Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

With Good Intentions	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 12248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. I almost own the house I'm writing this fanfic in, tho'.

Chapter List
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They waited, on the eve of election day, on a magically extended balcony with an expansive view of the thousands upon thousands waiting to hear the announcement. Kingsley could only vaguely remember such a response during his post-war stewardship.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the incumbent Minister shouted through the bullhorn charm, “your attention, please. Tomorrow you will participate in the most important responsibility a citizen can have: voting for the next Minister. I won’t bore you with a speech as to why I continue to be the best choice — I’m sure you all know that.”

Good-natured laughter rippled through the crowd, ricocheting off hard brick walls to reverberate down streets and alleyways in the immediate vicinity. Behind their Minister, the listeners could just make out the decorations (staged to give the appearance of his office) that included fake walls, people seated in ornate chairs, and pictures hanging for effect.

“It is customary for the outgoing Minister to make appointments to the Ministry — allows those who lose to ‘stick it’ to the next Minister, as the Yanks are fond of saying.”

More energetic sniggering moved across the expanse of bodies representing every sentient magical being in Britain. Returning refugees accounted for more than half the crowd. Thanks to recent regulation revisions, some would vote for the first time in their long lives — another concession to Dumbledore and his warnings about the consequences of hopelessness.

“Today I have only one appointment to make and I do so with an apology to you, my constituents. My appointee embarrassed the Ministry when he dealt with a problem your Ministry should have. You were desperate for shelter, reliable work, places to raise your children and we… I was too slow with answers. Can’t all be perfect and handsome like our newest Ministry partner. Without further ado, it’s my honor and my pleasure to introduce Lord Lucius Granger-Malfoy as the new head of the new Community Liaison Office.”

From the streets below the terrace to Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, applause shook solid buildings (sounding much like exploding muggle bombs echoing through hills and vales). While the crowd basked in the rare perfection of a golden day, Kingsley stepped away from the railing to allow Lucius center stage.

“Thank you,” he tried, over the deafening increase in cheers and hand-clapping.
“Thank you,” he tried, as five small groups forced their way through the throng like star points collapsing towards it center.
“Thank you,” he began when the volume dropped, “I can’t say I’m used to such a response. Certainly not from Shacklebolt supporters. It’s… scary. Yes, it’s scary.”

Used to his humor, the crowd (for the most part) laughed with the man who ensured that their children had roofs over their heads and medicine. Giants, werewolves, vampires in SPF-1000 suits and other magical beings commingled in the onlookers.

“I’ll be brief,” and the railing suddenly disappeared to give the audience a view of the man who wore simple robes (though elegantly tailored), “I’m here because a remarkable witch called me an arse then explained why I was an arse. I thank the Ministry for its faith in me and I pledge to do my best. But the person who saw your plight and fought for you, the real hero of this new department, is my wife — Hermione. Granger. MALFOY!”

Like the implosion of a sun, the forces at play coalesced at a single point — its nexus being the battle-tested witch who toddled to the edge of the gallery and waved shyly at the crowd. Having absented herself from the public during trial preparation, the sudden quiet and stunned expressions surprised neither her nor her husband. Recognition spreading like Dragon pox through the assembled body brought the noise to ear-splitting proportions — hiding the sound of the projectile fired towards its singular target. Nasty curses, aimed to inflict maximal spell damage, cascaded out of the chaos below the balcony.

Fanatics had launched a barrage of spells at a visibly pregnant Hermione Malfoy. Blood stained the simple dress covering the swelling midsection of Lucius’ witch.
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