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With Good Intentions	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 12260 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP nor do I profit in any way from these missives. I almost own the house I'm writing this fanfic in, tho'.

Chapter List
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Three months and two weeks after the “Community Diversity Ambush”, Lucius Malfoy lived through the most harrowing experience in his life — more terrifying than Azkaban, more disturbing than having his house occupied by a man-eating snake, more traumatic than Voldemort with his thinly veiled threats of violent (and drawn-out) deaths.

In a specially prepared room, Hermione cashed in on one of those Unbreakable vows and forced Lucius to attend her during her labor…

Awaking from the little sleep he got recently, Lucius considered carefully how to avoid a return to Azkaban with what he had planned for those incompetent healers playing exploding Snap in his en-suite lounge. The motivation for these thoughts came from his sudden realization that his bed — their bed — had ceased the incessant rolling and pitching that accompanied his wife’s inability to get comfortable (thus the reason he slept very little the last six weeks) and the fact that a soft whimper could be heard coming from their salon de bain.
Sometime during his last “catnap”, Hermione had gone into labor.
Throwing himself towards her side of the gigantic antique sleeping space and springing towards the slightly open door that leaked light and sounds, a man uncertain how to handle this modern, non-traditional (but clearly uncomfortable) wife of his hit the door like a Quidditch beater.

“Little One! Is it time?”

The need to brace herself, hands to the marble counter, to let the contraction work its way through her midsection without resistance stayed her answer.

“You napped through the first notice. My waters broke five hours ago.”
“I’ll get —”
“NO! They’re in the way and there’s nothing they can do. It’s a process and I’ll have to get through it like every other woman does.”
“Is there —”

Self-preservation stopped his question when Hermione again placed herself in pain management position, swaying slightly side to side and emitting a deep lowing hum.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Hermione laughed at him.

“Narcissa warned me. I understand the ‘traditional’ pure-blood method is to lock the laboring mother in her suite with her own mother and the midwife while the father and his closest friends are locked in the room with the best whiskey trolley.”

On a man that pale, the blush turned him pink-faced instead of red.

“I’m not that man anymore. I want to be here.”
“I'll take that as a promise. It’s going to get worse,” she warned, “I’ll end up hating you during the worst of it and saying some truly hurtful things before it’s over.”
“I’ve developed selective deafness since your last confinement. You were rather short with me, which was understandable under the circumstances. Can you take a pain potion? To take the edge off?”

A slow waddle brought her near enough to be tenderly kissed as she lapped the room, hands on her back to counterbalance walking with twins.

“Too early and probably not a great idea with twins. The potion will slow my labor.”

As she’d missed his hallway vigil during her recovery from a gunshot wound inflicted by M.A.D.E.’s deceased founder, she lacked a reference for the effect of her pain on him.

“I’d like to make sure we’re prepared,” he started — as if she hadn’t been doing that for the past two months, “can you do without me for an hour?”

Early morning sun lit the tiles, reflecting a soft glow that brought her effort into sharp relief for Lord Malfoy — Lucius was completely out of his depth and would never retire the escalating debt he owed this woman. How do you repay someone for your freedom, your redemption, your quality of life and your heirs?

“Go!” she grunted out, rocking to relieve the discomfort, “Be back before the babies come, please.”

As lightly as possible his lips brushed her sweaty temple before he made his exit. Sweeping his hands down his frame he cleaned himself and transfigured his outfit. Striding towards to fireplace in their suite, he hurled a handful of floo powder and set about assembling a support team for his witch.
Stepping out of the floo deposited the nervous Lord in the heart of chaos. Fruit floated near the ceiling (where the room had a ceiling) and the carpeting appeared to undulate without provocation (as if preparing to take flight, which Lucius found ridiculous but believable given the inhabitants).

“Lord Malfoy! Are you here for me or my husband?”

After adjusting his sight to the odd robes and clashing colors against the paint-splatter look of the walls, the expectant father’s manners reasserted themselves and he spoke.

“You, Mrs. Scamander. Hermione’s gone into labor — about six hours ago, she estimates. I… She’s at the Manor — we have healers there, but… My presence may not be welcome, I’m told and I would beg —”

The blonde finished his thought and answered his unasked question in a single response.

“She should have some friends to see her through. If you think there’s time, I’ll have my husband meet us and the children then I’ll come with you.”
“Meet us at the Manor? Is it wise bringing the children into this?” he challenged — as if the whole purpose of this wasn't the bring children into it.
“No. There’s someone else who should come. Come along, children!”

Eyebrows raised at the chaos before him, the fastidious Lord saw the witch's children cleaned, a patronus sent, the room tidied, lunch and snacks made and packed and a kit assembled for herself.

“Ready to go. Take Rolf’s hand, please,” she instructed a dazed Lucius and, with a sprinkling toss of powder, they stepped through to a destination Lucius dreaded on sight.
“Harry? Is that you?” echoed down the stairs of the homey (and homely, to Lucius’ estimation) cottage.
“Can’t hear you, love. I’m in the kitchen with the — JAMES! Sit DOWN! It’s alright Albus. Don’t believe your brother; peanut butter won’t change your hair color. I’ll clean that right up.”
“Ginny, can you come down?”

“Luna? Were we meeting today? Is —”

Newt Scamander’s arrival obliterated whatever else Harry’s wife said. Ginny Potter descended the steps to greet her friend — and her unexpected escort.

“Honey?” Newt asked as he bussed Luna's cheek, “What’s going on?”
“Hermione’s in labor. Voldemort killed her parents so she’s alone.”
“What about him?” Molly Weasley’s only daughter prodded with a hint of enmity.
“I’m begging for your assistance — at Mrs. Scamander’s suggestion. For Hermione’s sake… Please…”
“Our friend needs our help, Ginny — and so does Lucius.”

Time since Mrs. Potter witnessed her mother’s abuse of James Sirius allowed reflection.

“If she’s in labor, shouldn’t you all be getting back?” Newt asked as he bustled his children away from their friends — junior Marauder James and Albus with peanut-butter-coated hair.
“Ginny should come,” Luna urged, “She has the most experience with twins.”

The final battle in the Second Wizarding War required a mediator. Supporting Luna’s namesake on her hip, Fred’s sister confronted her past and her future in her cozy, comfortable living room.

“Luna, I’m not sure she’d want me there…”
“If I accepted for Hermione, would you come, Mrs. Potter? Mrs. Scamander informs me that having one’s —” and he nearly tripped over the words, “female friends nearby lessens the trial. If there’s anything I can do to persuade you, please ask. She’s a remarkable witch; I've grown to love her.”

Ginny considered the conundrum before her. The Death Eater proven to have not killed Fred Weasley begged his first cousin twice removed to reconcile with his Muggle-born wife (and her former best friend) — who he’d just declared his love for; the witch Ginny’s mother nearly shot dead.

“Harry?…”
“I’ll let the office know I’m home with the kids. It’s your call, luv.”
“Pack a kit, Ginny Twins decide on their own when they’ll come,” Luna advised as she plucked invisible creatures from Alby’s hair

Handing a pouting Lilly Luna to her father, Ginny chuckled.

“Don’t I remember. Your labor with those two almost stopped me from having more children. Give me 10 minutes,” and she was off.
“Lord Malfoy —”
“'Lucius', please, Mrs. Scamander.”
“And I’m 'Luna'. Give me your floo address and I’ll pop over. Bring Ginny when she’s ready,” and the secret “Weird-est Sister” skipped to the floo, after a kiss to her brood, and disappeared in the red-orange flames.
“She’s a strong witch, our ‘Mione. You look after her, eh?”

Another distant cousin buried the hatchet (and not in Lucius’ head or back).

“We’ll have to get used to each other, Mr. Potter, for our ladies’ sake. I hope my children get to know yours. It will keep peace in my home. Hermione’s temper —”
“— is scary. I know,” Harry grinned.
“Thank you… for not abandoning her because of me.”
“Always been a good judge of character, she has. She’s managed to love us both. We can get along for a few minutes at a time, I think.”
“We can. I’ll change the wards to the Manor. You and your family will be welcome anytime.”

Harry gave great consideration to the peace offering.

“We’ll have to —”

Ginny’s announcement ended their joint cessation of hostilities —

“I‘m ready. Don't forget to give Lily Luna —”

The red-head finally registered the peanut butter all over her middle child’s hair.

“— and Albus a bath. James?” she queried as to the root cause of Albus’ gooey hair.

Harry merely sighed in corroboration.

“I’ll be back day after tomorrow.”
“That long!?” Lucius interjected in paralytic fear.
“Twins. Long labor; hard delivery, even if you’ve had other children. These are her firsts.”
“Get going, you two,” Harry advised as he corralled his misbehaving — and fighting — children, “Newt and I will get this crew sorted.”

Three seconds later, the Lord and his relation were gone.

The distant cousins arrived to the sound of sobbing from the expectant mother and soothing from a mother who’d been down the same path.

“I can’t DO this! It fucking HURTS! Uhhhhhh!”

Luna braced Hermione after the long, hard tightening of her abdomen receded into mere soreness.

“Are you staying, Lord Malfoy?” Ginny asked whilee searching for an out-of-the-way place to stow her overnight kit.
“It's 'Lucius'. Yes, Mrs. Potter. If she wants me to.”

The green tint to Lord Malfoy’s complexion was unbecoming — so was queasy dizziness that had him unsure in his footing. The women quickly surmised his physical discomfort with this new experience.

“She wont want you,” Ginny grinned, “but she’ll need you. Ignore anything she tells you — especially the ‘no more sex’ and ‘get away from me’ parts. You’ll have to judge the ‘don’t touch me’ ones; her skin may be sensitive from the pain — and 'Ginevra' or 'Ginny' will do.”
“Right, right... Shall we join them?” he suggested as he stripped to his trousers and sat on their bed to await instructions, bare feet dangling from the side.

Best estimates placed Lady Malfoy near the transition stage of labor. She’d apparently tossed and turned her way through the early stage, used to the impossibility of gaining a comfortable position while carrying active Malfoys. Hermione rocked between competing states of ecstasy and frustration as the cramping and hardening happened over and over, increasingly without respite.

“Ginny!?” Hermione managed, leaning heavily on Luna to make her way towards her long absent friend.
“You look… tired.”
“It’s good to see you too,” Hermione shot back with a grin and tears, “Oh fuck — this hurts so much! Worse than — Ahhhh!”

Her wail stole words Lucius thanked Merlin never came; he wanted no reminders of her torture in the recently demolished Manor. He stared in awe at this woman who’d changed him, battle by battle, into something different (and, on some days, better) — making sure he stayed out of the way unless asked to participate. His reprieve lasted three hours.

“Lucius? I think Hermione could do with some broth to keep up her strength. No — don’t call your elf; I’ll make it for her. I need to add some herbs to prevent Labor-stopping Yoonionists from interfering. They're all over the room. Please escort her down the hallway — a change of scenery should help.”
“Now!?” the squeamish master of the household responded!
“Yes, NOW — you pale-faced prat! I'M the one in PAIN! Get your pasty arse over here.”

Still frozen in place, Lucius looked back and forth between Hermione’s sisters-in’childbirth for countermanding instructions. None came. Rescue would not be forthcoming from either witch.

“Yes, luv…” he sighed.

Of the momentous event, Lucius had limited memories post-facto (considerably more, though, than his bladdered arse remembered after Draco's arrival) — these consisted of several memorable quotes:

“YOU did this to me, you baby-making BASTARD!”
“Should’ve let those fucking DEMENTORS have your ar— AHHHHHH—se!”
“You’ve had your LAST sex in this LIFETIME! With ANYBODY!”
“Your FUCKING BITS will be TOAST before I let you do THIS to me AGAIN!”
“Oh Merlin-Oh Merlin-Oh Merlin, Lucius — please don’t leave! I LOVE you —”

— and then Hermione climbed onto their bed on hands and knees and Lucius witnessed the most ghastly view of his favorite parts of her in this lifetime — until some merciful Being took his consciousness away and he landed face-down on the floor, blissfully removed from seeing the delivery.

At its end, his wife presented him with midday and midnight sons - the blonde Phaeton Ophiuchus [Shining serpent-bearer] and his chestnut-haired younger brother Perseus Jordanus [Secret king of the healing river] — both sporting the steel grey eyes and fine-boned features of their father.
Lucius made the near-fatal error of calling them the “heir and a spare” and received painful correction from both his wives (living and deceased). The Malfoy bond magic — sealed when their firstborn took his first breath in the world — declared Hermione a blood Malfoy with all rights and privileges thereto.
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With Good Intentions