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Hungry Thirsty Crazy	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 47434 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 27
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�� There was a profound silence as The
Boy Who Conquered walked down the path, through the gate, and away onto the
road.� Lucius
prayed that he would not spitefully choose to Apparate
in front of people he knew were Muggles.� His fingers tightened around his wand; he was
ready to do what was necessary to obscure any such display of magic.

�� It seemed that Potter was smarter
than that.� He disappeared only into
darkness and that wasn�t unusual out here, considering the lack of
streetlamps.� Where he went, Lucius didn�t care.�
His eyes drifted to Hermione.

�� She stood at the bottom of the porch
steps.� Both of her hands were balled
into fists at her sides.� Her face was
turned away and a gentle breeze stirred her hair.

�� His only instinct was to go to her, to enfold
her in his arms and comfort her as best he could.� She had done it for him, unconditionally, and
he could never thank her enough, never.�
Until she came along, he had not known true compassion�or true love.

�� She nearly collapsed into his arms,
burying her face in his chest.� She
seemed so small in that moment.� He hated
it.� Just like that, his fuse was lit.

�� He had reason to hate Harry
Potter.� The boy had sent him to prison,
to hell, and however much of that was his own fault,
the association was forever embedded in his mind.� All that paled in comparison to his fury over
the stupid boy hurting Hermione.

�� But there was nothing to be
done.� Nothing save
to provide his witch with the comfort she needed, whatever form it might
take.� With a slight crouch, he bent and
scooped her up into his arms.� He was
about to begin the walk up to the villa when Elisabetta�s
hand dropped onto his shoulder.

�� You will stay here tonight.�

�� And, as it was not so much a
suggestion as an order, Lucius turned and walked back
into the small house on Briatore Road, into the warmth
of the only true friends he had ever known.

�� Her grief was swift and
all-encompassing.� Lucius
lay with her in the guest room bed, holding her, stroking her curls, wishing
that he could do more.� It was so
terrible to see her like this.

�� He had never had a best friend.� Severus was a close
friend, yes, but Slytherins struggled with trust as a
rule and they had never quite gotten past their mutual (if well-disguised)
suspicion of one another.� Sadly, Paolo
was the nearest approximation of a best friend that he could boast.� While he would have been hurt if Paolo
somehow betrayed or rejected him, he didn�t think it could compare with the
blow Potter had delivered to Hermione.�
He just couldn�t fully understand what she was feeling.

�� Her body shook with quiet sobs.� Lucius�s arms
tightened around her.� He still had no
idea of what Potter had said, but evidently it was bad enough.� Merlin, he could kill the boy.

�� Her tears did not slow.� He began to ache � for her, with her, and
over the fact that he played a part in this.�
Had he not been such a terrible person once, it wouldn�t matter that she
was with him.� No one would care.� No one would hate her.� She wouldn�t have to choose between him and
everything else.

�� It choked him, tightening painfully
in his chest.� He was dangerously close
to tears himself.� That sense of panic
that had overtaken him in the kitchen earlier was returning, burgeoning in his
gut, and he knew his heartbeat was accelerating beneath her head.

�� I love you,� he whispered into the
curls that covered her ear.� �I love you,
Hermione.�� He said it impulsively,
almost desperately, as if he was pleading with her to believe him...as if he
was begging her to realize that it mattered.

�� For a long moment, she gave no
reaction.� He wondered if she�d heard
him, or if he�d only imagined speaking the words; if either was the case, he
would repeat it as many times as he had to, because this was the time that she
needed to know, out loud, that her choices were not in vain.� His ego could stand the vulnerability of the
declaration much better than the terrifying thought that she might leave him.

�� I kn-know,� she hiccupped into
his chest.�

�� That was all she said.� His mind raced with phrases, things that he
wished to high heaven he was brave enough to say to her, but the precariousness
of the moment muzzled him.

�� But she no longer shook, and her
breathing began to even out.� In another
five minutes, Lucius dared to move; he did so and
discovered that she had cried herself to sleep.�
Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her nose runny, and the rivulets
of tears sculpted into her makeup.� He
bit his lips.� He never wanted to see her
like this again.

�� With a gentleness designed not to
wake her, he dried her tears and wiped her nose with his sleeve.� Then he kissed her dry lips and left the
bed.� He needed time and space to think.

�� He was on the back porch staring
into the blackness of a night in the countryside when Paolo wandered quietly
out to join him.� By now Lucius knew it was late.�
He had been out here a long time and was no closer to making sense of
the feelings that roiled within him.� His
stomach also roiled, but he was almost certain that that was more due to
whatever poison Paolo had given him in the kitchen to clear his head.

�� Don�t worry about us,� Lucius said softly.�
�Go to sleep.�

�� Can�t,� the Italian replied
succinctly.

�� Sighing, Lucius
lowered himself down onto the step to sit.�
After a moment Paolo did the same.�
There they sat in silence for what seemed like a very long time.

�� Paolo shifted, turning towards Lucius and frowning.�
�I cannot sleep, Luciano, because I keep
thinking about the terrible thing I once did.�

�� Lucius
tried not to laugh.� Whatever Paolo
thought was terrible would surely be next to nothing.� He was too good a man to make the kind of
mistakes Lucius had.

�� I was a boy,� Paolo went on.� �I didn�t understand.� But now that I am grown, a man with his own
children��

�� Lucius
lifted his eyes to the dark-haired man.�
Paolo was going to confess to him, that much was obvious.� Lucius wouldn�t
begrudge him the listening ear or whatever forgiveness he sought.� He knew how important both were now.

�� When I was young, I saw another boy
being abused by his father.� He hit him
so hard that I thought he broke his neck.��
Paolo swallowed.� �I had never�my
parents did not hit me.� I was�afraid, and confused�and in the end, I did nothing.� I said nothing.� No one ever knew, and that boy�he was locked
away for the rest of the summer, and I never saw him again after that.� I had one chance to help him and I didn�t.�

�� A cold tide of shock washed over Lucius.� Was he
talking about that summer, the one
that comprised their brief acquaintance, nay, friendship, so long ago?� Was the boy he spoke of�him?

�� The shame in Paolo�s eyes said
yes.� Lucius
was momentarily tongue-tied.� The other
man had seen his scuffle with his father that day.� Had Paolo been carrying that guilt all these
years?� There was nothing he could have
done, absolutely nothing.� And if he had
seen Abraxas wallop him�what else had he seen?

�� I�� he tried, still taken aback by the
heartfelt confession.� �There was nothing
you could have done.� My father was a
dangerous man.� Any attempt to interfere
would have ended badly, trust me.�

�� I should have said something.� My parents could have called the police.�

�� With a shake of his head, Lucius reached out to grip the other man�s wrist.� �It wouldn�t have mattered.� I can�t tell you why, Paolo, but nothing you
or your parents or the police might have done would have made a difference.�

�� Paolo looked at his feet.� �It must have been a difficult childhood for
you.�

�� Lucius let
his hand drop and rested his arms on his knees.�
It was true, it had been, but his father was not the primary culprit,
and physical abuse was certainly not the main mechanism of his suffering.� �My father�he didn�t hit me often.� It only happened when he was extremely
frustrated with me.� That couldn�t happen very frequently because he was never home.�

�� And your mother?�

�� She was an alcoholic.�� He didn�t need to say anymore than that.

�� You deserved better.�

�� All children do, I suppose.�

�� Another silence reigned.� Then Paolo swallowed.

�� You do not resent me for it?�

�� Not at all,� Lucius
replied.� It had never even crossed his
mind to bear a grudge.� What could a mere
Muggle boy do when confronted with the monstrosities
of the world?� What could any child do?

�� I�m sorry.�

�� No need for apologies.�� Lucius looked at
his as yet unconvinced friend thoughtfully.�
�Someday I will explain everything.��
And he supposed it was a mark of all that had changed when he realized
that he actually meant it.

�� Lucius had
gone to sleep oddly soothed by the encounter with Paolo.� His stomach settled, his mind shut off, and
he barely made it under the covers before sleep took him.� He realized that he had forgotten his
medication, but it could wait til morning.

�� He drifted out of sleep hours later
and stretched lazily.� Normally when he
did he had to try not to nudge Hermione.�
When he was able to extend his knee without obstruction, he knew that
something was off.

�� His eyes snapped open.� Waking in a room that was not your own was
always disorienting, but that wasn�t the source of his mounting panic.� It was that he woke alone.

�� He scrambled from the bed.� Logically he knew that Hermione was most
likely in the kitchen or the loo. �Still, considering the state she had been in
last night, the worm of doubt in his gut was very strong indeed.

�� He wasn�t sure what time it was, but
the sun was up and the house was empty.�
Paolo and Elisabetta were nowhere to be
found.� Neither was Hermione.� Again, his rational mind told him that it was
Monday.� Hermione had class.� But could she really stomach going to class
after what had happened the night before?

�� He had no idea.� Lucius rubbed his
hands over his face.� He was trying not
to panic.� For all he knew, she might
simply be up at the villa.� But why would
she leave him?� There wasn�t even a note.

�� With a concerted effort, he kept his
breathing even as he gathered his things.�
Then he scribbled a brief thank you to their hosts and took some of the
breakfast offering they had left out.� He
wasn�t hungry, but he didn�t want them to think their effort hadn�t been
appreciated.� It was obvious that
Hermione had not eaten any of it.

�� He set out along the road back to
the villa, hoping and praying that she would be there.

�� Hermione was not at the villa.� She was walking down an unfamiliar street, a
piece of parchment clutched in a death grip in her left hand.� How dare that bitch.� How dare she!

�� She had gone back up to the villa to
think.� Leaving Lucius
had never crossed her mind, but his proximity made it difficult to think
objectively.� After the way he had held
her, caressed her, and confessed to her last night, she could hardly look at
him, let alone think, without being
overwhelmed at the intensity of her feelings for him.

�� There had to be a way to make Harry
come to his senses.� That was what she
had been fiercely ruminating upon until the owl swooped in the large window and
headed right for her.� The letter was in
an unfamiliar hand.

Granger,

I am writing to let you know that I know
your secret.� I know you�re sleeping with
Lucius Malfoy and I have
the evidence to prove it.� Those knickers
you left at his house were more than enough to catch you.� If you want your tryst to remain a secret, I
expect to see you at my home in the very near future, alone and unarmed.� You have until Wednesday.

And in case you doubted my seriousness, be
advised that I have informed your dear friend Harry Potter of your activities.� If you choose to ignore me, I will confront
your ex, Weasley, and then make an appointment with
Ms. Rita Skeeter, and everyone will know of your
behavior.

~Marietta
Edgecombe

�� Her behavior - as if being with Lucius was
something completely taboo and abhorrent!�
Well, she�d had just about enough of that
attitude.� Lucius
was a man and she was a woman and by whatever strange circumstance, they had
fallen in love.� There was nothing wrong
with it and she wouldn�t let anyone, especially not a viper like Marietta, tell her
otherwise.

�� She turned precipitously into the
walkway of an apartment building.� It was
a new construction, sleek and streamlined, so much so that it actually seemed a
little devoid of life.� Or perhaps her
tastes had been irrevocably altered by life in the villa; no matter how they
cleaned it there was always a stubborn patina of age about it�and that was what
made it so charming.

�� Hermione rode the elevator with full
awareness that she probably looked like she was ready to rip someone�s head
off.� Truthfully, she was.� She could throttle the redhead.� Marietta
wouldn�t know real love if it slapped her in the face, for the only person
she�d ever loved was herself.

�� She stepped off at the fourteenth
floor.� Funny, since Marietta was acting like she was precisely
fourteen at the moment.� She didn�t
bother with gentleness when she pounded on number 1408.� If the wench wanted to see her, she wouldn�t
prolong the anticipation.� Hermione was
ready to face this here and now.

��

�� There was an orange cat lounging on
the large rock along the pathway.� Lucius squinted at it.�
His spirits were lifted slightly when he realized that it was Musca.� The cat had
been absent the first few days of their return.

�� He knew the cat was feral, and given
the chance he would return to the wild existence he�d had before Lucius and Hermione arrived, but it was something of a
comfort that his new �familiar� had not disappeared.� At least someone
would stay with him.�

�� He didn�t even have to seduce the
cat with food.� As Lucius
passed, Musca leapt from the rock and began to trot
behind him.� He had grown a bit; his
kittenish looks were slowly giving way to the musculature of an adult cat, but
he was not quite there yet.� If Hermione
was not in the villa, Lucius supposed he had many
years to note the small changes in his familiar, for he would have nothing else
to do except mope. �

�� He sighed.� This insecurity was not comfortable.� That was what one got, he reflected, when one
let his guard down enough to fall in love.

�� The door was pulled open cautiously,
only far enough for the chain lock to snap smartly and a green-blue eye above a
combination of freckles and faded scar marks to peer out.� Then a pale hand curled about a wand came up.� Hermione eyed the delicate wrist, wishing she
could slam the door on it.�
Unfortunately, she was on the wrong side for that.

�� Hand me your wand, Granger.�

�� Hermione pulled it from her pocket
with a no-nonsense flourish.� It settled
into Marietta�s
other hand, but Hermione didn�t let go immediately.

�� You should be aware, Edgecombe,
that I don�t need a wand to defend myself.�
I also won�t hesitate to go to the Aurors if
you hex me.� I didn�t come here so you
could play out some twisted revenge fantasy.�

�� I only want one thing, Granger.�

�� Then stop hiding behind your door
and come out and say it,� she retorted coldly.

�� Marietta yanked the wand from her hand, and a
second later the door slammed.� Hermione
felt no anxiety without her wand.� What
could Marietta
do with it, anyway?� Sure enough, a
moment later the door opened all the way.�
The redhead was armed with both wands as she gestured for Hermione to
enter.

�� Hermione strode in as if it was her
own apartment.� She didn�t want to give Marietta the satisfaction
of seeing her unnerved.� She wasn�t.� She was just dealing with another bottom
feeder.

�� Marietta further proved that a moment
later.� After shutting and locking the
door, she turned and crossed her arms over her chest.� A smug little smile lifted her thin lips.

�� So, the mudblood and the pureblood.�� She snorted as if punctuate the hateful
sentiment.� �Malfoy
has certainly lowered his standards.�

�� I would say that he�s raised them.�� Hermione smirked back at Marietta.�
�Jealous?�

�� Marietta nearly doubled over with laughter,
but Hermione could tell that it was an artificial laughter.� She didn�t feel insulted by it.� The redhead�s laugh was empty.� She was mocking what she couldn�t have.

�� You always did have a distorted
sense of importance, Granger.�

�� Hermione resisted the urge to roll
her eyes.� �What is it that you want, Marietta?�

�� The other witch gave her an
incredulous look.� �Do you really not know?�

�� Hermione raised her hands in an
angry shrug.� She hadn�t thought about
Marietta Edgecombe in years.� She had no
idea what this adult, though apparently no more mature, person would want.

�� Marietta jabbed her wand at her own
face.� Hermione felt the whir of magic,
the sound of glamours falling away, and for the first
time she saw her own handiwork up close.�
The word �Sneak� was still very clear, emblazoned across her cheeks and
nose in pink pointillistic scars.

�� You still have those?� she gasped,
truly surprised.

�� Of course I do!� Marietta nearly shouted.� �Don�t act like you didn�t know!�

�� I didn�t!�

�� I don�t believe you for a second,�
she hissed.� �Now, unless you want your
dirty laundry on the front page of the Prophet, you tell me what the countercurse is!�

�� For a moment, Hermione felt
sympathetic.� It was quickly eclipsed
when she realized what it meant that Marietta
still had those ugly reminders on her face.

�� I will tell you what the countercurse is, Marietta.�� She drew herself up straight and speared the
redheaded witch in a glare.� �The only
thing you ever had to do to fix things was apologize.� It didn�t even have to be face to face.� You just had to admit that what you did was
wrong.�

�� Shock bloomed on Marietta�s face.� Hermione pushed on.

�� Do you know what might have
happened to us?� Did you have any idea of
the stakes?� For our families?� We could have died that year.� It wasn�t just some game.� I thought everyone would understand that
after what happened to Cedric the year before.�

�� I � I�,� Marietta sputtered, �you mean all I had to do
was say sorry?�� Her eyes widened.� �I�m sorry!�
I�m sorry!�

�� Hermione shook her head, because
nothing had changed upon her rapidly flushing face.� �It�s not that simple, Marietta.�
You have to mean it.�

�� Her eyes filled with tears.� �I was doing what I thought was right!� I was protecting my family!� I can�t apologize for that!�

�� Hermione blinked back her own tears.� �I am in love with Lucius
and won�t apologize for that, either.�
You can tell whoever you want, Marietta.� Inform the whole damn world.� The only person whose opinion matters to me
is Harry�s, and he�s already made it abundantly clear how he feels.�� She turned to leave, flicking her wrist out
in a silent Accio.�
Her wand arced from Marietta�s
limp hand into her own.

�� Just before she stepped out the
door, she paused and looked back at the half-angry, half-distraught witch.� �You know,� she said softly, �the spell
doesn�t discriminate.� It isn�t smart
enough to split hairs.� If there is anything about that situation that you
feel sorry for, anything at all, you should try apologizing for that.� It just might work.�

�� This is rather fortuitous.��

�� Lucius started
at the unfamiliar voice at the edge of his wards.� If he had not been so distracted by thoughts
of Hermione, he might have reacted better to the sudden threat.��

�� Lucius
reached reflexively for his wand, but the bag of food he�d taken from Paolo and
Elisabetta�s hindered him.� The second of interference was just enough to
give his opponent the advantage he needed.�
Lucius heard the authoritative bark of a man
casting a spell and he waited for it to strike true.

�� The hex took his breath away, filling
him with pain so sharp that it seemed like a thousand little needles were
stabbing him at once, inside and out.� He
couldn�t even hold onto his wand.� Merlin.� It was not Cruciatus, that he knew, but it felt just as bad.� Lucius sank to his
knees in the dirt.

�� He tried to make his arm work, to
reach for his wand where it lay in the brown grass just off the path, but every
movement was excruciating.� It brought
tears to his eyes even to extend his finger.�
What was this?� Who was this?

�� Musca was
in front of him, hackles raised and a menacing hiss rolling from his
throat.� Someone chuckled and then a pair
of feet came into view.� A second later
an intrepid arm dared to snatch the cat up by the scruff of his neck.� Musca was deposited
into a small sphere of magic and Lucius felt sick; it
was not unlike the one the Dark Lord has used to shield Nagini
during the last days of the war.

�� It feels better if you just lay
still,� a smug, masculine voice advised him.

�� Though his body was paralyzed with
pain, his brain was not.� It caught up
quickly and had no trouble piecing together what was occurring, mostly because
he had expected it.� Of course it had to
be the one moment in which his guard was down�

�� You killed Netherwood,�
Lucius ground out as his eyes took in the shape of
the man.� About six feet tall, lean,
slightly pigeon-toed.� He was dressed in
Chameleon robes; they were enchanted to blend into whatever background the
wearer was immersed in and they were primarily used by scientists who studied
magical creatures and smugglers who hunted them.� They didn�t obscure the wearer�s face, hands,
and feet, so they weren�t quite on par with an invisibility cloak, but they
were terrifically expensive, required permits to own, and were considered the
next best thing. �With the cloak and a
blank fabric mask that reminded Lucius entirely too
much of a Dementor, his attacker was all but
invisible.

�� The man ignored his question.� �I want only one thing from you, Mr. Malfoy.� If you
provide me with the answer I seek no harm will come to you.�� His wand twirled lazily in his hand and Lucius catalogued that, too: about ten inches, what looked
to be maple.� It was a generic wand and
hundreds probably carried something similar, but every detail would count.� �As I said, this is fortuitous.� Your wards are strong.� If you hadn�t come along, I would have had to
wait.�

�� Slowly, Lucius
was beginning to get used to the pain.�
It had been a long time since he experienced so much.� However, this man had seriously
underestimated his ability to tolerate it.�
He had also underestimated the rage that was beginning to boil in Lucius�s gut.

�� Why did you kill him?� he growled.� �He was just a publisher.�

�� An uncooperative publisher,� the
other wizard replied coldly.� He looked
around briefly, seeming to notice that they were out in the open for the first
time.� �I think there are better venues
for this.�

�� And before Lucius
could say anything, a hand clapped down on his shoulder and the sickening tug
of Apparition had him.

�� Hermione trudged up the long path,
hands in her pockets.� She had gone back
to Paolo and Elisabetta�s after the confrontation
with Edgecombe, half hoping that Lucius would still
be asleep in bed waiting for her.� It was
just past noon, though.� He wasn�t the
type to sleep that late unless the rare bout of insomnia had kept him awake.

�� He wasn�t there.� Neither were their hosts.� It was Monday; they were probably at
work.� She should have been in class.� Never had her attendance been so bad as it was this first term of healer school.

�� She did like the walk up to the
villa.� It was almost always deserted,
fringed with beautiful trees and flowers; nothing could clear the mind for deep
thought like an open road.� The grooves
and footprints in the dirt were something to meditate upon.

�� She was pulling her wand out, ready
to recite the password to lift the wards, when she stopped short and
paused.� She had seen something on the
edge of the path a moment ago.� It hadn�t
quite processed, but now�had she seen what she thought she saw?

�� Hermione turned back and retraced
her steps.� Then her eyes widened.� Yes, her eyes were not deceiving her.� Lucius�s wand was
lying in the grass just off the path.

�� She sunk down to retrieve the
precious object, her mouth a round O of surprise.� Just then, there was a sound that she
recognized as the angry yowl of a cat, and a large blob was moving towards
her.� Hermione screamed, caught off
guard, and pointed Lucius�s wand at it.� She was halfway through a hex when she
realized it was Musca.

�� He was in the magical equivalent of
a hamster ball � and he was not best pleased about it.� ��

��

�� Lucius
barely kept what little food he�d ingested down when the Apparition was
complete.� It was a struggle, but he
managed it.� Any victory counted right
now.� Once he got his stomach in check,
he lifted his head, grimacing at the stabbing pains it caused, and looked at
his abductor.�

�� However, as soon as he did, it
became evident that the setting was far more important.� His eyes widened slightly as he took it all
in.� This had to be where the books were
printed.� It was deserted, but the
evidence was everywhere.� From neat
stacks of blank parchment to tremendous vats of ink to complex hybrid
magical-mechanical machines, it screamed of book production.� He wondered what it would look like in
motion.

�� He swallowed a moment later, when he
noticed a large pile of books waiting to be packaged and shipped.� Dozens and dozens of book spines stared at
him, each starkly printed with the word Faim.� In their last
correspondence, Netherwood had mentioned that the
book was still selling well in spite of it being several months past its
release date; this was his proof.� And
before him was Netherwood�s killer � he was certain
of it.

�� All these machines,� the mystery
man mused.� �They look so interesting at
rest, don�t they, Mr. Malfoy?�� He walked over to the nearest one and
activated it with a simple touch of his wand.�
It whirred to life.� Soon it was
sorting pages at lightning speed, so fast that Lucius
could barely follow it.

�� The other man wandered away from the
machine.� He headed for the myriad copies
of Faim,
plucking one from the top of the pile.�
�Amazing, isn�t it?� This one
little book has entranced a lot of people.�
And yet, no one even knows if it is truth or lies.�� He turned, book in hand.� �Except you.�

�� Lucius
kept his face neutral.� He was very
practiced at giving nothing away in his expression.� The man was digging,
testing�seeing if there was any reaction.�
Lucius would not give him one.� Instead, he spoke up calmly.� �All I did was help Netherwood to set up the accounts.� I had nothing to do with the book and
certainly not with the author.�

�� I don�t believe you.�� He dropped the book on the floor.� It landed with a loud smack, echoing
throughout the cavernous room.� �If you
do not tell me who the author is in the next minute, I will cast the Imperius on you and force you to put your own hand into
that machine.�

�� Lucius�s
eyes flickered to the device in question.�
He watched it suck up a sheet of parchment between two metal rollers.� If a human arm went in there�well, at the
least it would be crushed, and at the worst, it would be pulled right off.� He didn�t fancy either.

�� You see, I wasted a lot of time
giving Netherwood chances.� It took too long and became rather
messy.� I learned my lesson.�� He cocked his wand at Lucius.� �Twenty seconds, Mr. Malfoy.�

�� Twenty seconds to come up with a
plan.� Twenty seconds to figure out how
to get him close enough that Lucius could physically
attack and wrestle his wand away from him, or get him to drop his guard, or
turn away�

�� He lifted the wand, and Lucius spoke just in time.

�� I don�t know who wrote the book,
but I can get you the man who does.�

�� There was a heavy pause, one in
which Lucius braced for the Imperius.

�� Then, �Who would that be?�

�� Internally, Lucius
smiled.� He had just bought himself
another five minutes, at least.� �His
agent,� he said, and waited to see what would happen next.

�� Hermione was beside herself.� She didn�t know who to call.� She knew Lucius was
keeping in touch with Auror Dawlish
regarding the case, but she couldn�t very well show up in Dawlish�s
office.� That would require a lot of
explaining.� Though, if Marietta was about to out them anyway,
perhaps it didn�t matter.

�� She could go to Harry.� Merlin only knew if he would be willing to
help her now.� But at least he already
knew�

�� That settled it; she�d try Harry
first.� And if her onetime best friend
refused to help her, she would have no choice but to go to Dawlish
or Kingsley himself.� The time for
secrecy was over.� What mattered now was
that Lucius came back to her in one piece.

�� The instructors at the Auror training camp informed her that Harry was on patrol
duty in Diagon Alley today.� She prayed that he was not teamed with
Ron.� Ron could be thick, but he would
definitely notice the tension that was sure to exist between his best mate and
ex.� That was something that she didn�t
feel like dealing with today, but if she had to�she would.

�� She weaved through the crowds,
desperate for a glimpse of unkempt black hair or bespectacled green eyes.� At last the answer came to her; he would stop
by Weasley�s Wizard Wheezes.� Sure enough, that was where she found him,
standing outside the shop talking with George while still managing to look
somewhat authoritative in his Auror robes.

�� George saw her first.� His face lit up.� Instantly she felt guilty that she wouldn�t
be able to stay and talk with him.

�� Hermione!� he said genially,
grinning from ear to ear.� �I haven�t
seen you in ages!�

�� She allowed herself to be enfolded
in a trademark Weasley hug, one that squeezed the
breath right out of her.� Ron had rarely
been that happy to see her.� What had she
ever seen in him?� But that was beside
the point.

�� Hi, George,� she said, offering a
weak smile.� �I would really love to
catch up, but I need to borrow Harry.�
It�s important.�

�� Her tone and her fragile look must
have clued him in.� George nodded.� �Well, I�d best stop talking Harry�s ear off
before he gets in trouble, anyhow.� Stop
by sometime, okay, Hermione?� I�ve got
some interesting new prototypes for you to scold me over.�

�� I will,� she said, and she meant
it.� With one more smile, George waved
and then disappeared back into his shop.�
That left her on the corner with Harry.

�� He merely looked at her, much as he
had the day before - waiting.� He wasn�t
going to give her an inch.� At least he
wasn�t yelling.

�� Hermione took a deep breath.� �Is there somewhere we can talk privately for
a few minutes?�

�� About what?� he bit off.

�� Don�t be thick, Harry,� she
replied.� She looked around.� For the moment, the block didn�t appear to be
too crowded.� Lowering her voice, she
leaned slightly closer to him and said, �I need your help, Harry, not as a
friend, but as an Auror.�

�� What, did you convince some more
people to lie for Malfoy and need help covering your
tracks?� Go elsewhere, Hermione.�

�� She could have slapped him again,
but that would be counterproductive.�
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut before replying.� �Yes, Harry, I know that was wrong, but that�s
for me to deal with.�

�� Then why aren�t you off dealing
with it?�

�� Don�t test me, Harry.� I may be here asking you for help, but I
won�t let you insult me.�

�� His lips compressed slightly, but he
said nothing.� At last he turned his head
to make eye contact.� �What is it, then?�

�� I think Lucius
has been abducted.�� She produced his
wand from her pocket; it was clearly recognizable by its trademark silver snake
handle.� �I found this on the path up to
the villa, and his familiar was imprisoned in a bubble, like the one Voldemort put Nagini in.�

�� His eyes flickered from the wand to
her face.� Then he sighed, and his face
became visibly anxious.� �Do you think
it�s connected to the Netherwood case?�

�� She nodded.� �He�s said that he believes he is the next target.� He put up very strong wards.�� Hermione bit her lips.� �They must have caught him by surprise before
he made it inside.�

�� Harry looked at her sideways.� �Where were you?�

�� Hermione lifted her chin and looked
him straight in the eye.� �I had a little
meeting with Marietta Edgecombe.�

�� A tense silence lingered between
them.� Then, Harry rubbed a hand through
his hair.� �Right nasty bitch, isn�t
she?�

�� Hermione swallowed the lump in her
throat.� At least they could agree on
that.� �Yes.�� She looked at her feet for a moment, and then
back up at him.� �Harry, I would have
told you eventually, if she hadn�t beat me to it.� I just�I needed to be ready.�

�� He said nothing.� Then Harry heaved a great sigh.� �Okay.�
Give me the wand.� I�ll contact Auror Dawlish and say that I
received an anonymous tip, went to check things out, and found the wand.�

�� He�ll yell at you for going on your
own, and only as a trainee.�

�� I know,� Harry said softly.� �But it�s the only way to keep your secret,
isn�t it?�

�� Hermione�s eyes stung.� He couldn�t apologize yet, and peace had not
been made, but this was the Harry she knew and loved.� �I don�t know if there�s a point to lying.� Edgecombe might be meeting with Rita Skeeter right now.�

�� Did you give her the countercurse?�

�� Hermione nodded.� �Oh, yes�and it�s up to her now.�

�� I guess we can hope that she
suddenly discovers her conscience.�

�� I don�t much care.�� At Harry�s look of surprise, Hermione
explained, �The only person whose opinion really mattered to me was yours.�

�� He closed his eyes.� �I�I just don�t understand it, Hermione.� I
can�t�after everything��

�� It�s all right.� I�m not asking you to understand.�

�� He opened his eyes again and reached
for her hand, squeezing it tightly.� �But
I want to.�� He looked at the serpent-topped
wand, so out of place in his grip.� �I�ll
do my best, Hermione.�

�� Harry took a step back and Apparated.

�� Tell me his name.�

�� I can�t,� Lucius
replied.

�� Don�t play games with me, Malfoy,� the other man said in a menacing tone.

�� I�m not.� I can�t speak his name.� I�m under an Unbreakable Vow.�

�� His captor growled out loud.� �That is what Netherwood
said, too.�� He strode forward
angrily.� �Is the identity of this author
so sensational that the secret is worth dying for?�

�� That was all Lucius
needed.� His guard was down, he was close
enough that a dive for a wand could be successful, and he believed Lucius to be all but incapacitated by his hex.� He steeled himself.� This was going to hurt like hell, but many
things he�d gone through had been just as bad and here he was.

�� You have judged it worth killing
for,� he spat.� It was the final
ingredient.

�� The wizard, so easily goaded,
stepped closer and lifted his arm to strike.�
Lucius took his opportunity and lunged.

�� As expected, Dawlish
had yelled at him.� Harry endured it
stoically even though he had done nothing wrong.� He had the feeling that if it was anybody but
him, the tongue lashing would have been much worse.

�� Dawlish
had thrown together a team of six practically before Harry could blink.� Then, after they were all briefed on the
location they were Apparating to and why, Dawlish gave him a pointed look.

�� Care to join us, Mr. Potter, since
you know the area so well?�

�� It hurt fiercely, but adrenaline
overpowered the pain.� Lucius fought tooth and nail for the single wand between
them.� The two men rolled on the dusty
floor, both with a hand on the wand.� The
man�s other hand was on his throat and spots were dancing before his eyes as a
trickle of air made it to his lungs.� So
help him, they would have to pry the wand from his cold dead hand�

�� The scuffle brought them up against
the boxes of books, waiting glumly for shipment.� Lucius felt his
back slam against the precarious stacks.�
Then, ever so slightly, they shifted.�
With wide eyes, he saw the top box begin to fall.� It probably had 500 books in it; falling from
such a height, it could kill both of them.

�� The other man saw it, too, and
evidently sought to use it to his advantage.�
He suddenly pulled away, abandoning the wand and the fight.� Lucius squeezed his
eyes shut, initiated the Apparition, and prayed that he could do it fast
enough.� He didn�t want to die crushed
under a shipment of his own books.

�� The sudden prickle of dry Tuscan
grass on his back told him that he wouldn�t meet his end that way.� However, something wasn�t right.� His body felt off.� He tried to move.� His left arm didn�t move with him.

�� He sat up, staring at the appendage
in astonishment.� It lay in the grass as
if it had never been attached to him at all�like a Halloween prop.� He had splinched
himself.

�� Dazed, he looked at the wand in his
remaining hand.� The wand had a split in
it, a hairline fracture probably attained during the fight.� It had not been him.� Fighting tears of shock, he told himself that
it was better to be down an arm, and painlessly via splinching,
than to be dead under a ton of books, or waiting for death while that
psychopath tortured him.

�� Nonetheless, he reached out and
grabbed his other arm, unable to fight the surrealism of the moment.� He tucked it under his right arm and
struggled to his feet.� Lucius dropped the broken wand; it was useless.� His wand was around here somewhere, close
by�if he could just find it he would be safe.

�� But his wand, his only defense, was
nowhere to be found.� The last option was
to retreat within his wards.� He would be
safe there, and he could call Tiresias and Hermione
through the floo.

�� The moment he turned, a pop sounded
behind him.� Lucius
clenched his jaw.� Let it be the Aurors.� Let it be
Hermione.� Anyone but�

�� I see I didn�t even have to run
your hand through that machine,� the cold voice sounded.

�� Lucius
pivoted, teeth bared in anger.� So he had
two wands.� The other was obviously a
dummy, a backup that could not be traced.�
What he wielded now was his real wand.�
He hadn�t learned, though; he was still too close � and Lucius wielded a perverse wand of his own.

�� Allowing his rage to take over, he
swung.� Because, really, it was not every
day that he got to assault a murderer with his own severed limb.

�� Something was very, very wrong.� They all knew it upon the moment of
arrival.� Some distance up the path, a
blond wizard was running, and what appeared to be only hands and feet were
running after him.� Worse, it seemed that
Malfoy was bleeding from some kind of wound.

�� Sweet Merlin,� one of the other Aurors breathed, �is he missing an arm?�

�� Harry squinted.� Then he felt queasy.� The answer to that was, unequivocally, yes.

�� Get moving!� Dawlish
barked.

�� A Jelly-Legs hex felled him and Lucius cursed.� He
hit the ground hard because there was only one hand to break his fall.� He could barely breathe, but he was so close
to the wards�just a little further�and if he had to crawl, he would�

�� Just tell me, Malfoy,
and I might spare your other arm,� the wizard said, his feet crunching on the
packed earth.� Now he was taunting; he
was just out of Lucius�s reach.� He had learned his lesson and had the broken
nose to prove it.� Lucius
was trapped.

�� He continued to crawl toward the wards
anyway.� They were so close he could feel
the hum of magic prickling against his skin.�
He wouldn�t give up.� He was not
going to leave Hermione, not so soon�

�� Stupefy!�

�� And he winced, knowing it was over.

�� Harry could scarcely believe that Dawlish could move so fast.�
No wonder he ranked so high.� He
didn�t even hesitate when he Apparated further up the
path.� The second he materialized, he
fired a Stunner.� The attacker
sidestepped it, and Dawlish could hardly be faulted
for missing since his target was mostly invisible.� Dawlish and two
others fired again, but by the time their spells converged, slamming into one
another and creating a brilliant red firework, the villain was gone.

�� Lucius lay
on his back, chest heaving, waiting.� He
didn�t think he�d been stunned.� He
didn�t feel stunned.� Laughter bubbled up
inside his chest, the mad kind, and he stifled it.� Of course
he was stunned, just not by a spell!

�� Merlin and Morgana,�
Dawlish swore, swimming into his vision.� �Mr. Malfoy, are
you all right?�

�� What an absurd question.� His eyes drooped shut out of pure exhaustion.

�� I�m sorry, stupid question,� Dawlish muttered. ��We
need to get you to St. Mungo�s.� The arm should reattach, it looks like a
pretty clean amputation��

�� Lucius�s
eyes flew open.� �The
blood.� Don�t touch the blood!�

�� Dawlish
looked confused.� �Lucius--�

�� The curse.� It can be transmitted through blood.� If you touch it, you will be infected.� Please!�

�� The Auror
nodded, stoic in spite of the tone of fear that permeated Malfoy�s
voice.� �Okay.� No touching.�
We still need to take you to the hospital.�

�� No.�
Call my healer.� Tiresias Smythe.� You can floo him
inside the house�just�give me a wand to lift�the�w��

�� His face went very white and his
eyes rolled back.

��

�� Some time later, his eyelids
rose.� All was unfamiliar, yet he knew he
was safe; that undefined sixth sense told him the danger was over.� The face that loomed over his bedside a
moment later confirmed it.

�� Damn it, Lucius,�
Tiresias said, appearing tired and worried.� �I leave you alone for five minutes and you
go and lose an arm.�

�� It�s gone?� he whispered, his voice
gravelly.� Dawlish
had said it would reattach�not that he was a Healer, but he had likely seen
things like that before.� He had hoped
the Auror was right.

�� No,� Smythe
chuckled.� �It was a joke.� I didn�t mean to alarm you.� You�re as good as new.�� To prove his point, he reached down and
jabbed him in the left arm.� Lucius felt it.� He
swallowed heavily.

�� Do it again.�

�� Smythe
raised an eyebrow, but didn�t object.�
This time he pinched.

�� Ouch,� Lucius
protested mildly.� He lifted his arm to
retaliate, well aware that it was childish behavior, but his fingers were too
clumsy.� He couldn�t do it.

�� You might feel a bit uncoordinated
for a day or two.� It�ll pass.��

�� Lucius
nodded.

�� I�m glad you�re all right.�

�� So am I,� he replied.� �I just wish they�d caught him.�

�� Smythe
grinned.� �They know who he is.� His blood was all over your, er, weapon of choice.�

�� Ah, yes. �He had given the bastard a good hit or two
with his detached arm.� It made sense that
he would have bled upon it.�

�� Who is it?�

�� You�ll have to talk to the Aurors about that, they wouldn�t tell me.�

�� He nodded again.� Then his eyes flickered up; he was too tired
to conceal the apprehension in them.�
�Does Hermione know?�

�� Yes.� She was the one who called the Aurors after she found your wand.�� Smythe tilted his
head slightly.� �She was here earlier,
but you were still unconscious.� Same with your family.�

�� Lucius
breathed an ambiguous sigh.� �The Healers
knew to use precautions, right?� I tried
to tell Dawlish, but I�m not sure how coherent I
was.�

�� They knew.�

�� Good.�

�� Tiresias
watched him.� Lucius
was fighting exhaustion.� It was to be
expected; he�d lost a lot of blood.� Tiresias did wish that they had contacted him sooner; by
the time he got a floo call from Auror
Dawlish, Lucius was already
undergoing the procedures necessary to reattach the arm.� It wasn�t that he thought he could have done
it better.� It just would have made him a
lot more comfortable to be there to oversee the necessary precautions.

�� Fortunately, the hospital staff knew
he was �cursed�.� Dawlish
had warned them that his blood might be infectious.� All had emerged unscathed, courtesy of
gloves, gowns, and shielding charms.� It
was the best-case scenario.

�� He smiled to himself.� That didn�t happen often.� The medical profession was frequently filled
with worse-case scenarios and he had the feeling that he had become too used to
that.

�� Whatever resentment he had been
feeling towards Lucius as a result of his sudden push
into the public eye evaporated.� Yes,
working with him had made life more complicated than usual.� Yes, he was a tremendous commitment that came
with plenty of outspoken people who believed he didn�t deserve help and that
his healer was awful for providing it.�
Though he hadn�t known all the details when he agreed to take him on, Tiresias didn�t regret it.

�� Lucius was
a good man.� More than that, he was a
friend.� His gut feeling when he saw him
being tended to by a half dozen healers had not been medical in nature; it had
been oh thank Merlin he�s all right I�d
like to catch that sonofabitch that did this to him
and rip HIS arm off god I hope everything works out�

�� And it had.� Tiresias smiled,
realizing that Lucius was back in dreamland.� He looked at his watch.� If he left now, he�d have just enough time
for a little dreamland of his own.�
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