Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fortune Favours The Brave	By : Rumpelyssa Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 5312 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own this world OR make one penny, cent or dime from writing. JKR owns Hogwarts and all who's in her!

Chapter List
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A/N The world of Harry Potter and everything in it, is not mine. J K Rowling owns all and everyone in it.
Alesia: thank you for your kind comment, here is more. Truly to recieve one reply helps stokes the author's ego... I do hope you find this chapter just as inspiring. (I am kind of a leg girl. Men's legs fascinate me... this chapter sort of shows that at one point!)

A Slice Of Humble Pie
Gods is this what he had been degraded to? Standing outside the Potter's rather tasteful, seven bedroomed house. No mansion, he sighed, but not that rickety wreck Mrs Potter grew up in. Nice to feel that there were charms around the house. Sensible pair. Quite potent warding charms that would have taken him a good hour to crack – by then even he would have given up. He wondered who set them up? Suddenly, his mind went to that rather sumptuous Witch he had parted from hours ago. This just felt like her signature.
Slowly, he turned his head and watched as some muggle children walked past screaming and shouting – not one gave him a look. So the glamours extended that far? Briefly, Lucius wondered whose idea it was to be this cautious. Strongly, he suspected Mrs Potter working in cahoots with her then sister-in-law making sure no one would get so far as the front step. Both Witches not only would have looked beautiful in Slytherin colours but would also have made excellent Malfoy brides. Perhaps … no, he was changed man. Wickedly his eyes gleamed at the thought though. Ah, twenty years ago, he sighed. Imagine if it were … Not a good idea, he thought, twenty years ago he was rebuilding his life as well as all other surviving Death Eaters, punished to help rebuild Hogwarts. He ached now thinking about it. Plus, he was happily married to a highly volatile and jealous Witch.
Waiting made him uncomfortable. Shifting from foot to foot. Impatiently, Lucius began fiddling about with his garments. Particularly, a silk green cravat wrapped around his throat decorated with little silver snakes writhing around each other in their enchantment. Once he tended to that he made sure his mint green crushed velvet jacket was perfectly positioned. Allowing the black silk shirt to peak through. Pulling down on his cuffs making sure his serpentine cufflinks glittered with every hand gesture. Leaning on his famous cane, Lucius appraised his hands adorned with matching gloves to his shimmering grey trousers. One silver ring stood proudly on his right middle finger. Emerald green jewel that was fashioned into a dragons eye. Iridescent dragon hide shoes oozed all the darker shade of the rainbow playing with shadows and light. Rolling his eyes, Lucius flicked some hair out of his face. He had decided not to have it tied back, allowing the silver blonde locks to splay deliciously around his broad shoulders.
Annoyed that no one seemed to realise he was here Lucius stood tall, straight and elegant. Fixed his expression to one of old fashioned haughtiness. Confidently, Lucius raised his cane. Then something held him back. Not sure how welcome you would be? Of course you are not going to be welcome, he huffed. Momentarily, Lucius self doubt almost made him step away and go home. Subconsciously, Lucius left hand dropped to his side where he felt the slight rustle of paper against fabric. Hermione's (Miss Granger?) picture sat folded neatly in half against his thigh. Extra spurt of courage sprouted forth in his heart, remembering that he was a Malfoy. All Malfoys had a right to be where they wished to be. Straightening his back. Drawing himself to his full height. Using his cane he knocked, exerting not only his authority, but his power within each measured tap on the heavy wooded door.
The twilight was setting in the October sun. Being in, essentially the Winter house, he should welcome the oncoming season of snow and ice. Not that there were many of those these days. No one was answering. Well, he tried. Turning on his heel Lucius was about to walk away when light fell on him. Slowly, he turned back around where he found the need to shade his eyes from the dazzling light. Half-blinded Lucius almost staggered in the golden trail. Once he had recovered, the elder Slytherin lowered his arm from his eyes. Cautiously, he moved forward. Underneath the porch roof his vision stabilised somewhat and he realised whom it was that had answered. Face to face with Arthur Weasley. For the first time in years. Still gormless, Lucius sneered. Look at him with his mouth hanging open all the time. Whatever did Molly see in him?
Arthur glared at the man at his daughter's door. Still arrogant, he sighed. Still overdressed. Still sneering. “Mr Malfoy.”
“Mr Weasley,” Lucius sighed. Let it not end in a brawl. Please let this not be undignified.
“Who is it, dad?” If ears could blink Lucius' would have. That sounded just like Molly's voice.
“No one!” Arthur said.
“It is Mr Lucius Malfoy,” Lucius sighed. No need for him to shout. He heard a clatter of dishes and a moment of silence, “May I enter your abode?”
“I'll get him to leave, shall I?” Arthur yelled giving Lucius a headache.
More awkward silence: “No,” she sighed, “let him in!”
“I really don't...” her father began.
“Good grief, dad,” his daughter sounded like a woman he could respect. Cowed by his daughter's tone, Arthur scowled at Lucius. “The war is over. Let. Him. In!”
Smiling nastily at Arthur, Lucius walked through the door but found the oaf's hand on his chest: “You had better not be dispensing more dark items on my child, Lucius.”
“For goodness sake, Arthur,” Lucius removed Arthur's hand from his person and brushed where it had been with a little matching handkerchief to his cravat suavely whipped from inside his crushed luxurious velvet jacket. “That was a life time ago.” Literally, Lucius thought with a nostalgic aged sigh. Children who were born that year had their own little tiny splatter of golden lights fluttering around their feet. “Tirelessly, my wife and I made sure all trinkets; objets d'art, books of that nature were cleared away,” rolling his eyes at Arthur's gormless expression. Refraining from muttering a curse worthy of a six year old offspring of a pair of Hufflepuffs, Lucius balefully glared at Arthur. “It took us four years between all the accusations which we had thrown at us. Honestly, some leaped over the chasm of Absurdity.” Still Arthur looked like a stoned codfish. “I believe you even insisted on overseeing some of it? (An aggravating six months Lucius wished not to relive!) Are you going senile in your old age?” Arthur needn't have age to make him senile, thought Lucius nastily. The man was born stupid. “I had my own real reasons not to want it any more. Unlike before.”
“I would still like to make sure,” Arthur muttered.
“Oh would you,” sneered Lucius. Firmly, he laid the top of his cane on Arthur's still shabby cloak. Honestly, the man could smarten up a bit. Especially as his children were earning money; contributing to a decent amount each for their parents to have their own healthy account at Gringotts. He had seen Molly around and she looked practically radiant. What was Arthur wasting his annuity on? “All you need to do, Arthur, is ask the Minister of Magic himself.” Needing a distraction, Lucius peered down the hallway. A smattering of Muggle paintings sat side by side the majority of more superior Wizard landscapes. Enchanted flames ensconced along the coving. Mesmerizing, Lucius sighed. Fascinated by the slow gradation of variant hues of red; pinks and golds. Flickered against the pale lemon walls added that extra touch of welcoming warmth. Relaxing his shoulders, Lucius sighed. Nice to see that they embrace the magical light rather than that electricity nonsense he had heard about. “He was there throughout the tedious process. As,” he sighed, “I have already pointed out, were you.”
Lowering his gaze Arthur chewed his tongue inside his mouth: “You could have cursed Kingsley; you may even have done so to me for all I know.”
Do not tempt me, growled Lucius, trying to control the Death Eater inside. “Well, if you feel up to it you can, of course, peruse my home. I can assure you it would certainly be wasting your time. Why do you not go home to your wonderful wife?”
Almost nose to nose they stood. Pressed flat against the wall with Lucius looking fit to jinx and her father glaring as disdainfully as he could back. Try harder, Lucius nostrils flared slightly. In a reflex action, Lucius flicked his tongue over his lips as if tasting the other man's fear. Snakes were said to taste all sorts of emotions through the air with their forked appendage. “You are about as threatening as a drunk flobberworm, Weasley,” Lucius hissed. “I have more fear of your wife and daughter than I do of you.”
Almost silently Ginny had walked out of the kitchen as she found her father, and still the richest Wizard in Great Britain, acting like babies. Rolling her eyes she coughed to let them know her presence. “Father, I thought I told you to let him in?” she scolded her dad whilst trying to untie her red; flour smothered apron. Clearly she felt little tasks like this could be done Muggle Style, so he believed it was called nowadays, if Scorpius was to be believed. There may have even been a song about it, though Lucius was not quite certain about that.
Immediately, Lucius slunk up to the young woman and stood behind her. Smoothly brushing Ginny's hair aside with one hand whilst deftly untying the knot with the other. Proving that he, Lucius Malfoy, was not above the tiniest of menial tasks. Specifically ones that allowed him to get close to extraordinary examples of Purity as Mrs Potter most undoubtedly was.
Grinding his teeth Arthur's eyes narrowed: “You do realise she is a married woman.”
Sharply, Lucius snapped his head back round to Arthur. Ice met sky as they battled another in a stubborn staring competition. With another cough to alert the men to her presence Lucius tilted his head to one side with a small, but charm filled smile. “I am sorry, Mrs Potter,” silken tones reminded her of why she hated him but he just chuckled silently, “yours, I believe,” he handed her the apron. Rolling her eyes, Mrs Ginevra Potter took it with grace. The Slytherin could tell she was keeping whatever retort she had in her head silenced. Chuckling, Lucius turned back to Arthur. “My intentions were entirely gallant towards your daughter, Arthur. Nothing would have occurred to me until you mentioned it,” with a cheeky wink Lucius was amused by Mrs Potter's little blush on the tops of her cheeks. Noting with a delicious sigh that she had raised a floured hand to her hair almost as if she was preening herself: “Also, do not lecture me on certain immoral acts,” he continued as he was tempted to wipe her flour smudged face clean. Ah well, he supposed young Potter found that adorable. “It was never I that found myself on the front cover of the Daily Prophet wrapped in the arms of some 23 year old Nymphomaniac Hufflepuff.”
As Arthur was about to reply Harry apparated into the Hallway. “Honey I … oh, hello Arthur, what are you doing here?”
The young boy had grown into the man Lucius knew he would. Perhaps slightly wiser in the eyes. A touch more approachable. The man Potter shed his rather smart navy blue pinstripe robes revealing a smart casual approach to his work attire.
“Probably making sure none of his other children are being naughty behind his back,” Lucius snorted.
Jumping Harry turned around and glared at the man before him. Yes he was on friendlier terms with Draco but that did not mean it had to extend to his father. “Mr Malfoy,” Harry said coldly.
“For pities sake,” Ginny rolled her eyes coming back from the kitchen. Cleansed hands and face still slightly damp. Little spritz of lily-of-the-valley perfume. Loosened hair definitely made Lucius catch his breath a little. No wonder Mr Harry Potter always looked like he had a hanger stuck in his mouth. “The bloody war is over. Treat Mr Malfoy with a modicum of civility, Harry.”
“After...”
“Harry!” Mrs Potter snapped. Ah, married life, Lucius almost said aloud. “I said,” young Mrs Potter emphasised through gritted teeth, “treat Mr Malfoy with all the civility he most assuredly deserves,” out glaring her husband in a delightful display of power. Lucius could not help but feel a little lightening charge standing next to her. Such a strength behind those eyes. In that petite frame. No wonder Gryffindorian men were useless lumps. The women sapped the strength from them. In a way, Lucius respected the Lionesses of Gryffindor. No matter their lineage, which brought his thoughts back to that golden glory he had spoken with earlier. “May I remind you that his wife made sure you were kept alive,” with this Lucius arched an eyebrow. “If Tom, (is that what she called him? For a moment Lucius glanced down at his feet), had discovered Mrs Malfoy was lying she would have been instantly killed. So,” with exasperation Ginny threw her hands up in the air, “offer Mr Malfoy some respect. You named your son after Severus for crying out loud. If we...” here Mrs Potter stopped. “... Just please, I am tired... be the adults you are not the children you were.”
Blinking at that Ravenclaw statement Lucius appreciated Mrs Potter a lot more. Perhaps he did have to eat the whole pie rather than just a slice. Also, Mrs Potter did seem as if she were about to say something else. Hmm, he chewed the inside of his cheek. Something she was not yet prepared to reveal to hall full of Wizards.
Shaking his head. Flicking his fringe aside: Harry slumped his shoulders. “Yes, dear,” was his somewhat lazy response. “I was just shocked that was all.” Smiling a little, Ginny leaned forward for Harry to peck her cheek. Lucius half expected to see the scar emblazoned across young Potter's forehead. Not even a mark remained. “Draco and I had a conversation in the halls of the Ministry,” Harry said shrugging his coat off with Ginny's help.
“Well, now I know you're home – Harry,” Arthur said glancing rather furtively at the door. “I will take myself out.”
Immediately, Lucius observed, young Potter seemed to sense something wrong: “Arthur,” Harry sighed.
“What?”
Tilting his head to the side Harry snapped his fingers and held his hand out: “Give it back.”
Pretending innocence Arthur proved to be a terrible liar. “Give what back?”
“My phone,” Harry said. “Give it back.”
“But it's such a fascinating...”
“I promised to text my cousin,” interrupted Harry, “now give it back!”
Reluctantly Arthur dug his hand back in his pockets. “Do I have...”
“Yes!”
Fed up with how childish Arthur was being Lucius took his wand out from his cane and muttered Wingardium Leviosa perfectly directing the weird muggle contraption towards Harry where he reached up and grabbed it. “Goodnight!” Arthur said acting as if he had never taken the strange rectangular object. Knowing his latest attempt had failed Arthur apparated, rather messily, from the hallway. Did the man hold no graces whatsoever?
“You promised to lock it somewhere safe,” Harry said to his wife.
“He's like a big baby,” Ginny sighed, “You know how good he is with locks,” Harry shook his head, “I do not have eyes in the back of my head.”
“Ahem.” Lucius coughed. “Not that I enjoy watching discord arise ...”
“Oh sorry, Mr Malfoy,” Ginny said. “Would you like a cup of tea or perhaps something a little stronger?”
“Just tea would suffice.”
“Harry, show our guest in properly, would you?”
Shoulders slowly slumped further down as Harry sighed: “This way,” he pointed the way with a gentlemanly arm extension. Observing the various paintings, photographs, and knick knacks. Lucius was rather taken by a portrait. A muggle painting. The subject strongly reminded him of Hermione. “Mr Malfoy,” Harry showed Lucius down their beautifully decorated, comfortable hall. In amongst all the winking, moving pictures Lucius rested his eyes on a family picture. Standing imperially with his hand on a chair stood a rather heavy set blond man. A sort of jumble of his son, Crabbe and Goyle in one lolloping lump of fat! Stiffly posed, a brunette of unforgiving aspect stood the other side just as staunchly. Sitting on the seat their daughter? Lucius had to tilt is head to make sure, sat all smug and looking like what the parents thought was an approximation of a Princess. They may as well be pigs, Lucius snorted.
“That is my cousin Dudley, his wife Hortensia and their child; Maud.” Maud? Even he would never be so cruel as to saddle a girl with that name.
“I cannot help but see pigs,” Lucius muttered brutally honest.
“Hagrid made a pigs tail sprout from my cousin's backside once,” Harry said. Watching Lucius reaction with interest. “Said that is all what he needed.”
“Really?” he arched a sophisticated eyebrow, “I have never thought I would like anything that halfbred Giant oaf would do,” you really expect me to be nice, young Potter?
Arching his own eyebrow though not as suavely as Lucius could. Nor even as threateningly as Mrs Potter managed to. Harry stood at the door: “Lounge is this way.”
Not that he expected anything grandiose but their withdrawing room was quite large. Spacious. Tastefully decorated in pastel green wallpaper with shimmering spirals of gold twisting and coiling, moving hypnotically between light and dark. The effect quite took Lucius breath away. Squashy, dark green (Greens? Lucius thought they would have festooned their house in tasteless bold reds!) velvet seats with round silk covered amber hued cushions used to act as extra comfort. Cosy, Lucius noted. Spoke of a couple who were quite happy about treating themselves to the odd nice thing now and again with no pang of guilt holding them back. Ones who were, he noted, proud of their magical heritage despite the odd Muggle piece sneaking out. Not even that awful muggle gadget he heard about … the one that stupefied non magical beings in senselessness all hours of the day.
Lucius hitched his trousers up and sat on a big: comforting, dragon hide blood red leather recliner chair. Nice shade, he approved. Suavely, he crossed his legs and laid his cane across the lap. Sitting opposite him on a two seater Lucius observed the older Harry Potter. So much different now to what he used to. More carefree. Less annoying definitely. Once he had accused the boy of turning out just like parents. It seemed that Lucius was wrong. There would be no incentive in the world that would make him sit in James Potter's company. At least he could exchange a somewhat civil word with Harry.
Obviously Mr Potter was uncomfortable at being scrutinized with such cold indifferent silence so he tried small talk. “How are things?”
“I am not a small talker,” Lucius sighed.
Tersely Harry tried to justify his previous question. “Just trying to be polite.”
“I am here for a purpose,” Lucius said. “One I need your wife to be present in as it concerns her most of all.” Narrowing his eyes Harry had watched the odd muggle period drama where someone like Lucius had designs on a woman like his wife. Sensing Potter's doubt, Lucius snorted: “For the last time it was not I that ever cheated on my wife,” he snapped. “Now, I suppose you can make that cup of tea?”
“Have done since I was four years old and treated worse than Dobby!” snapped Harry back.
Timing her entrance perfectly a third voice was heard: “Recriminations get us nowhere,” Ginny said walking in with a tray.
A pot of tea steeping in the centre sat squat with three fine tea cups surrounding her. “Our wedding china?” Harry asked. “Ginny...” again he was cowed by a sharp glance from his wife. Placing the tray on the table in the middle of the room Ginny handed Lucius a cup first. Oh the wonderful woman, warming the cup first. How perfectly civilised. No need for pretending to enjoy slumming it here. Silently, Mrs Potter carried the milk jug over to her guest. Delicately balanced between thumb and forefinger. Lucius poured his own desired amount. Then she said the best thing Lucius had heard for years in another person's home.
“A squeeze of lemon?” she asked. Nodding keeping his face impassive he sighed. Picking up a thinly sliced piece of lemon Ginny twisted it over his cup without squirting him in the eye.
“Where did you learn how to make this kind of tea?” he asked taking a mild sip. So delicious. He may be a Slytherin Wizard but he was still British. Tea made properly went hand in hand with both he felt.
Smiling Mrs Potter turned to Lucius after tending to her husband: “Hermione taught me,” she sighed. “It was how her parents liked it. It is how she actually likes it.”
Imperceptibly, Lucius patted the picture in his pocket again. Thank you, Mrs Potter for that invaluable information. What else does the famed Miss Granger like? Maybe he should begin his own private investigation into Hermione's tastes. Could he call her Hermione? Well, he supposed in her own words to his son: He had called her a lot worse in the past. Tomorrow, he would have to ask her how she would prefer to be addressed. That put another, almost forbidden, image in his mind. Stop undressing that Witch, Lucius. Why did she have to tease him with her cleavage? How was Draco not tempted?
Bringing his thoughts to heel Lucius realised he had to speak soon or the young Potter would bring up more chit chat. Did they know why he was here because the references to that particular incident kept creeping to the fore. Clearing his throat Lucius began to speak once Mrs Potter was settled with her own cup of tea. Poise and elegance in a Weasley? Never, in a million years, did he think he would see that. Not even an ounce of gorm showed through her intelligent brown eyes. He wondered if Astoria had something to do with that or maybe her part Veela sister-in-law.
“Unlike my father,” Mrs Potter tilted her head to one side with a disparaging smirk on her lips, she continued: “I am prepared to listen to anyone's side of the story, including yours, Mr Malfoy.”
Including mine? The insolence of... then he noticed how her smile widened. She said it deliberately to injure his pride. Nice try, Mrs Potter, he smiled back. Almost everything he had said about that brood Lucius could almost take back if it were not for how idiotic her brothers were.
“It is always impolite to outstay ones welcome,” Lucius sighed, “so I will get straight to the point.”
“Is Astoria hurt?” Ginny's eyes widened. “I can be there if she is? I will Floo right now...”
Touched by Mrs Potter's concern Lucius had to allay her fears immediately. “No, my daughter-in-law is in perfectly fine health.”
Slumping back in her husband's arm the relief was genuine. “Thank goodness.” Lucius would tell Astoria that Mrs Potter was a worthy friend and to invite her over to the Manor more often. Even if that meant putting up with her four-eyed human accessory of a husband. “Give her my regards nevertheless.”
Tipping his head in acknowledgement Lucius sighed: “No,” he sipped more tea, “this is to do with that time that your father alluded too.”
“Oh?” now Mrs Potter had tensed up again.
“Mr Potter made a reference to it too,” here Mrs Potter arched an eyebrow, Merlin, what was with the women of Gryffindor now? Why were they so damn cynically hot! “Yours, my dear, was the most brutal reminder of all,” he raised his cup towards Mrs Potter, sipping elegantly.
Lucius held his pinky out when he held the cup just like Hermione did, Ginny sighed. “In what way was it brutal?”
“You mentioned Tom,” Lucius said having the decency to move in his seat and pretend at brushing something off his trouser to avoid looking directly into Mrs Potter's eyes: “I have never apologised for slipping that book to you, did I?”
“No,” Ginny said, “you did not even acknowledge you handed it to me, I recall.”
“Well,” Lucius shifted in his seat. Daring himself to look into her bright keen eyes, “I am now.”
“Why?”
“Let's just say I have had many lonely nights thinking of what I may have done wrong – also, I have seen you around after the war. Followed your career.” Nothing wrong with a little white lie, he sighed. I did to start with. “I asked myself,” sitting back in his seat arching an eyebrow. Offering the shape of his still muscular thighs and tight calves. Lowering her eyes to the floor Mrs Potter turned around to Harry and smiled. Lucius noted married women do that all the time when he sat in that position. So, he had not lost his ability in that department either. Draco was right. He had been lingering far too long in his black bubble. “What would have happened if I found out your father hurt my child in any way?”
“With what, exactly?” now Harry was interested and sat forward, wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. “We need an example.”
“I do not know,” snapped Lucius irritably waving a hand dismissively in the air. “With whatever muggle contraption your father deemed all right to give to a child without understanding its true purpose.”
Inside his head Harry imagined Arthur handing Draco a gun thinking it was one of those fun ones that squirted water and not realised it had bullets in it. Even Harry shuddered at the thought of how awful Arthur would feel if he realised he had hurt a child, no matter of what heritage. He had a hard time to believe Lucius felt such shame.
“The answer, of course, would be,” Lucius took a long drink this time, observing the reactions in the young couple, “that I would storm up to Arthur bouncing him around with so many curses, hexes and jinxes that he would not be able to live without being fed through a straw.”
“I think my dad thought about it,” Ginny pointed out.
“Ah, but I would have acted on my desire for recompense.”
“This is turning out to be a slap on the bush,” Harry said. “Thought you did not believe in outstaying ones welcome,” he put on Lucius air with exaggeration and voice. Earning him a sharp elbow in the ribs from his wife.
“You have to set a scene,” Lucius tilted his head to the right. He was wrong, Young Potter was as irritating as the father. “Otherwise you would have no context to take into any kind of account.”
“Harry,” Ginny warned with a flash of understated anger. “Let the man speak!”
Harry sat back. It was clear this was a conversation he could only be witness too. “Fine.”
“This is not easy for me to say this,” Lucius had finished his cup of tea and leant over placing the empty vessels on the tray. “I understand now what a fool I was. When HE made his return,” Lucius sighed, “I saw what everyone had been saying all along, not straight away, I admit. I saw what he could do regardless. When I received the Mark I was 19. Years before Draco was born. I talked Narcissa into joining. Truthfully, she never felt comfortable with it. That is why she ran to Severus to make sure he protected Draco. Neither of us wanted Draco to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore did not want our son to be his murderer either!”
“Severus did not wish to be Dumbledore's assassin,” Harry hissed, hackles raised now. Hatred of Professor Snape turned now to absolute respect. No one could joke about him now. “You all turned him into more of an emotional wreck than he was. YOU RUINED HIM!” roared Harry as he leapt to his feet, “What is to stop me from hexing you right now?”
Sharply, Ginny yanked him back on the sofa by the hem of her husband's shirt.
“Your wife,” chuckled Lucius in answer. “You are right though,” this was a sore point in his own heart too. He could not blame young Potter for his outburst. It was almost refreshing to hear a Gryffindor take a Slytherin's side. “Maybe the Dark Lord should have got Bellatrix to do it,” Lucius sighed. “However, that was not the way HE thought. Every second of the day you had to look over your shoulder both right and left at the same time.”
“Yes,” Ginny whispered grabbing one of her cushions to scrunch her hands into, “I remember that was how I felt.”
“I am sorry,” Lucius said wishing he could make this one sweeping romantic gesture, not of a declaration of love – one of repentance and prostrate himself on his knees begging for her forgiveness. Unfortunately, he was too proud for that. So he had to make this sound as penitent as he could. “In the final year no one was sure what was happening. Utter chaos.”
“Aside from torturing us?” Harry sighed.
“Even that was … unsettling.”
“It looked like you were enjoying it to me.”
Grinding her teeth together Ginny swung her head around and fixed her husband with another fierce glare: “Let the man say what he came here to say,” she hissed. “If you do not like being in the same room as him you can cook dinner!”
“Thank you, Mrs Potter!” Lucius sat back in the seat. Steepling his fingers together in a graceful arch tapping the highest point against his lips, “I was not, actually. Again; I thought – they are my son's age. It was one thing when we were younger hurting Wizards and Witches our age,” Harry scoffed, disbelieving the words the elder Malfoy spoke: “In that year, for those of us who were parents, to be doing that to children …”
“Bellatrix enjoyed herself,” Harry mumbled prepared to get something right.
“Yes, but she was not a parent,” Lucius pointed out. “Bellatrix still thought she was 18,” pursing his lips Lucius glanced at Ginny. “I must remember to reward your mother for murdering the poisonous bitch. Our marriage became stronger without her simpering threats pouring into my wife's ears every five minutes.”
“I do not understand what this has got to do with anything,” Ginny sighed.
“Back to the point,” Lucius brushed aside some of his long blond locks from his face, “I came here to apologise. Truthfully, no tricks. Just a plain old apology from a man that has acquired wisdom through bitter experience.”
The words seemed to take a long time to travel through to Ginevra's ears as she silently rose from her chair and started pacing around the room as if she wished to catch them in her hair. “Why now?” she mumbled.
“I have been grieving for my wife for three years now. Before that I was too busy fighting against ludicrous subpoena's and bizarre accusations.”
“Yes but why own up to it now? That was 30 years ago.”
“Does it still not scar you on the inside?”
Harry wanted to lie. He wished to make Lucius suffer for what he put her through. This was not up to him though. This was not his own personal grudge. If, indeed, a grudge did exist.
Almost standing directly in front of him Mrs Potter was more than worthy a tête-à-tête companion: “What other reason?” her voice held a distrusting edge to it that matched her narrowed eyes.
“I am gen-u-in-ely sorry,” whispered Lucius slowly.
“I get that,” Mrs Potter slunk back to her seat and sat down still facing him. “Why. Now?”
Yes, she was not going to let him go until he admitted that he needed her on his side. Or, at least, he needed her to understand why she may be seeing him around Hermione..., Miss Granger... yes, that would definitely have to be sorted out tomorrow, a lot more. The younger him would not have bothered with such etiquette and called her what he felt like.
“I believe you may not wish to hear ill being spoken of about your sibling, Mrs Potter,” Lucius said, “but I have no faith in a court who would hand the offspring over to a man who – with his actions – not only betrayed his wife but the children too.”
“I have said worse about him in public,” Ginny said. “We have decided to have nothing to do with him.”
“That makes this easier than I expected it too then,” Lucius grinned. Makes what easier? Harry distrusted that statement. Every time the man smiled, Harry frowned, Mr. L. Malfoy reminded him of an albino crocodile. Especially with that dirty smirk plastered over his features aimed squarely at his wife. The man was 67 for crying out loud. Yet he could still make a twenty year old blush. In truth Harry was slightly jealous. He had heard plenty of women his age and down whisper at the Ministry fountain gushing over how eligible Mr L. Malfoy would be as a husband. Some even considered him a flipping hero! “Draco told me to find a purpose in life. Advice I respect,” he sat forward with a sigh that softened his features, “I read the Daily Prophet gossip column earlier. Immediately I set to work finding out all I could – I sent so many Owls that I believe I darkened the sky with them,” now Lucius looked up with genuine openness that shocked Harry. It made his wife visibly relax. “I got many lengthy replies and I believe I can compile a case for...” what should he call her? Yes, best stay with formality for now. “Miss Granger,” shame because Hermione did genuinely roll of the tongue so delightfully, “to gain full custody of her children but I need to know I have her friends on her side with the decision she has made.”
“You have consulted with Hermione then?” Mrs Potter asked.
“Yes.”
“Explains the apology,” the redhead sighed.
“I do mean it, Mrs Potter. You know my arrogance and lack of need to explain myself but I am not the man I once was. Believe me.”
“No, you are not,” Ginny agreed. Turning to her husband she took his hand and sat back down on her sofa, “I never liked that Nanny – she was always too eager to be by Ron's side. Making sure he always had his favourite foods for a start.”
“What else do you need us for?” Harry asked narrowing his eyes.
“What makes you think I have other deals in mind?”
“I dealt enough with Draco to know how a Malfoy works.”
“Touché,” Lucius smirked. “Did I really think you were irritating at one point?”
“I believe you're exact words were: You had best be careful or you, Mr Potter, would have the same sticky end as your parents.”
“See, I would not say that now to an 11 year old boy.”
“12.”
“Whatever.”
“Nearly 13 actually.”
“Harry, if he does not curse you I will!”
Chuckling deep within his soul Lucius shook his head: “You really do have a strong minded wife.”
“I love her for it.”
“You mean I am not attractive to you any more?”
“Word of advice,” Lucius stood up preparing to take his leave, “from one married man to another, Mr Potter. Never enter into a conversation that starts of with that sentence.” Smiling at the young couple he bowed his head in deference. Both Potter's rose as one knowing he intended to leave soon: “So, do we have an arrangement?”
“You have yet to tell me what you gain from fighting Hermione's corner?” Ginny said turning back around to Lucius. “You were rudely interrupted.”
“I wish you, Mrs Potter, to fight my corner for me.”
“So this is not truly altruistic then?”
“No, Mrs Potter, it is not.”
Harry sighed. Get your lecherous eyes off my wife you blond prat, he wanted to say. Instead, Harry said: “What else do you want to gain?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“You are widowed,” Harry said, “Hermione is divorced. What else do you want from this?”
“I am doing this to honour Wizard Law and to receive a full Pardon. There is nothing else to be gained from this. I can assure you,” Lucius tipped his head to the side, Mr Potter still fiercely protected her then. Excellent. “Miss Granger is not my type!” Liar, a snide voice remarked inside his head. You have not got that image of her perched so business like on her desk with her arms folded out of your head. “In the slightest.”
“Because of her parentage?”
“No, because she is too young.” Oh you should have been an actor, the same voice sniggered. Too young? She is 43 – all above board and Bristol fashion, so the saying goes, eh Lucius.
“Well,” Ginny said extending a hand out. Bending her fingers gently downwards Lucius raised it to his lips where he kissed the back of them. Playfully winking as he did so: “Owl us when you have notes or evidence you wish us to consider regarding a full pardon for your case.”
“Send my regards to your mother, Mrs Potter. Whatever she desires I will give her for doing me the biggest favour anyone could ever do,” Lucius noticed a confused glance pass between them. Had they never heard a Slytherin say thank you before... no they probably haven't. “Besides you, Mr Potter, you saved my son's life. Then destroyed... Tom... forever.”
“Just so that we are clear on this,” Harry leant heavily on one of his wife's shoulders as he stepped around her exposed side, extending a sort of entente cordiale by proffering his hand. Business like they shook. Hmm, that was a decent gentleman's grip: “If someone rises up in the name of Slytherin purity again and you are alive what would you do?”
“Put this in perspective of our conversation and come to your own conclusion.”
“Mr Malfoy,” Ginny curtsied in goodbye, “I must allow my husband to see you out as I have dinner to serve.”
Both men let out a silent groan as Ginny flounced prettily out of the room. “I can show myself out,” Lucius said.
“When did you see Hermione?”
“A few hours ago.”
“She made no mention of it.”
Because the little vixen wanted me to make an apology first no doubt. Did not wish for more pressure on me than I already felt the moment she asked me to do this.
Now he knew what was so odd about the hallway. There were no pictures of Ron sitting on the walls. They had purged the boy from their lives. “So, who will be your best friend now?”
Letting his guard down Harry smiled. “I am married to her.”
“Yes,” Lucius sighed, “I was married to mine too,” the look that passed across Lucius face shocked Harry. The man was genuinely still grieving for Narcissa.
“Look,” Harry sighed shaking his head, “for what it's worth. I am still sorry for her death.”
“Not you too. Miss Granger said it like it was her fault.”
“I do not know what else to say,” Harry sighed, “I owe my life to her and I never got a chance to repay.”
“Well, perhaps helping me gain my Exoneration will be your price to my wife.”
Finally Harry had conceded: “Yes, I suppose it could be.”
His opinion of the boy who lived flip flopped through out the conversation but it ended on a flip. Mr Potter was someone that could be reasoned with after all, and he understood Wizengamot obligations. “I was quite prepared to be cynical about your home,” Lucius said.
With studied grace, Lucius glanced around the lounge. Dark wooded shelves set into alcoves groaned with the weight of all the magical books the couple were clearly interested in. Peppered throughout were the odd Muggle fantasies that Mrs Potter enjoyed reading. Proudly displayed in the centre of their lounge stood a glass table. Magically enchanted stained glass artfully created such serenity in his heart. The beauty of it quite took his breath away. Hooded eyes appraised the gentle scene of a silver unicorn lying in a spring glade with her golden foal. That was something he would have. Definitely a couple with taste.
“That table,” he pointed with his cane, “where did you get it?”
“It was a wedding present from the school faculty.”
“I must say you and your wife have a comfortable home,” he said, “I understand why you decided not to live in Grimmauld Place.”
Taken aback by genuine praise Harry blinked and when his eyes were restored Lucius was no longer standing there. Ginny walked in at that very moment. “He complimented us on our home!” Harry exclaimed, open mouthed. “Never did I think I would hear praise coming from him.”
“Neither did you think you would have invited Draco and Astoria to your home for dinner but you have and this weekend is ruined because of it!”
“What had you got planned?”
“We were supposed to go to Paris, remember? By ourselves.”
“Sorry, it slipped my mind. Anyway, I asked only out of politeness, I did not expect Draco to accept. Maybe Astoria doesn't want to come.”
“Astoria pinches my recipes and gives them to her house elves!”
“Why do you think he wants to help Hermione?” Harry asked as if he had ignored this last statement: “You must have some suspicions about this?”
“For the most part I believe he is genuine. There is no blood feud now, Harry. Let it die with our generation. It has to sometime.”
“You are right,” Harry sighed. “But what do you think?”
“He seemed to have a little warmth when he spoke of Hermione. His reply to your question on why he was not her type was answered fairly promptly. So,” she sighed, “who knows perhaps he does just want to uphold Wizard Law.”
“Really?” Harry sighed. “Or maybe just hold Hermione up against a wall.”
“Harry Potter, how could you think of such a thing?”
“I have eyes, Ginny. Lucius Malfoy does not seem like he has aged a day since the war,” Harry sighed gazing into Ginny's eyes. “Even you blushed when he looked at you.”
“I did not!”
“You did, Ginny.”
“So what if I did,” Ginny shrugged. “I love you – insufferable though you can be at times. I. Love. You!” she took his face in her hands and smashed her lips to his in a heated passionate kiss that made Harry want to forget about dinner and just go to bed with his wife. “When dinner is over I have something to tell you,” she panted.
“Still,” Harry sighed not wanting to let his point vanish by a brilliant kiss from his wife. “Hermione has become more attractive over time. What do you think is likely to happen between the widow and the divorcee?”
“You watch too many soap drama's, Potter!”
“Only when I am at my cousins!”
“Besides,” Ginny shrugged her shoulders, “why should anything be held back if something is to happen. This could be the beginning of a new era in Hogwart's history.”
“Well, it is not like they can have children anyway.”
“Who says they can't?”
“She's a year older than I am,” Harry said. “Not exactly child bearing age. Also he is in his 6o's.”
“Yes, Harry,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “Wizards can have children up until they die at the time they are supposed to.”
“Her parents were muggles so she would have the muggle...”
“I said Wizards, Harry, male magical men.”
“But Hermione can't?”
“There are certain potions a witch can use for fertility at her age if she desired more children. The only person that could help her with that is Severus S...”
“I prefer Headmaster Snape,” the portrait of Severus Snape slunk into view. “I could not help but overhear your conversation with Mr Malfoy Jr,” Harry jumped immediately looking guilty. Why did he still feel like a child in his presence? It was just a portrait of him. “Become quite chummy the last few years have you not?”
“Only for appearances sake.”
“Then why the dinner invitation?”
“Being polite.”
“That is your mother speaking there,” the portrait of Severus sighed heavily. “So, what mess has Miss Granger found herself in now?”
“Divorced from my brother. He was found in bed with another woman.”
“A Slytherin would know better,” Snape sniffed. “How is Miss Granger?”
“Uhm,” Harry said, “it appears she has agreed to let Lucius Malfoy fight her corner for her but he wants a full pardon in return,” Harry slumped against the wall.
“Stand Up, Potter, DON'T SLOUCH!” Severus Snape's painting roared. Almost tearing the canvas.
Like he was 11 Harry furtively stood back up and put his glasses back into place. “Sorry, Sir.” Fully expecting ten points from Gryffindor.
“You wanted my advice?”
“Yes, though how did you ...”
“Dumbledore's portrait told me you needed me specifically,” that was a lie.
“Well, what can we do?”
“If your frankly more intelligent friend has agreed to this deal then I would say do what she wished. I remember you doing things that hurt her as youths. Do not abandon her now.”
“I was not planning to I was just wondering if we could trust Mr Malfoy Sr?”
“Lucius and Narcissa were instrumental in making sure HE did not kill me before your Fifth year.”
“Yes and then he proceeds to threaten me.”
“You and your friends were supposed to be in school, Potter.”
Chastened by this and the danger he put his friends through that time Harry realised why Snape found him so aggravating. Truthfully, I'd snap some sense at the younger me too; “I am not sure if I can just forgive him though.”
“You despise me but you name your son after me?”
“Yes,” Harry sighed, “I despised you,” he glanced up at the visage staring at him with those glittering black eyes the man held in life. Somehow more startling in paint, “is Mr Malfoy Sr. really going to help Hermione or is he setting her up for a fall?”
“If he says he is, then he is!” Snape's portrait sighed, “we were best friends.”
“He also apologised to Ginny for what he did.”
“I did have words with him about that,” Snape said without expanding on what form those words took.
“What should we do if it seems they start liking each other as um...” Harry began blushing.
“Lovers?” Severus sneered. “Spare your blushes, Potter. I was not a virgin when I died, you know,” that image caused Harry to shudder. “Forgive me if I am wrong you must be 41?”
“42.”
“Miss Granger would be 43 and he would be 67 ... 68?”
“That is not the ...”
“What is the point, then?”
“I don't know.”
“Then I can only offer you a piece of advice you probably would have hated as a student.”
Harry looked up. “That is?”
“To be patient. Sit things out. See how things develop. Remember the simmering cauldron, Potter.”
“What about it?”
“Some potions takes months to perfect. Many ingredients need the right time to be picked. Others need to seep slowly in the shimmering liquid marinating amongst each other with something akin to courtship to make the draught work.” Ginny felt the need to fan herself and she was in the kitchen. Harry wished he had appreciated Professor Snapes semi-hypnotic rhetoric before. “If you are still concerned I will come back and talk things out but you know I prefer to have things to work from.”
“Yes sir,” Harry sighed.
“Shame you did say that more often as a student, Mr Potter,” the portrait's lips curved slightly at the corners.
“I did call you Sir,” Harry said the old indignation back in his green eyes.
Chuckling Snape's portrait chided back: “Once or twice if you had to.”
“Before you go,” Harry asked. “How is … Albus … fairing?”
“The portrait or your son?”
“My son.”
“A Slytherin I would have been proud to have taught,” Severus painting said honestly. “No need to worry, Scorpius has him under his wing and won't allow anyone to say a bad word to him.”
With that Headmaster Severus Snape slipped out; returning to his frame at Hogwarts.
“Still keeping an eye on Harry, Severus?” Dumbledore's portrait mumbled as he was drifting off with the others – even in the picture his periwinkle eyes twinkled.
Sighing Severus looked at Dumbledore with as much of a withering glare as he could: “Always,” he said. “Always...” he mumbled.
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Fortune Favours The Brave