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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
- 31
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- 33
            He was, as usual, awake before Hermione. Lucius had
slept well. That didn�t come as a surprise
considering the activities of the night before; he was too exhausted to dream
and too happy to worry. If only
that feeling could be bottled.
He�d spend every galleon he had on it.

            He
sighed and slipped from bed carefully so he wouldn�t wake her. Once awake, he couldn�t lie there; his
mind would begin to run, run, run, and few of the paths it could take were good
ones. He had to busy himself.

            But with what?
It was too early to go to England.
He didn�t dare return to Australia. There was no point in writing...

            Lucius opened the shutters in the main room and flinched at
the seasonably cold air. A quick
spell took care of it, blocking the December breeze but still affording him the
view he wanted. However, even that
made him frown slightly; the land was yellow-brown and the sunflower field had
gone brittle.

            The
scenery was still beautiful, but it appeared as if it was hibernating. Lucius had
always liked winter because of the snow and because it afforded him the chance
to wear his most comfortable and luxurious garments - cashmere, fur, heavy
cloaks and gloves of butter-soft leather.
There would be no snow here.
It wasn�t quite cold enough, unless one was in the mountains.

            As
much as he loved snow (few things were more beautiful than a fresh snowfall,
undisturbed and sparkling under moonlight), he hated cold rain. It was irksome that a few degrees were
the only difference between the two.
And what a fine line it was between love and hate...

            Lucius turned away from the window. All he had done was look outside and
already his brain was starting to delve into things far too philosophical. For Merlin�s sake, he needed a cup of
tea before he could deal with that.

            Instead
of summoning Jo-Jo, he wandered down to the kitchen. He rarely made his own tea. Jo-Jo would likely want to flay him for doing it himself if
she caught him in the act.
Nonetheless, Lucius forged ahead and in a few
minutes he was walking back up to the main room with a steaming cup of tea in
hand.

            He
mused as he sipped it. It was, as
it turned out, incredibly difficult to keep one�s mind occupied all the
time. Well, perhaps it was better
to say that it was difficult to keep one�s mind occupied with something other
than what wanted to fill it - that might be more accurate. The common saying went mind over
matter...but what was over mind?

            The divine, perhaps.
Lucius inhaled the fragrant steam and tried to
do what he had preached to Hermione many months ago; he tried simply to exist,
to feel without thought. For a few
moments he was able to disappear into reminiscence, recalling other tranquil
mornings where a cup of tea had been his only companion, but there were too few
to distract him for long.

            Sighing,
he finished his tea and closed the shutters. His best distraction lay in the bedroom. He could spend an effortless hour or
two just observing Hermione; memorizing her contours,
mapping her being, appreciating the parts and the whole. He could look at her as he looked at
art.

            He
eased into bed beside her, glad to be reintroduced the pocket of drowsy warmth
beneath the blankets. Once there,
he found that he didn�t need to watch her, not now. A feeling of such incredible contentment washed over
him. He moved to spoon against
her, dropping an arm over her waist.
Hermione stirred but didn�t wake.

            With
his cheek resting against the wild spirals of her hair, he inhaled the scent of
apples and Hermione until he dropped off into an unprecedented sleep.

            It
was impossible to tell what time it was when she woke. It was one of those days where the sun
never broke through the clouds; the light was the same from dawn until
dusk. Blinking, Hermione sat up.

            Lucius�s arm slipped from her waist, dropping onto the
bed. It startled him awake.

            �Mmm?� he said fuzzily.

            �We
slept in,� she murmured. Then she
tilted her head in awe. �You slept in.�

            �Not
really. I woke up and did a few
things and then came back to bed.�

            She
smiled. �Of course you did.�

            He
was about to respond when a large yawn robbed him of his words. Hermione laughed and sank back down to
the mattress, cuddling up against him.

            �That�s
better,� he mumbled.

            To
her surprise, his hands didn�t roam, as they often did in the morning. Lucius seemed
exceptionally relaxed. She hated
to ruin that, but the need to relate all she had learned from Harry was
overwhelming. The sooner he heard
the whole story the better.
Reading it in the news would only distort and sensationalize it.

            �I
need to tell you something.�

            �Does
it involve how devastatingly attractive I am first thing in the morning?�

            Oh,
bugger. He was making jokes. This was the most cheerful he had been
in some time. Hermione didn�t have
the heart to force him back to seriousness. Propping up on her elbow, she contemplated him and then
pushed the real world into the back of her mind.

            �As
a matter of fact,� she grinned, �it does.�

            Now
his hands twined around her and abruptly pulled her astride him. Nimble fingers danced up her back,
evoking a delightful shiver.

            �Tell
me more,� he purred, and all of the previous afternoon�s angst faded into the
background.

            After
a lazy lovemaking session that was decidedly gentler than the night before,
Hermione recalled that she ought to be studying for her exams. Incredibly, one semester was already
gone. She wasn�t anxious about her
exams; however, studying was second nature to her and needed to be done lest
she suffer a guilt-laden anxiety attack.
Not for the first time, she wondered what it was like to be a person who
was carefree enough to sit for an exam without studying. The thought made her shudder and Lucius looked up from his breakfast to give her a curious
stare.

            �My
exams,� she explained.

            He
nodded, unfazed. �I can help you
study, if you like.�

            �No
plans today?�

            �Not
at the moment.�

            �Then
I may take you up on that offer.�
Though she had most often studied alone in school, she found that Lucius made a good partner because he was actually
interested in the material. He
pretended not to be, but she had caught him reading her textbooks more than
once.

            Just
then, an owl pecked at the window.
Lucius got up to let it in. Hermione frowned when she realized what
it carried; the Prophet would beat her to the task of telling Lucius about Pound after all.

            He
didn�t make it back to the table. He
was so intent on the front page that he lost his ability to walk and read at
the same time. After a long
minute, he looked up at her.

            �Is
this what you were really going to tell me earlier?�

            She
nodded apologetically. �You were
in such a good mood...�

            With
a sigh, he reclaimed his seat. Lucius skimmed the rest of the article and then put the
paper down. �Well, it seems that I
may have inadvertently done something right.�

            �I
think people will ease up on you now.�

            Lucius offered her a darkly amused look. �They�re suddenly going to forget that
the only reason I knew about Pound is because I was one of his associates?�

            Hermione
had no response for that, save for the shred of hope she held in her
heart. People did have long
memories, but they also had the power to recognize that people could change and
that some results were best accepted regardless of the method of arrival.

            Lucius reached out to cover her hand with his. �Now I know why you were upset.� He tugged her hand to his lips and
pressed a gentle kiss across her knuckles. �Narrow-minded fools.�

            She
couldn�t help the ironic smile that broke across her lips. Lucius
mirrored it, knowing that he was not so far removed from his own incarnation of
narrow-minded foolery. Still, it
meant a lot to her that he could now exclude himself from that group. Hermione found herself
feeling unexpectedly teary and pulled her hand away.

            �What
about you?� she asked to cover the sudden surge of emotion. �What was bothering you yesterday?�

            Lucius looked away for a moment. She could see a slight crease in his forehead and wondered
if the answer would drive the good humor out of him. She was just starting to regret asking when he turned back
and took a breath.

            �I
went to Australia to start clearing out my mother�s estate. It was...difficult.�

            Hermione
couldn�t hide her surprise. That
wasn�t what she�d expected. He was
brave to try to do it alone. Now
she was the one reaching out to him, touching his cheek that was still rough
with untamed morning stubble.

            �You
should have told me. I would have
come with you.�

            He
shook his head. �No. I don�t want you near that part of my
life.� He smiled again, but it was
a smile of resignation. �I�ll be
fine.� He removed her hand from
his jaw and pulled her to her feet.
�Enough of this. Into the bath with you. We have places to go and things to do.�

            Hermione
allowed herself to be herded toward the loo, confused
by the sudden change of direction, but knowing that they both needed it.

            �I
thought you said you had no plans,� she pointed out slyly.

            �Now
I do. And they involve you and I
and a cottage in the Alps.�

            �But
I have to study!� she protested.

            �You
can study there as easily as you can here.�

            Hermione
gave him a slight glare, knowing full well that whatever he wanted to do in
this cottage in the Alps likely didn�t involve any of her books. He weathered her look and raised an
eyebrow.

            �Fine,�
she relented, �but if you don�t let me study I�m going to my parents� house
until after my exams!�

            Lucius left the bath before she did. He needed a few minutes to clear his
mind. It wasn�t that he wanted to
omit what he�d found at his mother�s home. He just wasn�t ready.
If he had
barely accepted it, how could he possibly explain it to someone else?

            He
almost laughed at himself. He was
supposed to be a subtle person, but changing the subject so abruptly and
proposing the trip to the Alps was about as unsubtle as it got. Hermione hadn�t missed it, but for
whatever reason, she let it slide.

            But
at least he�d get to enjoy some snow and a few days� respite from the madness
that was his life. A moment later,
Hermione emerged from the bath, her curls temporarily tamed by the water. He reached out to embrace her. She tensed, probably thinking that he
meant to become amorous again,
but all he did was grasp a fistful of those beautiful goddess curls and press
them to his nose.

            Apples.

            Perfection.

            He
released her with a gentle pat to the bum. She danced away from him with a confused, half perturbed
look on her face, but as she dressed, he could see the delicate flush across
her cheeks.

            Lucius had faced many frightening things in his time. None came close to this. None could even approach how scary it
was to feel his heart so irrevocably intertwined with someone else�s. And none could boast a mirroring
sensation of absolute contentment...of fulfillment, centering, ease, bliss...

            So
this was love.

            Hermione
looked up as the wind howled and moaned, boxing the windows with angry
fists. The storm outside was
raging with an incredible force.
She was thankful she and Lucius had made it
here before it started and had enough sense to bring supplies. The cottage had electricity, but it
would go out soon. They�d be left
with candlelight, just like at home...

            Candlelight
and firelight; the tremendous fireplace consumed large logs that she couldn�t
even lift. It was heating up
rapidly, promising to keep them warm through a long winter night in the
mountains whether there was electricity or not. The only thing missing was a bear skin
rug. Her lips tugged upward in
tiny smile.

            Then
the smile receded. Hermione�s eyes
settled on Lucius. He had been so quiet since they arrived; it seemed he was
sticking to his promise to allow her to study. In the meantime, all he had done was stare out the
window. He was thinking.

            She
remembered how he loved storms, how the chaos outside
calmed him, and hoped that it could push his thoughts in a positive
direction. It was times like these
that she missed their mental bond; those little snippets of telepathic dialogue
had told her so much about him. If
not for that glimpse into his mind, she never would have been able to get to
this point. She never would have
been able to love him.

            Strange
surges of emotion had been catching her off guard all week. First at the breakfast table when he�d
expressed out loud how he felt about the ideals he once embraced. Then again when he�d stopped her to
smell her hair. The look on his
face...it was one of such potent relief.
It was the look of a man who knew he was safe.

            And
now, watching him as he endured long hours of silence so that she could study
uninterrupted, she was again ambushed by the feeling of tightness in her
chest. It made her dizzy. Hermione was more inclined to believe
that she�d developed some kind of heart arrhythmia, but even her rational mind
knew what it really was.

            At
that moment, the lights flickered and died.



            They�d
gone to bed without knowing what time it was; the night remained the same
outside regardless of the hour.
The wind howled, snow fell in thick waves, and all around them the sound
of pines groaning under the burden of both punctuated the cacophony.

            Lucius fell asleep almost immediately after they
transported the mattress out into the main room so that the fire could keep
them warm. Hermione didn�t know
how he could sleep with all the noise and violence going on beyond the
walls. But sleep he did, without
stirring.

            Eventually
she slept, too, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the pulsing heat of
the fire. She dreamt of body
parts, multicolored pills and potions, and that she was snapping a person
together like a child�s blocks, every bone, every muscle, arteries and veins,
skin, hair...

            Hermione
jerked awake. The blanket
slithered down her torso, exposing her to the winter air. The fire was down to embers and she
instantly regretted sitting up.
However, the reaction couldn�t be faulted; she had realized somewhere
around the eyes that she was assembling Lucius.

            Lucius, who wasn�t beside her. Was it morning? How could it be? It was still so dark, though the wind
outside had calmed.

            She
thought about rising from the mattress, wincing at how cold it was. The fire needed to be stoked, and soon,
whether it was morning or not. Just
then, Lucius�s figure stepped into the doorway. He strode forward and crouched down,
placing a gentle kiss against her lips.

            �I�m
sorry. I didn�t mean to let it go
out.� Evidently, he thought that
she had awakened because of the cold.

            �What
time is it?� she asked, still disoriented.

            �I
don�t know.�

            �Come
back to bed.�

            She
saw a slight hesitation in his eyes, but then he nodded. �After I restart the fire.�

            Hermione
watched him levitate the large cords of wood into the hearth and use his wand
to light them. Then, once he was
satisfied, he shed his extra layers and slipped under the pile of covers beside
her. She burrowed against him,
grateful for his body heat while the fire struggled to fill the room once more.

            �What
were you doing?� she asked after a few minutes of contented silence.

            He
didn�t respond immediately. Then
he said, �Writing.�

            Hermione
felt a visceral sense of relief.
He was meant to write regardless of whether or not his scribblings ever saw the light of day.

            �Soif?�

            �No. I still don�t know how to end it.�

            Hermione
twined a piece of his very straight, very soft hair between her fingers. �Something new?�

            �Not
new.� He kissed her forehead. �But I�m not in any rush with this
one. I�m just going to let it
happen.�

            �That�s
how you�ll find the ending of Soif, too. One day, it will just happen,� she
replied drowsily.

            �Maybe,�
he murmured. �Now go to
sleep. If the storm is over by
morning, we have to go shopping for Christmas gifts.�

            Hermione
groaned. So there was a price for
his silence earlier - he meant to drag her along while he looked for gifts for
his family. She knew she had to do
the same, but her parents were easy to please; a nice dinner out or a little
oddity from the wizarding world was enough. She could only imagine what it would
take to satisfy Draco.

            She
couldn�t resist a jab. �What haven�t you given Draco?�

            �Oh,
I don�t know, a well-adjusted childhood, morals and values, enough hugs...�

            Hermione
laughed and slapped his arm, and then allowed that small bit of mirth to carry
her into a more restful slumber.

            Christmas
was an awkward affair on both sides.
Hermione was reminded of Mad-Eye Moody every time she opened her mouth;
only constant vigilance enabled her to stop herself from talking about Lucius. Her
parents were happily oblivious, though perhaps not as oblivious as she
thought. Her mother kept giving
her sly looks and dropped a few questions that Hermione had not heard since the
time she mistakenly brought Ron to the house to meet them.

            The
Burrow was even worse. Ron was
civil, as were most of the Weasleys, but it went
downhill when Percy started to hit on her. Harry dutifully rescued her, yet she could see in his eyes
that he still thought she belonged here and not with Lucius. He was good enough not to say anything,
and for a few zany hours, it felt like old times.

            On
the other hand, Lucius had to sit through a Manor
Christmas that was caught in transition.
Narcissa had invited Dawlish. That resulted in Draco throwing his father meaningful
and increasingly violent looks every time his mother interacted with the Auror - who was, of course, seated to her right, so that
meant they interacted quite a lot.
He would be surprised if Draco didn�t have whiplash by the end of the
meal.

            He
would also be surprised if Draco still had a girlfriend by the time all was
said and done. His irritation over
Narcissa daring to bring Dawlish into their family
time caused him to ignore the pretty redhead he�d invited to dinner. However, the redhead seemed distracted
enough on her own; she, too, had roving eyes, and seemed uncomfortable.

            Lucius was carefully aloof, making conversation when it was
appropriate and ignoring all else.
He�d have to take Draco aside between courses and tell him that he didn�t
care that Dawlish was here. Though
Merlin only knew if Draco was really angry over the perceived slight to his
father or if he was jealous that Dawlish was drawing his mother�s attention
away from him...

            Lucius chuckled and speared another carrot. They were out of their minds, but this
only made him love his family more.
Ah, there was Draco�s look again - Dawlish had dared to compliment Narcissa�s earrings.
He smiled at his son and promptly kicked him in the shin.

            �Ow!�

            All
eyes turned to Draco.

            �What�s
the matter, darling?� Narcissa said.

            �Nothing,�
Draco muttered darkly. �Just bit
my tongue.�

            They
reconvened on Boxing Day, both a little shell-shocked. Lucius tried
not to make a face at her lumpy Weasley sweater (shabbier
than usual this year) and Hermione controlled her comments about Draco. Instead, they sipped tea in bed and
silently thanked Merlin that Christmas was over.

            �That
girl in forensics,� Lucius spoke up suddenly, �the
one who was blackmailing you. What
was her name?�

            �Marietta
Edgecombe. Why?�

            He
laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. �My son is dating her.�

            Hermione
almost spit out her tea. �WHAT?�

            �I
wanted to reserve my shunning until I was certain it was her. Shall I tell Draco to look elsewhere?�

            Hermione
blinked, still in shock. What in
the hell? Why would Marietta date
Draco? Was it some kind of scheme?

            �How
did she look?� she asked.

            Lucius gave her a strange glance. �What do you mean?�

            �I
mean, how did she look?�

            �She�s
pretty enough, I suppose. What on
earth are you getting at?�

            �Was
there anything on her face?�

            �Besides
eyes, a nose, and a mouth?�

            She
elbowed him in the side. �Answer
the question!�

            Lucius recoiled from her attack, unsure why he was being
assaulted. �She looked
normal. She has freckles. Anything else you�d like to know? The location of her birthmark,
perhaps?�

            She looks normal. Then the countercurse
worked. Marietta had finally
apologized for her betrayal back in school, and she had meant it - it only
worked when the apology was real.

            �Hermione?�
Lucius prompted.

            �No,�
she said slowly, �don�t say anything to Draco.� Hermione frowned, disturbed by a thought
which she voiced a moment later.
�They might be perfect for each other.�

            A
few countries away, a blond and a redhead were awakening to a blustery Boxing
Day. Draco watched Marietta
struggle to pry herself from sleep and couldn�t keep the smile off his face. Clearly she wasn�t a morning person.

            He
had worked up the courage to talk to her a few days after the second sighting
at the Ministry. She seemed
different than the first time. She
was...brighter, more alive, and he began to notice things. Things that he liked. Her eyes were green, and though he had
never liked redheads, her hair was such a fascinating color.

            He
knew he was in trouble when he started to notice her figure. Or when he caught himself staring at
her chest during their sixth late-night coffee date. Especially when he began to feel the need to make her smile
as much as possible.

            Two
weeks later she brought him down to the forensics lab to show him her
office. He should have known what
would happen. She was the only one
who worked later hours; the lab was deserted. It was just him, her, and lots of
ominous looking devices.

            Naturally,
it ended in them snogging like fifth years that night
and every night after. The
connection between them was so strong that all he wanted to do was kiss
her. When he wasn�t kissing her,
he wanted to talk to her, and when he wasn�t talking to her, he just wanted to
look at her.

            But
then he�d invited her to Christmas at the Manor. He could tell she was anxious about it. She wouldn�t explain why, and even
though he told her she didn�t have to go, she said she would. Then the debacle with Dawlish, and the
fact that there was no reciprocation of a Christmas invite to her family�s
gathering...he thought the brief bout of giddiness was over.

            He
was ready to escort her out the door and out of his life by the end of the
evening - that was how most of his dates ended these days. However, Marietta smartly informed him
that she would be staying for the night, and he�d best smuggle her to his room
before his parents noticed and put a stop to such deplorable behavior. Draco couldn�t claim to understand her
behavior, but he wouldn�t fight it.

            Sex
had felt so good. It wasn�t
perfect; there were moments of awkwardness, a bumped head or two, but he didn�t
feel any pressure with her. There
had always been pressure with others - expectation, status, reputation, and all
that rot. Marietta didn�t seem to
care about any of that.

            Nor
did she seem to care about waking up.
And really, it was eight in the morning. What was the harm in lazing in bed?

            Narcissa let out a sharp gasp when she saw the signature on
the bottom of the card. The owl
that delivered it had awakened her much earlier than she wanted, but it was
worth it. Oh, this was so worth
it.

            Blinking,
she put the card down on the nightstand and read it again,
just to make sure that her mind had not deceived her.

Narcissa,

I�ve been thinking about your
visit a lot. It took a great deal
of courage to admit you were wrong, and even more to face me. In the end I was the one who took the easy
way out. I chose to perpetuate the
rift between us. While that is the
more comfortable solution, it doesn�t change anything, and I�m certain that
your visit and my inability to stop thinking about it mean that neither of us
is happy with things as they are.

In the Muggle
world, Christmas is considered a time where the best aspects of humanity are
brought forth, and prime among those is forgiveness. If you can forgive me for betraying and shaming our family,
I can forgive you for only doing what you were taught all these years. Now that we�re old (a widow and a
divorcee!), I�d like to think that we�ve accrued enough wisdom to recognize
what�s really important. Not
grudges, not antiquated ideals, not old petty squabbles...

We are sisters. And while we were never the best of
friends, I would rather have a sister than an enemy. We�ve already lost one sister and two cousins. Truly, we can�t afford to lose each
other.

I know that this is your first
Christmas without a husband, and though it�s not for the same reason as me, it
can be lonely nonetheless. If you
find yourself longing for a distraction, it would be wonderful to meet for
lunch. I�ll be at Veronique�s
Vittles in Diagon Alley around noon. Whether you decide to come or not, I�ll
be there - their croque-monsieur is to die for.

Happy Christmas.

Andromeda

            With
the confirmation that she had not hallucinated the whole thing, Narcissa promptly burst into tears.

            Hermione
emerged from the loo to find an elegantly wrapped gift
box sitting on her side of the bed.

            �I
thought we agreed not to exchange gifts!�

            Lucius had the grace to look the slightest bit guilty. �I was raised a certain way. I can�t help it. It�s good form.�

            �Now
I don�t have one for you!� she seethed, annoyed. She climbed back into bed, clutching the box with a
distressed look on her face.

            �I
don�t need anything.� He
smiled. �You�ve already given me
so much.�

            Her
expression softened, exactly as it was meant to. A moment later Hermione gave him a dirty look; she knew him
too well. Lucius
chuckled. Though it had been a
calculated statement, he meant every word of it, and he was certain that she
knew it.

            �You
Malfoys,� she grumbled as she untied the ribbon, �do
you have some unknown curse that causes you to die if you don�t spend money?�

            �No. We just like to spoil ourselves and the
few others that we deem worthy of our time.�

            �Snobby
git.�

            He
nudged her with his foot. �Open
it.�

            �This
better not be more ridiculously expensive lingerie.�

            �It
isn�t. I�m saving that for
Valentine�s Day.�

            She
gave him a look that said �don�t you dare�. Then, with a cringe at the thought of ruining the pretty
paper, she began to dismantle the box.
A minute later her eyes widened.

            �Oh...�

            Inside
the box was an antique doctor�s satchel straight out of the 19th century. Eagerly, Hermione flipped the brass
latch that held it closed. Inside
was a mixture of magical and Muggle medical
tools. Amusingly, both looked
rather horrifying. Hermione
examined an antique syringe, amazed that anyone had
ever let some quack stick them with it.
Then again, people also let doctors put leeches on them in the olden
days, so there was nothing to be done for it.

            She
was struck by how alike the Muggle and magical
medicines looked. An antique tonic
bottle from a Muggle apothecary was almost
indistinguishable from a beautiful Pepper-Up Potion bottle. Perhaps back then the lines between
scientific and magical medicine had been a little blurrier.

            �I
have your word that you�ll never use any of those on me, correct?� Lucius said.

            Hermione
held up a scalpel with a handle carved out of ivory. �Where did you get it all?�

            �I
took a trip with Paolo to find the Muggle things
while you were at your exams. The wizarding artifacts were easy enough to find in the
antiques section of Diagon Alley.�

            Carefully,
Hermione replaced all the items and closed the bag. �You miserable man, you agreed that we wouldn�t exchange
gifts when you already had one for me!�

            A
smile tugged the corner of his mouth.
�Someday, if you ever have children, you�ll know what it�s like to try
to disagree with you.�

            And
it was meant to be humorous, to cleverly tell her just how stubborn she was,
but Hermione saw his face falter for one quick second.

            There
were invitations. Lucius looked at the five pieces of parchment, stunned that
anyone would invite him to a New Year�s Eve party. He had not fielded any social interest in a good while, and
certainly not from so many people he�d never met.

            He
showed them to Hermione, wondering if she knew any of his potential hosts or
hostesses. Four were strangers to
her, as well, and for the fifth, she personally delivered the ostentatious
invitation to the trash.

            �Why
not the Vanes?� he chided. �They
sound charming.�

            �Their
daughter tried to poison Harry into falling in love with her sixth year. You could call her charming if you were
using Bellatrix Lestrange
as your model.�

            �Say
no more.�

            In
the end, they spent the evening with Paolo and Elisabetta
and were so drunk on champagne that neither had any idea how they made it back
to the villa.

            The
holidays passed in a blur of joyful madness. Lucius couldn�t remember the last
time it felt that way; perhaps it hadn�t since Draco was very young. Everything was much simpler then.

            As
January settled in, Hermione went back to her classes. That left him to amuse himself once more.
It was no easy task, and two hours into that first Monday, he realized
just how much he missed her.

            He
had been relying on her to cushion his mind. It was easy to be distracted by how much he cared for
her. Now he understood in very
great detail why some people acted so senseless when it came to love; it became
like nourishment, and with it, one needed little else.

            It
still frightened him. This depth
of feeling had only ever taken hold of him once before, and that was when his
son was born. That
was...transcendent. It had jerked
him violently out of whatever darkness he inhabited and thrust him into a
brilliant world of possibilities.
It was the first time he felt that he�d done something truly great. No...it was the first time in a very long while that he�d felt a
seedling of hope take root.

            Hope
was dangerous. Dangerous and
beautiful, and probably the only reason he was alive today. The cynic in him thought it quite
foolish to hold on to something so slim, but without it, there was nothing to
hold on to at all.

            What
would happen to him if Hermione...

            No,
he wouldn�t think about it.

            But
he couldn�t stop himself from thinking.
What if she left? What if
something happened to her? What
if...

            Lucius knew he was torturing himself. But, as everyone knew but seldom spoke
of, along with love came a paralyzing fear of loss. His was worse, so much worse, because this was the first
time he had ever cared for or needed someone so deeply. His protective instincts told him to
run, because that which he couldn�t control would inevitably do something he
didn�t want.

            He
was regressing. Hadn�t he
denounced all these things? Where
was the man of a few months ago, the one who vowed never to give in to
fear? The one who ceded his
control and surrendered himself to circumstance and fate? All of it had brought him to this level
of happiness. Why couldn�t he be
content with it?

            Because he couldn�t trust it. Every other time he had approached this kind of tranquillity, it had been snatched out from under him like
a magician�s white tablecloth. In
his eyes, it just couldn�t last.
Nothing this good was meant to...

            And
suddenly the villa was suffocating.
With his head throbbing, he groped for his coat and stumbled out onto
the path. He needed air, sun, wind - something bigger than himself.

            It
was not often that he found a pale Englishman on his porch. Paolo approached, recognizing that his
friend was upset about something.
He had to be if he was sitting outside in January in front of a house
that wasn�t his own. He wondered
how long Luciano had been sitting there.

            Wordlessly,
he let the other man in. The blond
moved behind him like a ghost.
Paolo busied himself with the preparation of hot beverages. His first instinct was coffee, but
considering his guest, he changed his mind and dug in the cupboard for their
meager supply of tea.

            It
didn�t really matter. Luciano wasn�t here for that. He brought the steaming mugs to the living room and sat
across from his friend, ready to wait him out.

            It
didn�t take long; the tea thawed Lucius�s hesitation.

            �Do
you ever...worry that you will lose Elisabetta?�

            Paolo
watched the patterns of steam billowing from his mug for a long moment and then
looked up. �No.�

            �How?�
Lucius said.
�How?�

            �I
just know that nothing will cause that to happen.�

            �But
what about things you can�t control?
What if something was to happen to her? Or what if you grew apart, had a fight that couldn�t be
resolved...what if she meets someone else?� The questions tumbled out of him with manic speed.

            �If
you grow apart, can�t resolve a fight, or cause her to want to look at anyone
else, you aren�t doing your job.�

            �What?�

            �Being
in love...it isn�t just a given.
It changes like everything else.
Both of you have to work at it.
Honestly, it is hard enough to love yourself sometimes, yes? It isn�t meant to be easy to love
someone else. That�s the beauty of
it. That�s what makes it so
great.�

            �Great?�
Lucius said softly. �I�m a wreck. I
can�t stop thinking that I�m going to do something to derail it, or that it�s
just an illusion.� He looked at
the floor for a moment. �Or worse,
that I won�t do anything wrong at all and she�ll just...move on.�

            �I
don�t think Hermione would do that.�
The sound of Paolo�s quiet chuckle made Lucius
raise his head. �You are in deep,
my friend, but she is right there beside you.�

            �For
now,� he murmured. �But what about
the day she wakes up and realizes that I�m an old man? An old man who can�t give her
everything she wants or deserves...�

            �Is
there someone out there who you think would be better for her?�

            Paolo�s
pointed question made some creature inside him flare with...well, he didn�t
know exactly what it
was, but the mere idea of Hermione being happy with someone else made him want
to peel flesh from bones. Perhaps
that was exactly why she shouldn�t
be with him...

            �Well,
is there?� Paolo prompted.

            In
spite of the fact that Lucius had tormented himself
with a million examples of why he was wrong for her, he had never gone so far
as to consider who might be right.
His friend took his silence as the negation that it was.

            �She
is a very smart woman, Luciano. She can make her own choices and she
wants you.� Paolo shook his
head. �But I know how you feel. When I met Elisabetta...I
felt that she was so good, so beautiful that I couldn�t compare even on my best
days. It took a long time to
realize that she felt the same way about me.� He reached out to grasp Lucius�s
shoulder. �Spare yourself the
anxiety and just accept that some things are meant to be, even if they seem
surreal. Stop talking yourself out
of it.�

            Lucius looked at his friend, amazed once more at how much
this simple Muggle man knew. Lucius was
learned in so many things - history, art, all forms of magic, mathematics,
magical sciences - but he was lost on life. It wasn�t the first time that he felt like he was nearly 46 years
old with not a shred of wisdom in him.

            Paolo
looked back at him, and for a moment his face fell.

            �It�s
criminal that you haven�t felt this kind of love until now.�

            Lucius swirled the remnants of his now-cold tea. As tea went, it was awful, but he
appreciated Paolo�s thoughtfulness.
More than that, he appreciated how exposed he could be with the other
man; this kind of friendship just couldn�t exist in the wizarding
world. He wore too many masks.

            �I
suppose it�s better late than never,� he replied.

            Harry
put the Prophet down in annoyance.
Lately, the papers had been a
Malfoy bonanza. It seemed like every week the elder Malfoy
was recalling some gruesome Death Eater activity and pointing the Aurors toward graves and answers to questions that had been
lingering for years. Harry had
mixed feelings on the matter. He
knew that the families of those who were finally being laid to rest appreciated
what Lucius was doing, but it was never far from his
mind that Lucius had played a part in it. Even if he hadn�t participated, he had
been there, and watching it happen passively was at least as bad. The only thing that kept him from
penning a scathing editorial was the look on Malfoy�s
face in the pictures. It wasn�t
the smug, self-satisfied look Harry knew from his youth. The man looked drained. Regret was written all over him in bold
strokes.

            It
wasn�t just Lucius in the news. While it was mildly heartwarming to see
that Andromeda had reconciled with her sister Narcissa,
who, he supposed, was technically no longer a Malfoy,
it irked him that they were still deemed important enough to be news. Draco, especially.

            The
idiot appeared to be dating Marietta Edgecombe. Harry felt nothing but disgust for the girl who had betrayed
Dumbledore�s Army. It was obvious
that Draco had finally found the one person in the world more spineless than
him and Harry wanted to vomit at the thought.

            What
surprised him was that Hermione didn�t seem to mind it. Considering who she was cohabitating with, and what Marietta
had tried to do to them, Hermione ought to be angry. There should have been some bizarre urge to protect Draco -
it would have saved Harry the need to feel it himself.

            He
groaned and let his forehead drop onto the newsprint. What was the world coming to?

            Narcissa looked slightly ruffled, but it seemed she had
survived her first Teddy babysitting duty with minimal damage. Andromeda smiled as Teddy zoomed into
her arms and proceeded to babble deliriously about how much fun he and Auntie Cissy had.
Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that Narcissa
was a mother, also.

            �You�ve
gained about a stone since you started seeing Hermione,� his healer said in a
very serious tone.

            Lucius glanced up from buttoning his shirt. �Are you going to tell me I need to go
on a diet after three years of pestering me to eat more?�

            Tiresias grinned.
�No.�

            Hermione
had elected to stay in Florence for the duration of her education as a
Healer. She already had friends
there and it felt like home.
Perhaps it wasn�t the most prestigious program, but it did have a good
reputation (how could any university once funded by Galen not?) and it would
give her what she needed.

            More
than anything else, she liked that it was a well-rounded program. It wasn�t only about the conditions of
the mind and body. Now that she
had finished her prerequisites, she was studying the philosophy of medicine, as
well as its history and the many different incarnations it had taken on throughout
history, both Muggle and magical. It was easy to memorize books full of
diseases. What wasn�t easy was to
have a thorough and fruitful understanding of the profession she was embarking
upon. Hermione loved it.

            �Did
you know,� she said to Lucius one evening, �that
Hippocrates had a son named Draco?�

            Lucius smiled at the enthusiasm that had been bubbling over
in her as she learned more and more.
�See? It�s a name chosen by
men of great intelligence and taste.�

            Hermione
snorted, deciding not to inform him that it was also a name chosen by men who
liked to dissect monkeys in their spare time.

            By
mid-February, Lucius had been able to calm many of
the demons in his mind. He was
happiest when he stayed out of the spotlight. That was easy to do as long as he avoided England. The media couldn�t find him at the
villa because it was Unplottable and he had enabled
direct floo travel between the villa and the Manor -
but only for himself, to avoid any potential
disasters. He still met Draco for
brunch on Saturdays; they had unanimously agreed that it was best to hide in
the hustle and bustle of Muggle London rather than
brave Diagon Alley.

            Aside
from that, he had begun to write more and quietly invest his money. There were still the occasional trips
to the Ministry to inform them of something he had remembered, but the pace of
his recall had slowed. It seemed
that the first few weeks after the memory charm was broken were the worst.

            He
was endlessly thankful that Narcissa was doing
whatever she was doing with Dawlish.
The Auror really was an amicable man and being
able to report to him saved Lucius from having to
face Kingsley Shacklebolt. He hated the Minister and it seemed that the feeling was
mutual, as Shacklebolt was always mysteriously �out�
when Lucius made the journey to the Ministry.

            Indeed,
the one thing Lucius hadn�t been able to come to
terms with was his father�s letter.
It invaded his thoughts whenever he became too idle. It drove him to the point that he had
to read it again to try to exorcise it.
Once he did, he didn�t feel the same way he had the first time; there
were no abrupt emptyings of his stomach, but he still
felt a shaky queasiness that made him jumpy for the rest of the day.

            One
thing stood out. His father had
written that he applied to the Ministry for a Time Turner. Lucius found
that hard to believe; no matter how repentant his father had felt, it wasn�t in
his nature to jeopardize his family�s outward appearance or reputation. Placing an account of his son�s assault
and his own dismal parenting on public record should have been
unthinkable. And how would he have
done it, anyway, when he was so ill?

            All
the same, he didn�t want to believe that his father had lied to him in what was
possibly the most sincere moment of his life. Why would he put that detail in there if he hadn�t done
it? It drove Lucius
to madness. Since being with
Hermione, he had begun to appreciate when people just spoke directly, though
heaven knew he had a hard time doing that himself.

            On
the first of March, he sat staring out the window at the awakening Tuscan
spring. He was making no progress
with writing; his mind kept drifting.
As much as he hated the thought of going into the heart of magical
London, he was getting to the point where he had to know. He had to know if his father had really
gone through the trouble of trying to change his son�s future by any means
possible.

            With
a sigh, Lucius closed the shutters. It was time to put his mind to
rest. In the bedroom, he pulled on
his familiar armor - robes, cloak, gloves, cane - and
prepared for a trip into the belly of the beast.

            He
was stopped no less than three times in the attempt to get down to the
Department of Mysteries. Lucius understood why, but he felt his temper fraying
beneath the surface. He was here
for a legitimate reason, not to plunder their secrets for a master he wished
he�d never met, and he had served his time for his indiscretions.

            Unfortunately,
Dawlish was out on assignment. The
Auror couldn�t help him. So, Lucius found himself sitting
in the office of Magical Law Enforcement, listening to the two Aurors on duty arguing over whether or not he was allowed
into the Department of Mysteries.
At least they weren�t trying to arrest him. However, the ruckus had attracted the press.

            When
Harry Potter walked in, stumbling from having to push through a dozen
reporters, Lucius knew he was either saved or
doomed. The irritation on the
young man�s face was obvious.

            �Bloody
leeches!� he seethed before realizing that Lucius was
sitting there.

            �We
agree on something,� Lucius commented neutrally.

            Potter
frowned, embarrassed at being overheard.
Then he sighed. �I suppose
this is for you? What lovely Death
Eater antics have you remembered now?�

            �I�m
not the one making the fuss,� Lucius replied,
carefully controlling his temper.
�Your colleagues dragged me in here as I was trying to make my way down
to the Department of Mysteries.�

            Harry
glanced toward the other room, where the other Aurors
were still arguing. �What do you
need down there?� Mistrust was
plain in his question.

            �I�ve
told them ten times already. It�s
come to my attention that my father may have put in a Time Turner request prior
to his death. It involved me, and
I believe that gives me the right to view the request...should it actually
exist.�

            A
long moment passed in which Potter thought, eyes scouring the other
wizard. He, like Lucius, knew that Time Turner requests were held to the
same rules as Prophecies - only those who made them and those who they
concerned were able to view them, as well as the Unspeakables
who tended them. The Unspeakables weren�t able to discuss anything they saw down
in the Department of Mysteries outside its doors. Therefore, Lucius was the only one
who could address the question.
Only a pair of stubborn Aurors and a lift
stood between him and the answer.

            �I�ve
also reminded them that no term of any sentence I may have received in the past
forbade me from entering the Department of Mysteries again, as long as it is
during regular working hours.� Lucius looked at his pocket watch. �It�s 11:08 and I am happy to have an
escort if that would make everyone feel better. Yet here I sit.�

            There
was a very long pause. Harry
glanced once more at the Aurors, who were completely
oblivious to the fact that he had even come in, let alone Lucius. If he had been more daring, Lucius could have walked out without them even
noticing. Harry was sure the other
wizard didn�t want to rock the boat and that was why he stayed, not-so-patiently waiting for a decision.

            Though
he was loathe to help Malfoy in any way, this was the
in he needed to issue his warning about Marietta. He couldn�t approach Draco and tell him that his girlfriend
was a deceitful wench - that rarely went over well. However, he could discretely drop a hint or two to Lucius. He had
the feeling that Lucius had a better chance of
convincing Draco to lose her.

            �All
right,� he said. �Come with me.�

            After
a curt discussion with the other two Aurors in which
Harry had more or less steamrolled them with his status as Boy Who Conquered,
he escorted Lucius to the lift. Lucius
watched the dark-haired wizard out of the corner of his eye. It seemed he had finally learned how to
use the power of his position. He
resisted the urge to make a comment as the lift doors closed.

            As
the lift started to descend, it was Harry who spoke up.

            �Marietta
Edgecombe...that girl that Draco�s seeing. She�s not exactly known for her loyalty.�

            �So
I�ve heard,� Lucius replied.

            �I
take it Hermione has filled you in?�

            �Not
entirely.�

            �She�ll
run the minute things get difficult.
She�ll sell Draco out to save her own skin.�

            Lucius turned to him, a half-incredulous look on his
face. �Are you concerned about the
welfare of my son?�

            Harry
stood up straighter, inspecting the lift as if it were a work of art. �No. I�d just hate to see another person get stabbed in the back
by her.�

            �Hermione
has told me to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. She believes Ms. Edgecombe has
changed. But make no mistake, I am
watching her very carefully.�

            The
lift pinged.

            �Level 9. Department of Mysteries.�

            Neither
made a move to step out right away.

            �Draco
has changed, too,� Lucius continued quietly. �A great deal. And I confess I am now convinced of the
power of second chances. Still, I
will take your warning into consideration. Some changes are more complete than others.�

            With
that, Lucius strode from the lift, leaving Harry to
follow after him in baffled silence.

            There
was a library in the Department of Mysteries. Neither Harry nor Lucius had known
this before. Upon hearing Lucius�s request, a hooded Unspeakable instructed them to
sit at a table and wait while he looked for the document in question.

            Long
minutes passed. Harry couldn�t
think of anything to say and Lucius didn�t seem
troubled by the quiet. There was a
tension in the blond�s face that told Harry that the
answer to this question was very important to him. He burned to know what Malfoy�s
father had wanted a Time Turner for, but knew better than to ask.

            After
what had to be a half hour, the Unspeakable returned. He held a thin folder in his hands. He placed it in front of Lucius on the table and then turned to Harry.

            �I�m
sorry, Auror Potter, but I�m going to have to ask you
to leave.�

            Harry
didn�t argue. With one last look
at Malfoy, who had gone very white, he made his way
back to the lift.

            �Take
as much time as you need. I will
be nearby. Just call out when
you�re done.�

            With
those final words, Lucius was alone. Alone with the evidence that his father
had, in fact, gone against everything
he�d ever stood for in a desperate attempt to prevent the worst moment of his
son�s life. It was difficult to
breathe.

            At
last, he made himself look. He had
come all the way here, endured cameras in his face, people shouting questions
at him, obnoxious Aurors, an uncomfortable
interaction with Potter, and his own damned curiosity, for this moment. He would not walk away without reading
the document.

Form DM-3a

Time Turner
Request

Name:
Abraxas S. Malfoy

Gender:
Male

Date of
Birth: 18 October 1925

Wizarding Identification Number (WIN):
012-580

Residence:
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Occupation:
Businessman, Ministry liaison

Have you
ever been convicted of a crime other than minor broom traffic violations
(anything prior to age 16 need not apply)? No

If so, please describe: N/A

Date of
Request: 20 May 1989

Date of
Destination (DD/MM/YYYY): 07/07/1966

Reason for
Request:

(Please print clearly and express in detail the basis of
your request. If too little
information is provided, the request will be rejected.)

I
wish to go back to prevent the traumatic sexual assault of my son. He was on the above date accosted by a
male predator and brutally abused.
At the time my son was nine years of age. I did not become aware of this until two days ago (18 May
1989). Under great duress the
House Elves that attended to him in the past admitted that he was seriously
injured but too frightened to tell anyone. One elf has agreed to provide a record of the events for a pensieve if necessary. I believe this assault impacted my son grievously and
continues to do so to this day.

Would you like to declare a designee? Yes

Name and WIN of designee: Lucius Malfoy 409-683

Your Signature: Abraxas S. Malfoy

This form is
confidential; only the requester and designated persons may access it. Evaluation of requests takes a minimum
of 10 business days. Some may take
longer if a decision cannot be reached by initial arbiters. If you are unhappy with your results,
you may appeal thirty days after your decision is handed down. Only one appeal is allowed per request. After placing a request, whether it is
approved or not, there is a blackout period of 90 days before you may place a
new request.

Should you be approved,
all regulations are strictly enforced.
The penalties for misuse of a Ministry time-turner range from a 2000
galleon fine to life in Azkaban.

         Lucius squeezed his eyes shut. He had sworn those elves to secrecy. His father must have threatened them
with freedom if they didn�t tell him what they knew. It had crossed Lucius�s mind later
on, when he was older and more capable, that he should have altered the Elves�
memories, but some unknown thing had stopped him.

            He
slipped the parchment back into the folder. On the front of the folder there was a stamp.

Office use only

DATE: 17/06/1989

FAVORABLE
OUTCOME PERCENTILE (FOP): 91%

DECISION:

APPROVED

CONDITIONS:

Not be seen, no harm to attacker

NOTES: CANCEL

Requester
deceased 15/06/1989





            He
had to turn the folder over. Two
days. His father had died two days
before his request was approved. Forty-eight
hours separated the life Lucius could have had from
the one he did have.

            For
a while he could only sit there in a daze. Then, as he began to be able to process coherent thoughts
again, he wondered what would have happened if his father had held on just a
little bit longer. He would have
dragged his wasted, pox-laden body to the Ministry swaddled in protective
clothing, come down to this cavernous place, and gone back...back 23 years to
save the son he barely knew.

            Without
a doubt, Abraxas would have killed that Muggle. What
threat was life in Azkaban to him?
He would have died a few days later anyhow. But how different a death it would have been...

            Lucius stood up.
He had questions.

            �Hello?�
he called out, hoping the Unspeakable had not given up on him.

            A
minute later, a hooded figure emerged from the dimly lit bookshelves. �All finished, sir?�

            �No. I have a few questions. My father put me on here as a
designee. What does that mean?�

            �It
means that you are approved to carry out the request in his stead, if
necessary.�

            �This
request was placed eleven years ago.
Is it still applicable?�

            �Well,
you�d have to resubmit it.
Circumstances have changed since then, understandably, and we would have
to recalculate the outcome percentile to determine whether it can be approved
or not.�

            Yes,
that mysterious Favorable Outcome Percentile, which, on his father�s request,
had been 91%. �What is the outcome
percentile? How is it determined?�
Lucius asked.

            �Very
complex arithmancy equations are used to find the
likelihood of one particular episode of time travel playing out favorably. Surely you�ve heard how sticky time
travel can be. We can�t allow just
anyone to go back to do whatever they wish. That�s why the equations are used. Anything that comes out over 90% is usually approved.�

            Ah. That was why it took so long. Lucius could
only imagine the number of variables that went into those equations.

            �And
under 90%?�

            �Almost
never approved. Even ten percent
room for error is too much, as far as some are concerned.� The Unspeakable tilted his head. �Are you interested in resubmitting
this request, Mr. Malfoy?�

            He
told himself he was doing it out of curiosity. That it would never be approved. That, with his criminal record, they�d be
more likely to laugh and throw it in the trash than bother with the equations. After all, how favorably could a man
deterring his own rapist end up?

            �Yes.�
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