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

Chapter List
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Ha ha....real life sucks. Sorry guys, I had so much stuff going on with the holidays, and with so many ideas going through my head, that I just couldn't get anything down. I've pretty much gotten a lot of stuff ironed out, and I expect things to go alot smoother now. Well, I hope you enjoy.

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Tom trembled in the grasp of his captors. He was alone, scared, and really had to go to the bathroom.

“Little Master…we are so happy to have you back with us.” Said the man with the grey-streaked hair.

“I…I’m not y-your master.” Tom said, frowning at the man. He was given a small smile in return.

“You just don’t remember. That’s what we’re going to help you with.” The man replied. Tom got a very bad feeling about that… “Show the young Lord to his rooms.” The man barked at the one holding Tom.

Tom’s feet were placed on the ground, but the man kept a firm hold on his arm and began to tug him towards a hallway. The house they were in was big and so they crossed many hallways before they came to an ornate door, carved with many runes and fairly bleeding power.

The man opened the door and pushed Tom inside, standing squarely in the doorway.

“These are your rooms. Enjoy.”

The door closed, and Tom was alone. He looked around the large room, taking note of the dark, oppressive coloring. It was antique, almost gothic, and entirely depressing. A sniffle escaped Tom, and fat tears escaped his eyes. He blinked several times to try and clear them, before he gave in to his emotions and let out a choked moan. He sat down where he stood, burying his face into his knees and sobbing.

After a few minutes of bawling unproductively, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white handkerchief. He cleaned his face and nose, and then tucked the white square back into his pocket. Then he reached into his other pocket, and pulled out a small black book. It was his little New Testament that Sirius had gotten him to carry in his pockets.

The edges were plain white paper, and already smudged a bit where his hands held the bible regularly. He opened up to the book of Matthew, where he had been reading for the past few days, and picked up where he left off. But he only got to the end of the chapter he had been reading before his tears began fresh again, a mixture of lingering fright and new hope. He closed his eyes, and a small tear landed on the last verse he had read, wetting the paper of his New Testament.

Matthew 28:20 - Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.

~~

Grace shivered slightly in the coolness of her plain room. Her dress was not made for warmth, and her shoes were hurting her feet now. These heels had not been made for running, and as much as she had been dragged around today, she was in pain.

She fingered her wand nervously, sitting on the bed to relieve the angry aching in her feet. She was curious as to why no one had taken her wand. But she wasn’t stupid. This place was probably booby-trapped in more ways than the dungeons at Malfoy Manor…or so Draco said. They had either forgotten to take her wand, or they weren’t worried about it being a threat. Either way it would probably be a long time before she saw home again.

Thinking about the Manor made her let out a sniffle. She wanted to be at home with her father, curled up with a book in the library, or sitting out in the garden with Draco and eating cookies.

She began to cry silently, wishing that she hadn’t let Tom leave the ballroom.

~~

Lucius sat in his study, concentrating intently on the bowl in front of him. It held a heavy, silvery liquid inside, and shapes and colors swirled over the surface at dizzying speeds. His silver eyes were glowing with magical energy, and the fabric of his cloak, which hung over the back of his chair, stiffened and crackled with the latent static magic in the air.

He was taunted with a flash of light yellow, before the colors died with a buzz of incomplete magic. The heavy silver liquid turned black like tar, and Lucius gave a roar of frustration. He picked up the ornate ceramic bowl and flung it as hard as he could, shattering it mere inches from where Grace’s gryffix stood. The crimson feline jumped, and ruffled her underdeveloped wings angrily, before clacking her beak at him in warning.

The black liquid inside had splattered across the wall and floor, but it dissolved into the air after a few seconds. Nala sniffed at the pieces of the bowl, turning and pawing them away with her back paws, before approaching where Lucius sat.

Intelligent orange eyes regarded the man sitting in the chair before her. He was slumped over in the large leather chair, and his face was buried in his hands. He smelled stale and weary, and worry clung to him like a thick blanket of cologne.

The door to the study opened, and the woman with the wild hair entered silently.

“Any luck?” she asked, but the look on her face seemed resigned as she saw his posture.

“No. I think I got a flash of her hair, but the spell cut off. Wherever she is has protection spells layered so thick I’d never be able to scry through them.” He said, looking up.

Hermione thought he looked terrible. He hadn’t slept in the two days that Grace had been gone. He had two days worth of stubble on his face, and his hair was mussed and limp. She approached him slowly, her eyes flickering briefly to the winged cat-bird that was at present pecking at the shattered remains of Lucius’ scrying bowl.

Her hand reached out and touched his face, stroking gently upward to card into his hair. He turned bloodshot, sleepy eyes towards her, noting the poor shape she was in. Her hair seemed frizzier than normal, and was a bit knotted in places, like it hadn’t been combed properly. Her face was pale and her own eyes were red from lack of sleep.

“You need rest.” She said softly. He took a deep breath.

“Yes. And so do you. But I cannot sleep. I slept for a few minutes last night….but I thought I heard her cry for me. It’s hard to believe….when she first came….I decided I very much disliked her. But…she’s made herself quite comfortable in my heart….” Lucius said, staring blankly across the room. He heard a soft sniffle, and when he looked up Hermione’s face was drenched with tears. She seemed to wilt before him, falling to her knees and sobbing weakly. She rested her arms on his lap, and buried her face into the crook of her own arm.

“She’s like my little sister.” Her muffled voice cried.

Nala approached them warily. She chirruped softly, trying to inquire of them something. She wanted her mistress. She had been gone much too long. She wanted to curl up in her mistress’ soft lap while she was fed scraps of meat and read stories from large books. Did these others know where her mistress was?

The man’s eyes were leaking now, but he made no sound. Nala whistled sadly, and his wet eyes turned to her.

“Stop that mournful ruckus…” he said weakly. Nala didn’t understand what he meant, and her black beak opened, letting out a mournful, juvenile note.

Lucius’ face twisted angrily at the sad song, and his booted foot lashed out at the Griffix, connecting with Nala’s side and sending her sprawling with a frightened squawk.

“Lucius!” Hermione scolded, looking up to see why her perch had shifted. The Griffix pierced Lucius with an angry tangerine glare. She hissed, and snorted a beak full of sparks before turning tail and loping unevenly out of the room.

~~

Sirius sat in the den of Grimmauld place, staring into the fire as Aslan tried to whistle a cheerful tune to him. The griffix was curled up next to him, its beaked head resting comfortingly on his lap. The gangly wings were tucked safely against its back, and its scaly front paws kneaded tenderly at Sirius’ thigh. Aslan could be prickly at times, and Sirius had felt the tip of his beak often enough, but the avian feline could sense when master could take prickly teasing and when he needed support.

The boy was gone. He liked the boy. He was a calm boy, and gave such good back rubs. He missed the boy. He wished he could find him.

Viatoris stirred from a shadowy corner, melting from the dark hiding place like smoke and gliding towards Sirius.

“I wish there was something I could do to help. Seeing you like this is depressing.” The Dementor commented, trying to bait Sirius into responding. He had been terribly silent since the Aurors had basically told him that there was no hope of tracing where Tom and Grace had gone.

The signal of the Portkey had been scrambled when the wards had gone up moments after they disappeared. Not only were they not Traceable, the location was protected against locator spells. Sirius had no way to find Tom, and the Aurors were honestly not too beat up about it. Sirius had very nearly been arrested when he’d charged at an Auror after the man had made a mumbled comment about Tom deserving his fate. Only Harry’s quick reflexes had saved Sirius from cooling his heels in Azkaban.

Harry entered the room quietly, carrying a tray of sandwiches and a large bowl of kibble. The kibble was littered with jalapeno slices, and drizzled with concentrated syrup of some of the hottest chile on earth. Aslan loved it.

He put the potent kibble in front of the crimson cat, and placed a sandwich in front of Sirius on the coffee table.

“What if Tom is hungry? How can I eat knowing he might not have had a bite to eat in three days?” Sirius asked suddenly, and Harry sighed.

“Starving yourself won’t help, either. If you are weak and hungry, and we somehow are able to go rescue him, you’ll be useless and we might lose them both.” Harry argued logically, and Sirius reached forward to pick up his sandwich.

The only sound for the next few minutes was the crunch of kibble, or the occasional whisper of Viatoris’ grim robes. Harry and Sirius ate silently, and Harry studied his godfather. He was pale with lack of sleep, his hair was mussed and tangled, and he had dark stubble on his face. He looked at honest mess.

Harry swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, and a few moments later Aslan finished his kibble, and burped rather loudly, exhaling a good puff of white smoke. He whistled appreciatively, and rubbed his tufted head against Sirius.

~~

Tom woke up quickly, feeling as if someone were watching him. He sat up in the soft bed, his head turning this way and that as he tried to assuage the feeling. There was no person in the room, but in the corner, a new addition caught his eye. A large, clear terrarium sat unassumingly in the corner.

He pushed back his covers, and padded barefoot over to the tank, curious as to its presence. An egg sat in the middle of a thick layer of sand. If he held it in his hand it would fill both of his small palms quite fully. Awed, Tom reached forward and pressed his hand against the glass.

As if a spell were cast, the shell of the egg cracked right across the side, and the entire egg shook back and forth. Tom’s mouth opened slightly as several cracks intersected, and a large triangle of sharp shell fell away. A slimy, blunt snout emerged from the small hole, and Tom’s eyes widened when a long forked tongue flitted from the mouth.

A shudder wracked the egg, and it fell apart like a house of crackly cards, leaving behind the wet body of a long, poison green serpent. The body was as long as Tom’s arm, but coiled tightly and almost skeletal in appearance. The eyes were a milky yellow, a stark black slitted pupil was expanding slightly and contracting as the triangular head swung jerkily back and forth. The head itself had a black stripe that started from the tip of the snout, broadening across the top of the head, and narrowing down the back of the slender body.

“Woah….” Tom said softly. He looked at the small snake for several silent moments, before he reached over the top of the terrarium, his hand moving slowly towards the newly hatched serpent.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Tom jumped, and whirled around. The tall, broad figure of Death leaned against his four-poster bed, his coal-black cloak swirling behind him as if on an invisible wind. His orange eyes glittered in the torchlight of Tom’s room.

“D-Death?” he asked. Death inclined his head, his dark, curly hair falling in front of his eyes. “Why are you here…” Tom’s eyes widened. “Oh…am…am I going to die?” he asked.

“Yes.” Death said, and Tom’s breath hitched. “But not today. At least, not as long as you don’t put your hand in that cage. Infant basilisks are infamously easy to rile. That little snake will sooner bite you than let you touch it. And while their killing gaze doesn’t take effect until they are several months old, their venom is very potent. You’d be dead in minutes.” Death said, his deep voice sending chills down Tom’s spine.

“So how do I get it to like me?” Tom asked. Death grinned, showing perfect white teeth with elongated canines. Most people were more interested in how to get the serpent to stay away from them, but this boy was curious as to how to keep it.

“You must talk to it. I know you are a serpent-mouth. Speak to the snake every day. Let it know you. Do not lie to it. Name it, and speak kindly. The serpent will bond with you, and then the killing gaze won’t be a problem. They can control the gaze, so don’t worry about it.” Death said, stepping forward. He peered into the terrarium, and the milky yellow eyes lifted towards him, and the blunt snout opened in a hiss, revealing tiny, needle sharp teeth. A droplet of thick, syrupy venom dropped from one fang onto the sand, and Tom’s breath hitched as the venom sizzled against the sand, leaving behind a small chunk of melted sand.

“Oh my…” Tom whispered.

Death smiled.

“See what I mean? Now, I’ll leave you here.” He said, and turned.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me!” Tom said, whirling and grabbing at Death’s cloak. The cloak instantly disconnected from Death’s armor, and fluttered to the ground. Death paused, and reached down, snatching the cloak from the ground.

“Well….my boy….I cannot keep interfering in your lives like this. It’s not done amongst the Immortals. But let’s just say…that with every legend, there is a bit of reality. Now with that said…be good, my boy, and keep yourself healthy.” He said. He dropped the fluttery black cloak into Tom’s still outstretched hand, and disappeared with a small puff of smoke.

Tom looked at the cloak in his hand, and then at the place where Death had stood. Then he turned back to the basilisk hatchling, which was tapping its nose against the glass insistently, leaving a small wet smudge.

Well, then, little serpent….I guess it’s just you and me.

The door opened suddenly, and Tom whirled, causing a torch in the corner to sputter from the small wave of accidental magic. He didn’t know why he did it, but he suddenly shoved the black cloak under his bed as the figure came in, his head bowed as he balanced a tray in his hand. Tom stood as the man looked up, and the young man smiled.

“Dinner, my Lord.”

~~

Grace moaned softly as she leaned over the small ceramic sink, filling her hands and drinking greedily. She hadn’t had any food in three days, and her stomach was cramping with hunger. She had water, but that was little comfort to the aching pains in her belly.

She limped back to the bed. Three days of wearing her high-heeled boots had ruined her feet. She had tried taking her shoes off for a few minutes, but had been so terrified she would get a chance to escape that she had put them back on and would not remove them again.

She sat down on the bed, pulling the quilt around her and groaning as he stomach cramped.

She jerked as the door handle jiggled slightly, and went for her wand. She stood from the bed, and limped as quickly as she could to stand behind the opening door. Someone shuffled into the room, and Grace wasted no time in casting a weak stunner. The man stumbled, and a tray of something hit the floor. Grace rushed past him, limping up the impossibly long stairs.

Only thirty seconds up, she regretted the run. She bent over and unzipped her boots. She kicked them off on the stairs, and cried out in agony as her bare feet touched the agonizingly cold stone stair. Her thighs were cramping, and her lungs burned for mercy as she tried to take the stairs.

They went on forever, and eventually she was slowed, sobbing loudly as her body failed her. But she looked up, and saw the opening at the top of the stairs. With her wand held tightly in her hand, she hobbled to the top. Her legs gave out on the last three steps, and she crawled up painfully. She dragged herself through the doorway, and felt her heart constrict painfully when she stopped in front of a pair of well-shined boots.

“Did you think it would be that easy?”

She looked up to see the man that had greeted her the first night. He reached down and plucked her wand from her weak fingers. She turned away, and winced when she heard the snap of wood, and the wooden clank of the two pieces striking the floor.

“He was bringing you food.” The man said softly. Grace heard another person come through the stairs, huffing angrily.

“That stupid bitch!”

“You step away!” the man hissed. “I’ll deal with your ineptitude later. Get out of my sight.”

Grace heard boots walk away, and gasped when the man rook hold of her hair and jerked her to her feet. He pulled her close, and opened his mouth, revealing long, lethal fangs. Her eyes dilated in fear as she realized exactly what kind of presence she was in.

“You are mine now, you stupid little bitch. I own you. You abused the little trust we had in you, and you will suffer for it.” He snarled, and tossed her away from him. She heard the tinkle of a belt buckle, and curled in on herself. She put her hands up to protect her face just as the first blow erupted like fire across her leg.

He beat her across every bit of her body that was exposed. The pain was unbearable. She screamed into her hands, and tried to roll away, but it only provided a new place for the belt to fall.

Eventually, he stopped. She sobbed and shuddered on the floor, squirming in agony. Then she felt the fierce hands on her again, and the unforgiving pressing of Apparition. She was in the room again, she saw the abandoned quilt on the floor.

“Don’t do that again.” And she was tossed to the floor. “I’ll give you another day before we try feeding you again. I hope you realize where you stand here.”

And then she was alone. She screamed in agony as she tried to move, the angry stripes combined with the weak condition of her body was making her dizzy. She dragged herself slowly towards the bed, but was unable to pull herself up. She grasped the comforter and wrapped it around herself, before slumping exhaustedly onto the ground.

~~

Nala’s head snapped up, her tufted ears upright and alert. She’d felt it. Her mistress’ magic! It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t so far that she didn’t know…

She took off from the corner she’d lodged herself into, and ran towards the study where she knew the blonde man was. Surely he would help her! She squawked as she ran into the room, and jumped at him as he sat in his chair. She landed in his lap, causing him to cry out in surprise. She squawked again, and tried to pull at his flappy clothes.

Lucius cried out again as the griffix tried to maul him, pushing and yelling at the creature. Hermione interfered from her corner, wrapping her arms around Nala and pulling her off of Lucius.

Lucius’ robes had been ripped in Nala’s enthusiasm.

“Hush now, girl. It’s okay. What is it? What’s the matter?” she asked, trying to calm the excitable griffix. Nala couldn’t seem to make them understand! She knew where she was! They needed to come!

The floo bell sounded suddenly, and Lucius left Hermione with the desperate feline to answer it. Harry’s face appeared in the fire, looking worried.

“Malfoy? Strange question: is Grace’s griffix going crazy?” he asked. Lucius’ brows furrowed.

“Yes.”

Harry bit his lip. “I think this is important.” He said. Lucius looked back to where Hermione had managed to calm the griffix slightly, but Nala was still insistent upon something, and was pulling at Hermione’s clothes with her beak. “I think they know where Grace and Tom are.” Harry said.

Lucius looked at Nala, then back to Harry.

“Get Black through here, Potter, and you come too. We need a plan.”

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Whoo.....that was a long time coming, and I'm not gonna lie....it was really hard. I'm half asleep right now and I probably won't remember typing half of this in the morning. So to those who celebrate it, I hope you had a Merry Christmas. To those who don't, you missed out on a great reason to celebrate! Enjoy!
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Amazing Grace