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Amazing Grace	By : Kooldragon400 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 41309 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any recongizable characters, nor do I make any money off of this story.

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Funny story, really. I meant to upload this last night, and in fact had it copied into the window ready to post. My eyes were tired, and so I rested them for a moment, only to wake up several hours later. Sorry about that, folks. This chapter is a doozy, but it sets up two important plot points. :D

I have been thoroughly enjoying all of the reviews. Chester the plot bunny did as well, and was happy to know a few of you got the reference to me calling him George. He would love to see as many or more reviews this chapter, and I hope the content will encourage it.

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Hermione sat at the desk, idly running the soft tip of her quill over across her chin as she thought. She’d received a flyer in the mail for a new exhibit on Magical Egypt at the British Museum, and she thought it would be a great opportunity to teach Grace about some curses and perhaps have a bit of fun looking at the Egyptian staffs.

But she’d have to run it by Lucius first. She pushed back from her desk, sparing a glance outside as Grace was bent over a plant in the garden, sketching it for her Herbology work. She was a gifted sketch artist, her lines sharp and her shading impeccable.

Hermione walked towards Lucius’ office, feeling rather more nervous than necessary. She figured he would probably approve the trip, as it was educational, but something about having to ask the great blond aristocrat something unnerved her. Perhaps it was feeling as though he had any sort of power over her. She didn’t like feeling powerless in the least and she was prepared to argue her point at any length necessary.

So she was rather surprised when Lucius agreed without question.

“It’s a splendid idea, Hermione.” He said, looking over the top of his reading glasses. Hermione tilted her head at the strange sight of him. He was dressed very casually in a green button-up shirt and dark grey slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbow and his fingers were smudged with ink from where he was writing. He even had a small smudge across his jaw where he must have touched his face with the ink-smeared hands.

The office was too warm, and Hermione felt herself growing uncomfortable in even her airy sun dress. She heard Lucius clear his throat, and noticed he was looking at her expectantly.

“Erm…what?” she asked. An eyebrow twitched upward before he answered her.

“I said we could make a day of it. We can visit the museum in the morning and then catch lunch in London. Perhaps a bit of shopping afterwards? Grace needs a dress for a small charity event I’ve been invited to, and I’m sure you could use a day out. My treat, of course.” He repeated, watching her face.

Hermione warred with herself immediately. The idea of a day out paid for by Lucius Malfoy was any girl’s fantasy, but the idea that she may be beholden to him in any way immediately put a damper on the joy of shopping.

“I would not expect repayment, Hermione. You have gone above and beyond your duties to Grace in these last few weeks. She…Grace has not had an easy time since she came here, and some of it can be attributed to my own ignorance and stupidity, but since you have come into her life she seems strangely….uplifted.” Lucius said, speaking freely to the Muggleborn witch in front of him.

“She’s smart. I would not indulge stupidity. She sometimes lacks focus, but it isn’t detrimental. She has a delightful personality, if her vocabulary does reminisce the backside of Knockturn Alley at times…” Hermione said ruefully. Lucius grimaced. “I do not put much stock in material possessions, Lucius. I have decent clothes that I wear, shoes that are in one piece. I do not own many trinkets or souvenirs…You don’t have to buy me things to treat Grace well.” Hermione replied softly.

“I know that. Your honor wouldn’t allow me to bribe you for treatment of Grace. And I appreciate that.” He said honestly. “I only want to show my appreciation with a few baubles. Allow me to have this.”

Hermione drew her lower lip between her teeth, and Lucius suddenly found himself wanting to gently withdraw the poor, tortured lip from between her teeth and soothe it with his tongue-

He jerked himself out of that line of thought so hard he jammed his knee against the desk, startling Hermione and upsetting his ink bottle. The notes he’d been making on ways to improve his stock in the Muggle world were ruined, and he cursed softly as he righted the bottle and cleaned the mess.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked. Lucius looked up, seeing the worried look on her face.

“Fine, just thought something bit me, is all.”

~~

Grace stood, open-mouthed, in front of the display of the mummy. The poor corpse had been boxed into a large glass case, and was meandering around harmlessly, dragging its millennia-old feet slowly as it tried to seek out the curious onlookers. It stopped in front of where Grace stood and its skeletal, bandaged hands scrabbled at the glass before it’s eyeless skull tilted slightly, regarding her. Then it moved again, startling a young boy who had been entranced in his mother’s skirts.

“This. Is. So. Cool!!” she said, turning back to Hermione and Lucius.

“Can you identify the spell used to animate the mummy?” Hermione asked.

“It’s a variant on the Inferi spell. The intent of the mummy depends on the intent of the people who woke it up. Since this mummy was woken by excavators with no ill-intent, the mummy just kinda shuffles around. Had the spell been triggered by grave-robbers or the like, King Whatsa-Whosit over here would have been gnawing on some brains.” Grace said. She beamed under Hermione’s praise, and puffed up even more when she saw her father smile proudly.

“Can we go now?”

Grace looked over as her brother whined.

“It’s your fault for volunteering your presence, bro-ham. Me, personally, I want to go see the Egyptian collars. Egyptian bling is so pretty.” She said. The English wizards all traded looks as to whatever the hell ‘bling’ meant, but followed along behind the hyper teenager as she bounced off to see some of the enchanted Royal pieces.

~~

“I still can’t believe you did that…” Grace growled at her brother, who was mopping the blood off of a nasty scratch on his face.

“You dared me.” He said, scowling.

“Since when do you have such Gryffindor-ish tendencies, Draco?” Lucius snapped.

Draco had gotten them kicked out for the day when he decided it would be a good idea to pole-vault into the mummy’s enclosure and shake its hand. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the spell he used to catapult himself over the glass walls not landed him directly on the mummy. The poor thing was awfully nice about it, helping him up (after popping its arm back into the socket) and even giving him a boost back over the edge when he’d sprained his wand-hand. The scratch had come from his face landing on the mummy’s hand, and the fingernail tearing his sensitive flesh.

“Ron and Harry would have been proud. Actually, Harry probably would have hexed you. You’re lucky that mummy was harmless, or it could have strangled you before we had a chance to get you out, especially since you conveniently sprained your wand hand.” Hermione seethed. Draco gulped under her baleful glare.

“Sorry everyone.” Draco said. He shuffled off down the sidewalk, and Grace followed him, leaving Lucius and Hermione both angrily glaring at his back.

“Well, it was a good idea…but you know what they say about the road to hell…” Hermione finally growled. She heard Lucius sigh.

“I was impressed by your knowledge of the Egyptian staves.” Lucius commented idly, changing the subject. Hermione looked up at him, and blinked.

“It was nice to speak with someone who liked it as much as I did.” She replied. She suddenly winced. “Ugh…you have…you have a piece of bandage..” she automatically reached up and plucked the small piece of gauze from Lucius’ fine blond hair, standing up on tip-toes to be able to reach it. Lucius looked at her, and she froze where she was, her hand still hovering near his hair. He saw her swallow, and leaned forward slightly, unaware his face was tilting towards hers at an alarming rate.

Hermione was frozen, looking like a deer in headlights. He was so close….just another inch and-

“Hermione?”

She jerked away when she heard Grace calling for her, and cleared her throat.

“We…should go make sure…that…Draco doesn’t get himself…in any more trouble.” She stuttered. Lucius nodded jerkily, and followed along behind Hermione, his eyes unconsciously going to her swaying backside.

Grace would have kicked herself if she knew what she had interrupted.

Lucius could have kicked Grace for what she interrupted.

Hermione needed to talk to Harry about some serious conflicted feelings.

~~

“Please, Kingsley. I just want to make peace with it.”

That’s what he’d said that finally allowed him access. Kingsley had given him access to the Department of Mysteries, and Harry Potter sat in front of the dais that held the Veil. He had been having nightmares of it recently. Hermione had spent several long nights rubbing his hand as he attempted to go back to sleep after watching Sirius fall through over and over.

Harry activated the hover charm on his wheelchair, and hovered up the stone steps to sit himself directly in front of the whispering portal. He glared at the gently wafting fabric, staring into the void that was sometimes revealed as the fabric shifted.

He’d lost Sirius to this piece of drapery. He’d lost the only thing he’d ever had that was close enough to his own father. Mr. Weasley had been wonderful, but he had never been Harry’s. Sirius was Harry’s…had been, anyway.

Suddenly angry, Harry lashed out, punching the roughly hewn stone archway. He felt the stone slice his knuckles, but didn’t draw back his hand to nurse the wound.

Stupid curtain….

He turned his back to the Veil, hovering his chair back down the steps.

“Who do you seek?”

He stiffened and whirled the chair around, wand drawn. A large figure stood in front of the Veil, making Harry’s blood run cold. It stood as tall as a Dementor, and was swathed in black like one, its face not revealed to Harry. The only differences between this figure and a Dementor was the figure stood on solid ground, held a large scythe in its hand, and great feathered black wings protruded from its back.

“Who do you seek?”the figure asked again.

“Who…who are you?” Harry asked, swallowing hard.

“I am the keeper of the Veil. You have made the sacrifice of blood. Who do you seek?”

“Wh-what do you mean, sacrifice of blood?” Harry asked, dread filling his stomach. The figure’s cloaked head turned toward the stone archway, looking pointedly at a space on the stone where Harry’s fresh blood had smeared. “I didn’t mean to do that…” he said softly.

“You have made the required sacrifice of blood. Who do you seek?” the figure said once more, seeming impatient.

“Er….I seek….Sirius Black?” he said, sounding unsure. The keeper of the Veil was silent for several moments, and Harry grew nervous in its presence. Well….even more nervous.

“Death has touched you many times, Harry Potter.” The keeper said. Harry bristled. “Death has told me who you are, and what you have lost. Death does not normally make exceptions. You were an exception. Several times, in fact.” The figure spoke as if Harry weren’t even there, though he spluttered a bit when he was called an exception. “Your request will be fulfilled, but only you can fulfill it.”

“And what does that mean?” Harry asked.

“The one you seek may be retrieved, but only by someone that Death has Touched, but not Taken. You may retrieve him.” The keeper pointed to the Veil. “You may retrieve him.”

“And how do I know it isn’t some trick that will kill me? People don’t come back from the Veil.” Harry said reasonably.

“This portal was not meant as a punishment, but man has bastardized what was created as a release for the sick and suffering. Death’s lair can be penetrated by someone who has been Touched, but not Taken. You may retrieve who you seek, and you may return. But there will be repercussions. Choose now.”

“Repercussions?” Harry swallowed. But he could see Sirius….he could bring him back….unless… “How do I know you’re not lying?” Harry asked, eyeing the keeper with distrust.

“Death has never lied to you and neither will I. Death’s lair can be penetrated by someone who Death has Touched, but not Taken. You may retrieve him, and you may return. But there will be repercussions. Death does not give without conditions. Death only takes. But Death has made an exception for you before, Harry Potter. Choose now, or the sacrifice of blood will become naught.”

Harry swallowed again. This seemed to good to be true. Could it really be that simple?

“What do I have to do?” he asked, gripping the arm rests of his chair tightly.

“Take my hand.” The Keeper said, holding out a skeletal hand. It seemed like a Dementor’s hand, but the flesh was not rotting or scabbed. Grey and dead, yes…but…dead and…clean, maybe? Gross….

“Take my hand.” The keeper repeated. Harry screwed up what little bit of courage he had left, and reached out, grasping the cool hand in his own.

Hours later, when none had heard back from Harry Potter, Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt would go to the Death Chamber to see if the young man had finally made his peace with the Veil. All he would find in the cavernous room would be an empty wheelchair sitting on the dais.

The Veil was silent save for the whispers of those gone before.

~~

Hermione sat in the chair in Kingsley’s office, her face deathly pale. Lucius stood behind her, his hand gripping the chair she sat in harder than necessary. Draco stood back in shock, his mouth open in disbelief. Grace was at his side, looking sad and worried.

“So what you’re telling me, is that you allowed Harry Potter, who had lost his only true father figure through that fucking piece of drapery to enter the room without an escort?!” Hermione struggled to form the words, her voice tight with grief and fury. Kingsley’s face was ashen, and he was struggling to keep control.

“He asked me to allow him to face it so he could get rid of his nightmares.” Kingsley whispered. Hermione gave an inarticulate scream of anger and stood from her seat.

“Well he got rid of them, all right! The dead don’t dream!” And with those words she burst into tears, burying her face in her hand and sobbing.

“The boy is gone?” Lucius asked carefully. Kingsley looked up at him. He’d intercepted them on what had looked like a happy day. Hermione had been off on a small field trip with Grace, and the others had tagged along for the fun. And he’d had to tell them this.

“His wheelchair was sitting in front of the Veil with the locking charm still active. I know for a fact that his chair was also charmed to make sure no one could bring him out of it unwillingly, for his own protection. Wherever he went, he went willingly-”

CRACK!

One moment Kingsley was looking at Lucius, and the other he was staring nearly over his shoulder.

“Of course he went willingly! He couldn’t walk, his nights were filled with dreams that made him scream as if under the Cruciatus, and the only family he had ever grown to love in this world didn’t want to crowd him while he was recovering and basically backed out of his life!” Hermione screeched. “I hate you, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I will never forgive you. I don’t know why Harry did it. I thought he cared for me too much to take his own life, but apparently his suffering was deeper than I knew.” And she dissolved into tears again.

Something in Lucius’ chest tightened when he saw Hermione crying. It was an uncomfortable ache, as if one of his Pegasus’ had sat on his chest. He reached out and gently touched Hermione’s shoulder, unprepared for her to suddenly whirl around and fling herself at him. He let out a most undignified yelp as Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest, great heaving sobs wracking her body.

“Shh, it will be fine, Hermione. Mr. Potter has found his peace. He is no longer suffering. He is with his godfather, and his mother and father.” Lucius murmured softly. Hermione’s sobs petered out a bit, and she pulled back slightly to look up at Lucius.

“He left me….he left me all alone here.” She stuttered.

“You’re not alone, Hermione.” Grace said softly. Hermione looked at her, and reached up to swipe the tears from her eyes.

“I can’t…I can’t do this. I can’t go back to my flat without him…” she whispered.

“You are more than welcome to stay at the Manor for awhile.” Lucius offered before his brain could stop his mouth. She looked up sharply, searching his face for some sign of deceit or treachery. Her liquid brown eyes caught his mercurial silver ones, and they stared at each other for several moments.

“Thank you for the offer. I’ll have to take you up on that.” She said.

And so with a heavy heart Hermione followed Lucius out of the Minister’s office, leaving Kingsley gaping behind them. Grace and Draco followed behind the two, but Grace turned and gave the Minister a glare before she left. Great Merlin, she had her father’s intimidation…

He leaned forward over his desk and watched as Lucius opened a door for Hermione, and led her through it with his hand on the small of her back.

What had he just wrought?

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Hopefully some smut, Kingsley, you great big butt-head.

Don't kill me folks, just stay tuned. If you kill me i can't write smut.... :3
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Amazing Grace