AN: Hello, FF 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!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 62

…

"Already had enough of this life, imposter?"

The stranger was deathly pale with eyes as black as night. He wore long sleeves and a large hat to cover his face from even the bleakest sunlight that managed to hit Knockturn Alley through the narrow crevices between the buildings. His abnormally long and sharp canines glinted on their own.

Hermione stood from her crouched corner.

"Hello, it's so very nice to meet you."

…

She smelled…sinful. Delicious. Mouth-watering. He'd never smelt someone more desirable than she smelled, it almost made his years of self-control and training waver. He swallowed heavily.

"Who are you really?" He asked quietly at the corner of the bar where she worked. She sat down, across from him with the fake face she wore with immense confidence.

"Angel."

"I think we established that I can see through your bullshit."

The girl simply smiled.

"What did you do with her?"

"Miss Walsh? Hmmm…" she trailed off.

His eyes twitched. "Where is Jordan?"

"You care for her." She cocked her head to the side with a curious look in her eyes. "A lot."

"Where is she?" He gritted through his teeth.

"I've read up on vampires. Immortal, but so many weaknesses. The obvious ones, the sunlight and the inability to create your own magic anymore, despite being a magical creature," she mused. "At least the werewolves have more freedom in that sense. A day a month with magic, but for your kind, it's half of the day, every day, for the rest of your unending lives."

He narrowed his eyes, "We have strengths too, little girl. For instance, I could rip your head off your shoulders in a blink of an eye."

She giggled. "Then you'll never know where Miss Walsh disappeared to."

"You think a man like me who hasn't aged a day for decades would care about a girl like that?"

"You clearly do," she laughed. "I'm not sure whom you're trying to lie to, but you're not very successful."

"She's nothing."

"But she's not," she teased in a sing-songy voice. She leaned in close, "Because I can tell from your heartbeat, smell, and pupils, that you're lying through your teeth."

He inhaled deeply through his nose, getting a large whiff of her.

"What are you?"

"Hm, maybe the next question will be 'How are you?'"

He slammed the table, breaking the tabletop. Splinters went flying, but the girl remained sitting in front of him, uncaring as pieces of wood cut up her delicate face.

His heart thundered in his ears as he watched the crimson liquid drip down her face. Her smell became amplified, filling his senses. He could almost taste her from how intense her smell was.

"I'm going to have to charge you for that, sir," she brushed off the splinters and stood to leave, but he grabbed her arm, digging his nails deep into the purple veins of her forearm.

She was like a walking and talking drug; he was an addict. He couldn't resist.

He pulled her into his lap and licked the trail of blood coming down her face.

His brain exploded with endorphins. Never in his long life had he tasted someone so…flavourful. Her blood was complex, powerful, and dark. His mind clouded over from her taste. He bared his teeth down to her neck.

"STUPEFY!"

His vision was blinded by a red light as he crashed through tables, chairs, and pub patrons until he found himself at the opposite end of the pub.

"Out! Everybody, fucking out!" The girl screamed as she kept her wand pointed directly at him, not a tremble in sight. People did not hesitate to rush out of the pub, cowering behind each other until they abandoned a tiny girl with a bloodthirsty vampire.

"What have you done to yourself?"

"I told you," A manic grin spread across her face. "I've done quite a bit of research on vampires. Your kind doesn't crave just any blood. This," she cut into her palm with her wand, her blood dripping down and soaking into the worn wooden floor, "isn't only about sustenance, this is about magic."

He blocked his nose and closed his mouth.

"The more magically powerful someone is the bigger their magical pool, and the larger the fraction of magic abilities you regain by drinking their blood. And you, being a creature of dark magic, the darker and more tainted the blood is, the more compatible and addictive it is for you."

"Aragh!" He threw a stool in her direction, which she easily avoided.

She grinned, like the devil himself. "Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Hermione Evans, and I have a proposition for you."

…

"My lord," Lucius crouched to the floor on one knee. He internally grimaced at the blood and guts that coated the floor, but he controlled his features when Voldemort granted him to lift his head.

Voldemort silenced a man withering on the ground from torture with a simple flick of his wrist.

"What is it that you need to tell me?"

"I have news for you from the muggle Auror and the Slytherins in Hogwarts about Hermione Evans, my Lord."

"Ah," the man grinned. It chilled Lucius to the bone. "News of Hermione Evans." He was practically giddy, like a child on Christmas morning.

Lucius handed over a file that he'd received from the detective.

"This is it?" It was shockingly thin for a man whose life depended on the information provided within that folder. Voldemort opened the file and ran his long perfectly manicured fingernails across the page. His eyes read the words, the glee he felt only moments ago fading with every word.

"Seems like Miss Evans has led quite the quiet life."

"You can never expect too much from a muggle, my lord, they are not just dirty and useless, but they're lazy as well." Lestrange consoled visibly growing anger.

Lucius had to commend Rodolphus for his bravery, no one else had the gall to speak in moments like these except him. He was either mad or mad for this crazy man, but either way, he took everything he gave her with open arms, whether it was praise, anger, love, or a curse. No wonder he and Bellatrix got along so well, not because the couple loved each other, but because they were equally obsessed with the same man.

"Rodolphus, my dearest friend," Voldemort turned to him, "go and punish him. Show him what his ineptitude has cost him."

"Yes, my Lord," his voice shook from excitement. "Your words are my command." He vanished in a crack of apparition.

"Lucius," he turned his attention back to him. His stomach churned as it always did when he said his name.

"My Lord."

"What news from Hogwarts?"

Lucius's heart thumped in his throat, "Her sister arrived from St. Mungo's last night; without her twin sister."

"What?!"

Everyone turned to Snyde, who'd jumped up at the news.

The silence was thunderous.

She'd been in charge of keeping an eye on the Evans twins while they were in the hospital, recovering from the Fiendfyre. That had been her only job.

Her husband took a step away from her, not wanting to get involved with the clear aftermath that was about to occur.

"T-t-th-that c-c-c-can't-t-t be-e-e p-pos—sible," she managed to stutter out. She was as white as a sheet, trembling like a wet kitten on a winter night, her eyes filled with disbelief and fear.

"Corvus!" She screamed, calling out to her husband, begging him. "Tell them! They were both there! Right until the end! I watched them leave! On the train two weeks ago!"

"Lucius," his voice was barely above a whisper, but there wasn't a sound in the world that could have felt louder. "How and when did Lily Evans arrive at Hogwarts?"

"Through the floo, my lord, yesterday night."

"You're lying! You're lying Malfoy! How dare you!"

He laughed at her pathetic attempt to turn the blame on him. "Considering any one of us could drop by Hogwarts and simply use our eyes to see if Evans was in school or not, it would be quite stupid of me to lie about such a thing, would it not?"

"So that is why none of your informants have updated us about Miss Evans…" Voldemort sounded almost casual. It was terrifying. "Snyde, both of you, remain. The rest of you are dismissed."

Lucius pitied them more than the muggle man he'd been torturing as he entered. He left with the sounds of screams from both Snydes ringing in his ear.

He flooed home, tension melting off his shoulders as he entered the safety of his ancestral home.

"Lucius," Narcissa greeted him softly with a kiss on his cheek. She took off his outer robes and removed his cuff links and the pin on his tie. She gently swept his long blonde hair off his shoulder and combed it neatly back with her hands. Unlike the touch of a House Elf he'd been used to all his life, her touch was soft, gentle, caring, and kind.

"Cissy," he returned the gesture, albeit, more stiffly than she had.

She seemed to scan him, up and down. The brown between her brows only disappeared once she was sure he was all right. "He didn't hurt you this time," the relief in her words was palpable.

"Yes," he nodded gently. "Miss Evans's plan was a success."

Her smile faltered slightly at the mention of her name, "She is certainly a remarkable girl."

Lucius knew he was supposed to reassure her that nothing was going on between him and the muggleborn girl. However, to say he felt nothing more than camaraderie for the smell yet fierce red-headed girl would be a lie. Lucius may have fallen for the wrong girl, but he respected his wife enough to never lie to her.

"Yes," he agreed, thinking back to the warning he received when she first got in contact with him after the terrible fire.

"Do not get stuck babysitting me at the hospital."

He blinked, not comprehending her words. She lay on a hospital bed with blistering or black wounds covering her body. She could barely move and barely speak from a near assassination attempt. The rage he'd felt towards the Death Eaters who had followed this order, as well as the incompetence of Dumbledore. She required protection and help, something he didn't trust the people around her to give properly.

"They could attack again."

"Lucius." Her hoarse voice was firm and unrelenting. "Do. Not. Babysit me or my sister."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Is that an order?"

"…I'm not like your Lord," her stern face faded. "I cannot and will not order you to do anything. Everything I ask of you is a favour or a warning, but never an order."

"So you're asking a favour?"

"I'm giving you a heads up. This is a warning."

Warning indeed.

Narcissa watched as her husband's cold eyes change at the mere thought of the girl. She discretely placed her hand over her stomach.

"I'll be visiting home for a bit, to see Mum, she hasn't been feeling too well."

He nodded, not hearing her or caring.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

He responded the same way.

Narcissa had never known jealousy before meeting Hermione Evans. What did she have to be jealous of? Her family was rich and well respected, and her parents, while not perfect, were never abusive, like she knew her Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion to be. By objectively being the prettiest out of all of her sisters, her parents assured her that her beauty and status would get her the best husband and best life. She didn't have to work a day in her life, spending a year's worth of Hogwarts tuition on every shopping trip until she died, and she wouldn't have to worry. Her grades in Hogwarts did not matter, as long as she didn't fail. She was a Pureblood, one of the Elite, magical prowess didn't hold much meaning, as long as she was magical.

Then came this girl. Sure, she was pretty, but many of the muggleborn girls were. They were a fascination for the Pureblood boys who'd never seen muggleborns before with their bizarre fashion choices and uncouth manners that could be construed as being carefree. Their parents had told them how beneath them they were, how horrendous they were to look at, like bugs we squished with the soles of their shoes. It was understandably confusing when they entered Hogwarts and saw the lies they'd been told by their parents. She still remembered the vulgar comments made by some of the boys in her year and older but found immense pride in her fiancé as Lucius was one of the few boys that never seemed to grant a mere glance at those girls.

Hermione Evans had changed the game, and Narcissa had not been remotely prepared. The girl came in with etiquette and manners that rivalled a Pureblood and none of that childish aura that the younger years at Hogwarts always carried. Her muggle attire turned even Pureblood heads, especially as she grew up, noting the fashionable and timeless pieces she would wear. But all those surface-level things weren't what bothered Narcissa, she had all those things and more. What she simply couldn't compete with was that girl's intelligence and magic. It drew Lucius in a way that Narcissa's beauty couldn't.

She knew it. He knew it. They both knew each other knew it yet refused to acknowledge it.

"I'm pregnant again," her words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. When he turned around with the same cold expression, she instantly regretted it.

"Is there something you need to…" keep it? he trailed off, not saying the words that echoed in both their minds. He didn't continue his sentence since he didn't know how to continue without sounding rude.

"It's why I'm going home, perhaps my mother can help me…she gave birth to three magical children after all."

"Yes, that is wise. Would you like me to accompany you to your home?" He asked, forgetting that Malfoy Manor was technically her home now.

She knew an empty offer when she heard one.

"No, it's all right, I'm going to drop by Diagonalley beforehand to pick up my mother's favourite confectionary when it's fresh."

"Couldn't you ask an elf for such menial tasks?"

"Where would be the thought and effort in that, my dear?"

Lucius blinked, clearly not understanding the difference, but he didn't ask, and she didn't explain.

"Good night," she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and started walking away when he stopped her.

"Would you like me to visit you, tonight?"

She searched his eyes, looking for something that wasn't there.

"No, I'd like to sleep alone."

…

Lucius woke up the next morning when a soft knock at his door announced his morning tea. A House Elf rolled a cart softly into his room as he got up from his bed. He hadn't slept well, his mind racing all night, his silk bedsheets feeling like sandpaper.

"Did Narcissa leave already?"

"Yes, Master, Mistress left at dawn…" The way his elf paused made it clear that he had something else to say but wasn't sure if he should.

"What is it," he grumbled. He took his cup of tea from the cart, and took a sip, expecting the usual aroma and smoothness, but was jarred by how different it tasted. The tea tasted too bitter, too strong, and somehow sour at the same time.

"What the fuck is this?" He coughed, nearly spitting the tea back up onto his expensive rug.

His elf looked nervous, "Y-your tea, Master."

"No, the fuck it isn't. Something's wrong with it."

"Morris, the kitchen elf, made it exactly how Mistress instructed."

"How Mistre—what do you mean?" Lucius sat up, suddenly alert and awake. The elf's eyes widened, realizing his mistake. "Tell me now."

The desire to punish himself made the small elf's arm twitch. "Mistress ordered Jonesy not to tell. Jonesy wasn't supposed to say anything. Jonesy is a bad elf!" Tears well in his abnormally large eyes.

"I am the Master of this House, my order trumps Narcissa's. You will tell me now."

"Mi-Mistress," he swallowed thickly like he was repressing the need to vomit, "makes Master's tea."

"Since when?"

"Since always."

"That doesn't…" Lucius blinked in confusion. "How does she know how I take my tea?"

"Mistress has been making Master's tea since Hogwarts."

"H-Hogwa—" he choked on his saliva. Jonesy rushed forward to pat him on the back as he coughed, but he pushed the small elf off. He shook his head, his personal elves made his tea. The Narcissa he knew barely made toast in the morning, let alone the complicated way he took his tea. He was very particular about what leaves were used, how much milk was added, the type of honey that was added, etc.

"Mistress contacted Bentley back when she was a first year."

"Bentley? The kitchen elf? The one that died 6 years ago?"

"Yes, Master."

He looked down at the seemingly normal cup of tea. He gave it another sip but cringed at the taste once more. Nothing about it was right.

"Master," Jonesy rubbed his hand nervously. "Mistress left at dawn this morning."

"I know, you told me." He rolled his eyes, as he placed the cup back onto the cart. His morning had been ruined now that his routine was disturbed by this terrible cup of tea.

"But Mistress left with far too much luggage to be going to her parent's home for a few days."

"Cissa always packs too much," he waved off the concern, but the elf rubbed his hands even more anxiously. "WHAT."

"Mistress's closet is empty." Jonesy blurted.

Lucius froze.

"Mistress took everything."

"She what?" He whispered.

"Jonesy tried stopping Mistress, tried calming her down, Dobby even stood in front of her, daring to block her, but Mistress ordered all the elves to pack her things. Jonesy begged Mistress to stay."

Lucius ran out of his room, running to his wife's wing. The distance suddenly felt so much further than it'd been before.

"Master, your slippers! Your clothes!"

Lucius had never left his room looking anything less than pristine before. When he left his room, he was always fully dressed and ready for the day. That was his cardinal rule. No one was to see him as anything less than perfect. No one was allowed to view him as dishevelled and weak.

He swung the doors of his wife's room wide open so hard that they banged loudly on the wall.

It was empty. Well, not empty, but empty. Narcissa lived a very maximalist lifestyle with décor covering every inch of the room tastefully, but it was all gone. He ran to the closet to see her extensive and vast collection of limited edition, custom-made, and expensive clothes, bags, and shoes gone.

She was gone.

"Contact the Blacks. Tell Narcissa to return immediately."

"Yes, Master," Jonesy bowed.

"Run!" He barked, causing the small elf to jump and hit the ground running.

"FUCK!"

…

4 Months Later: The night before the last exam for 6th-year students.

James and Sirius sat on the bench on the Quidditch pitch, panting from their last training session before the summer holidays. Balancing the power dynamics between Hermione's Slytherin boys and the Gryffindors took a long time to even out the kinks, especially with Hermione gone. The number of explosive fights that the two groups got into, the times they were on the verge of breaking up and never meeting again to train… but eventually, they found a rhythm that worked for them, which mostly consisted of Avery and Remus being the mediator for James, Sirius, and Snape, while Regulus worked with those who needed more time to catch up. The younger Black was surprisingly patient and good at teaching, he explained in a manner that was easy for everyone to understand, he never judged anyone for their weaknesses, and caught each person's strength. It was clear that Severus had a better grip on Hermione's training program, but Regulus knew people, and Avery…well Avery was there to remind everyone that normal people couldn't be pushed to the brink every night or no one would last.

The girls were improving, significantly, not that Marlene and Alice had much to improve from the get-go.

The greatest change was found in Mary. Typically considered a girlie girl, Mary Curtis was often seen around school with a full face of makeup, beautiful clothes, and altogether a dainty girl. Now Mary couldn't be seen wearing even the slightest bit of makeup, she didn't wear heels to class, curl her hair, or wear the skirt version of their uniform. She paid attention to her classes, taking intensive notes instead of doing her nails. She no longer went on dates but spent that time training or in the library. The carefree girlie girl was gone, replaced with an intense no-nonsense type of girl who cared about nothing but getting stronger. She didn't care about the boys now whispering behind her back about how much she changed or other girls who laughed at her appearance.

The only person struggling was Lily. She'd joined the latest and had the physical aptitude of a child.

Lily dropped to the floor, on her knees, shaking her head, signalling the Slytherin boys and the girls that she'd reached her limit. She struggled to breathe, grimacing as though the mere life-saving action was causing her pain.

Snape knelt beside her, helping her with the gentlest expression on his face. Neither James nor Sirius had seen that expression on his face.

James jerked forward, but Sirius put a firm hand on his knee.

"Ease up, mate. Jealousy's never been a good colour on you."

James looked offended, but Sirius gave him a firm shake of his head.

He let out a deep sigh but sat back on the bench. "She makes me stupid."

Sirius let out a laugh, "trust me, I know the feeling."

James lifted his spectacles, sliding off his nose from the sweat, and smirked. Slowly, as their thoughts turned to a certain red-headed girl, his smirk slid off his face like his glasses.

"Have you heard anything?"

Sirius shook his head.

He turned to his best friend, Sirius had dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there in the past. James knew he didn't sleep well, he also suspected he did a fair bit of drinking in Hermione's room when no one was around.

"But she will."

His resolve was astounding. Sirius's voice held not a single drop of doubt, his eyes never wavered, and his faith never dropped. James wondered if his friend was stupid and if he was being a bad friend by letting him pine and wait for a girl that may never return. But then, he glanced at Lily who made her way to him with a tired smile. If Lily was the one who left if she suddenly disappeared without a word, he knew he would wait till the end of time for her. Just like Sirius.

"We fell in love with some difficult girls, haven't we mate?"

"I blame you," Sirius pushed him.

"What do you mean?"

"I always followed whatever you did, becoming a Gryffindor, playing pranks, embracing muggleborns…you fell in love. Of course, I would follow you into this damned emotion."

"Ah," James nodded as if it all made sense. "I guess I should thank you for not falling in love with Lily while you were at it."

"Aren't I so thoughtful?"

James burst out laughing.

"What are you guys talking about?" Lily plopped down next to James drinking water from the same bottle.

"How generous I am," Sirius puffed his chest up.

"Why is a conversation even needed? Of course, he's generous. Hermione has excellent taste in men, after all."

"OI!" James jumped, pushing Sirius even further away from Lily.

The trio laughed.

"Hey, you idiots!" Marlene shouted from the other side of the Quidditch field. "You have an exam tomorrow, remember?! Let's bloody sleep!"

Sirius glanced down at his watch, "Oh, shit. It's past midnight!"

"Past midnight?!" Lily jumped, "I still need to review my notes again! Get up! Get up!" She grabbed James by the arm and dragged him. "You promised me that you'll help me study, so come on!"

Alice left earlier, calling an early night, Marlene, Lily and James just left, which made Snape and Regulus quickly leave after them. The only ones left were Sirius, Avery, and Mary. She was still doing the drills.

"Mary," Sirius gently tapped her on the shoulder. "Let's call it a night."

"Go ahead, Black."

Sirius sighed at her curt reply, gone was the girl who would giggle at everything he said. Sweat streamed down her face, her eyes blazed with fury and focus.

"Mary—"

"I'll take care of it, Black." Avery nodded.

The boys shared a look, but Sirius eventually relented.

"Just…make sure to return to dorms soon, the profs are going to make rounds soon."

Sirius walked away as Avery clapped his hands, "Again, from the top!"

…