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The Downfall of Greed	By : tcarlson Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 40804 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money off this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Dear Father,

I’m OK. I’m safe. We were taken to a safe-house by the Order.

I’m sorry. Before I took the Mark, I went to Professor Snape and the Order. In return for their protection, I’ve been helping Professor Snape gather information.

I never wanted to be part of that world. It scared me. And I knew that you would never take “no” for an answer. Professor Snape always told us Slytherins that we didn’t have to follow in our parents’ footsteps. That we had options. So I decided to escape Voldemort and life as a Death Eater, but first I wanted to repay the Order in any information I could get as a spy.

We really botched up the rescue attempt. She was supposed to go free and no one would know it was us. Right now you and I were supposed to be having drinks in the library as usual, but I fear I shall never see you again.

Be kind to Hermione, Father. It wasn’t her fault. Plus, for some reason, she’s in love with you. We had to drag her out of the manor and she only was able to run off from the Order because someone didn’t lock the front door properly. She’s a gift, Father, and you should accept her. Maybe she’s the one who can save you from the darkness like the Order saved me.

I’m afraid I won’t be able to write again and you won’t be able to send a response. The owl won’t be able to find us once the wards are activated in the safe-house, which they intend to do as soon as I’m finished with the letter.

I love you and I hope you can forgive me.

Your son,

Draco

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Lucius-

Draco is safe with me. I did not push him to join the Order. He made that decision all on his own. As for me, I haven’t been Voldemort’s man for a long time so this was not some sudden betrayal on my part.

Tell Miss. Granger that for her lack of intelligence and common sense in her decision to go back to you, I take 50 points from Gryffindor. It shall be my last piece of business as Headmaster, as one can not run a school from an undisclosed location. Care for her as she cares for you.

The Order will always take you into their folds if you find the life as a Death Eater no longer suitable for you. You always have options.

-Severus

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The owl hooted solemnly from the windowsill as I slowly burned both letters in the fire in my room. Earlier, I had burned a blood-red envelope that contained a Howler from Narcissa without opening it and letting it scream at me. Bellatrix’s letter that had arrived with Narcissa’s sat on my desk, unopened. I wanted to read it, but couldn’t bring myself to just yet. I knew it would contain consoling remarks about how I did what I could to raise Draco right, that some offspring were just bad eggs, and how she and the Dark Lord didn’t blame me in the slightest. Somehow the thought of being comforted by Bellatrix made the situation worse. It is never a good sign when Bellatrix is on my side.

I was numb. Losing everything would do that to you. I didn’t even need the aid of alcohol to sit in my chair and stare into the fire for hours without moving or thinking.

I tried to sleep but the bed was cold and empty. It was amazing how quick she situated herself into my life. After such a short time, I couldn’t manage to fall asleep without her next to me. I contemplated bringing her back to my room from the dungeons, but didn’t know how long I would be able to stand her company before my anger resurfaced and I choked the life out of her.

So I let her suffer in the cold, dark dungeon and let myself suffer in my empty, lonely room.

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I had planned on leaving her in the dungeon the whole day and just throwing her through the Floo network when the time came for her to go to the Dark Lord. I didn’t want to see her or talk to her. Because I knew that as soon as I did I would give in to the ache my body had for her. I would take her back into my arms and then have to send her off to Voldemort. And I couldn’t take that. I was weak and it disgusted me. It scared me.

Since I didn’t lock her in a cell, she sat at the top of the stairs against the locked door and talked whenever she heard me walk past. She made promises she couldn’t keep and worthless apologies that I couldn’t accept. After a bit, she just talked about us. I sat on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite the door, and listened as she recounted our story from her point of view.

She must have been telling the story for her sake since there was no way that she could have known that I lingered, but I sat captured by her tale of internal struggles and confusing emotions.

“It’s simple psychology, really,” she said. “It was easier to submit than be tortured. I knew I needed to stay alive if I was to ever see Harry and Ron and my parents and the Order again. I submitted but held on to my hate for you. Oh, how I imagined one day killing you! Leaving your body as broken and bloody as you had left mine countless times and walking out that front door to freedom! But then, when the sexual aspect of our relationship started, you showed kindness in your bed and provided my mind with temporary escapes from the darkness. I craved it and therefore I craved you. My confused mind didn’t know what to make of that! And when you started showing kindness outside of the sex, I knew I was in trouble. You’ve made it clear that no one will ever make me feel as you make me feel, and I believe you. The fact is that I don’t want anyone else to make me feel as you make me feel. Classic Stockholm Syndrome, no? But can it really be Stockholm Syndrome if the person affected can identify it as Stockholm Syndrome?”

She stopped and sighed. I stood up and with the intention of going into my office but she had heard me move. “Are we really not going to talk at all before you hand me over to the Dark Lord?”

I almost left her there, where she would have sat in the dark for a few more hours before being thrust into Voldemort’s awaiting hands. Instead, I opened the door and peered down at her. She blinked up at me from where she sat on the top step. Slowly, she rose and smoothed out her robe before uncertainly looking into my eyes.

I beckoned her to follow me. We entered the library where I sat in my chair and she curled around my feet, her chin resting on my knee. Her hands made soothing circles on my legs. “Any news?” she asked.

“Draco is safe. So is Severus. You shouldn’t have come back. Then, at least, I’d have my son and friend and be blissfully unaware of their betrayal.”

“You wish to have never seen me again?”

“No,” I admitted, “but I would have gotten you back on my own, eventually. I have you now, but what happens in a couple of hours? I lose you again to the Dark Lord.”

“You don’t have to lose me. We can leave. What’s keeping you here now?”

“My loyalties! My beliefs!” I snapped. “My service to my Lord keeps me here. I won’t sacrifice that, even for you.”

“How are you going to deal with the fact that he’s touching me, Lucius? Tell me because I don’t know how I am going to deal with it. I’m so scared.” Her head dropped to my lap. I could feel her shaking against my legs.

I pulled her up and cradled her against my chest. “Just be accommodating. Be polite. Do as he says. Don’t give him reason to be angry with you.” I stroked her hair.

“You’re really going to let this happen, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“But you do!” she shouted angrily. She sat up. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “I thought that I meant enough to you that you would protect me from him.”

I kissed her. “Hermione, you mean enough to me that I will do as he orders. That will keep you safe. That will keep you with me.”

Her kiss back was needy. “Say my name again,” she whispered against my lips.

It had slipped out again. But this time it felt right. “Hermione.” A kiss. “Hermione.” Another kiss. “Trust me, Hermione.”

“Against everything I believe and was taught, I do trust you.”

Our kiss became heated. We tried to pour so much into it: our need, our apologies, and our passion.

When I carried her upstairs, I had planned on taking her. To stake my claim on her one last time before Voldemort could make his own. But the night before had taken a toll on both of us and we fell asleep coiled around each other before our clothes could come off. The comfort we provided the other by just being near and providing a solid couple of hours of sleep was way more beneficial than a quick and frantic coupling would have been.

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When the light in the room began to fade, I gently shook her awake and told her to bathe. As she splashed around in the tub, I Transfigured her plain robe into a form-fitting white dress of silk.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched as the House-elves dressed her and did her hair. She let them do their work, but stood stiff and silent.

No man could have rejected her when she was finished. Her hair was smooth and hung in soft ringlets down her shoulders. The dress hugged her curves and pushed her breasts up to tease tantalizingly at the neckline. The long slit down the side revealed her thigh. The innocent whiteness of the dress was a perfect contrast to the fiery vixen that she looked. Why had I made her dress in that shapeless robe all this time when she could have walked around like that?

She sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror. “I look like a high-class whore.”

“It is what he expects of you.”

Her face darkened. The clock on the mantle chimed seven. Fear replaced anger on her face. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“You can,” I assured her. “You must.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. I held out my hand. “It’s time to go,” I notified her gently. She took my hand and we walked out of the room, down the stairs, out the door, and through the gates to Apparate.
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The Downfall of Greed