AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!
WARNING: smut
Can You Take the Jump?
Chapter 40
"I need to see him. I will do it tonight."
"You cannot—"
"He gave me his address, a drop of his blood." She told her.
Narcissa gasped, her pale skin turned even paler.
"You will break him." She whispered. "To be broken by you, it will break him."
She placed her hood back on and started to walk away, but the words she spoke echoed in Narcissa's ears.
"If he breaks, then you'll be there to build him back up."
…
On the last night of Hermione's 5th year, before returning home.
Hermione walked into Alphard's old room, double-checking that she had Lucius's bloody address and floo powder in her pocket.
The room was barren, emptied of all personal belongings. She took a deep breath in, hoping to smell a lingering memory of Alphard, but only to find herself disappointed with the scent of dust and wood. The room remained unoccupied since Dumbledore was unable to find a replacement for Alphard so late in the year. The headmaster taught most of the remaining classes, while other professors substituted when needed.
Not a single soul must have entered this room in months.
She grazed the dusty table with her finger and closed her eyes, remembering the days when she would sit across from him doing nothing but reading a book while he graded essays, or when they chatted about everything and nothing at all. It felt both eons away and only moments ago, like she could open her eyes and he would be right there congratulating her for successfully finishing her O.W.L.s.
"He would have made a big deal out of you finishing your exams," Harry nodded. "Balloons, cake, and confetti. The works."
"He would probably invite everyone to have a party as well; Lily, her roommates, and the Marauders." Hermione laughed, agreeing with his thoughts. She looked around the room, imagining how the ridiculously cramped the party would have been.
"He would probably vanish the rest of the furniture to make more room except the desk," he told her. "The desk would be used to hold all the food and drinks for the party. He might've even snuck a little elf wine for you guys to really enjoy your night."
"Definitely." Hermione nodded. She let her imagination run a little while longer; the tassels, the garland that spelled out CONGRATULATIONS, the streamers, balloons, food, drinks, cake, and smiling, laughing faces. Eventually, reality crept into her mind revealing the cold empty room.
"Ready?" Harry asked, bracing himself with her. He looked serious like he was preparing for a mission.
Hermione grabbed Floo powder in one hand and Malfoy's address in the other. She stepped into the fireplace with one deep breath.
"Malfoy Manor!"
…
"Ah!" She gasped when he plunged in deep and strong. "Oh, Merlin! Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck! Fuck me!" The horrible metal bedframe creaked, squeaked, and banged into the wall. The thin walls shook, making the entirety of the tiny apartment shake as well.
He sighed, he gripped her red hair, the touch too rough and matted, "Shut up." He threatened as he continued to thrust in her. The pussy around his cock was warm and wet, inviting him to release. He closed his eyes, imagining someone else beneath him, panting, moaning, and groaning for him, with him.
He opened his eyes, only to see the eyes beneath her, an icy shade of blue. Wrong, it was all wrong. He pulled her up like a ragdoll and flipped her around so that he didn't need to see her face.
"You're a dirty fucking whore." He swore as his hips snapped into her, the slap of their skin echoing in the small room.
"I'm your dirty dirty whore," she echoed, knowing it was what he wanted to hear. "I deserve to be punished."
He slapped her ass, hard, leaving a bright red mark on her skin, a welt. She screamed. He did it again, and again. Tears started brimming in her eyes.
"I deserve to be punished." She stuttered through the pain.
"Yes, you do. Now, beg."
"I don't deserve your attention, I am unworthy, I am nothing!"
"Good girl." He reached down, petting her clit, whilst increasing the speed of his strokes. "Here is your reward."
He spread her legs further apart, with one hand on her breast and the other roughly rubbing and pinching her clit he pistoned in and out of her wet pussy. He felt her walls flutter and her breath started to staccato.
"P-please." She begged. "Please!"
Removing his hand from her breast, he pushed her head into the bed, face-first into the mattress, muffling her screams. He saw her arms and legs twitch from suffocation, but her pussy gushed and clenched tightly. He felt his lower abdomen and balls clench as his peak crept up on him.
"You are nothing to me, you mean nothing!" He growled into her ear.
Though her words were muffled, he could feel her nod. She came with a scream and he bit his tongue until he tasted blood to hold in his shout when he followed her after three deep thrusts.
He tucked his long blond hair behind his ear and lay on top of her as he tried to catch his breath. She turned her head to finally breathe. Neither of them spoke for a while. Eventually, Lucius regained sensation in his legs and pulled out his softened cock. He searched for his trousers, reached into the pocket to pull a few galleons, and threw them on the bedside table.
"You've asked for me three times this week." She told him, still slightly out of breath. "Only me."
Lucius didn't respond. He didn't even look at her as he continued to get dressed.
"Don't worry, I'm not stupid enough to read into it, but if you'd like to be part of my exclusive clientele, we can make an arrangement."
"I'm getting married next month."
She raised her brow like she was saying, "what of it?" Lucius grimaced at the reality of most pureblood marriages. He was no better.
"No, this ends after the vows."
"Okay," she said, clearly not believing him. He wasn't sure if he believed himself either.
The beautiful naked redhead stared at him from the bed with her icy blue eyes, the wrong eyes, but they shined with a knowing look that reminded him of her.
"She did a number on you, didn't she?" she asked quietly, softly, scared to wake the slumbering beast.
The memories of her legs and arms wrapped around Sirius Black's body in the snowy courtyard flashed through his mind. He clenched his hand tightly until his nails made painful indents in his palms, but his face remained neutral and emotionless when he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Knowing better than to poke a sleeping beast, the girl wisely made no further comment.
Lucius threw his outer robes on and pulled the hood over his head, covering his face and noticeable hair as he walked out of Knockturn Alley. He could have just apparated right to Malfoy Manor, but he didn't wish to bring the smell of shameful sex to his home. Rain drizzled down, making the pavement glitter like diamonds.
"I must stop." He told himself, walking down the empty streets. It was late. Everyone was either in a pub, in a whore's room, or at home, sleeping.
She would be sleeping.
Her luscious red hair would be spread across the pillow, her ivory skin glowing in the moonlight. She would be lying there, vulnerable, and unaware of the affliction she caused him by simply existing.
He resented her. He loathed her. He wanted her.
"I must stop." He repeated, knowing full well that he'd be back in that whore's room within 48 hours.
He didn't even know her name. They met two days after Alphard Black's funeral: two long days of investigating the validity of the mudblood's screaming allegations against his father. Against his family.
The Mudblood's accusations had been true. Every single one of them.
After checking some old ancestral heirlooms, his father had gotten sick, forcing him to isolate himself in another property. He'd called Healers, but none of them answered his call due to the nature of his illness, so he sent a letter to the Cygnus and Druella Black demanding they send a Healer or else the marriage would be nulled, and the Malfoy fortune and Malfoy Company would slip out of their fingers. Lucius's future in-laws were not poor by any means, but Walburga held such a tight rope around the main Black fortune's coin purse that the greedy side families had desperately wanted their greasy fingers all over the Malfoy fortune. Unlike the Blacks, the Malfoy fortune did not split into separate inheritances because of his bloodline's uncanny ability to have a son, resulting in no need to have more children.
Cygnus and Druella had begged Walburga to send Alphard, despite knowing his father's sickness's…lethalness. While Lucius did not know what Walburga Black said to her brother to convince him to see his father, the Healer had visited. And the rest was history.
After the two days, Lucius wanted a drink, but his manor was too large, too quiet, and the mudblood's screams echoed in his mind, so he found himself walking towards the Leaky Cauldron. However, within minutes, Lucius had to leave. The establishment was too rowdy for Lucius's sensitive temperament that evening, which was how he found himself in Knockturn Alley, where miscreants and outlaws resided.
He'd gotten himself plastered, something he hadn't done since he was 16 on his father's expensive Firewhiskey.
It was not a wise place for a rich man like himself to lose control, but he didn't care.
Near the end of the night, he accidentally spilled his drink on some unsavoury men. Fully accepting the fact that he was about to get beaten to a pulp, he stood there, not even bothering to defend himself, when a woman stood between him and the men.
She was similarly small, thin, and short, but her hair truly caused his breath to catch. In the dim lighting of the sketchy pub, the shade of red was nearly identical. In Lucius's drunken mind, it was identical. Her voice was soft and gentle, unlike the burning hate that she'd given him. Without thinking anything through, he leaned to whisper into her ear.
"I will give you anything."
Her wrong eyes twinkled with delight when she dragged him down the street and up the stairs to a microscopic flat. It was smaller than his closet back in the manor, but he didn't have time to wonder how someone could live in a space so small. The woman pushed him onto the lumpy mattress and started undressing, giving him smouldering eyes.
Lustful, inviting, and wanting. So different from the way she looked at him as she pointed her finger and accused his father of killing Alphard Black. Hatred burned in those eyes. The same type of soul-tearing fire that burned in his father's eyes when he talked about Mudbloods.
Despite the lack of hatred in the woman's eyes, the icy blues were all wrong, and his erection was quickly softening.
"Turn around." He'd growled at her, refusing to see her eyes.
That was their first of many nights.
Lucius walked down Diagon Alley, berating himself for his weakness. He let the cool summer breeze take the musk of sex off his clothes and calm his raging mind.
His wedding was only a month away. He needed to stop. Narcissa deserved at least that much respect, but when he stayed away for too long, those eyes, that hair, and her creamy skin haunted his dreams.
Lucius missed a step, nearly falling on his face, at the shock feeling a deep pulse within him. Something was wrong. It wasn't a feeling he had before, but he could immediately tell that something had happened. He patted himself down, wondering if he'd been cursed by someone lurking in the dark corners of Diagon Alley. He looked around in confusion, wondering what the sensation was when it hit him.
Someone was in his house.
Skipping the leisure stroll he had been on, he apparated to his home immediately, wand at the ready.
He appeared in his main foyer, the center of his house. He looked around frantically, looking for signs of theft, destruction, or dark magic. But the house remained clean, untouched. Not a single painting had been skewed, an ornate vase out of place, or a Persian rug overturned.
"S-sir?" His elf appeared with crack. "Sirs has a guest."
"You let a guest into the house when I wasn't home?" He demanded, furious with the incompetence of the small creature.
"Dobby tried to ask her to leave. Dobby did, but Miss hases a note. A note from Master Lucius."
Lucius stopped. She?
"Who—" He stopped to repress the overwhelming joy that was blooming in his chest. He'd sent letters to Narcissa as well, he told himself, trying to remember if he'd ever sent her his address and his blood that would grant her access to his ancestral home.
"Where is she?"
"In the small library, sir."
His long legs strode across the floor in quick haste. He walked up the stairs in threes and practically ran down the hall as he neared the library/study but stopped at the door.
He needed to calm down. The last time they spoke hadn't been the most pleasant of moments.
How should he react to her being here? He couldn't tell her what he was feeling. He was trying to not acknowledge it himself. Should he be angry? Annoyed? Disturbed?
Before he decided, the double doors creaked open to reveal the girl who'd been haunting his dreams.
"I thought I heard you out here."
Her long red hair was braided down her back, pushing all the hair out of her face, revealing the two most intriguing and desirable eyes he'd ever seen. They held intelligence, cunning, and wisdom, unfitting for a girl her age.
He couldn't believe she was actually here. He knew he'd given her the note, but after not using it for such a long time, he didn't think she would ever use it.
"Miss Evans."
"I should have messaged you beforehand, I'm sorry." She apologized. This was by far the most civilized they'd been. Her skin had the smallest number of freckles littered on the bridge of her nose that hadn't been there before, indicating that she'd spent some time outdoors in the sun. She looked like she'd gained a healthy amount of weight since Alphard Black's funeral, rounding out much of her sharpness, giving her a softer, more innocent look.
His eyes travelled down to see two mounds beneath her shirt.
He cleared his throat and walked into his study to grab himself a drink to calm his raging heart.
He opened the decanter and poured himself a glass of expensive scotch. He finished the glass in two large gulps and poured himself another to finish more than half of it in less than a second. When he felt calm enough to look at her again, she stared at him, head cocked to the side and a frown between her brows.
Those eyes studied him, up and down.
His fingernails embedded themselves into his palms as he tried to control the urge to straighten his appearance. He knew how he looked. His hair was not the immaculate neatness it usually was, his clothes were disorderly, and there might even be some love marks on his neck.
I don't need to be ashamed; I don't need to explain myself to her. He told himself.
If she knew what he'd been doing, she didn't comment. Instead, she returned her eyes to the books that lined his study.
"I like your collections." She mused at the large collection of antique and historic texts that lined the shelves. "You're blessed to possess such valuable knowledge."
"It isn't even all of it, there's a larger library. This one's used as a study."
Her head snapped toward him, her eyes glittering with interest. It was the first time she'd given him such a positive look or reacted so happily to his voice, his words.
There was a sudden urge to show her the whole manor, show her all of the Malfoy heirlooms, not just the books, but jewels, paintings, sculptures, lands, and properties. A beautiful small villa he owned in Tuscany that no one else knew about… that no one else had access to…
"What are you doing here?" He grit out.
"To apologize."
He blinked.
"The last time we saw each other at Alphard's funeral, I was" she hesitated. "Unkind. Unfair. I'm sorry for my behaviour and actions. 'The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffers for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.'"
Lucius didn't know how to respond. He didn't know the quote, but it resonated with him. Everyone looked at him and expected him to be cruel, greedy, and heartless like his father.
"It's the Bible. Ezekiel 18:20. Interesting book." She gestured toward the ancient texts, "Probably as old as those books over there, but rewritten and reworded throughout history."
Lucius watched, listening to her talk. Was she rambling?
"My point is, I don't blame you for Alphard's death. I was just…" She let out a shaky breath. "Upset."
"I think that's an understatement." He finally spoke.
She nodded. "He was dear to me. He still is."
"Why?"
"He raised me. A second father. One of the kindest, gentlest, and incredible people I've ever had the privilege of knowing."
"Is that why you're dating his nephew? To hold a piece of him close to you?"
"No!" She jerked back, grimacing at the accusation. "I would never do something like that. Sirius is Sirius and Alphard is Alphard. I love—" she stopped.
He stopped.
Love?
"I love Alphard as a father. As someone who worked tirelessly to give me a happy childhood. As someone who understood me and gave me comfort in a miserable time." She paused. "He loved me unconditionally. He gave me everything. Me dating Sirius has nothing to do with Alphard."
They stayed silent for a while. Neither of them was willing to break their stillness.
"And?"
She slowly turned to him.
What about your feelings for Sirius Black? He wanted to ask, but his pride didn't let the question escape his mouth. "You've apologized, yet you're still here, so you're clearly here for something else. Your real objective."
"My apology was real."
"Maybe, but it's not the main reason you're here."
She was impressed by his perceptiveness, yet she was blind to how her words affected him.
"I sometimes wonder if you're the only one left who truly knows how I operate." She gave him a small smile. "I'm here to ask to borrow your house once a week for a meeting and training session."
"What?"
"Fredrick Avery, myself, Severus Snape, and Regulus Black are or will be recruited for Voldemort's ranks. It is only a matter of time before we're brought to him willingly or by force."
"You will NOT join his forces."
"Who's going to stop him? You? Do you have such power?" She challenged.
"I will offer him someone else."
"Who?" She demanded. "Who, Lucius?"
He looked directly into her eyes, Anyone else. "He will break you. He will destroy you." He warned.
"Do not think me so fragile, Lucius." She whispered. "I know how cruel and despicable he is. How vile and inhuman."
"You don't—"
"I do." Her eyes glowed with power and knowledge. "But they don't. The boys don't have a clue. None of them wish to kill. None of them will follow Voldemort's agenda. Being part of his ranks will break them, ripping apart their soul." Referring to the boys she listed. "I just want to protect them."
Lucius looked into her hazel eyes, the sincerity she held in them, the genuine concern she had for the other boys. Anger ripped through him. He was hurt by her oversight, and it manifested into a burning rage within him.
"What about me?" He asked eerily quiet, unlike the loud fire blazing within him. The images of the dead, the bloody messes, and the curses he had to do to protect himself raced through his mind before he could stop them. "What about me? What about my soul?!"
She looked up at him. A long stretch of silence extended between them. She watched and listened to him try to contain his hurt. He tried to hide as much as he could out of habit, but he didn't kick her out of the house. A large enough part of him wanted her to witness the pain her oversight caused.
She stepped closer to him. He stepped back. This time she raised her hands and stepped closer to him like he was a terrified animal. He still stepped back, but his leg caught the alcohol bar that he kept in the room. The glassware sang loudly as they swayed, hitting each other, cutting the silence between them.
She was still approaching him, but he was now trapped.
"Don't." He croaked when she was barely a step away.
She placed her small hands gently on his chest.
Unlike the whore's hands that had been on him earlier that night, her hands felt comforting, soothing even. Like she was healing the ache she'd caused. The pain his sins had caused.
"I'm sorry that you weren't a priority." She told him softly. "I'm sorry that I've been blind to your pain."
He gripped her wrist, unsure if he wanted to rip it off of his person or hold it there so that her healing hand could soothe his damaged soul.
"Let me help you. Let me help all of us."
He didn't know why he believed she could do it; Voldemort versus a muggle girl, a child, but before he knew what he was doing, he nodded.
"Okay."
…
Present time.
Hermione opened the door to Lucius's study to see that everyone had already arrived.
"Sorry, I'm late. Should we get started right away?"
Lucius and Regulus were talking civilly while Severus and Avery stood off to the side, listening, but not interacting. Everyone's head snapped towards her as she casually walked while removing her outer robe. She was about to place it on a chair when a crack resounded in the small study to reveal Dobby the House Elf.
"Hello, Dobby." She smiled kindly. "How are you today?"
Dobby's large eyes flickered between her and Lucius who studied their interactions.
"I am well, Miss Hermione."
"That's wonderful. Pinky was asking for your recipe for your lemon squares for the past two weeks, you know. They were simply marvellous."
Dobby blushed, but there was a brilliant smile on his face.
"It is Dobby's mother's recipe. Dobby will make sure Miss Hermione gets a copy before she leaves."
"You'd do that for me?" She placed a hand over her chest. "I would be honoured. I'll make Pinky promise to respect it absolutely."
Lucius cleared his throat.
Dobby jumped and apparated out of the study immediately.
She threw a withering glare at the older Slytherin.
"Don't do that."
"You greet a House Elf, but all we get is 'let's get this over with.'"
"Those were not my words."
The group's eyes flickered back and forth between the duo. They were arguing again. The two cool-headed individuals seemed to burst every time they were in the same room.
"How was work, Hermione?" Severus asked cutting off the argument before it could grow.
Her glare remained on the blonde for another few seconds before she allowed her eyes to move to Severus Snape. His pale skin finally gained some colour from the days he spent outside helping his mother garden on the sizable plot of land that Alphard had left the small family. He looked good; even gained some muscle from all the physical labour he got from gardening and farming. It was helping him catch up with the other guys in terms of physical fitness.
"You've all got 10 minutes to get dressed and meet me out back."
"We're not doing legilimency training first?" Regulus asked, surprised she would change up their usual schedule.
"No, I'd like to blow off some steam." Hermione's sharp eyes glanced at Lucius before returning to the boys. "I hope you're all ready to dodge some spells today."
…
Hermione's breath shook as she kept her bright eyes keen in the dark. It was Severus, Avery, and Regulus versus her and Lucius. While the blond and herself were at odds frequently, it was the most logical divide in power to represent what the boys will go through once they actually join Voldemort's ranks. Everyone around them will be far superior in age, experience, power, and insanity. If they stepped a foot out of line or got caught trying to filter information out of the Voldemort's circle, they're going to need to run out of the location alive to get help.
She wasn't training them to kill. She was training them to survive.
Malfoy Manor, like places such as Diagon Alley and Grimmauld Place, was ancient. Magic existed in this location for hundreds of years, generations of Malfoys and Pureblood brides resided and were buried in this place. Grand and powerful magic would be cause for detection, but something as simple as a marker charm or a legilimency spell could be cast without alerting the Ministry.
"But what if they have to kill? To prove themselves?" Harry asked, crouching behind a tree with her. "It might be like a rite of passage of some sort. I don't believe that Voldemort would allow any teenager to join his ranks without testing them first. To make sure they have what it takes to be his soldier."
"I have a plan in the works." She muttered, keeping her eye on Regulus.
The team of boys had learned from previous experience that splitting apart and meeting up at a rendezvous location later was the best chance that at least someone would survive. They've yet to succeed in outsmarting her and Lucius, but they were improving, getting smarter, tactical, and magically creative every time they practiced.
Avery was the easiest to pick off. The most prone to fear and the least magically talented out of the three, he was the one who made the most mistakes. Shouting his incantation for everyone in the vicinity to hear, stepped on branches, fell, and screamed at the sound of a rustle in the bushes.
This time she left Lucius to deal with reprimanding Avery for this many stupid mistakes while she chased Severus and Regulus through the woods of the large Malfoy estate.
She let Regulus wander for another 10 meters before she shot her marking spell on him.
"Argh!" He cried as the paint-like substance covered his white shirt. "Merlin, how do you keep finding us?"
Hermione smirked, her animagus could smell them from a mile away. It may not be fair, but Voldemort had werewolves and other creatures on his side as well.
"What have I always told you? Mask your scent, your steps, your everything."
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, be like the wind. Yadeyada."
"I never said be like the wind. I may not be able to see it, but I can feel it. I don't even want to be able to feel you."
"How does that work?"
"There is no one answer to the mastery of escape and survival. Get creative. You're too impatient; running to the end goal in the most direct route without realizing that it's the first route that the enemy will intercept. Think like them. Be like them."
He grumbled something under his breath. Hermione didn't catch everything, but she caught the last bit.
"How is he, Sirius, I mean?"
Regulus's eyes widened a fraction, surprised that she could hear him. "He's f—"
"Don't lie."
"He's coping." Walburga had him trapped in that despicable place he called home for weeks now, not letting him take a breath of fresh air or write letters.
"I thought you'd never ask about him." Regulus raised his brow at her. "He talks about you constantly to me, to the point of exhaustion might I add, but I've never even heard you mention him."
"It does nothing to correct the situation, so I focus on what I can control."
Regulus let out a small laugh while shaking his head at her cold compartmentalization.
"Mother dearest is keeping him alive and well enough. He has to be presented to people, she can't exactly kill him, though I expect she has half a mind to." Regulus shook his head. "She mentioned something happening in three days."
Hermione's attention snapped to him.
"Thr—"
She was cut off when a splatter of pain coloured her shirt. Hermione turned around to see Severus holding his wand and smirking with victory.
"You always said to strike when least expected."
"Oh," Hermione looked down at the red paint that splattered her clothes, her skin, and her hair. It looked like blood.
"I realized that we've been playing this game all wrong." Severus continued. "We can't outrun Lucius in this place, he knows the area too well. You, on the other hand, know us too well. You can predict our movements. Once we're caught, the likelihood of one of us overpowering one of you is highly unlikely, but we can't just move in a group, it makes us easier targets."
Severus was clearly proud of himself as he smiled broadly.
"I decided to follow your instructions and mask my footsteps, my scent, anything that could give myself away and hid, waiting for you and Lucius to split up. I saw you take out Regulus in a heartbeat and stand there leisurely, acting like there is no threat. You shouldn't underestimate us so much, Hermione."
"I see you've thought this through." Hermione managed a smile, "I agree. No one should be underestimating anyone."
"Snape look out!" Regulus attempted to warn him, but it was too late. Red paint splattered against Severus's abdomen gruesomely.
"Your strategy was good, Sev, but your arrogance was not." She told him as Lucius walked out from the trees behind them dragging Avery behind him.
"Now that we're all gathered, we should head back in. Regulus just told me some important news."
…
The boys showered, but Hermione threw a simple cleaning charm on herself. It felt wrong to shower in Malfoy Manor, so she walked up and down the shelves of books in the not-so-humble library, looking at the magnificent collection of ancient books. The wealth of knowledge and history that the Purebloods hoarded, unwilling to share with the public was absolutely criminal.
She passed all the fascinating books that called to her, eye hers scanning for a leather-bound diary. Tom Riddle's diary to be exact. She didn't think Lucius would have it already, but she could never be sure.
"You may read whatever you wish, you know." Lucius had walked in without her detection. It was a rare skill that not many possessed.
"I did not know that," she said. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind if I see something that catches my eye."
He nodded, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. He drank a lot. Always. Never enough to get drunk, but always to keep glassy-eyed. He also never smelled like that cheap perfume that she'd first smelled when she saw him in this house. He hadn't revisited the prostitute, or maybe he was just better at hiding it.
"How fast can you get a portkey made, discretely?" She asked, watching him sip his whiskey. "Within three days?"
He did not lower his glass but raised his brow. She waited patiently for him to finish his long sip and set his glass down before prompting an answer out of him.
"It needs to be done in three days."
"Portkey? To where? For who?"
"The 'to' I'm working on. It's for Sirius."
To Lucius's credit, he did not react. There was no twitch in his jaw, his knuckles did not whiten because he gripped the glass, and his breathing was even and smooth, but he could not hide the dilation of his eyes. A biological reaction of an increased heart rate.
He was angry.
"I would do it myself, but I'm still 16 until January."
"How fast can you get me a location?"
"Tomorrow."
"Then you'll have your portkey the day after tomorrow."
Hermione blinked at the accelerated time frame. Usually, it took weeks to get a legal portkey. Her surprise must have registered on her face because Lucius let out a small chuckle.
"You said you needed it quickly, didn't you?"
"Yes. I just didn't expect such efficiency."
"I'm nothing if not efficient."
"Admirable."
"What would you have done if I said I couldn't get it done in three days?"
This time it was Hermione's turn to chuckle. "You don't want to know."
There was a sinister undertone to her words, but it sent a tingle down his lower belly.
"What is the shampoo you buy, Malfoy? It's amazing! My hair's never been this soft." Avery marvelled as he walked into the library. The two other boys trailed after him smelling of expensive oils and soaps.
The three stopped at the door, sensing the energy of the room, but Hermione produced an easy smile, "Don't even ask, Avery. I'm sure it's well out of our tax bracket. Maybe not Regulus's though."
Using her response as a sign that it was alright to enter the room, the three boys settled into the different chairs and settees in the reading area.
"Regulus has informed me that something big is happening in three days in his house. I think it's safe to say that it is the initiation day."
"It is?" Avery paled. Rightly so, considering he was one of the soldiers who would be initiated. "My parents haven't mentioned anything."
"They're probably trying to leave it till the last minute so that you don't run off," Hermione told him gently. "You've been practicing your Occlumency, yes?"
He nodded but he looked tortured like he was trying to swallow down his own sick.
"Don't worry, Avery. You're ready." She reassured.
It was impossible to prepare the boys to become full-versed Occlumens in such a short time frame. Instead, Hermione manipulated their memories, creating a literal box in their minds. It was baffling to perform, but she'd managed it over the month with each of the boys. She had essentially inserted a box of her own making into their minds where she would lock up the contents of their meetings and specific information. It wasn't just a box placed by inducing their thoughts or ideas. It was her creation in their minds, making it difficult for them to open and access, like a foreign body in their minds. This meant that once the memories were placed in these boxes, the boys essentially had no memories of what conspired in the Malfoy Manor.
Of course, Hermione had to leave some information outside of the box, such as remembering to practice occlumency, the techniques they learned, the spells they were taught, and the strategies and tactics they were told to memorize. But the information on when, where, and who taught them these things were securely locked away in her box in their minds. The types of information she left available to them were easier to hide with their limited occlumency skills because they were just general knowledge. If Voldemort did manage to break through their barriers and see into their minds, he wouldn't think twice about the information she kept visible.
Every time they needed to meet up, Hermione placed a compulsion charm on their letters to meet at Malfoy Manor at the agreed-upon time. She was the one who opened up their boxes, flooding their memories with months of training and knowledge. Severus called it the Memory Tidalwave, while Avery claimed it felt like being her for a split second.
"Avery," Hermione redirected his nervous energy. "All you need to do is make sure you show him your Potions achievements. None of the actual potions making part. Just the final product. The praise, the standing ovations that Slughorn threw at your face every day. Voldemort doesn't give a rat's arse about how you became so talented. He just cares that you are."
Despite her attempt at being comforting, Avery audibly gulped.
"Also, I have something in the works at the moment, but I need your magic, Lucius."
"What is it?" Severus asked.
"A knockoff Killing Curse."
The boys' heads turned to her with shock.
"Our loyalties will be tested, so I've been developing a fake Avada. A green curse that can mimic death on the target. I thought it could be useful. This war…" she let out a deep sigh, "it'll take so many lives. We should try to take as little as possible on our end."
"How far have you gotten with the spell?" Lucius was intrigued by the idea of such a spell. His heart constricted with guilt and pain at his memories, of the death and torment he caused with his own hands because of the orders he'd received.
If only she'd made such a spell earlier, Lucius looked down at his hands. They were clean. Sterile. Magically induced death rarely got bloody if one had any common sense, but Lucius saw it, the blood. He wiped his hands on his black clothing to wipe the imaginary specks of red liquid from his palms.
Everyone else in the room caught the movement, but no one dared to comment.
"I got the colour and the fact that it will knock the target out, but that's as far as I've gotten. It's not enough to mimic death."
"So nothing to erase the signs of breathing and a heartbeat," Lucius muttered.
"Not yet." Hermione nodded.
"Have you thought about adding a silencing component to the spell to silence the heartbeat and the breathing?" Severus suggested.
Hermione raised her brow, "Why don't you look into it, Severus? Actually, I think it'd be good if everyone looked into it."
"But we don't know how to make spells." Regulus pointed at Avery and himself. The older Slytherin looked like he was going to argue about being pointed out as the less intelligent of the bunch but stopped himself at second thought.
"Look through history books from around the world to find something that sounds like what we're looking for," Hermione suggested. "Folktales work too. It doesn't always have to be a spell. It can be a potion too. Anything helps. Five heads are better than one."
"I try working on the spell every spare moment I have at the shop, but with the new school year coming up, I'm getting less and less time. I have most of the theory completed to silence the heart and freeze the breathing, but making a spell takes more than just theory." She turned to Lucius. "If I give you my theory notes, will you be able to try and test some of my spells?"
"Won't we have to say the words Avada Kedavra though?" Regulus asked.
"That's why you guys need to practice your nonverbal casting."
"That's 7th-year level!" Avery complained.
"So is occlumency," Severus rolled his eyes. "It's important and useful. I'll work on it at home."
Hermione nodded, "Start small, stirring the teaspoon for your tea, Lumos, turning the page to your book, etc. Remember, magic is all about intention, not just the incantation and wrist movement."
She looked between her boys, making sure that they understood their assignment for the week.
"Now," She clapped her hands to recapture their attention. "Let's check how much everyone's improved with their Occlumency."
Her eyes locked into Regulus's, which caused him to groan and shake his head with dread.
"Trust me, Black. I do NOT want to see the mind of a 14-year-old boy, so keep me out. Ready? Legilimens!"
…