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The Senior Project	By : Lizski Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 37490 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 17

She should have known better. She should have realized that Harry wouldn’t take an open-minded stance. Of course he wouldn’t, she chided herself. When had Harry ever been open-minded about anything? She smiled in spite of herself; sometimes it was a wonder that they had ever been friends. It was ironic that Draco was turning out to be a better friend than Harry.

Except that she wasn’t certain how Draco was feeling about her at the moment, either.

Without thinking, her fingers found the outline of the ring under her turtleneck, and she felt oddly comforted. Perhaps it would all be okay.

Still, she couldn’t afford the time to dwell on how the people she once considered to be friends currently felt about her. She had schoolwork that had to be completed, pregnant or not, surrounded by friends or not. Leaving the Room of Requirement, she headed back to her rooms, her mind already focused on her Arithmancy homework.

After an hour of struggling to wrap her brain around complex predictive equations, she realized that her brain was too foggy to make sense of anything but the simplest economic manipulators. It had been a long, exhausting day, she realized, and she closed the text. The visit to Lucius had been exciting, but tiring, and her conversations with Harry and Draco had drained the last ounces of energy from her. Abandoning her desk, she prepared for bed, her thoughts returning to her day with Lucius. How nice that would be to be able to spend every day with him. Sighing happily, she got into bed, pushing nagging doubts firmly out of her mind.

****

Severus Snape sat unmoving in his study, giving no hints to the thoughts racing through his brain. It was imperative that he talk with Hermione. She had postponed their next meeting, and had been absent from the school for a greater portion of the day, no doubt in contact with Lucius. After dinner she’d had a discussion with Draco, and a later discussion with Potter. Coupled with her earlier avoidance of him, none of this boded well for his own future with her. Perhaps it would be necessary to rethink his approach to her. Maybe he had come on too strong, too early. It might be necessary to back off a bit, to come across as more of a supportive friend. Yes, that might be the way to do it. That way, he would be around to pick up the pieces when things fell apart for her.

****

Hermione overslept, not waking up until Crookshanks jumped on her, but didn’t even consider skipping breakfast. Even if Harry didn’t like what she had told him last night, he couldn’t share it with their friends; when he promised that nothing they had said would leave the room they were in, the Room of Require had magically bound him to his word – if he tried to say anything about Hermione’s condition to anyone else, he would find himself immediately distracted, called away, or rendered speechless. While Harry might not have been fully aware of the implications of his promise, she knew, and wouldn’t have spoken to him otherwise. However, the fact that he couldn’t talk about it didn’t prevent him from being angry.

Harry’s anger was not really of much concern, though. She was really more worried about Draco. He really had been her only friend as of late, and he had seemed pretty hurt last night when they talked. Taking a quick look at herself in the mirror (“Your robe is a little wrinkled, sweetie”), she headed down to the Great Hall.

Much as she suspected, Harry turned his back to her when he saw her coming, and she quickly decided to walk around the edge of the Hall to avoid any other Gryffindors. She approached the Head Table and caught Draco’s eye. He blinked once, dully, and turned back to his eggs and toast. The simple gesture of dismissal made her feel slightly nauseous.

Forcing back tears, she took her own seat between Professor Flitwick and her head of house before reaching for some toast. She gave half-hearted greetings to the two faculty members while reluctantly starting breakfast. Obviously Draco was still upset with her, and that fact disturbed her more than she had expected; she hadn’t realized how much she had come to look forward to seeing him each day. She clung to the hope that he was sincere in the promise of friendship that he had affirmed again last night.

As breakfast ended, Hermione pushed away from the table, more than ready to get on with classes. Her path to the doorway was temporarily blocked by the black wool-clad form of Severus. She tensed, aware that she had missed his class yesterday, and certain that her Potions master would not have approved of the visit. Surprisingly, Severus merely inclined his head, a brief look of concern crossing his features before he stepped aside to let Hermione pass.

Heading to Arithmancy, Hermione found Ginny joining her. “Is it true? Are you and Draco really, er, you know?” Ginny giggled conspiratorially, and the Head Girl found herself immediately sympathizing with Severus’ disdain for much of the population of Hogwarts.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Ginny,” she replied, hoping that she sounded sufficiently unwilling to talk.

“C’mon, Herm. Lavender heard from Parvati who heard from Padma who heard from Pansy,” Ginny made an unpleasant face as she mentioned the Slytherin, “That Draco was bragging about how you were begging him for it. Supposedly, he described one of your meetings in, er, great detail. I can’t believe you wouldn’t share this with me,” Ginny whined.

Merlin’s beard! Was the youngest Weasely really so shallow that she was genuinely upset that she had received this information from someone other than the supposed ‘source’? “Ginny! It’s not something that I want to be talking about in the hallways!”

“If you still expect me to be your friend, you’d better be prepared to talk this afternoon, then.” Hermione struggled to hide a grin at the girl’s presumptiveness. “Your room. This afternoon. I’m done with Charms at 4. I’ll be there at 4:15. And I want to hear everything.” Ginny gave a smile that struck Hermione as more marauding than friendly.

“Of course. It just all happened so suddenly. I’ll see you this afternoon, Ginny. Then we can talk.” She entered the classroom, leaving the redhead to continue down the hall. Gods. Was she really supposed to fabricate a steamy relationship with Draco, when the male in question was currently avoiding her? Not for the first time, she reflected on how she had managed to get herself into such a quandary, and found herself smiling again at her initial reaction upon discovering that she had seduced Lucius.

Arithmancy passed quickly; while she hadn’t made much progress in the homework last night, the assignment wasn’t due for another week, and she hadn’t missed much yesterday – apparently most of the session had been a review of concepts that her classmates had been struggling with. As the day progressed, Hermione began to relax back into the familiar rhythms of school.

Potions was her last class of the day, and she approached it with mixed feelings. The class promised to keep her mind engaged (she couldn’t say the same of Care of Magical Creatures), but she would have to face Harry and Ron, not to mention Draco. Holding her head high, she walked down to the dungeons.

Her self-imposed confidence was jarred when she felt a hand briefly fondle her backside, steps from the door to the Potions classroom. Ready to turn on the miscreant, she saw Draco walk beside her, a salacious smirk on his face. “I might be able to find a few moments for you this evening, luv, if you are good.” She would have slapped him, if he hadn’t delivered his words with a comforting wink. Even so, the interaction left her a little unsettled, and she entered the classroom with an uneasy feeling. Was he trying to suggest that they were friends again? Or was he merely pressing an advantage?

Taking her usual seat between Neville and Harry, she was fully aware of the hostility radiating from the Boy Who Lived. Neville, on the other hand, gave her a shy smile. “I don’t believe anything they say, Herm. I know you’re not like that. If anything, Draco’s the one who is begging.” The young wizard, still growing into the man he would become, blushed furiously at his own words. Giving her first genuine smile of the day, Hermione patted Neville’s arm appreciatively; despite his academic faults, Neville would no doubt be a gallant and thoughtful man, his eventual wife the envy of every woman she knew.

Severus glared at the Gryffindors, and the classroom immediately fell silent. “Today you will be brewing the philtrum tranquillus. Of course you have prepared for class by reading the preparation, and are fully aware of potential, ah, hazards that can be encountered.” Neville shuddered silently, and Hermione again patted him gently on the arm; she had read about the calming potion the year before, and knew all about the possible pitfalls. ‘Just follow me,’ she scratched on a parchment that she placed in front of him, and Neville nodded, relieved. “Begin. Do not leave until you have bottled your results.”

Using a modified sign-language that they had perfected over the years, Hermione began to direct her friend in the complex steps of the potion. Her attention was focused on the task, but she was poignantly aware of the fixed stares Harry was giving her, as well as the circling steps of the Potions master. Interestingly, Severus seemed to be keeping his distance, observing her, but not making any obvious attempts to deduct points from Gryffindor.

At the end of the class period, Neville gave Hermione a shaky smile as they bottled their results, and Draco gave her a leering grin as he exited the classroom with his cronies, while Harry continued to seethe silently. Hermione deposited her results on the front desk and turned to leave, when the silent Severus spoke. “Miss Granger. I realize that you have, ah, other interests. Yet you remain a student here, and if you wish to graduate, you must complete your senior project in a timely manner. I do not need to remind you that I need to approve your literature review before you can proceed with your experiments. I am available at 7:30 Friday evening. Please see that this fits your schedule.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile, although she tried to keep any hint of mockery out of her reply. While Severus could be extremely subtle, this was not one of those times. “Of course, sir. I appreciate your time. I should meet you here, then?”

“No. My study will be acceptable.” Despite his tone, the words still sounded like a question, and Hermione nodded, wondering what Severus was up to.

****

“Draco’s exaggerating things, Ginny. C’mon. What’s he going to say? I mean, he’s got this image of a bad boy sex fiend to uphold. He’s not likely to tell his friends that we’ve had one official date that resulted in nothing more than a chaste kiss, and several late night conversations. They’d think that he’d gone mad. Or soft. And for a Slytherin, I’m not sure which is worse.”

The redhead eyed Hermione dubiously. “But Harry said that he was all over you in Potions today, too,” she started defiantly.

“Harry’s not quite truthful, either.” The look on Ginny’s face told Hermione that she should re-think her strategy. “Look, Draco and I like each other because, well, not too many people know us – what’s deep inside – all that well. Draco’s got so many expectations that he’s got to live up to – it’s hard for him to be himself because of so many reasons. And me, well,” she blushed self-deprecatingly, “you know I really don’t have any close friends, other than you, of course. And like before Potions today – he was showing off for his Slytherin buddies. I mean, it wouldn’t be good for it to get back to his father that he’s being nice to me, would it?” Ginny nodded slowly, and the older witch decided that she was onto a good line of thinking.

“So Draco’s been saying all this stuff about me, thinking that if his father does hear that he and I are, uh, seeing each other, that his father will just think that it’s one of those ‘dominating the Muggles’ things. So that’s why Draco’s been like that.” She looked at Ginny, hoping that the younger woman would believe her.

“But I’ve heard about all sorts of things that you’ve done with him. Everyone’s talking about it.” Ginny didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Of course they are. Draco’s go to give the impression that he’s living up to his father’s expectations, and in the meantime, he and I can move at our own pace. We talked about this, and figured that it would be the best way to keep everyone happy, until we can figure out a way to break the news to his father.” Ginny still looked belligerent, and Hermione mentally sighed. “I promise, Ginny, that if any happens – I mean, really happens – between Draco and myself, you’ll be the first person I tell. Because at this point, other than a few pecks on the cheeks, we haven’t done anything.”

“But, you told me that you didn’t like Draco. That you didn’t feel that spark.” Ginny still sounded like a pouty child to Hermione.

“And if you remember, you told me that I might surprise myself, and find Draco more attractive than I originally thought. And you were right.” Gods, this conversation was already becoming tedious. Maybe a little flattery would soften up Ginny. “You’ve got a pretty good sense of these sorts of things.” Luckily the words had their intended effect, and Ginny smiled suddenly. “Maybe you could, uh, give me some suggestions, about er, well, everything. I mean, my clothes could use some help, and uh, some advice in, uh, other matters might be helpful, too. If you want, of course.”

Happy to be back on comfortable ground, Ginny dove enthusiastically in the task at hand. “Okay, the first thing we have to do is, er, re-vamp your wardrobe. I mean, you can’t exactly let Draco discover that you in your cotton whites.” Hermione blushed, aware that the red-head’s advice could probably be used with Lucius as well. “I’ve got a couple of catalogues. Wait right here, I’ll be back.” Ginny smiled, but Hermione detected a slight threat under the girl’s pleasant demeanor. It was true, she probably could use something other than just her red silk underwear, even if she wouldn’t be able to wear it for too much longer. Ginny didn’t need to know that, though.

Moments later, the younger witch burst back into her room, clutching several lingerie catalogues. “Sit down. We’ve got to find you something that’s exciting, but not too slutty.” Hermione feigned excitement, and sat down on her bed, looking at the dog-eared pages Ginny was flipping through. “Here, this is sort of classy. It would suit you.”

Over an hour later, a Gringotts bank draft had been owled to Hepzibah’s of Herculaneum with Hermione’s order. Ginny had made suggestions and approved the final order, while Hermione had nodded interestedly, listening to the witch’s seduction tips (“The astronomy tower is too heavily trafficked; find someplace quieter,” and “He’s had more experience, so let him take the lead. And just do what feels natural.”) and forcing down her own urge to immediately show the girl the door.

Finally, the youngest Weasley left, allowing Hermione to breath a sigh of relief; Ginny was finally convinced that she and Draco were a discrete but devoted couple, fighting against all odds to be happy. She had given the relationship her stamp of approval, sighing that it was “So romantic, just like star-crossed lovers,” while Hermione wondered if Shakespeare was more widely read in the wizarding world than she had been led to believe. As it was, it was too bad that Hogwarts didn’t have a drama department; she was getting better at acting all the time.

****

Lucius Malfoy shuffled through the stack of parchments listing his holdings. The properties in France were managed by a not-so-distant relative, and were self-sufficient; the vineyards were profitable, and the cellars contained enough reserve stock to ensure continued success, even if the next few seasons proved to be lean. The more far-reaching holdings in eastern Europe were overseen by a board of directors that would continue to ensure that the companies at least held their own, while the Scandinavian assets were continuing to increase in value at a comfortable rate. In short, things were good.

And yet things were also precarious. If there were questions about the stability of the Malfoy line, it would be possible for the markets to rapidly shift for the worse. Even subtle changes in the political landscape of the world could also affect the current economic conditions. Removing Lord Voldemort would certainly influence numerous regimes throughout the globe, and that could affect the family fortunes, albeit not drastically. Even if he continued to support the Dark Wizard, he could probably buy off key elements of the Ministry if Dumbledore proved to be successful.

Of course, he could lose everything if he went against Voldemort, and the Dark Lord was ultimately triumphant. And yet if he didn’t at least try, he’d most certainly lose Hermione and the child. He ran his fingers through his hair. Thor’s hammer. His only task in life was to ensure the continued success of the family name, including protecting its financial status, and here he was considering steps that could put that in serious jeopardy.

He stood up and went to the sideboard, pouring himself a generous brandy. Glancing idly around the room, his eyes caught on a picture frame mostly obscured by books. He reached for the frame, and found a long-forgotten picture of Draco, taken when the boy was 4 years old. He was smiling, alternately waving at the camera, and turning his head away shyly. Looking at it, Lucius remembered when it was taken; it had been a warm summer day, and he and Narcissa had decided to take the boy on a picnic. The wizard smiled at the memory – the idea of a picnic, eating food with one’s hands, on the ground, like animals, had sounded appalling, and yet Draco had been entranced by the idea, and so he had reluctantly agreed. The three of them had gone to one of the far reaches of the estate, where the elves had provided carpets, baskets of food, and cushions. The outing had been surprisingly pleasant and relaxing. Putting the picture back on the bookshelf, turning the frame so he could see it, he fantasized about a similar experience with Hermione.

He took another swallow of brandy when the thought struck him. He could privately transfer most of the family holdings to Draco, and since Draco was not a follower of Lord Voldemort’s, it would be a prudent way to safeguard their wealth. It would free him up to take a chance of removing the Dark Lord. If he was successful, the family wealth would be secure anyway, and if he wasn’t successful, and the Voldemort was victorious, Draco would have the opportunity to claim allegiance, and thereby keep the family fortune relatively intact. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but given the circumstances, it seemed to be the most practical course of action. Of course, he’d have to keep enough money on the books to not raise questions among his peers, and it would be wise to have some hidden caches that he and Hermione could access in case of emergency.

He’d have to have a talk with Draco, of course, explaining the reasons for this, as well the need to keep these matters concealed, but he was confident that it would allow him the opportunity to attempt to remove Voldemort while not failing in his duties as a Malfoy.

Lucius finished his brandy and debated having dinner delivered to his study while mulling over his possible actions for the evening. Visiting Hermione was of keen interest to him, although he needed to talk to Draco as well, which left open the question of a formal visit to the school, or a more clandestine approach.

Considering the possibilities, he was suddenly aware of the familiar burning sensation on his left forearm. He closed his eyes briefly. Voldemort. Heading to his rooms to change into his Death Eater robes, he said a silent prayer for Hermione’s safety, and for the safety of their child.

****

Fifty dark-clad witches and wizards gathered in the clearing. The nervousness was palpable, the shapes shifting from foot to foot, or pacing within a small area. The masks hid their eyes, allowing them to not have to find excuses to avoid eye contact.

Lucius Malfoy clenched and unclenched his jaw muscles irritably. He has considered visiting Hermione again tonight, but instead, he had been summoned. Hoping for a brief meeting, he was disturbed to find the throngs of Death Eaters in the clearing. If Lord Voldemort called for attacks tonight, it could be hours before he could get away. And it was unlikely that Hermione would be pleased to see him in his dark robes. Gods. Could he please just hurry up and arrive? The sooner the Dark Lord arrived, the sooner they could all be dismissed. Impatiently, he glanced around the gathering, wondering idly if Severus was among the masked followers.

Moments later, a quiet rustling became a strong thrashing as the Lord Voldemort and his attendants came into the clearing. The mutterings silenced as the Death Eaters knelt in subservience to their Lord. Lucius tried to clear his mind, hoping that if he pushed thoughts of Hermione out of his head, the meeting would go faster.

“I am so pleased to see so many loyal servants here tonight. Our time for success is near. We will prevail.” The slippery voice paused long enough to make Lucius wonder if that short speech was the only purpose for the meeting. “Arise, my subjects,” the voice finally hissed into the quiet night.

Lucius stood up slowly, his eyes immediately drawn to the fire that Wormtail had started in the center of the clearing. He bit back a grimace; this would not be a short meeting. Preparing for the eventuality of a drawn-out event, he began to surreptitiously identify some of the other Death Eaters. Crabbe and Goyle were standing near the trees, probably hoping that they could slip away into the woods. Bellatrix LeStrange – identifiable from her stature – stood defiantly in the center of the group, while Walden Macnair (at least it looked like him) was staring fixedly at the fire.

He continued to look around the glade when his attention was suddenly brought back to the slithering voice still speaking, “…concerns about failed attacks. My loyal followers, the problem is not with you,” Lucius relaxed a little. “It is with the duplicitous ones among us that the problems lie.” Lucius stiffened again. “Individuals who pretend to be devoted, but who are, in reality, traitors to our cause.” The blonde wizard held his breath.

“Markstone, Mannes.” The two offenders stepped forward uncertainly while Lucius slowly released his breath, aware that the first followers called were typically punished for minor infractions. “Your so-called intelligence reports have resulted in embarrassing failures. Draynough, please discipline them.” A tall, solidly-built Death Eater known for his finesse with Unforgiveables separated himself from the crowd.

“Cruciatus.” Lucius watched as the two unfortunates writhed and screamed, his reaction a mixture of pride and contempt. He had trained Draynough, and the man had quickly exceeded all expectations, but he was also self-aggrandizing and possessed a gauche conceit that Lucius found almost unbearable.

The proceedings continued, with several other minor transgressors being tortured for varying lengths of time, and Lucius let his mind wander back to his planned visit to Hermione. He’d have to return to the Manor before he went to Hogwarts – perhaps he could find a book that might be of interest to her. He began to mentally review his library’s holdings.

“We have one more issue that must be addressed. It pains me when one of my most loyal followers displays signs that I can only interpret as hints of divergence from our purpose.” Lucius tensed again, his mind rapidly leaving the catalogues list of texts in the Manor. “Such impertinence cannot be ignored.” Lord Voldemort drew out his words, ensuring that he had the attention of everyone in the area before he presented the heart of the matter.

“I am very disappointed. One of you – one whom I have trusted inordinately – has been withholding information. And possibly more.” The last words were spoken with a finality that sent shivers down Lucius’ spine.

“Perhaps, Lucius, you could explain why your have not delivered your son, to join our ranks.” The wizard paused long enough for Lucius to fully appreciate the sinking sensation that coursed through him. “And perhaps you can also explain why this same son is betrothed to a Mudblood.”

Without thought, he approached the fire, kneeling immediately. After the momentary feeling of light-headedness passed, Lucius spoke hesitantly. “My Lord. I felt that my son would be most, ah, useful if he were to, ah, provide information from his, ah, unique position inside the, ah, school.”

“There are others, better positioned, and more understanding of our needs. Your son has not proclaimed his loyalty to me, and is therefore in a position to be swayed. This is not acceptable. His betrothal to a Mudblood further calls into question his allegiance. And it reflects badly on you, Lucius.” The kneeling wizard froze, his mind a veritable blank as random thoughts swirled in a meaningless panic. “You have 72 hours. Bring both of them to me. Your son will take his place among my followers, watching as his betrothed is used and then disposed of. Do not fail me again, Lucius.”

The words had barely registered when he heard Draynoughs’ voice, “Cruciatus.”

Immediately engulfed in the excruciating pain caused by cells ripping themselves apart, Lucius’ last coherent thought was a single word: “Hermione.”

~~~~
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The Senior Project