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A World Not Fit To Live In	By : snowblind12 & Lissa Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 78454 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: These characters and the Harry Potter world belong to J K Rowling and her publishers. I make nothing from this story and I own none of it. It is based off the work of JK Rowling.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimer: we own none of this and make no money from it. This universe and its characters belong to JK Rowling and her publishers.
Thanks, as always, to LissaDream, my co-writer and soul sister half way across the country :) We are diligently working on the next few chapters of Master Mine, so be on the look out for an update, hopefully by weeks end!
Thanks to all who review!
Things become a little easier for Hermione in this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
"Master Malfoy, sir! Young miss…she jumped, sir! Tinny stopped her before she hit the ground!" the little elf cried frantically.
"What?" Lucius muttered, confused and slightly irritated by the elf's intrusion. "What are you – "
"No time Master Lucius, sir. Please, comes with Tinny." Lucius stared at the elf's hand in shock as it grabbed his own and Apparated him before giving him a chance to respond. His equilibrium slightly shaken, he re-grounded himself instantly upon landing and watched the panicked elf dash out onto the balcony. Understanding washed over him like a bucket of ice cold water.
In ten quick strides, he could see her. He felt his chest constrict when his eyes fell on her shivering, sopping wet form. Her hair was plastered to her face and shoulders as rain hammered all around her. Her drenched, silk gown clung to her tiny frame. Her body was coiled into itself as she lay on the cold concrete and tile of the balcony. He stood frozen, several emotions striking him at once. The most prevalent being sheer relief that she wasn't dead on the cold, hard ground two stories below. Her words came out muffled and barely coherent. "Please, just let me die. Just let me die." It felt like all the blood in his body pooled to his feet. Fuck!
Within a second, he swooped down and scooped her into his arms. "Shhh. It's going to be all right, Hermione. I've got you." She was so light, despite being dripping wet. He held her close, quickly moving out of the rain and into her suite.
Her voice shuddered its response and his ears strained to hear the words she muttered. Her hands were clutched on his shirt, her face buried into his chest. "No, no…it's not going to be ok. Please, just let me be…please."
He pulled her tighter, his own clothes now wet, but his blood was boiling too hot for him to notice. He looked at the house elf who was watching with wide, heartbroken eyes. "Tinny, a cashmere robe now!" Lucius looked down at the pale and broken doe in his arms. She was such an innocent and for the first time he felt true, crushing guilt and self-hatred for the situation and his part in it. This is your fault! You did this! You and your cursed son! He internally shook his head in dismay, not understanding these emotions. She was just a Muggle-born girl!
Noticing Tinny had started a fire, he carried her to the sofa and lay her down. "How about we get you out of this dress?" he asked softly.
"No!" Hermione flinched, her voice desperate. "Please, Lucius. No more. Don't touch me…please."
He watched her in dismay for a second. She called me Lucius again. She thinks I'm going to rape her. She doesn't trust me. Why does this bother me so much? As though he were speaking to a wounded animal he was trying to capture, he said gently, "We need to get you into dry clothes, Princess. I'm not going to touch you any more than to simply help you." He grabbed the robe Tinny held out for him. "See? It's just a robe."
Hermione nodded and pulled herself up, her breaths coming in hiccupping gasps as her fingers shook to unzip the dress. Lucius raked his hand through his hair as he stood back, feeling helpless. "Tinny, help her."
The elf was on Hermione in a blink, magicking the zipper and fastenings open instantly. Hermione peeled the dress down her shivering body. Another muttering from the elf and the girl was completely dry. Lucius stepped forward and draped the robe around her naked form, and Hermione quickly slid her arms through the long sleeves, enveloping herself in the soft warmth. She then pulled her knees up close to her chest, burying her head in them as she wrapped her arms around her legs.
Not knowing what to say, but knowing he should say something, he glanced around the suite. He was stunned and relieved to find there were no unwanted visitors in the portraits or landscapes. Hesitantly, he sat down beside her. "Hermione, I realize how hard this – "
Her words were sharp and impatient, her eyes piercing with their intensity. "No. You don't have a bloody clue. You can't possibly know what it's like to find out everyone you've ever loved or cared for is dead. To have absolutely no free will. To be raped over and over again. To be verbally and emotionally traumatized and physically brutalized…for…for something you have no control over!" Her looked morphed from despair to disgust.
"You sit here in your…your castle…with your demonic son, living your life as you choose, with the exception of having this…Mudblood filth thrown into your care. How horrible it must be for you!"
Lucius wanted to rage at her, to tell her how wrong she was. To explain how his life was not his own. To defend his son, even though he knew there was no excuse. He watched as she buried her face into her knees again, sniffling and trying to subtlety wipe away her tears.
"Hermione, listen to me." He flinched when her eyes shot up to his with loathing, realizing that once again he had taken her free will. "What I mean is, please… Please, listen to me." He paused a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Despite what you think of me, and despite what I've done in the past, I take no pleasure in this situation."
Hermione's eyebrow shot up. Clearly, she didn't believe him.
He conceded the point. "Ok, let me re-phrase. Yes. I'm a man. I…enjoy our…well, yes, I enjoy…the sex with you. I won't lie to you."
He expected her to yell and to call him a rapist, but instead he was surprised by the contemplative look on her face. He continued, "What I don't like is this bond. I don't like being forced to force you. I don't like seeing you hurt – physically or otherwise." He spoke quietly in a whisper while shooting his eyes around the suite once again to confirm they were still sans portrait visitors. He looked back at her, his words earnest.
"I don't want violence in my life or in my home. I'm tired of it. I want peace. I don't condone my son's behavior, Hermione. I don't approve of it, but he…he has his own demons to face and – "
Once again, she interrupted him. Once again, he let her. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say about that twisted sadist you call a son, Mr. Malfoy. He may be your child, but he's my personal hell."
Lucius sighed and then said quietly, "You called me Lucius a moment ago. You may continue to do so, at least when we are alone." He watched as her gaze softened a touch as it locked with his. She seemed to be searching for something.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she stood up abruptly. Her words were furious as she stepped backwards and away from him, shaking her head. "No, no! I won't fall for your tricks again. I won't be led into the delusion that you are kind or that you care."
His jaw fell open in stunned silence from her outburst as she turned away from him and stomped to her bed. He was distracted slightly. Her stomp was so childlike that it reminded him how young she was. Far too young to be dealing the cards she had been dealt. He watched as she climbed onto the bed before once again curling into a ball. He heard her let out a shaky sigh, and then desperate words poured out of her, muffled from her face being buried in her pillow. "Stop pretending that you care, I can't…I just can't…"
He stood up and glanced around the suite, finding it was still safe to continue their talk. He sighed as he approached her, trying to swallow against the knot in his throat. "The truth is, Hermione, I do care. I…I can't explain it. I shouldn't care, but I can't seem to stop it. You are…a Mud…a Muggle-born, which is something I was raised to despise. I was preached to about your inferiority and the use of stolen magic. I was taught you are an abomination to all that is magically natural."
He didn't know what he expected. However…
He didn't expect her to roll over, face him, and meet his eyes with her own expressive orbs.
He didn't expect the defiant look to cross her delicate features that had been broken only moments before.
He didn't expect her to right herself and slide off the bed and step towards him, shrewdly meeting his stare with a furious glare.
He didn't expect her words to be spoken with such conviction. "I am not an abomination. I am not inferior, and I did not steal my magic."
He didn't expect her to be standing so close, staring up at him, not intimidated, and with fire in her eyes.
He didn't expect the meek doe of ten minutes ago to become a fiery woodnymph before his very eyes. "I am a powerful witch, Lucius Malfoy. Even you can't deny that! But I'm also a good person. I'm trustworthy and hardworking and so much more deserving of a better life than the shit storm I'm enduring right now. I shouldn't have to be standing here defending myself to an ill-informed bigot like you!"
He didn't expect to look down and discover her finger had been tapping his chest with every word she spoke.
He didn't expect to sense the exquisite magic that seemed to spark from her as her temper escalated.
He didn't expect to once again be completely captivated by her passion and conviction.
He didn't expect to be drawn to her…
…and he certainly…
…didn't expect to kiss her.
It was like a light switch was flipped with his ignorant, prejudicial words. Hermione was enraged. How dare he?! How dare he call me an abomination?! Gone was her despair and desperation. How thick could he be? As she slid out of bed and stalked towards him, her fury only intensified. How many purebloods could perform wandless magic? He certainly couldn't. Yet she could! Angry words started to pour out of her as she crossed to him.
Her voice was deliberate and crisp, all weakness and vulnerability gone. "I am a powerful witch, Lucius Malfoy. Even you can't deny that! But I'm also a good person. I'm trustworthy and hardworking and so much more deserving of a better life than the shit storm I'm enduring right now. I shouldn't have to be standing here defending myself to an ill-informed bigot like you!"
Her right hand's forefinger froze on his chest as she stared into his steel grey Malfoy eyes. She felt a slight flutter in her heart as those eyes darkened to a stormy grey. She knew it was coming…a scathing remark, a cruel command…
She didn't expect him to kiss her.
She didn't expect his lips to feel soft and warm.
She didn't expect her heart to race
She didn't expect to close her eyes.
She didn't expect him to freeze and pull back suddenly.
She didn't expect his hand to shoot to his mouth as though he were burned.
She didn't expect him to turn away and stride out of her room abruptly.
She did expect to feel disappointed. After all, disappointment was her only constant and dependable companion.
Lucius stormed into his bath, ripping his clothes off as he turned on the shower with a flick of his wand, making it extra hot. He needed to scald himself. "What the bloody hell was that?" he mumbled to himself.
He stepped into the hot spray of water, his heart still racing. Closing his eyes, he took calming breaths as he smoothed the water over his long, platinum locks.
Merlin, what is wrong with me? He vigorously scrubbed his face and body, as though the harder he scrubbed, the more of her and what she was doing to him would go down the drain.
Despite his efforts, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He slumped and leaned his forehead against the shower wall. Suicide! Jumping to her death! He had not really thought her capable of such a thing. The healer warned you! Guilt once again overwhelmed him as well as dread. Imagine if she had succeeded? He feared the Dark Lord's reaction. Did his Master know about her wandless magic? There was not much the Dark Lord didn't know, especially with Abraxas' portrait at his beck and call.
Standing tall again, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. As he towel-dried his body and hair, he realized there was a command he needed to make. It was an egregious oversight that he had not done so already. That kiss had completely wiped away his senses. He could not let that happen again.
As he pulled on his robe and walked into his dressing room, he scolded himself for speaking to her so openly in her suite. He had looked for visitors, yes, but it was still dangerous. If he felt the need to converse with her in the future, he would need to find a safe place – away from the prying eyes of his dead, traitorous father and the other various portraits who seemed to find amusement in his misery.
After dressing quickly, he magicked his hair dry and pulled it back into a black string tie. Not bothering to knock, he whispered the password and entered her suite. Looking around he didn't see her and a sense of panic began to wash over him. The panic meter topped when he found her back on her balcony.
"Miss Granger, what are you doing?" he barked, sounding angrier than he truly meant to.
She jumped, clearly startled as she turned back towards him. She was holding a mug of tea and her expression was not one of despair. She seemed calm, perhaps even confident.
He stepped towards her, formally. "I regret I have another command that I have no choice but to make. You are not allowed to intentionally harm yourself, or end your own life."
Her posture stiffened slightly, matching his formality, and her chin rose in defiance. "No, of course not. I wouldn't want to deprive you or your son of that pleasure."
He was struck with a vision of the Dark Lord commanding him to kill her. He felt bile rise into his throat. He coughed lightly. "I believe our earlier conversation encompassed my feelings on that matter, Miss Granger. There is no need to revisit the topic." He could see a flash of movement in one of the paintings in the corner of her suite, near the table and chairs. "Dinner is at seven o'clock. I feel like keeping it informal. You will join me in my chambers at that time."
Hermione watched the retreating form of the enigma that was Lucius Malfoy. She looked back out over the grounds. The rain had passed and the sun was peeking through. The combination of retreating dark, grey clouds and approaching white, fluffy ones seemed symbolic.
Tinny had dried the furniture and surfaces of the balcony when Hermione had ventured back out here. The elf had also not left her side. Hermione glanced at her small keeper and gave her a gentle smile. Tinny's eyes remained large and wary, but Hermione didn't miss the slight nod of understanding the elf gave her in return.
Hermione turned her gaze back to the expansive estate before her. She had forced herself to step out here and face what she had done. She knew if she didn't, she might not ever be able to come out here again.
She looked down at the ground below her, morbid thoughts causing her to imagine her own disfigured and crumbled body. She couldn't help but wonder if Lucius would have really cared. Something told her, and she hated herself for trusting that voice, that he would.
Seven o'clock was approaching fast. After a long nap, Tinny had her cleaned, shaved, buffed, and dressed in a simple, but pretty, lavender gown. Lucius had said it was an informal dinner, and while it was a dress, it wasn't a dress that would be appropriate for dinner in the formal dining room. Hermione was stunned with the self-realization that she had learned something so worthless and trivial.
She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Tinny had charmed her hair into soft waves and had pulled the front strands out of her face with a simple clip. Leaving it mostly long and draping over her shoulders and back.
She threw a quick glance at the clock as her heart began to pound from the ridiculous bond. Approaching the connecting door, Hermione drew in a deep, calming breath and pushed it open.
As she walked into his chambers, her jaw fell slightly in shock. Lucius was standing next to the small dining table dressed in a pair of faded Levi's and a t-shirt – a Rolling Stones 1976 European Tour t-shirt. It was also faded and slightly tight, but not in a bad way. On the contrary…
She nonchalantly moved her eyes down his form, and back up again, forcing herself to steel her features from betraying her inner dialogue. Lucius Malfoy is hot! She vaguely remembered thinking he had a nice body before, but, given their circumstances, it was hardly anything she had focused on. What is the matter with you, Hermione? One little kiss and you're gawping like a love-struck teenager. Enough, already.
She was so distracted, she didn't see his slipper sticking out from beside the chair she was passing. Her foot landed on it awkwardly and she felt herself stumble forward, right into Lucius' strong arms, which caught her and righted her effortlessly.
Her eyes shot up to his and she felt an unwelcome blush creep over her face. His expression was flat, but then his forehead wrinkled in what appeared to be consideration. Great! Caught…blushing at one of the biggest pureblood bigots in the galaxy, not to mention your keeper and rapist. How daft are you?
"Are you all right?" he asked politely.
"Yes," she responded resolutely. "Thanks."
He let go of her arm and pulled the chair out for her. "Thank you," she said formally as he continued to asses her.
He stepped to his own seat and sat down. Neither spoke as Bilby arrived in Apparition, magicking two covered dinner trays before them. A snap of the elf's fingers and the lids disappeared revealing Spaghetti Bolognese. Fresh, warm, buttered French bread and a bottle of red wine were also on the table. Hermione was surprised when Lucius picked up the bottle and poured, first her glass and then his own.
He noticed her amazed look and tilted his head. "I told Bilby we would be fine on our own this evening. Even I get bored of the formality of fine dining sometimes."
They began to eat in silence, an awkwardness still present. Truthfully, Hermione couldn't remember ever not feeling slightly awkward around Lucius Malfoy – except perhaps breakfast the day before. This was different though, there was something between them now. He had kissed her – chastely, yes – but something had driven him to do it. Now, she found herself believing he really did care about her well-being. This left her feeling unsure of how to act.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, she looked at him curiously. "Rolling Stones?" She cocked her eyebrow playfully. "Don't tell me they're actually wizards."
He nodded with a small grin as he swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Uhh, no. Severus was a fan when we were younger. He dragged me to a few shows."
"Hmm, I can't picture it. You and…him...at a Muggle rock concert?" She tried not to let out a giggle, but failed.
He pretended to be offended, but couldn't help but return her humor. "It was...an experience."
Hermione sipped her wine. "Yeah, but it was a Muggle concert! You like Muggle music?"
Lucius contemplated her question before answering. "I don't hate all things Muggle, Hermione. Certainly, there are Muggle things I enjoy. Muggle food and wines, for instance." He tilted his head. "And yes, some Muggle music is quite good, as well."
"But you – "
"Let me finish. What I have a problem with is the Muggle world encroaching on the wizarding world. Muggle-borns, they don't belong." He silenced the comment on the tip of her tongue her with a look. "I realize that you do not agree. How could you? And, I'll concede that you are an exception. I find it less offensive that you are a Muggle-born. You are…a deviation from the rule."
Hermione tried to stay her anger. It would do no good and she didn't want to fight with him. "We're all just human beings, you know. Magic or not, we are each of us entitled to live our lives," she half whispered diplomatically as she twirled her next fork of pasta in her spoon.
It was silent for a moment of contemplation before he answered her. "Let's discuss something else, shall we?" His words were more of a command than a request, but strangely, she found she didn't mind. At least he wasn't taking away her free will this time.
The silence was awkward, and Hermione wracked her brain for a conversation topic. Magic was what they had in common and if they couldn't discuss it…. Hogwarts! They could discuss Hogwarts. Sadly, that made her think of her dead friends and poor Penelope Clearwater, though. Perhaps the awkward silence would be better.
Hermione had eaten less than half of what was on her plate, but found she was quite full. Lucius refilled her wine glass after she swallowed the last drop, so she sipped at it as she watched him finish his meal.
When his plate was almost empty, he tossed his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair. His eyes were on hers, it seemed he was contemplating something. Then he chanced a glance around the room, noticing Abraxas dozing in his portrait. He leaned forward. "I would like to show you something, would you be agreeable to coming with me?"
It was said in a quiet whisper that left Hermione a bit confused and she was astonished he was asking such a thing instead of simply demanding her compliance.
She nodded. "Uh, yes. Sure."
He pushed back from the table and then assisted her out of her chair. He smirked, and said teasingly, "Mind the slipper."
"Yes, thank you for that," she replied sarcastically. She was disturbed when her feet stepped to the side without her doing it. Damn bond!
Lucius had taken a few steps and turned back, giving her a curious look. "You told me to mind the slipper, so my feet went that way instead of following you." She gestured to where she had stepped.
Her eyes cocked up and she was about to say something derogatory when he interrupted her. "I do not require explanations for such tedious things, Miss Granger."
Hermione felt slightly stung by his comment. Had they not just enjoyed a somewhat civil dinner? He grabbed her hand and Apparated them away without warning.
She was jolted on landing and might have fallen if not for him holding her upright. "I hate side along Apparation," she mumbled.
"Well, it would have been quite a distance to walk, and given your propensity to clumsiness, it seemed – "
She pulled her hand away, interjecting before he could finish his sentence. "I am not clumsy! Jeez, I trip once and..." She didn't notice the teasing smirk on his face. Instead, her attention was on her surroundings. The barn! It was unlike any barn she had ever seen. It was huge and clean, and didn't smell of manure.
She jumped back as a large, white dog came bounding over and half jumped on Lucius. "Jupiter! Down boy, down!" Lucius spoke firmly and held his palm out in a stop gesture. The dog whimpered and sat, his tail going at least two hundred wags per minute. "That's my good boy," he spoke to the animal softly and stroked his head tenderly. Hermione's eyes moved from the dog to Lucius' expression. She was amazed to see the smile and look of total adoration on the man's face. The dog licked Lucius' hand and then seemed to calm, keeping his eyes on Lucius faithfully.
Lucius took a deep breath, as he looked around the huge space. "I love it out here. The smell of the leather, the tranquility of it. The animals."
Who is this man? Hermione felt more confused than ever as she took in his relaxed, pleasured expression. His eyes turned to her and couldn't miss the look of surprise on her face. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing, it's just...you shocked me is all."
He watched her for a moment, contemplating. "I brought you out here because I need to speak with you...away from prying ears and eyes."
"What do you mean? We were alone in your suite…weren't we?"
He regarded her for a moment. "Hermione, I don't like what is going on under my roof. Unfortunately, if I say anything or intervene in any way, it is reported to the Dark Lord."
"I don't understand," she said quietly, her brow furrowed in frightened confusion.
"It's the portraits. They...that is…some of them – some of them do not approve of you and are quick to report your doings, as well as mine and Draco's actions to the Dark Lord." He paused and watched her eyes grow large with understanding.
"We have been watched since the first night, and because of it, I have not been able to always be as…forthright as I would have preferred. Being watched requires me to act a certain way, and it prevents me from…well – brunch today, for instance. What Draco did was…" He closed his eyes, obviously struggling to find the right words. "It was deplorable in my eyes, but Abraxas – my dear father – was watching. Then there's Draco. Draco is…Draco feels he has something to prove to the Dark Lord. I fear it makes him take things too far. He is grieving...and he – "
Hermione interrupted him in a scathing tone. "Yes. You were concerned about him breaking the crystal, if memory serves."
Lucius shook his head. "You prove my point, Hermione," he gave her a sad smile. "That was me acting the part. I was trying to dissuade his behavior, but not for fear of the crystal."
"Oh," she whispered, thinking back on Lucius' behavior. She recalled that he excused her right after the incident. Perhaps that had been meant as an act of kindness, not indifference.
Hermione had noticed the portraits, certainly, but she had never given much thought to them. She felt foolish for missing something so incredibly obvious. Phineas Nigellus Black had proven how useful portraits could be when she, Harry, and Ron were on the run. It was how Snape had located them in the forest. The memory of her friends caused her heart to clench, but the thought of Severus gave her pause.
Not wanting to play her hand by asking her most pressing questions outright, she beat around the bush, so to speak. "So...is there anything in particular you wish to clarify? Now that we're alone?"
He nodded. "In the future, if I send you to the stables for a task, it will be because I wish to speak openly with you about something."
"Ok," she said quietly, disappointed he had not shared something that would have given her hope. Something like, "I'm really working for the Order with Snape and you will be freed by dawn." She let out a mirthless soft laugh. She tried to hide her displeasure and attempted to find solace in the fact he was being kind to her and had the desire to be direct with her.
She looked up at him earnestly. Her voice came out barely above a whisper, "Lucius, am I going to be killed?" She had not planned to ask that question and was surprised the words had slipped from her mouth. She felt incredibly vulnerable in the wake of his kindness. "I'm…I'm scared." Her hands were grasping her dress, her eyes were wide and sincere as she looked up at him, silently pleading for him to tell her it would all be ok.
Hermione could swear she saw pain in his eyes. He answered honestly, but kindly. "Truthfully, Hermione, I don't know. But I will do my best to protect you. I do not wish you harm, I do not wish you dead." After a beat, he continued. "I also promise to give you a chance to explain if I ever find myself…angry with you again." He ran his hands through his hair. "I made a terrible mistake in the dungeon yesterday. I…I was impulsive and unfair."
She studied him closely, and could see what looked like genuine anguish. She took comfort in his words. "I believe you. Lucius. For some reason. I believe you."
He hesitated for a moment, but then added, "In the future, if you do something that would require me to punish you, I will send you to the dungeons where we cannot be observed. We will discuss what happened. I beg you not to do anything to force my hand."
She nodded slowly, understanding what he was saying.
They stared at each other for a moment before he inhaled and looked around. "We need to get back. We'll come back here again, soon. I'm sure you have more questions, but it's getting late and I'm tired."
He took her hand as though to Disapparate, but paused. He looked at her sternly. "You will sleep in my room from now on, Hermione. If circumstances change, we will discuss you sleeping in your own quarters again."
Hermione's jaw fell, and her heart started to race in anticipation of what that really meant. Lucius shook his head in dismay, clarifying, "For the simple reason I feel the need to watch over you. Draco…I don't know when he'll show up, but I want to be able to run interference if I can. You have also given me many reasons to doubt your safety from yourself."
Hermione couldn't sleep. She wasn't exactly sure she'd ever be able to sleep again after what she had been through the last couple of days. It was all quite overwhelming.
Lucius had surprised her when he had told her that she would be sharing his bed, especially when he told her it would be a permanent change. He astounded her even more when he threw a couple pillows between them before indicating for her to take the left side of the bed. This had made it clear he was keeping his word – he would not be forcing his attentions on her this evening. She wondered how long that would last.
While sex with Lucius was far less torture then sex with Draco, she was too emotionally fragile to deal with the internal turmoil the act caused after the day she'd had. He seemed to sense this, and for that she was grateful.
He had also stunned her by asking if the books in her room were to her liking. When she said she wasn't into such frivolousness, he had chuckled and told her she could help herself to the library, implying he'd show her where it was the next day.
She rolled over to study her bedmate. She wondered if Lucius knew how young and unguarded he looked while he was sleeping. What he had done for her today had changed things immensely. This nightmare life she had been living had the tinge of a promise to be better. She now knew Lucius could not stop Draco from doing what he did to her. She now understood that the portraits were watching the Malfoy men – and probably herself, as well – at all times.
Lucius had implied that he would do his best to be kind to her, he had promised to do his best to keep her safe, but he had also made it clear he would have to seem indifferent and be harsh if they were being watched. He had told her he regretted torturing her, but he made her understand that he would still have to make a show of it by sending her to the dungeons where no portraits could sneak and watch.
She – Hermione Granger, Mudblood – had received all those words from him – Lucius Malfoy, Pureblood King. Sighing, she rolled onto her back again, pressing a hand to her fluttering stomach. She didn't understand what was happening, but she found herself having a reluctant affection for the man. Why? She couldn't begin to guess. He had raped her, tortured her, ignored her – but now it seemed he was determined to save her. Dare she let him?
Next to her, Lucius flipped restlessly in his sleep and she stopped breathing until he settled again. She was too restive. In her emotional upheaval, she had napped most of the afternoon away. This led her to the conclusion she had simply slept too much to be tired now. She had to get out of bed or she'd wake him for sure.
Hermione tiptoed to the loo and slowly went through the process or relieving herself and then washed her hands, trying to pass time. She paused just before opening the door, noticing a soft dressing gown that hung on the backside of it. Hesitating only momentarily, she pulled it on. She had to roll the sleeves three times to use her hands and it fell to well past her knees, but the material was warm and luxurious.
Hermione heaved another great sigh before leaving the bathroom. Gently, she closed the door and then pressed herself back against it, allowing her eyes to adjust from the low light of the moon that had flooded the bathroom to the almost complete darkness of the bedroom suite. Once she could at least make out shapes, so she didn't fall over anything, she made her way to the door. It was pure curiosity that made her check, even though she highly doubted she could exit the room of her own volition. She froze in place, holding her breath, when the gentle click of the catch releasing the frame rang through the silent room. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she listened for any sign that Lucius had woken.
After a solid minute, she slipped out of the room into the hall. Only every third sconce was lit at night, giving off more shadow than light and making Hermione feel nervous. Yes, Lucius had told her she could help herself to the library. However, he hadn't said the middle of the night would be the time to do it. She wrapped her arms around herself.
She wandered the manor, doing her best to keep track of where she was so she could find her way back to Lucius' suite on her own. Although, if she got hopelessly lost, she was sure she could call for Tinny to help her. She peeked in rooms that were open and pulled open doors that were closed, but nothing was really catching her attention. There was apparently no library to be found on this floor. She had decided to stay on the same floor to minimize her chances of getting turned around, but after a time of wandering and finding only bedrooms and studies and bathrooms, she changed her mind.
Hermione descended to the first floor using the grand staircase that deposited her in the foyer. The stone under her feet was cold and she looked at the front doors of the manor home with longing in her heart. Could she open them? Could she run? She knew she wouldn't even if the doors would open for her. She'd never get away. Malfoy Manor most likely had extensive wards and she would be caught before she had even started across the grounds. The punishment would most likely be out of Lucius' hands – being he would most likely be punished for her attempt to escape, as well.
She moved her gaze to the first door to the right of the main entrance. Upon inspection, it was a large coat closet with benches to sit and remove shoes. She didn't bother to go in and explore, instead moving to the next door. Magically, a low light bloomed in the room upon its disturbance and Hermione's heart leapt into her throat before it started pounding with excitement.
It appeared to be a parlor of some sort. She did not miss the dozens of portraits that hung on the walls. She looked around warily for a moment, only noticing a slight shadow passing between the frames. This gave her pause, but she wasn't doing anything wrong, so decided she couldn't be bothered by them – even when they started whispering to each other. She couldn't be bothered, because in the middle of the room stood one of the most beautiful grand pianos she had ever seen in her life.
It was closed, and the low light prevented her from seeing the intricate details of the instrument, but it didn't stop her from feeling for them under her fingertips. Lightly, she dragged her hands over the glossy piano, feeling subtle inlays in the wood. Instinctively she reached to carefully flip the top board before grasping the corner of the lid in both hands and hefting it open. She felt around inside the instrument to locate the top board prop, she chose the short one and fitted it deftly into the cup. Once she was satisfied the lid was propped properly, she moved back to the front of the instrument.
The piano bench was heavy and quilted on top and made a rumbling sound that startled some of the portraits when she slid it out. "Hey, Mudblood girl, you shouldn't be playing around with something so expensive!" It was a female voice. Hermione decided to ignore the comment. They were only portraits. People dead and gone. They were just words, she wouldn't let the words hurt her. Best to ignore them all, she really was doing nothing wrong. There was nothing to report back to Voldemort. She sat herself on the bench and tapped the pedals underneath, muttering their names as she went. Soft and sustaining. The instrument was old enough there was no sostenuto pedal. She pressed the soft pedal down and decided she would leave it down. She was very far away from the master suite, and she could probably play at full forte with the long board prop up, but she felt it better to be safe than sorry. Lucius had told her she could use the library, not the piano.
She slid the fall board out of the way and her fingers smoothed across the glistening keys, they felt silky. How long had it been since she had done this? Over a year – she had definitely not played the piano while on the run. The Weasley's didn't own a piano, and she had spent the majority of the summer with them before she and boys started their mission. Before that she had been organizing her parents' new lives and packing. It had to have been while she was still in school for sixth year. In the little music room near Professor Flitwick's office. On that crappy little upright Bentley. Her lips quirked in a fond smile. It had been perfectly out of tune and the one F sharp key hadn't worked properly.
Locating middle C, she started to play some soft chords and almost groaned with the pleasure of it. The tone reverberated around the room and bounced back to tickle her ears with stunning beauty. She wished she could make out the logo to know who it had been made by. Perhaps she could come here during the day and really get a good look at it. The portrait had been right – it was obviously an expensive piano.
She moved from gentle chords to scales, warming up rusty fingers. She had played the piano since she could remember. Her younger years had been crammed with lessons and recitals – her mother her biggest fan. She was quite good. Not concert pianist worthy, by any means. However, if she had been as interested in the piano as she had been her studies, she could have been a professional.
As it were, she played the piano for her own enjoyment. She had taken lessons until her piano instructor had insisted she couldn't teach her anymore – that if she wanted to continue, to sign up for lessons through the University. Jean Granger had encouraged her daughter to do so, but then she received her Hogwarts letter.
Through the years she had maintained at least a weekly practice session. Often slipping away on her own to play for an hour or two. She took more time in the summers, especially when she was home with her parents. It was a talent that had fallen to the wayside, but the muscle memory was ingrained in her psyche. She paused in her chords to see if her memory could pull up a piece of music, beginning to end, to really give herself a work out. She gave a little melancholy smile when she realized she probably wouldn't be able to remember anything until she started to play. So, she picked a chord and started automatically.
A few moments later, she registered that she was playing Air on the G String by Bach. Pretty, simple, and hauntingly lovely. Her left hand effortlessly moved through the walking bass and she allowed herself to get lost in the piece. So much so, that the faint smattering of applause when she finished made her give an undignified yelp of surprise.
One voice broke above all the others, snootily commenting. "A few errors here and there, but overall not too terrible. It's been many years since someone has been able to properly play that thing. Would you consent to another piece?"
"I – I suppose I could," Hermione muttered ungraciously. Damned if she just wished she could be alone.
"Wonderful! How about some Beethoven?" Hermione wished she could see the portraits. What she wouldn't give for a wand to light this room to its full potential.
"Any particular piece?" she asked the room at large.
"Für Elise," a different voice called out. "Do you think she can do it?" The same voice was no longer speaking directly to Hermione.
"I can do it," Hermione grumbled. Snooty, hoity-toity portraits. She almost growled her annoyance.
It was a bit of a faster piece than what she had been playing, but she was properly warmed up at this point. She began with the trill at a bit slower of a tempo then was called for, but quickly worked her way up to the poco moto that was dictated. She loved this piece of music, if she were honest. There was so much personal emotive translation that could be done throughout the piece. She lost herself.
"Lucius!" Narcissa hissed. "Lucius, wake up!"
"Wha-?" Lucius rolled, still half asleep, into a sitting position. "Cissa? What's wrong?"
"You must come see this," the portrait announced firmly. "Ladies Parlor."
"Wait…where's Herm – the Mudblood?"
Narcissa rolled her pretty painted eyes at him. "With me, Lucius, you can call her by her first name. Even Miss Granger would be fine. I don't think any of the other portraits would think anything of you calling her Miss Granger. Now, she's the reason I'm dragging you out of bed. Stay outside in the foyer, I think you'll be impressed."
Puzzled, but curious, Lucius went to retrieve his dressing gown only to find the bloody thing missing. He pulled a light robe out of his dressing room and headed directly for the grand staircase. He could hear the piano the moment he hit the top of the stairs and came to an abrupt halt.
He hadn't heard that piano played since before his mother passed away. It must have been going on almost twenty-five years. His heart constricted as she finished the current piece she had been playing. The ending notes of Für Elise drifted away and dissipated through the foyer. When she started the next piece, he slowly sunk to sit on the top step.
The haunting, melodious strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata caressed him gently as he closed his eyes. It wasn't perfect, she had hit a couple wrong notes that she professionally glossed over as if they didn't exist, but it was damn near. The emotion she was pouring into the music was getting him even more than the fact his mother's piano was being played well for the first time in decades.
Lucius wanted to see her play with a sudden ferociousness. Barely making a sound, he glided down the stairs and moved slowly to stand by the door. It was open just enough to make out her slender silhouette. He watched in utter fascination as her body swayed and moved with the music she was creating. Her head sometimes rolling back or to the side through tempos and crescendos and decrescendos. It was striking to behold, how she had lost herself in what she was doing.
It was hard to believe that the girl he watched playing with such intensity was the same girl who had tried to take her life this afternoon. He swallowed hard around a lump in his throat as he leaned against the wall to continue to watch her. The low flames of the one flickering candelabra threw shadows across her face, her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly ajar as she succumbed to the music. It was enchanting.
He decided then and there he would stay home from ME tomorrow and show her the entirety of the Manor. He would introduce her to this room properly and let her make it hers, if she desired. Lucius felt a tingling of hope. Perhaps between this room and the library she would find some happiness. Perhaps it would be enough to keep her sane and help her remember and realize there were still things worth living for – fighting for. Just like saving her was giving him something worthwhile to fight for.
- 10
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A World Not Fit To Live In