Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Kill Shot	By : Lizski Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 12741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own the world of Harry Potter, or the characters – I just borrow them on occasion. I’m most definitely not making any money off this.

Chapter List
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Chapter One
The pale-faced, dark-haired witch lay very still in her bed at St. Mungo’s. The steady rise and fall of her chest was the only visible indication that she was even still alive. “She could wake up at any time. Or,” the medi-witch paused significantly, “she could be like this forever. Certainly, the longer she is in a coma, the smaller the likelihood that she will come out of it. Or at least come out of it without any, erm, damage. Six months is a long time.” The medi-witch trailed off into silence.
Molly Weasley nodded, her eyes fixed at a point off in space, while Harry studied Hermione’s inanimate form for any signs of responsiveness. “She’s very lucky she only caught a glancing blow from the Killing Curse, or she wouldn’t be here at all.” The medi-witch looked reverently at Harry. “Of course, if it weren’t for you, none of us would likely be here, now, would we?” she continued with a forced attempt at light-heartedness. Molly Weasley’s gaze was still unfocused, but she rested her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She is receiving the best possible care. There is nothing we can do for her other than spend time with her and hope she recovers.” The medi-witch spoke in a practiced, reassuring tone. Harry nodded again and moved to the table in the corner of the room that was already overflowing with flowers and balloons, as well as cards and letters from friends and well-wishers. Hanging on the wall next to the table was a large plaque from the Ministry of Magic, indicating that Hermione was a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class.
Harry took out his wand and refreshed the bouquet of tulips he had brought earlier in the week. He then turned back toward the unresponsive Hermione and kissed her forehead. “You’ll continue to have someone with her all the time?” Harry asked anxiously, worry etched in his face. Six months was a long time, and it wouldn’t surprise him if interest in Hermione’s care started to wane. He made a mental note to make sure that the hospital was still quite aware of the healthy donations he was making each month.
“Of course. We have volunteers who come in for two-hour shifts throughout the day and night. They read to her, play music, just about anything to see if by stimulating her brain she will wake up. We can’t promise anything, of course,” the witch added quickly before continuing her explanation. “The volunteers are trained to fetch a medi-witch if her condition changes in any way. And of course, we’ll make sure you are notified immediately, as well.”
Harry nodded at the medi-witch. “Thank you. I appreciate all you are doing for her.”
The middle-aged witch beamed at Harry in response, and he and Molly Weasley left Hermione’s room.
***
“‘The best thing for being sad,’ replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, ‘is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails’”. The words resonated in Hermione’s brain as she lay, not yet fully conscious. She knew this passage. It was probably her favorite quotation of all time. But from what? Her foggy brain sought the source as she continued to listen. “‘You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds.’” She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt as though they were made of lead. She stilled herself and listened. Merlin. Merlin! She knew the quotation almost as well as she knew her own name; her mind silently repeated the words she knew so well as she listened to them being read. “’There is only one thing for it, then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn’”. The Once and Future King! Her brain finally seized the source. Her mother used to read that to her when she was young. When witches and wizards were merely characters in novels.
Wizards. Witches. The night in the clearing. The fall of Voldemort. The curse from Lucius Malfoy that brought the Dark Lord down. Harry’s curse was cast second. What had happened to Harry? What had happened to Ron? She sat straight up, her eyes opening. Merlin’s beard! There was a strangled gasp from the elderly witch who had been reading, and a loud thud as the book fell to the floor when the woman dashed out of the room to find a medi-witch. Hermione’s eyes cleared and she could see the room she was in. It was a small private hospital room; the distinct smell of disinfectant was the only clue she needed to know that. Her eyes locked onto the flowers, balloons, cards, and letters on the table, as well as a slightly faded “Get Well Soon Hermione” sign hanging on the wall next to her – erm, was that an Order of Merlin, First Class? Her brain immediately, and unbidden, replayed the images of the night in the glen, including the flash of green light from the blond Death Eater’s wand before Harry had cast the curse. She had to know if Harry and Ron were okay. And had to know if Lucius Malfoy had received credit for taking the first shot at the Dark Lord.
She took a breath, feeling slightly dizzy. Before she could focus her thoughts, two witches and a wizard, all dressed in medical robes, burst into her room, chattering frenetically. “Hello! Miss Granger! Can you see us? Can you hear us? How are you feeling? You must lie back down while we examine you. Do you know your name? Do you know where you are?”
Slightly bewildered, Hermione stayed sitting but turned to face the three medical attendants. “Yes, I can see you and hear you. My name is Hermione Granger.” Duh. Didn’t they realize they had already told her her name? “I would assume I’m in a hospital, and I’m feeling a little confused.” She looked evenly at a grey-haired medi-witch who appeared to be in charge.
The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “Miss Granger, I am Amelia Corniche, chief medi-witch for the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s. I would like to be the first to welcome you back to the world of the living.” She extended her hand and Hermione automatically shook it. The two other remained silent, blatantly observing Hermione’s responses.
“Uh, thank you, Amelia. Why am I here? I mean, what happened?” She glanced back to the overflowing table, “How long have I been here?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.
The other female attendant began to open her mouth to speak when she was cut off by Amelia. “We’ll get to all of that. Let’s just do a quick check of you, and see how you’re doing. Then we can answer your questions.” The medi-witch gave a pointed look to the male attendant who nodded his head and left the room. Hermione’s gaze followed him, and she wondered where he was off to in such a hurry. She didn’t have the time to linger on it, though, as Amelia Corniche began mutter spells that caused Hermione’s eyes to open wide for examination, and her reflexes to be tested. After a thorough medical examination – more thorough than Hermione felt strictly necessary; after all, hadn’t the chief medi-witch said this would be a “quick” exam? – the second medi-witch left the room and Amelia took the chair that had been recently occupied by Hermione’s volunteer reader. “Now, Hermione,” Amelia began brightly, looking vaguely like she was hoping for something to happen, “I’m not sure what you remember. Perhaps you could start with your most recent memories – before waking up here, that is.” The medi-witch smiled encouragingly.
And somewhat inanely, Hermione thought uncharitably. “Um. Well, I remember being in Varian Glen. With, um, Ron and Harry,” Hermione began uncertainly, a little confused as to how this was going to answer her questions.
“She remembers it all fine!” came a booming voice attached to a tall red-head just entering the room. Harry followed, a large grin lighting up his face.
“Ron! Harry! How are you guys doing?” Hermione was thrilled to see her two oldest friends looking healthy, both mentally and physically.
“She’s fine! We’ll take it from here,” Ron said genially to the medi-witch, firmly ushering her out of the room and shutting the door behind the older witch. Harry bent down to hug Hermione and then moved out of the way so Ron could give her a hug as well. Hermione hugged them both tightly, partially to convince herself that they were real, and partially because her last memories of them were through a green haze of light.
She leaned forward excitedly as her two friends sat down on the chairs across from the bed. “So, tell me everything. Because these people haven’t told me anything!” she added a bit disgustedly. “I’m in St. Mungo’s, I’ve got that part, but what happened? How long have I been here? Did everything,” here she gestured vaguely with her hands, “um, the battle and all – did that end quickly?”
Ron smiled, although Hermione noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. ”So, you don’t remember, ah, anything?”
“No! I remember being in the glen with you two, and I remember sighting Lucius Malfoy.” Ron made a brief coughing sound. “And I remember pointing out a figure to Harry who I thought was Voldemort.” She looked up at her bespectacled friend. “I saw –” She paused, the image replaying in her head. “I saw a flash of green light directed at Voldemort – maybe from one of the Death Eaters – before Harry could curse Voldemort.” Ron’s eyes narrowed but Hermione was too lost in her memory to notice. “And then I saw Harry fire the Killing Curse, hitting the body as it was falling.” She looked at her two friends. “Was that Voldemort, then?” she asked uncertainly.
Harry looked slightly puzzled, but Ron answered quickly. “I don’t think you saw things right – or your brain is still a bit scrambled. Harry killed Voldemort outright. There weren’t any other curses in the vicinity of us or Voldemort. Not until the one that you caught a bit of.”
“’The one I caught a bit of’?’” Hermione questioned confusedly. “We’ve been so worried about you. Right after I killed Voldemort, you were caught by a ricochet of a Killing Curse. You’re really lucky it didn’t kill you. They,” Harry gestured around the room, indicating the staff at St. Mungo’s, “didn’t know what it had hit before you, so they didn’t know whether you were going to survive or not.” He looked at Ron for a moment and then back to Hermione. “You’ve been in a coma for over six months, Herm,” he said softly, fine lines on his face reflecting his concern.
“Six months?” Hermione was shocked; her memory of the battle was so vivid she couldn’t believe so much time had passed.
“Yeah. That might be why you don’t remember things right,” Ron added. “There was only the one Killing Curse, Hermione.” He spoke deliberately and his eyes narrowed again. Hermione decided to drop the subject. At least for now. She had much more important questions that needed answering.
“Fine. Whatever. But Voldemort? He’s dead? And no extra bits of him still floating around?” Hermione asked, thinking about the multiple Horcruxes the Dark wizard had created when he was younger. “Absolutely and completely,” Ron said proudly, beaming at Harry. “Harry fulfilled the prophecy, and Voldemort is gone forever. The Death Eaters have all been tossed in Azkaban where they belong, and the Ministry of Magic has been extremely grateful to all of us for ridding the world of the darkest of Dark wizards. 100,000 galleons worth of gratefulness, in fact,” Ron concluded smugly.
“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, focusing on the first part of what he said, while a small part of her brain asked, All the Death Eaters? What about Lucius Malfoy? Why is Ron so certain Harry was the only one who cast a Killing Curse? She pushed the thought away. A Pensieve would solve that issue. But later. Malfoy’s actions were not a top priority for her right now. “But, ah, did everyone – I mean, is everyone okay?”
Harry grinned and nodded. “Thanks to your quick identification of Voldemort, the battle was basically over before it began. There were a few casualties on our side.” He glanced quickly at Ron, his voice dropping significantly. “Fred didn’t make it. Neither did Tonks.”
Hermione glanced quickly at Ron, his face a stoic mask. “Ron! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Hermione shook her head, blinking away tears as she reached out to touch his hand.
“Thanks,” Ron said gruffly, clasping his long-time friend’s hand tightly before letting it go. “It’s hard to believe he’s gone. But it could have been so much worse if Harry hadn’t gotten Voldemort when he did. So many more could have died.” Hermione sniffled and wiped a few tears off her cheeks.
“I’m glad you killed him, Harry,” she said softly. The reality of the loss of her friends pushed any questions about Lucius Malfoy out of her mind. She couldn’t believe she’d never see Fred again. It just didn’t seem possible that he was gone.
“But we won,” Ron stated with a note of forced gaiety in his voice. “That’s all that really matters. That, and the Death Eaters are all where they belong.”
Hermione noticed he repeated the phrase “where they belong”, but it made sense. It was bad enough to have lost friends; she couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if she had lost her brother, but she was certain she wouldn’t have much room for forgiveness in her heart.
“So, Herm,” Harry started, “When can you get out of here?” “I honestly don’t have any idea. I think I came out of the coma about an hour ago. I got a long exam from that medi-witch, who didn’t tell me anything, and then you guys showed up.”
She smiled at them. “So I have no idea what’s going on. Apparently there’s nothing wrong with me.” Other than some supposed memory problems, she added silently. She glanced at Ron and immediately chided herself for not being more sympathetic, given his loss. “So maybe you guys can help me figure out what I need to do to get out of here.” Ron nodded quickly and left the room.
Harry sat down on the bed next to Hermione. “Are you really okay? I’ve been so worried – I saw that green flash and then saw you go down. It was right after I killed Voldemort. I was so worried someone had killed you that I stayed with you while others went forward to make sure Voldemort was truly dead.”
Hermione clasped his hand. “Thank you, Harry. And Ron – is he okay?” She flashed on his almost-defiant assurance that Harry was the only one who had cast the Killing Curse on Voldemort. Maybe it was Ron’s way of deflecting his emotions about Fred.
“He’s still upset about Fred – understandable, you know, we’re all still pretty shocked. His mom is taking it pretty hard, too.”
Hermione nodded. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Mrs. Weasley was handling all this. “It’ll take time for everyone.” She paused. “I just can’t believe it.” She shook her head again sadly. After a moment of sitting silently, she took a breath. “Harry,” she started.
She was cut off as Ron burst into the room. “Hey. My mother’s on her way over here. The medi-witches owled her as soon as you woke up. She’s going to insist that you stay with them until you feel a hundred percent.” Ron cocked his head at her. “Besides, I doubt you’ve got any other living arrangements set up.” Of course she didn’t; she’d still been at Hogwarts when the Final Battle took place. Hogwarts! She had a momentary sense of panic before she remembered that they had all been awarded “Diplomas Under Special Circumstances”, with their grades in their classes serving as their NEWT scores for each subject. But Ron was right; she had no place to live. She wondered fleetingly where Ron and Harry were living.
“That would be lovely,” she responded sincerely. “I think she’ll enjoy the company, if you must know,” Ron continued. And Hermione had to agree; Molly must be devastated.
“She’s the cat’s mother,” came a voice from behind the opening door. Hermione giggled while Ron looked remotely mortified.
“Hermione! Dear!” Molly Weasley dashed to the bed and hugged Hermione tightly, simultaneously muttering statements about how apparent it was that St. Mungo’s wasn’t taking proper care of a “Highly Decorated Witch”. Hermione was a bit overwhelmed by the whirlwind of activity that followed the older witch’s arrival. That same afternoon Hermione found herself safely ensconced in the Burrow, occupying Ginny’s old bedroom for as long as she wished to stay.
“Those medi-witches at St. Mungo’s have too many patients to be able to take good care of you. You’ll be much better taken care of here,” Mrs. Weasley had proclaimed. She backed up her words by sitting Hermione down to a large bowl of chicken soup as soon as she arrived at the Burrow.
It was only several days – and what seemed like a hundred visitors – later that Hermione was able to return to the problem of the memory of the green flash from the blond Death Eater’s wand that took down Voldemort. Not wanting to distort the memory with further comments from Harry or Ron, Hermione had stored the memory the first night she arrived at the Burrow so she could evaluate it later. Sitting at Ginny’s desk, she had put her wand to her head and withdrew a long silvery strand that she directed into a small glass bottle. Now, several days later, she sat at the desk again, a Pensieve on the desk and the glass bottle beside it. If she had just imagined Lucius Malfoy cursing Voldemort, she could close the question in her mind forever and move forward. She looked into the empty bowl, contemplating. Why was she so concerned by this memory? She knew the answer; in spite of everyone else’s beliefs, she had known Lucius Malfoy would be with Voldemort. She had been right about that; she was certain the blond in the Death Eater mask was Lucius Malfoy. The question was, why would he have cursed the Dark Lord? The senior Malfoy had been a sworn Death Eater since Voldemort’s return, and had had ties to Voldemort long before that. Why would he have turned on him at the last minute? If Lucius was working for the Order, he wouldn’t be in Azkaban. Even if he hadn’t been with the Order, why didn’t he come forward and state his own involvement in the fall of Voldemort?
She emptied the memory into the Pensieve and watched the silver liquid swirl around in the bowl. Then she took a deep breath and plunged her face into the memory. She watched the approach to the glen, the chaos created by the charge of the squadrons, and the identification of the small group that avoided the pandemonium, and then she saw the blond Death Eater. She looked intently, more certain than ever in her conviction that it was Lucius Malfoy. She saw Voldemort, clearly identifying him as well as she watched the memory. And then the green flash. It definitely came from Lucius’ wand, just moments before she saw the green flash from Harry’s wand. Lucius had cast the first Killing Curse. There was no doubt about it. She withdrew from the memory, her heart pounding. Her mind hadn’t been playing tricks on her. But why was Ron so certain Harry was the only one involved in killing Voldemort? Had he just not seen it, or did he have some other agenda? If he did, she couldn’t imagine what it would be. She found an empty glass vial and placed the memory in it, sealing it with wax and scratching the date in the wax seal.
After dinner with the Weasleys, Hermione asked Mr. Weasley if she could speak with him privately. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but agreed. They went into his study while Molly supervised knitting needles in the living room.
“Um, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione began, still slightly uncomfortable with being on a first-name basis with Ron’s parents.
He raised his hand. “Arthur, please,” he said gently. “You know Molly and I consider you a member of the family, so, please, no formality here.”
Hermione smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She looked away shyly before looking back at him. “I didn’t want to upset M-Molly, but I am still a little confused about what happened after Voldemort was killed.” Her voice trailed off.
“Let’s sit down.” Arthur gestured to a worn pair of red and gold upholstered armchairs. “Can I get you something to drink?” He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy measure of Ogden’s Firewhisky. “Uh, yes. Please. A Firewhisky would be great.”
She accepted the glass and took a cautious sip. “After Voldemort was struck down, what happened? Other than me being cursed, that is,” she added hastily.
“There was a little more fighting, but as soon as Ron declared Voldemort to be dead –” Hermione smiled at the obvious pride in the senior Weasley’s voice – “Things wrapped up fairly quickly. The Death Eaters were rounded up in short order – pretty easy to identify them in their masks,” he chuckled.
“Did any of them – the Death Eaters – try to tell you they had changed sides?” Hermione asked quickly, before Arthur could go off on a tangent.
“Of course. And there were those who tried to convince the authorities that they’d been under the influence of the Imperius Curse, but with a little inquiry it was apparent that they were all acting of their own free will.” Arthur sounded quite definite.
“Including the Malfoys?” Arthur took a swallow of his drink, so Hermione continued, “I thought Lucius Malfoy had used the Imperius excuse in the past. I just wondered if he tried it again.”
Arthur took another swallow and set his glass down carefully before answering. “Surprisingly, no. I do recall that he tried very hard to convince the Ministry that his son Draco was not a Death Eater and had never been loyal to Voldemort, but Lucius never tried to say anything in his own defense.” The red-haired wizard looked into his glass before taking another swallow. “No doubt he knew we wouldn’t believe him. Probably figured the only hope he had was to try to protect Draco.”
Hermione took another sip of her drink as she considered Arthur’s words. Lucius’ actions after the death of Voldemort didn’t seem to fit with his casting the Killing Curse at Voldemort – and she knew he had; her memory made that very clear. She made a quick decision. “Arthur – I, uh, I think I saw another Killing Curse cast at Voldemort when Harry cast his.” Since she wasn’t sure how he would respond to this statement, she didn’t want to add that she had seen it cast before Harry had cast his.
“Really?” The wizard looked remotely curious. “I don’t think I heard anything about that. I think it would have been mentioned by someone, if anyone had seen it.”
“I saw it,” Hermione persisted. “I think it came from one of Voldemort’s own guards,” she said softly, but directly.
Arthur looked up quickly but said nothing for a minute, a slight frown on his face. “Hermione,” Arthur’s voice took on a warning note, “don’t go repeating this to anyone else. The Ministry likes tidy endings.” He gave her a significant look.
I like tidy endings, too, she thought vehemently. Even if they don’t go along with the party line. The truth is always tidy. But she stayed silent and nodded.
“A shame about Draco, really,” the older wizard continued, apparently believing Hermione’s last statement had been effectively dismissed.
“Ah, what do you mean?” she asked, realizing suddenly that no one had even mentioned Draco since she had come out of her coma.
“Oh, yes. You wouldn’t have known about any of that. The Death Eaters were all rounded up that evening and into the next morning. It was only later the next day that Draco appeared in Hogsmeade. He had a faded Dark Mark on his arm, but his memory had been Obliviated. The interesting thing is that no one – not anyone from the Ministry, Hogwarts, the Order, or even the Death Eaters – had seen Draco in several days. All we have is his father’s sworn statement that his son was not a Death Eater at the time of the Final Battle. But with Draco’s memory completely gone, there’s no way to tell for sure one way or the other,” Arthur finished, a discomfited note in his voice.
“So where is Draco now?” Hermione asked, trying to change her focus. This conversation was certainly raising even more questions than she had started with, but she had a sense that she’d have to tread carefully; Arthur clearly believed that everyone who was in Azkaban deserved to be there, and it was a notion he was unlikely to give up without a fight.
“St. Mungo’s. It’s extremely unlikely that he’ll ever recover his memory, so he’ll never be able to function in society.” He finished his drink and looked at Hermione’s glass. He stood up and she handed him her glass with a nod. After refreshing both their drinks, he sat down again. “So it’s really a moot point whether he was a Death Eater at the end or had forsaken Voldemort. Draco won’t ever be competent to claim his inheritance.”
Hermione couldn’t tell if Arthur thought this was a good thing or a bad thing. “So what happens to all the Malfoy assets?” Hermione asked, curious.
“From what I’ve heard through the Ministry, they are looking for someone who can identify, catalog, and remove the Dark Arts items still in Malfoy Manor. I think once that’s done, the Ministry will look to sell it.” Arthur paused and looked into his glass briefly. “I guess they’d use some of the money for Draco’s upkeep. I’m not really sure, especially since I can’t imagine anyone actually wanting to buy the place.” He smiled wryly. ‘The renovations to get rid of all signs of the Malfoys would cost – well, I can’t even imagine what it would cost.”
He and Hermione shared a chuckle. She had never seen the Manor, but given what she remembered about Draco from school, she could only imagine the décor. “Really?” she wondered thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the famed Malfoy library,” she mused. Arthur raised his eyebrows before finishing off his drink.
“You wouldn’t?” The older wizard then nodded. “Yes, you probably would enjoy their library, if the reports of the contents are even remotely accurate.” He studied her for a moment. “I could certainly put in a word at the Ministry. I know they’ve been trying to find someone who’s got the necessary breadth of knowledge – and the desire to do it.” He paused for a moment. “If you think you’re interested, I’ll mention it to the Minister.”
Hermione immediately felt excited; not only would she get a chance to go through one of the most famous – well, infamous, actually – private wizarding libraries in the world, but she might stumble across something that would give her some insight into the actions of Lucius Malfoy in the last few minutes of Voldemort’s life. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that. It would certainly keep me occupied.” She smiled, hoping she didn’t sound too excited. “You know me – I can’t be idle for too long or I start to go crazy!”
Taking her words at face value, Arthur stood up. “That’s settled, then. I’ll tell the Minister. I think he’ll be thrilled to have you.” Hermione smiled and swallowed the rest of her drink before standing up, satisfied that she might have a possible avenue to answer some of her questions.
A/N: The quote that awakens Hermione is from T. H. White’s The Once and Future King When I read the book (way back when), the quote stuck in my mind, and I took it to be a bit of a personal mantra. It has always seemed like it would fit Hermione as well, and I’ve been looking for a chance to use it.
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The Kill Shot