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The Heirloom	By : soldiersgirl0709 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 18478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Universe. All things recognizable belong to JKR and WB. No money is made from the sharing of this fic, only friends and smiles.

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                                    Chapter Three: Shared History

     Hermione shivered as she appeared on a cobblestone driveway. She hated to apparate. She hated Malfoy Manor even more. She had gone there early in the morning and had found that Draco and his wife were living there. She didn’t really have any residual issues with Draco. She had accepted that he was a victim just as everyone else was. He had done what he had to in order to survive. Of course she didn’t for one moment believe he hadn’t enjoyed some of it, but overall he was just a spoiled bully, not the devil incarnate.

     He had actually been rather polite when she had arrived unannounced on his doorstep. Of course he was rather surprised to see her and even more surprised that she was looking for his father. Maturity sat well with Draco. He seemed…different. He no longer had that desperate look in his eyes, that longing for approval that had plagued his youth. He seemed calmer and content, obviously enamored of the little boy playing with soldiers in front of his desk. His wife, on the other hand, appeared to annoy him by simply existing. Hermione had to admit that Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy was a vapid creature. She was easily the most superficial being Hermione had ever met.

     Despite the rather interesting changes and family dynamics in the household Hermione wasn’t there to do business with Draco, she needed to see his father. Apparently Lucius Malfoy no longer lived in the family’s ‘seat’ in Wiltshire; he had—according to Draco—retreated to their country house in Dover by the sea. After getting the coordinates Hermione happily left Malfoy Manor and apparated to Dover.

          After shaking off the residual bad feelings of being in the manor Hermione looked up at the large, imposing estate at the end of the cobblestone drive.

“Country house my arse,” she muttered, shaking her head as she walked towards the grand house. It was so beautiful with its pinkish toned stones and tall white columns. Surrounding it were tall trees, their leaves a stunning display of orange, gold and red. The wind smelled of the sea and she could hear waves crashing in the distance. The grounds were immaculate, lush green lawns and flower beds overflowing with colorful flowers accented the property to perfection. It was beautiful and serene, a lovely home far different from the imposing manor in Wiltshire.

     A portly woman in a cap and apron met her at the door, surprising Hermione since she had assumed to see house elves.

“Might I help you?” The old woman greeted with a soft smile.

“Draco sent me here to see his father,” Hermione replied. “My name is Hermione Granger.”

“Ah, yes, Master Draco sent a message,” she said softly.

“I am Lettie, the housekeeper. Please, come inside and wait here, I will let Lord Malfoy know that you have arrived.” She waddled away, leaving Hermione standing in the expansive foyer. She couldn’t help but smile at the muted coloring of the décor, whitewashed wood floors and wainscoting, softly colored striped wall paper, light furniture and wide windows in every room. It was filled with light and felt oddly cozy like a cottage rather than a large country estate. It certainly didn’t feel like the type of home Lucius Malfoy would choose for himself.

“I cannot fathom what in this world--or the muggle world—would bring you all the way to my country house, but must confess that I am beyond curious…or perhaps I am merely bored.” Hermione did not need to turn around to know who was speaking to her. His voice was familiar; it had haunted many a nightmare over the years.

“If it weren’t important I would not be here, I assure you,” she said, turning slowly to face him. She had forgotten how tall he actually was; she had to lift her chin to look up at him. He looked almost the same, his hair was still long and platinum blonde, though now it appeared streaked with silver, the lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced but did not detract from the noble appearance of his face. His eyes were—as they always had been—icy pools of silver-blue, though now somehow softer. He had been a villain in her mind for so long that she was stunned to see him so human.

“Well, well, well…look who is all grown up,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth twitching. She wanted to throw back a smart, witty reply but she was a bit dumbfounded at the sight of him. He was dressed in a pair of well-tailored charcoal slacks and a white collared shirt, open at the throat with his sleeves rolled back baring his forearms. His casual and somewhat friendly demeanor was a bit more distracting than she would have thought.

“I have a ring,” she blurted out dumbly. She winced the moment she realized how ignorant she had sounded.

“I have several,” he chuckled. “What makes you think yours is of interest to me?”

She reached into her back pocket and withdrew the delicate garnet ring. She extended her hand and slowly uncurled her fingers from around it, revealing the little treasure to him. She watched as his eyes narrowed and he reached out to take the tiny piece of jewelry between his fingers and hold it up for inspection.

“Come with me,” he said brusquely, turning on his heel and heading towards the back of the house. She followed him through the doorway and down a long corridor to a room with large double wooden doors. He pushed them open and stepped aside for her to enter, closing them tight behind her. The room was a bit more like what she expected of him, dark paneling on the walls, masculine décor with rich colors and fabrics. Dark blue and ivory accents softened the room. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and every surface seemed to sport miniature ships in bottles.

“Did you do those?” she asked, indicating the ships lining the shelves above the wide, open windows that made up the wall behind his desk.

“Yes,” he said curtly, gesturing towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. “How did you get this?” he asked, holding the ring between his fingers.

“You recognize it?” she asked.

“This ring has been missing from the family vault for three quarters of a century. There is a necklace and earbobs that complete the set,” he said, sitting in his chair and laying the ring on the leather blotter atop his desk. “Explain how it ended up in your possession.”

“That’s a rather interesting story, actually,” she said, with a nervous laugh. “It seems I am not the only witch in my family.”

“Oh my, I am positively astounded,” Lucius replied in a bored tone. Hermione frowned and continued.

“As it were, I recently inherited my family estate.”

“I had no idea you were wealthy,” he said, brows raised.

“I’m not exactly poor, but my family was not wealthy, they simply managed to hold on to their property through several generations,” she said. “My grandmother passed recently and I inherited the house and lands as well as everything IN the house. In the attic, locked away in an old armoire I found a Beaux Batons trunk belonging to my grandmother’s older sister.”

“How wonderful for you to have a magical lineage,” he smirked. Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him.

“The aunt in question was unknown to me previously. No one spoke of her, she had been crossed out of the family Bible and there was never any mention of her. Grandmother didn’t even speak of her when it became known that I was a witch.”

“This does not explain how you came to be in possession of one of my family’s heirlooms.”

“I was getting to it,” she stated irritated. “In the trunk I found an old set of robes, a wand, some personal effects…including a box filled with letters,” she said softly. “And that ring.” She reached for her bag and withdrew the small flowered box from inside, placing it on the desk between them. “These are letters and the journal belonging to my Aunt. Her name was Juliana…and she was engaged to Roman Malfoy.”

“Impossible,” he said. “Roman Malfoy was sent to an institution in Romania when he was eighteen. He was a manic depressive and prone to violence. He was lobotomized at age nineteen and died at age twenty-one.” He watched as Hermione gasped and clutched her hand to her chest.

“My god! Why?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. My grandfather never spoke of Roman. I know of him only through the brief entries about him in my father’s journals. My understanding is that he embarrassed the family in his last year of school when his ailment got the better of him.”

“He wasn’t sick, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione said softly. She pushed the box of letters towards him and stood. “He was engaged to my Aunt Juliana, she was pregnant with his child. He wanted to marry her but his father refused to allow it, they planned to elope but he never showed up—now I know why. Juliana hanged herself rather than live without him. It’s all there in those letters and in her journal, read them.”

Lucius stared at the box and then back up at the witch standing in front of him. She was young and pretty, her brandy colored eyes welling with tears. Her pale pink lips trembled slightly as she fought to hold back the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. How could she be so touched by something that happened so long ago?

“Do you have a calling card?” he asked, watching her closely. She reached into her back pocket and withdrew a pale pink linen card and passed it to him. “Thank you, Ms. Granger. I will read these and be in touch.”

                             ~@~
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The Heirloom