A/N: My dear readers, thank you so much for your lovely comments. I appreciate all of them.
Music: The Ninth Gate – Liana's Seduction
"How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole." - C.G. Jung
15 In the Dark
Exhausted after hours of sparring, Lucius leaned against the shower wall to relieve his sore joints with streams of hot water. He was too tired to remain angry and choleric from his encounters with the prince and Hermione. He already suspected that witch to be offended by the paper trail he had created between them, but the intensity of her reaction took him off guard. Yes, he meant to punish and provoke her, but may have, perhaps, wrongfully taken out his frustration about the deal with the prince on her. Nevertheless, she was at fault too. One does not ignore calls from Lucius Malfoy.
Despite the exhaustion, Lucius could not fall asleep; he turned his pillow several times, rolled around, stretched his aching limbs, but his thoughts would not stop circling around that woman. He recalled the fire in her eyes when she wanted to attack him. Anyone else he would have had dispatched, but she… that fierceness, the sheer cheek triggered an improper interest in her. But it was not her attractiveness and intelligence or her impudence that kept him awake right now; it was the realisation that she, Hermione Granger, embodied a taboo, a forbidden fruit he suddenly wanted to taste: a former enemy, much younger than him, and a Mudblood - everything his father would have detested. And even now, despite his father having snuffed it, the thrill of breaking such a taboo remained strong as ever. As for why, he did not comprehend… yet.
Unable to resolve his predicament, Lucius allowed himself to visit more amicable corners of his mind, like the memory of Hermione's cool fingers trailing down his chest. Those wicked fingers that he had wanted on his cock instead. If he had not stopped her, she would have noticed the effect she had on him. His younger self would have taken his chances with her and seduced her.
God, he yearned to be that young man again.
A wave of excitement washed over him and his thoughts lingered on the memory of her wet tongue when she licked that dessert spoon during their dinner in Geneva. Back then, he already wondered how many inches he could fit into that insolent mouth. How would it feel to push past her alluring lips and fill her out completely with all of his hardness? Would she use her hands? Lucius decided so and imagined how she would look at him with her expressive brown eyes while pleasuring him in all the right ways until he would pick her up and bend her over his desk. What a beautiful sight it would be to draw up her dress, pull down her knickers, and expose her rosy lips, swollen and wet from anticipation. It would be easy to dip his finger into her, but not as fun as punishing her first, spanking her nice arse, over and over, until she properly apologised for her unacceptable behaviour... and begged for his touch. Only then would he give in to her and fully dedicate his attention to that heavenly place he wanted to explore. And as Lucius imagined his first taste, he growled and released the grip on his growing erection. "No," he said to himself. "No," he repeated firmly.
This imprudence had to stop. He could not allow giving in; It had taken too much effort to get that side of him under control. But at this moment, he resented himself for it. If only he could turn back time and be that young man once more... careless, reckless, unscathed.
Faces of his past conquests appeared before his inner eye as he reminisced about his past debaucheries as a bachelor. And then there was his ex-wife, the woman he used to love with every fibre of his body. Narcissa was the shining jewel in his collection of women, the apple of the eye of the House of Black. Her father, Cygnus Black, had found it unworthy to marry off one of his precious daughters to a Malfoy, despite Lucius being one of the Sacred 28 families. Behind closed doors, the Black patriarch had little respect for the House of Malfoy, which had colluded with Muggle aristocracy and married Half-Bloods to keep the blood strong instead of pure. Cygnus even used to call his father Abraxas a frog-eater because their ancestor, Armand Malfoy, had been part of William the Conquerors' army. But in the end, Lucius had got the woman he had wanted, and she had been perfect for him in every way. Until everything broke apart and with it his heart.
Was there a possibility of another woman after her? Another great love?
Lucius believed not. He did not have the mental and emotional capacity to open his heart to someone new. Of course, it did not mean that he had to live in austerity... but he had to stop fantasising about her.
Out of nowhere, his phone started ringing and vibrating; he reached for it before it fell off the edge of the bed stand. Lucius scowled at the display when he read the name of the caller. From one second to the other, he became angry all over again. The audacity to call him at this hour. It better was an emergency. Or an apology!
Lucius finally picked up. "Yes?"
"I've found him."
He paused, surprised. "Who?"
"Fletcher," Hermione said in a condescending tone, which egged him up even more.
"Where?"
"In his…digs. I've tried to question him. He's being uncooperative…"
Lucius suppressed a curse. God knew in what sort of situation she manoeuvred herself in.
"And you call me at this hour for this? Don't you have Potter to assist you in such matters?"
He heard her snorting. "Do you have any Veritaserum?"
Lucius arched his brows. That conversation suddenly became much more interesting. "I might… have access to it."
"Well, I'd be glad if you could help, Lucius."
"Using a regulated serum for an unofficial interrogation on a fugitive? Hermione, don't you have anything else to say first?" He was still swaying between feeling angry and intrigued.
"Lucius, please. I need your help now. We can resolve our issues later, alright?"
"We can, Hermione, and we will."
In the coldest hour of the night, Lucius and his driver arrived at a decrepit old factory building which served as Fletcher's hideaway. They had to climb through a broken window to find Hermione and Fletcher. Two gleaming wands in Hermione's hand were the sole source of light in the otherwise dark hall, that carried a faint stench of stale beer and cold cigarettes. Hermione wore appalling Muggle clothing, her wild hair was loose but what truly shocked him was the way she held Fletcher in check: The fugitive hovered six feet above the dusty floor in a translucent coffin, the same way the Dark Lord had kept his victims on display. How was it possible that she knew how to cast that spell the Dark Lord had invented himself? An icy shiver ran down Lucius' spine. Alas, he circled around the body and came to a halt at Hermione's side, while his driver, with his wand drawn, guarded the broken window. Fletcher's face was twisted and frozen mid-scare. He did not need to ask what she had done to him; Lucius witnessed how the Dark Lord used to do the same with his prisoners.
"Where did you find him?" He asked her.
"In Nocturn Alley."
Lucius gave her a questioning look, to which she added: "I went to the Sphere. A nightclub." She held out her free hand. "The Veritaserum, please."
"Pjotr," Lucius called without leaving her out of sight. His driver emerged from the dark and gave her the precious vial. She pointed her wand at Fletcher, who then fell on the floor like a sack of dung.
"Stay back," Hermione said, turned her back on him and administered the potion.
"As you wish." Lucius retreated into a dark corner.
"Auctoritas finiatur. Wake up, Dung!"
Fletcher groaned and writhed, opened his eyes and tried to stand up; Hermione flicked her wand faster than Lucius could see and Pjotr changed into a protective stance. Gleaming ropes appeared from the tip of her wand and slid around Fletcher's ankles and wrists like snakes before drilling its ends into the ground.
Just like the Dark Lord.
Lucius' heartbeat quickened. An all too familiar feeling of emerging panic washed over him, recollections of endless gruelling torture echoed through his mind. It was as if the gleaming ropes slid around his own ankles and wrists. He remembered how cold and slick they felt when the Dark Lord used to tie him up-
"What's your name?" Hermione asked her prisoner. Lucius was glad that her voice interrupted his train of thoughts.
Fletcher exclaimed profanities before he started withering and groaning painfully. "Oi, let me be, you bleeding hag! You know who I am! Argh… Mundungus Fletcher."
"During the war you've acted as a fence for people, buying artefacts from wizards and witches. Is that true?"
"Yeah no, I might've…" He cried out in pain. "I did. Yeah, what the hell did you do to me?!"
"Do you recall Wizengamot member Angela Fawley selling you any books? The ones you never paid her for? To whom did you sell those books?"
Fletcher fought the urge to reply, but his face contorted in agony. "Yes! I remember her! You bloody bitch used Veritaserum on me? Ugh, I flogged her books to some woman called Diana Serene."
"Who's that?"
Dung broke out in a sweat. "A-a cult leader leadin' one of them secret, fancy Muggle societies."
Lucius almost laughed in disbelief. Could it really be that what he used to propagate turned out to be true? Muggles trying to steal the secrets of magic?
"Which one?" Hermione said, unfazed by the revelation.
"Some shining moon society… whatcha call it? The- the… Moonlight Society."
"Who is this Diana Serene? How did you come in contact with her?"
"I dunno! Some fancy lady, doin' all them posh things. Please, let me go! She contacted me at some dive…"
"NAME!"
"The Red Eel alright!"
"What else do you know about her and this society? Is she a witch? A Muggle?"
"I ain't got a clue about that effing society. Just the name she mentioned. But she knew my name, knew my business, knew the gear I shift."
"The gear you shift ended up in the hands of a Muggle who tried to use that knowledge to practice magic. He scarified women and children for it. Their blood is on your hands."
"It ain't my concern what them customers do with the stuff I flog them. I'm just the bloke selling."
Lucius noticed Hermione's heavy breathing as she tried to reign her emotions. Although it was thrilling watching her interrogating that dog with such vigour, he prepared himself to intervene in case she wanted to do something she would later regret.
"So, with whom else of the Wizengamot did or do you have dealings with?" Hermione said with a dangerous calmness in her voice.
Fletcher swore, but continued to avoid any further pain. "Shafiq. He offloaded me a cursed necklace, and then I passed it on to that Diana Serene."
"That's it?"
"Yes, that's it!" Fletcher growled. "You'll be sorry for that! Nosy bitch. Shouldn't have done it. You'll pay for this."
In reaction, Hermione threw all the names of the people they were investigating at him; Fletcher's face grew paler and paler and he winced at the names of Rosie Fraser and Derek Bobbin to which Hermione probed into it until Fletcher admitted he had sold them a useless amulet and a spoiled love potion.
"Back to Diana Serene. Why do you know her name? How does she look like? How old is she? With whom did she visit you?"
"She told me, alright! Not ancient, real slim, fit, tall, got red locks, wears posh gear, always with some big bloke in a Muggle getup watchin' over her. Didn't nab his name, though. Please, Hermione, remember that Dumble-"
Fletcher howled as she lashed out at Fletcher's feet with a fire whip. Lucius sucked in his breath as the sound of the whip triggered his phantom pains in the back and chest. He had to force himself to breathe through the burning and stinging sensations, in and out, in and out, until they subsided. He wished for his cane that he had left at home.
Hermione's voice trembled from hate as she spat: "Don't take that name into your mouth, after what you did. You should be grateful that I won't hand you over to the ministry."
"Calm down, my dear," Lucius said softly and observed how Fletcher winced upon hearing his voice.
"Who's this?" Fletcher asked in surprise, to which Lucius stepped forward into the light. Fletcher's gaze travelled up to Lucius' face and his bloodshot eyes grew wide in terror. It took him a moment to realise that Hermione was in fact not startled by Lucius' sudden presence and that he was there all along.
"No! Have a bit of mercy, would ya?" Fletcher tried to wriggle out of his shackles. "I ain't sayin' nothing. I'm beggin' you, Hermione, kind soul." Spit hang from his lips, he started whimpering. "Please, I'll do anything, anything, please…"
"What to do with that ragged dog now that he gave us everything we need?" Lucius asked quietly, concealing his excitement about how she would wrap things up. He enjoyed the fear in Fletcher's eyes, the futile begging.
"Oh, I will show him mercy and make sure he won't say a thing."
"Please, please…" Fletcher pleaded.
Hermione pointed her wand at him. "Everything will be alright."
Her answer scared him even more, and he screamed "No!" at the same time as she cast a spell.
A beam of light hit Fletcher right into his head. "Your name is John Miller, and you were just released from a Muggle prison for theft. While serving time, you became very interested in nature preservation. Your biggest dream is working for a non-profit organisation that helps to preserve the turtle population in Costa Rica. It's your destiny. Go to sleep now, but when you wake up, you want to catch the earliest flight to Costa Rica. You never want to come back to England ever. Oh, and there is no such thing as magic, wizards, and witches. You're nothing more than a simple Muggle."
Another flick with her wand, and the ropes around Fletcher's limbs disappeared. Like in a trance, he went over to his makeshift bed and covered himself with a filthy blanket, closed his eyes and started snoring.
Lucius repressed a laugh and turned his gaze towards her. "Turtle preservation? You are full of surprises, my dear."
Her lips turned into a smug smile. "Why not? He's about to do something for the wellbeing of others for the first time ever, and only we know his whereabouts in case we need him again."
Lucius tilted his head in restrained approval. "A rather elegant solution. Although, not without a certain cruelty…"
"What?"
"You just took away his wand and imposed a biography upon him that is devoid of magic."
"That's the least this coward deserved."
"We should go," Pjotr interrupted, "we shouldn't stay here longer than necessary."
In the cover of darkness, Hermione, Lucius, and Pjotr escaped through the broken window and left the abandoned factory.
"I'll see if I can get any information on that society at the ministry," Hermione announced, thrilled.
"I daresay, you seem to be in a rather inadequate state to Disapparate."
"What? No, I'm not!" she insisted, "I've just had an invigoration draught."
"Hermione-" Lucius started when suddenly, she gripped his arm as she tumbled, "oh… my head... I'm feeling dizzy…" Her legs gave out and Lucius caught her mid-fall.
Alarmed, Lucius tried waking her up, calling her name. "Hermione. Hermione!"
"I don't think that helps," Pjotr said as he came near with his glowing wand. "Let me check if she's okay."
They put her on the ground and Pjotr held his ear over her mouth and nose, checking her pulse. "Everything's steady. She just fell asleep. I believe it's an overdose of invigoration draught and alcohol. There's a bit of blood coming out of her ear, see? Very common thing to happen." Lucius moved her head lightly to the side. There was indeed some fresh blood on her ear. "And her hand is twitching." Lucius' gaze wandered down to her twitching fingers. "The best thing is to let her sleep. But…" Pjotr hesitated, searching for the right words, "this sleep could last very long."
"How long do you believe?"
"Maybe a day, maybe a week. Depending how much she had, sir, and how long she was awake. Let me lift her up."
Instead, Lucius gathered her into his arms. "No. I carry her myself."
Hermione's head was propped up on Lucius' lap and padded with his jacket as they drove back. He rested his hands on her side in order to observe any changes to her breathing.
Their ongoing quarrels suddenly felt silly and inconsequential. However, they had to find a civil way of interacting with one another. The more he analysed her character and reflected upon their interactions, the clearer it became that he put her under too much pressure. He could not expect her to remain civil if she was in constant defence mode and overworked. She required a softer touch, more recognition, and he needed more patience.
Hermione sighed as Lucius drew tiny circles with his thumb on her arm. Perhaps a softer touch could also help to worm those secrets out of her: how she gained the knowledge of these spells of the Dark Lord, or what she knew about the secrets of his former master and tormentor. Thinking of secrets… What was the Moonlight Society? What was the purpose of this cult? Who ran it? Was it truly run by Muggles? Or perhaps Squibs?
His blood ran cold at the notion that he might have been looking at his case from the wrong angle. Perhaps the attacker was not a wizard or witch, but someone who could enter their world. No, that was egregious, too farfetched. Lucius dismissed that thought immediately.
A/N II: Ooh la la, dear readers, did it surprise you that Lucius has these wicked thoughts about Hermione?