was devastating to us all.

I put the blame squarely on his tormentors, hating them as much as I had hated anything or anyone in my life. I hadn't been unable to forgive them, and honestly doubted I ever would. But Harry's presence cast a shadow over my doubt. And after witnessing their interactions at dinner, I knew his friendship with Hermione was unbreakable.

I knocked back the entire glass of scotch in one go; it seemed karma truly was a bitch.

For my relationship with Hermione to work, I would have to face Harry and explain my coolness towards him and just hoped he would understand.

The aroma of coffee dragged me from my sleep. It was rich and inviting and much closer than it should have been.

Opening my eyes, I made an attempt to move but cursed when the muscles in my neck spasmed and a tear of pain shot into my shoulder.

"It's your own fault," Hermione's amused voice said. "You're too old to sleep in the chair."

"And good morning to you too," I muttered as I slowly stretched the kink out of my neck.

"Why did you sleep out here?" she asked, walking over to me carrying two mugs of coffee.

"I was restless and didn't want to wake you." I took the offered mug and nodded my thanks. "So I came out here and drank some scotch, and I guess I fell asleep."

She leaned down and kissed my forehead then eased herself onto my lap. "How long did you brood for?"

"I didn't see the sunrise, so just a few hours."

"A few hours too many," she said. "Harry is one of the sweetest guys I know. I already told you he won't be hurt or upset, so torturing yourself is pointless."

"How can you be certain he won't be upset?"

"Because I know him, and have known him since I was eleven. I promise you he won't hate you."

"He won't hate the person who hated the father he never knew? You don't think he'd want to know about his father, and not the shitty stuff I remember?"

Hermione winced, "He said he'd had some contact with one of his father's school friends. Someone named Remus, I think."

"Yes, I remember him."

"Lucius, I'm so sorry. I'm sure you never expected to have to deal with all of this again."

"No, I definitely didn't. The very last thing I expected when I met my mad neighbour was this." I ran my hand along her thigh, and suddenly remembered her injury. "How's your hip this morning?"

"It's fine. Hardly hurts at all," she said with a smug smile. "Exactly as I said it would be."

I gently pressed my fingers into her hip and she squirmed.

"Exactly as you said?"

"It might still be a bit bruised, but my limp is gone."

"So you're doing very little today?"

She put her coffee mug on the side table then ran her finger along the stubble on my jaw. "You might be able to convince me to do something."

I placed my mug beside hers, smiling as I slipped my hand beneath her t-shirt and pressed my fingers lightly into her lower back. I rubbed gently, moving across the tight muscle, and laughing at her moan.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I have many skills you are completely unaware of," I told her, following the curve of her hip bone.

She leaned her head onto my shoulder, sighing in contentment as I continued to massage her hip and lower back.

"That feels so good," she murmured, her full weight sinking into me. "Do you have a secret profession you haven't told me about?"

I kissed her forehead and shook my head. "I may have watched a few how to videos on my phone while I was brooding last night."

"You did not." She slapped my chest playfully. "You're too good at it."

"It's the honest truth."

She looked up at me. "You did research at stupid o'clock?"

"I'm always doing research," I answered, moving my hand to the side of her hip.

"Mmm, well, I expect you to do this all day now." She sighed then jumped when I touched a particularly tender spot. I stopped immediately, ignoring her protests.

"I'm not going to hurt you any further," I said. "If I do, I'm sure the ballet company will be after my balls."

She snorted into my neck. "I'm pretty sure Viktor would love to have them for himself."

Viktor Krum — one of Hermione's fellow principals — had already assured me that when she was done with me, he'd be there to console me. Or, if she decided to keep me, he would gladly share. I'd shocked the hell out of him when I'd kissed his cheek and thanked him for his unnecessary concern. Hermione had dissolved into laughter at the stunned expression on his face, but I had been greeted with a kiss on the cheek each time I'd seen him since. And his flirty innuendo led me to believe all dancers had a mad streak.

I had, however, been slightly jealous the first time I'd seen them dance together. It had been like magic, both moving in sync with a fluid ease that years of training had taught them. But the combination of his hands on her as he lifted her, and knowing I was incapable of such feats had caused that twinge of jealousy.

Hermione had pointed out that a) Viktor was gay so I had nothing to worry about, and b) she couldn't write much more than to do lists, so my jealousy at her dancing was matched by hers at my writing.

"Yes, well, Viktor is quite charming, but I prefer your ownership of certain parts of me."

She laughed as I wrapped my arms around her, enjoying this lazy Sunday morning with her. Snuggling into me, she sighed heavily, her lips pressing soft kisses along the roughness of my jaw.

"Did you want to talk with Harry?" she asked quietly.

I closed my eyes and ran my hand along her thigh. While I hated the thought of having to explain my experiences with his long-dead father, I knew it was necessary. And I didn't want my past to stand in the way of my future.

"Yes," I answered. "I think it would be for the best."