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The Xeoforce Equation	By : Esequell Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 5632 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
4. All That Slithers
The subtle breath of the page turning was loud enough for Hermione to appreciate how much she loved books that did that. Something about the old-paper smell and the texture of thick parchment reminded her of much happier days. She hit a pocket of unidentifiable runes. She'd never seen anything like it. The author – A M Anonymous – clearly intended to make it difficult to glean more than scraps from his work.
Hermione was poring over five separate volumes, trying to concoct a working key to decipher his home-made language when an envelope slapped down on her desk loudly. Lucius towered over her.
'Well?' he prompted coldly. His gaze fell pointedly to the paper.
When it became clear she wasn't getting a more detailed explanation, she tipped the envelope up and discovered it was magically extended. Three profiles fell out. Her own face stared back from the top sheet. She resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably.
'If you think I'll consent to be ordered around by a mere chit of a girl!' he stopped and composed himself before his normally polite tongue could run away with a thousand things he wanted to say.
Oddly, none of them included Mudblood. All the same, there were a few things in there he was certain she'd find very offensive.
Hermione took a couple of deep breaths. She held up the accompanying letter, written on Ministry headed parchment.
'You've got three choices, according to this. Why don't you just pick someone else, if you don't want me?'
He bent to snatch up the first profile. His teeth flashed. 'Sky is insane! I should know. And Fairwater always was and will always be a Deatheater at heart!'
'A reformed Deatheater,' she corrected calmly. The implication wasn't lost on him, evidenced by the way his lips thinned in displeasure.
'He wants me to suffer,' Lucius concluded selfishly, drawing himself up straight. 'He wants me to slip up.'
Hermione snatched up Fairwater's picture. She gaped at it.
'I know this one! He was with Carrigan! I saw him just before I disapparated!'
Lucius resisted the urge to rake a hand through his hair.
'The plot thickens,' he arched a brow. With his arms folded, he reminded her of a child told to put away his toys. She was unsure if it was mostly amusing, or mostly annoying. Petulance definitely didn't become him.
Lucius put a hand on one hip and sulked; 'If this is the price of freedom, I must say-'
'At least you know me,' she cut him off. 'Maybe I'm the lesser of three evils in this case? Much as I hate to admit it.'
'And do you intend to accept?' his eyebrow arched eloquently.
'I don't think I have much choice. I have to pay rent, you know.'
'This is unconscionable!' he hissed. He bent suddenly. His face was so close that she could see his eyelashes. 'Let me assure you, Miss Granger...should you accept this position, I shan't make it easy for you.'
Hermione put her quill down with a bit of a bump. This isn't about me, she realised. This is about control. He's not getting any from me.
'I wish I could say I'm surprised!' she snapped. She flicked her wand to pack her papers away and grabbed her bag. Lucius straightened. He seemed about to say something but then he huffed in contempt and strode away.
oOo
Hermione woke to Kreacher's muttering. It never ceased to irritate her. He tugged back the drapes and flooded the room with unwelcome sunshine. She buried her nose in the cold half of the pillow and bit her cheek.
'Filthy little-' his voice faded away behind the laundry basket. 'My poor Mistress!'
Hermione bunched her fists in the pillow and restrained herself from throwing it at his head.
'If she only knew!' he went on, sotto voce.
'Kreacher!' Hermione groaned. 'Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity and it's really rude.'
Kreacher's insincere bow hide the scowl on his pinched, angry little face.
'And please don't come in here when I'm sleeping,' she added.
'Yes...Miss,' he oozed, reluctantly.
He took a last disapproving look at her over his bony shoulder and slammed the door with a snap of his fingers.
'Filthy little Mudblood-' he muttered. The stairs creaked under his weight as he descended.
'Asshole,' she mouthed into the pillow.
oOo
Despite having more frequent visitors, Grimmauld Place was never completely clean. Hermione despised the smell of dust. Dust made a house feel dead and abandoned so she asked Kreacher to clean it.
She climbed the narrow, creaky stairs to the third floor where the carpet was singed around the edges. It looked like the result of a magical accident, maybe uncontrolled wandless magic. The door frames bore little marks too, as though a mad dog had taken chunks out in boredom. She met Kreacher by accident. He was like a little grey ghost in the restless dark. He squeezed a filthy rag into a bucket of disgusting, brown water and stopped scrubbing the skirting when he sensed her presence.
'What's through that door?' Hermione pointed to the bare attic steps with the lighted lip of her wand.
Kreacher laid the rag painstakingly over the edge of the bucket as though having to squeeze it out again would be insultingly time consuming and turned to her as though he was holding an invisible box, no bigger than a biscuit tin.
'A box,' he said darkly. His face grew a nasty little grin. 'Mistress leave it with Kreacher. Bad things inside. Miss not go there,' he gazed at the bolted door. 'Unless...she like ghosts?'
Hermione folded her arms as a chill raced down the back of her neck.
'That's not funny.'
'Kreacher only means to protect Miss-' he bowed obsequiously.
She turned on her heel. Being alone in this spooky, damp old house gave her the creeps. Kreacher smiled at her back, his sharp teeth suddenly a bit brighter, like a tiny shark who'd gained a small victory. As she took the stairs down to the second landing, she could have sworn she heard him chuckle.
'Horrible little beast,' she breathed, disturbing a small cloud of dust from the edge of an empty picture frame.
oOo
Malfoy Manor loomed through a thick, early morning fog that muffled the calls of unseen peacocks. The white birches were ghostly in this atmosphere. She could feel the moisture on her face, the sensation dulled somewhat on her scars. It smelled fresh but she didn't like the feeling outdoors. She wanted the warmth of a fire and the security of a smaller space.
Lucius was in the drawing room with a huge, shaggy fur ball at his feet. She knew it was a dog because it had a tail at one end and a nose at the other. Either that, or it was a new species of small, long-haired pony.
'Good morning, Mr Malfoy,' she said, as lightly as she could. The Ministry letter had come at breakfast, depriving her of a rasher of crispy bacon in the name of kindness to owls.
'Isn't this ironic,' he lifted his glass to his lips. 'All your fine achievements and you end up working for me.'
The half empty bottle on the little silver table by the armchair suggested he'd already drowned his sorrows in amber nectar.
'I'm not working for you. I'm working for the Ministry.'
He made a derisive noise. 'Let me assure you, Miss Granger, half their funding comes from my vault.'
'Maybe,' she conceded. 'But not on paper.'
The breath rushed out of her when the dog opened two crimson eyes. It came to sniff her knees. A second snaked out of the dark behind his chair. Lucius observed like a man enjoying his entertainment. Hermione reined in the wild fear that threatened to steal her famous Gryffindor courage and held her ground.
'You don't like dogs?' he arched an eyebrow at her. 'How unfortunate. Now I have some liberty I intend to walk them often, far from the grounds. I do enjoy the open countryside.'
'That's a dog?' she fought to keep the fear out of her voice.
A bright red tongue lolled out, displaying the tips of pointed teeth. A wet nose nudged her knuckles.
'Can you get it off me?'
He smirked. He lifted his chin. 'Adder. Arrow! Lie down.'
The dogs planted themselves at his feet where the larger put his jaw on his Master's knee and gave him the quintessential expression of dogs everywhere – huge, innocent, hungry eyes. Lucius scratched him idly behind the ear and indulged a rare little smile that had nothing to do with sarcasm. It looked like he'd borrowed it from someone else's face.
'I wonder if you understand the...compromising...position you've put yourself in, Miss Granger? What will the Daily Prophet say when they see you consorting with the enemy?'
She folded her arms.
'It's a job, Mr Malfoy. That's all there is to it.'
'Of course,' he arched a fine, dark brow. His fingers moved automatically through thick grey fur. 'And naturally, being so close to the book will prove useful to your research. How convenient for you.'
'I think you're labouring under a misconception,' Hermione said softly.
'Do tell,' his lips lifted in a cold smile.
'You seem to think I wanted this.'
Hermione sighed. 'Do you need me this morning?'
'As a matter of fact, I do.'
'What time?'
'Do you have somewhere else to be, Miss Granger?'
'Not that it's any of your business but I was going to apparate into town for breakfast.'
'Misty,' he said, imperiously. The elf appeared with a crack at her feet.
'Is Miss hungry?' Misty squeaked. 'Misty has...sausages, bacon, eggs...croissants, cold meats-'
'It's OK Misty, really.'
'Honey cured bacon?' Misty suggested, hopefully. Her eagerness to please was heartbreaking.
'You really don't need to,' Hermione assured her.
'You'd better accept, Miss Granger,' Lucius drawled as he caressed the dogs shaggy head. He looked amused. 'Misty gets rather restless with nothing to do. I'm certain I could find her something else-'
'A bacon sandwich would be amazing,' Hermione finally relented.
'Yes, Miss!' Misty practically bounced. 'Would Miss like sauce? What sort? And butter? How thickly spread?'
When Misty was gone, Hermione turned to him. The way he lounged arrogantly in the armchair sickened her.
'Why do you do that?'
'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'
'You make her life harder.'
'Misty is my servant,' he said patiently, in a tone you might use to educate a young child, 'Do you propose to tell me how I should behave in my own house?'
Hermione bit her cheek to keep from retaliation. Lucius went on, content to provoke;
'I can see she's already wrapped you around her little finger. Wilful creature,' he sniffed.
Hermione toyed with the handle of her wand. How she wanted to hex him. Some people never change, she thought.
The dog gave a little yelp of pain. Lucius sat forward to investigate. Hermione nearly lost her early morning coffee and her sanity when he cooed;
'Ooh, shush, love, it's alright. It's just a tick.'
He's like one of those weird old women who adore their fifty cats. It was disturbing to watch.
'There,' he exclaimed triumphantly, as he brandished a squirming little white monster at the tip of his wand and gave his dog an affectionate smile. 'All better.'
He eyed Hermione. She tensed. She half expected him to flick it at her. Anything with more than four legs was bad news in her opinion. His eyes smirked in quiet satisfaction. She schooled her face free of fear and arched a brow in silent challenge. He flung it into the fire. It sizzled and popped.
'I require a trip to the bank, Miss Granger,' he said, without taking his eyes off her. He was waiting for her to breathe out her relief, or relax her tense shoulders. She fought the urge.
'Fine.'
'And then...I require a few items. Since you've nominated yourself to shadow my every move, I'm afraid you'll have to tolerate some time at my favourite tailor.'
oOo
He was precisely on time. She wasn't surprised. The infamous Lucius Malfoy late for an appointment? No way, she thought. He was preened and groomed like his showy peacocks. There was a bounce to his step and he'd clearly swallowed at least one Pepper Up potion for the hangover. I'd say he's looking forward to this.
She slipped an envelope out of her purse and stopped him before he could walk right past her. Misty was already hauling open the heavy front door. A cold draft blew up her robes and brought on a shiver.
'The Minister has a few terms, Mr Malfoy.'
She held up the silver bangles. He didn't look best pleased and he didn't offer his wrist. She sighed.
'I know you don't like it. Believe me, I don't either.'
He didn't move a muscle. In the end she grabbed his cuff.
'I can manage,' he pulled himself out of her grasp and slid the silver bracelet over his hand.
It merged into his skin and he gave an irritated little hiss of pain.
'I'm sorry,' she said honestly, when she realised the bracelets had a bit of a bite. Perhaps it was a warning? She flicked her wand over them and a shimmery, connecting cord became visible for a just a second before it faded to transparency.
'OK,' she said anxiously. She pocketed her wand. 'Obviously...a few other conditions apply. You can't apparate away from me. That'd be completely stupid. I have a full license so that shouldn't be a problem-'
'You can't expect me to trust my person to your...questionable...abilities!' he grouched.
'It's only Diagon Alley, Mr Malfoy,' she couldn't keep a hint of irritation out of her voice. 'I think I can manage that. Incidentally. Don't think that...cutting off my arm...will get rid of me. The spell won't break and if any harm comes to me, you'll be transported straight to the Ministry. The bracelet operates as a Portkey in the event I become unable to defend us. I can also activate by choice it if we're-' she swallowed hard. 'Attacked.'
She took a deep breath.
'Any spell you cast on me will rebound...twofold.'
His eye cooled by a few degrees.
'It's the only way,' she said.
Piercing blue met warm brown. For a minute there was a tug of war that almost crackled with wandless magic then his lips thinned in displeasure.
'Fine,' he hissed. 'If you're quite satisfied.'
A lesser witch might have taken pleasure in the power she now had over him but Hermione was more concerned that bruising his ego would lead to tougher working conditions.
At the gate she drew her wand and uncomfortably offered her hand. He cut her a cold look. A hint of derision crept in to his expression. He looked like he'd smelled something nasty.
'Will you at least try to trust me?' she persisted.
His jaw was set. He ground his teeth.
'If I arrive short of so much as a hair, I promise you I won't require magic to make you regret it.'
She grabbed his hand.
They materialised at the apparition point in Diagon Alley. His disquiet was buried instantly beneath the thick mask of an extremely gifted actor. She knew then that she'd glimpsed a secret world back at the Manor, a chink in the armour of an exceedingly private man. Lucius Malfoy is obviously more than he seems, she realised.
A bent old woman gasped at their arrival. She stared Lucius up and down, no doubt recalling something written in the paper. Hermione made her wand and herself a bit more visible but she needn't have bothered. Lucius lifted his chin and his eyebrow in frozen, wordless enquiry. The old lady shuffled away quickly with her gaze pointedly elsewhere.
With a slight nod of infinite satisfaction, Lucius turned to look down at her.
'Miss Granger,' his said, his voice softer than silk, 'Be so good as to warn me before you lay a hand on me again.'
She folded her arms. She couldn't help the flush that crept up her cheeks.
'It's for your own protection,' he added a bit more gently than she expected, 'I've spent many years around individuals who'd gladly hex me in the back. I'm afraid my reactions are quite...automatic.'
'Oh,' she looked a bit sheepish. 'I suppose that makes sense.'
A quick nod and tight smile. He pointed down the street with his cane to an upmarket liquor shop.
'There first,' he said, in a commanding tone that she thought, rather uncomfortably, might just set the standard for the whole day.
Hermione soon prayed for a reprieve. Lucius Malfoy liked shopping. It was like trying to keep track of a child in a sweet shop. He could put on a turn of speed that she had to jog to match and she absolutely wouldn't do that. It resulted in a few tense words and a battle of the wills that eventually forced him to slow down. He could also disappear too easily into the crowd. She was grateful for the bracelets. He was recognised every fifty yards. With all the nodding she was amazed he didn't get dizzy.
'Lucius!' a soft, feminine voice positively oozed out of the doorway of the run down little tobacconists. The bell tinkled behind her as she came prowling down the steps in heels so high that Hermione was amazed she didn't fall flat on her perfect face. Her long, dark hair was artfully arranged over one shoulder in a complex braid. There was slender serpentine tattoo on her jugular. She slinked over to him like an underfed cat and offered her hand in greeting. 'How wonderful to see you again. Your absence has been noted!'
He kissed her knuckles. 'Do give my regards to your husband,' he said silkily.
'Of course,' she smiled, so beguilingly that Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She stood uncomfortably to one side, arms folded.
I've never seen anyone try to ooze up a mans trouser leg before, and now I have, I wish I'd had the sense to look away.
'You will join us, for our little Christmas get-together? Everyone would be so delighted to see you.'
'Naturally.'
The dark haired witch giggled and laid a hand on his forearm. Hermione had the very distinct feeling that a lot more had transpired between them than a bit of flirting. There was a brief exchange and her startling blue eyes turned all of a sudden to Hermione.
'Oh Lucius...how quaint! I must say, I thought you tastes ran to more refined prey?'
'Excuse me?' Hermione said coldly.
'I know who you are,' the dark witch smiled without a trace of humour.
She turned her attention back to Lucius in the best approximation of a pout she'd ever seen on a woman. Apart from Bellatrix Lestrange.
'Your kitten has claws,' she purred. Her eyes flicked to Hermione. 'Let's see her use them!'
Lucius stepped in the way of her wand, his chest blocking her line of sight. He bent to whisper in her ear.
'Now, now, Rosaline. We wouldn't want to cause another scene, would we?'
He arched a questioning brow to which she pouted and casually, stowed her wand. Hermione refused to look as intimidated as she felt.
'You're right,' Rosaline murmured. 'Do come and visit, won't you, Lucius? Mercy misses you terribly, you know.'
He nodded. She oozed away, trailing the scent of expensive perfume that made Hermione feel slightly sick.
'What a vile woman,' she said uncomfortably. 'I'm surprised she can get that much make-up on her face. She must use a trowel.'
His eyebrow arched.
'Well well, Miss Granger,' he chuckled lightly. 'Jealousy certainly doesn't become you.'
He tutted gently. His mastery of the expression of Fatherly disapproval made her feel weak and small. She hated it. This isn't what I imagined I be doing at my age. I should be finding the Xeoforce cure, not trailing Lucius Malfoy like a pet.
'I'm not jealous of her!' Hermione folded her arms a bit defensively. 'I just think she looks ridiculous.'
oOo
'Your daughter, Lucius?' the tailor asked curiously. He was a plump, diminutive man with a comb-over and very skinny legs. Judging by the way he faffed and fussed over the under-dressed Malfoy, he was almost certainly bent toward the male persuasion.
'Thankfully not,' Lucius eyed himself appraisingly in the full-length mirrors. The room reminded Hermione of a dance studio.
She squirmed on her chair and tried not to draw any attention to the fact that her bladder was full and she'd been sitting down for two hours with nothing to do except watch him decide on endless fabrics and styles.
Why did I say yes to this stupid job? Merlin's balls, what possessed me?
Mr Clarence chuckled and raised both eyebrows.
'She's not that either,' Lucius set him straight without a hint of shame. He eyed himself. 'Do you have this in silver? Silver brings out my eyes.'
Clarence gave a little bow and scuttled off to fetch the second most expensive silver brocade he had. Lucius turned to the side.
'Miss Granger, lend me your eye. Does this jacket make me look plump?'
'Plump?' she parroted dumbly.
'Mmm,' he nodded absently. 'Black is hardly my colour. It makes me look so pale. Perhaps blue?'
'You're asking me for fashion advice?' she muttered uncomfortably. 'Honestly, I don't think I'll be a lot of help.'
She sighed at his questioning little look and felt the flush rise. She gestured to him.
'It needs to be longer. If the panels were more-' she gestured.
'More...what, Miss Granger?' his eyebrow arched.
She sighed. She fished her wand out and eyed the cut. With a couple of flicks she made a small change here and there and tucked her wand under her arm. He eyed himself. Both eyebrows went up this time.
'Yes, that'll do nicely. Who'd have thought it, Miss Granger.'
She went back to her uncomfortable chair with the feeling that the world had just tilted. She was now in an alternate reality where she gave fashion tips to vain, arrogant supremacists.
oOo
Hermione was miserable. Her backside was numb. Clarence didn't appreciate her help. She could tell by the way he glanced appraisingly over the top of his spectacles. He tutted, shook his head in blatant disappointment at her Muggle-born inadequacy and fastened Malfoy's cloak with a flourish.
She had to admit Lucius cut an imposing and perhaps classical figure but he was no prince. More of a toad. Never in my life have I met such a pompous, self-serving, vain, shallow prick of a man.
'This way,' Lucius gestured her abruptly towards the door. He didn't wait for her to catch up.
'Slow down!' she hissed on the steps. She bent to rub her calf. 'Pins and needles!'
He drew his wand.
'Don't!' she squeaked. Before she could stop him he gave an irritated little gasp and planted a hand on his hip in obvious discomfort.
'For Merlin's sake!' he hissed through his clenched teeth.
'You obviously forgot you can't cast against me.'
'It was hardly against you, Miss Granger,' he said as he squeezed his eyes shut briefly. 'It was supposed to help,' he added.
'I know,' she said delicately. It would have been a nice gesture, ordinarily.
An eddy in the crowd suggested the movement of a body with purpose. Hermione's hand closed on her wand inside her pocket. She spied a corn blonde head of perfectly styled hair and realised too late who was slithering towards them.
'Well,' Skeeter laid a perfectly manicured hand on her hip. She smiled hungrily. 'A pretty picture indeed. Mr Malfoy. Didn't expect to see you out and about. And...Miss Granger. I never forget a face.'
Hermione said nothing. Lucius tried to relax the tense muscles in his legs. He would not go tripping about. He resolved to stand perfectly still until it wore off.
'Treatment coming along nicely, is it?' Skeeter gestured to her face. 'We expected more scarring. It's always a good story. Triumph of Gryffindor courage over adversity. Care for an exclusive or are you two busy? First date is it?'
Lucius looked down his nose. In that expression Hermione read more than if he'd made a whole speech.
'No,' he said coldly.
Skeeter flipped open her bag. Her dreaded Quick Quotes Quill escaped, notepad in tow.
'Must be your first time out and about since Azkaban,' she smiled at Lucius. 'Good to be free, I bet. So traumatic,' she looked sympathetic.
'The bathroom facilities leave much to be desired,' he drawled.
'Mmm,' Skeeter nodded. 'You seem to have all the help you need in dear Miss Granger, war heroine,' the Quill scribbled uncontrollably. 'How touching! Is there romance in the air?'
'Absolutely not,' Hermione flushed.
Lucius hissed; 'Certainly not. Miss Granger is on Ministry business. Past that I decline to comment.'
'I can keep a secret,' Skeeter smiled.
She disapparated with a crack. Hermione cursed under her breath.
'Do you want to sit down?' she asked him delicately.
'I doubt I can make it to the chair,' he admitted.
She swallowed her amusement with great difficulty and waited until the tension in his face drained away. He shook himself out of his discomfort and gestured to the next shop.
'No,' she hung back. 'Absolutely not! I've been sitting on a bloody stool for two hours! I need to powder my nose. Right now. And feed myself!'
She headed in the direction of a little tavern named The Triwizard Cup.
'Absolutely not!' he grabbed her discreetly by her elbow. 'I won't be seen dining in...' he cast about for a suitable word and finding nothing that adequately described his general air of disgust he settled for; 'there! Follow me.'
He lead her around a corner to a gilded, beautiful establishment that was far bigger inside than out. She managed to catch the briefest glimpse of the clientèle before he pushed the door open with his cane. His eyes flicked pointedly. Inside.
'Come, Miss Granger,' he drawled, 'Let's not have a scene.'
'I don't think I'm dressed for this,' she was only wearing her work robes.
His eyes threatened consequences if she refused. He bent to speak softly to her hairline.
'My reputation already hangs by a thread,' he hissed. 'If you want to eat today, you'll do as I say. I won't be subjected to peasant food.'
'Fine,' she felt insulted to the core.
There was a whole flight of steps before they got near a bathroom, or lunch. Her bladder complained almost as loudly as her stomach. She couldn't help but notice that silk blouses, heels and expensive coats were in abundance. She felt completely misplaced.
In the decadent loo, she pointed her wand at her robes and transfigured something a bit more suitable.
Lucius eyed the shapely backside of a woman on her way to the restaurant. She reminded him of Narcissa. A slender figure padded up to him in black flats, her hair piled up. A few sweet little curls tickled her face. Lucius did a double take.
'Miss Granger,' his lips lifted in a little smirk. 'Well, well.'
He gestured her ahead of him. He bent to speak to her bun at the door.
'I do hope no-one casts Finite Incantatem near you. Perhaps that'll give you reason enough to behave. I'm sure I could manage the rebound of such a simple spell.'
'Don't you dare!' she hissed as quietly as she could.
He smirked. 'A dare? Such a brave little Gryffindor. Don't tempt me.'
The food was – predictably – delicious but she'd have paid a lot to see him devour a pub pork pie with a plastic spork. She felt uncomfortable at the little window table. There was a pink rose in a slender vase between them and filtering in via an enchantment, rather boring classical music. The rich and influential all around made her feel like she'd stepped onto a movie set.
Lucius started work on his second glass of wine.
'Isn't it a bit early for that?' she gestured to it.
'It most certainly isn't,' he said haughtily.
She ate in silence for a while.
'I used to bring Draco here. You chose his favourite lunch. Strange you should share similar tastes.'
'I never noticed,' Hermione said. She was reminded of the day she'd clocked him in the nose just before Buckbeak's execution. 'I was a bit too busy watching for his hexes at school to look into his deeper personality traits.'
Lucius smirked.
'He mentioned your...dislike.'
'My dislike?' she looked up. 'Of him? He was obnoxious in school! He made a habit of calling me things that most civilised people don't even think.'
Lucius sipped his wine.
'I imagine you think he learned it from me?'
She decided not to answer that but her expression said enough.
'He didn't,' Lucius tilted his head. There was an almost apologetic edge to his expression that very nearly sent her crawling for cover.'Those...terms...are a foolish display of snobbery. I did try to teach the boy subtlety. It's hardly my fault he didn't listen. Sometimes, Miss Granger, implication can be just as hurtful as an insult. It's certainly more dignified.'
She shook her head in disgust. 'So what you're saying is, it's fine to think it, fine to hint at it, but it's not OK to say it. That's not making me feel much better.'
'It shows restraint,' he informed her.
'It's a lie,' she said softly. 'You might as well just say what you mean.'
'Come now, Miss Granger. Are you telling me you never lie? Not even to protect your friends?'
'That's different,' she defended. 'That's a white lie.'
'One day the world will deal you a harsher hand and you'll find reasons to lie through your pretty little teeth that supersede the desire to feel morally superior.'
Hermione sighed softly, through her nose, irritated.
'I don't have a desire to feel superior,' she said defensively. 'You really don't know the first thing about me.'
He gazed down his nose at her. Then with the arch of a perfect blonde eyebrow he summoned the waiter with the bill.
'I only read books that interest me,' he said coldly. She caught his implication and bit her tongue to keep from a retort.
oOo
She was still stewing when he towed her into an upmarket stylists and instructed her to sit and wait.
'Do try to be patient,' he said, a bit cuttingly. 'If you can.'
There was nothing so common as a magazine rack in here. Gods forbid some Pureblood witch or wizard with a screaming desire to be restyled should even have to wait.
'Why Mr Malfoy,' came a voice. A sycophantic little weasel of a man slunk out of a shady corner of the shop. Despite working in probably the best lit shop town, he carried an air of perpetual darkness.
'Carlos,' Lucius nodded.
'What on Earth happened to you?' the little man folded his arms and regarded his latest project with a one-sided smirk.
'A season or two in the dark,' Lucius said coolly. 'Amongst...other things.'
Lucius gestured to his trademark hair. 'A little...fluff, I think. Leave it longer than usual. I quite prefer it.'
'Your daughter?' Carlos gestured to Hermione, who managed to stop herself looking as offended as she felt.
'No. Thankfully. If I'd known you were still working, I'd have had you up to the Manor sooner.'
'They begged me to come out of early retirement,' Carlos informed him happily, as Lucius sat down with his cane between his knees.
Carlos inspected his hair from every angle and began running his fingers through it lightly. 'Down on one knee,' he smirked. 'It was very sweet. I couldn't resist. I just...love-' he said a little breathlessly, 'Your hair.'
Lucius smirked. Carlos fished his wand out of the little holster at his hip and stood in a pose so reminiscent of a stereotype that Hermione had to look away to keep from smiling. Then he began snipping away, contorting himself into the oddest positions to admire every little angle of his work.
'A little light feathering would suit you. Just a touch,' Carlos emphasised. 'Wouldn't want you too floaty, or the wind will pick it up too easily. Oh, I'll never understand why you straighten it. It has a lovely natural curl.'
At that, Hermione's ears perked. Carlos noticed and turned to her.
'He does,' he assured her. 'Like a blonde cherub.'
'Rest assured, Miss Granger, I'll shave it off before I allow anyone to see that.'
Carlos clipped a good portion of Lucius' mane on top of his head. He set about the business of wand-straightening his style from the bottom up. He looked conflicted about what he was doing.
'There,' he announced. 'Just a little fluff in the morning,' he gave it a light scrunch and played with the topmost layer and nodded. 'Perfect. And what about you?' Carlos enquired of her.
Hermione jumped when she realised he was standing right in front of her, that threatening looking wand in his hand.
'I'm fine. Thank you.'
'Miss Granger hasn't realised that I prefer to endure the curious gazes of the general public for the right reasons,' Lucius said drily.
'And what does that mean?' she scowled at him.
'It means that this,' Carlos plucked up one of her roots. 'Just won't do.'
'Unfortunately, I have to be seen in public with you,' Lucius added unkindly.
Her eyes narrowed.
'You are the most...arrogant...presumptuous-' she ran out of insults. Not because she didn't have any left but because Carlos flicked his wand at the mirror. She stopped talking to stare at her own reflection.
She had to admit it was an improvement. Regardless, she wasn't going to let anyone bully her into changing her appearance so that he could feel better about himself.
'No,' she said. 'Absolutely not. You're not cutting my hair.'
Carlos smirked. The curly haired beauty in the mirror morphed. Her hair hung in manageable waves, extended magically. It tickled her lower ribs. She stopped breathing. She'd never been able to get her hair that long. It looked gorgeous with honey shades worked into it. She folded her arms.
'Who said anything about cutting it?' Carlos smirked.
'No. Thank you.'
She fixed Lucius with a threatening gaze that said everything she was trying not to voice aloud. I'll get my own back for this, you pig.
Hermione folded her arms and waited for him outside. A chilly breeze stirred her fringe. She cast a glance at his smirking, arrogant face and decided it'd be best if she didn't meet his eyes at all.
'What a shame,' he murmured.
Hermione rounded on him, narrowly resisting the urge to pull her wand and stick the loaded end under his jaw for good measure. She wanted to hex him.
'Listen to me you pompous arse,' she hissed. 'You can keep you opinions to yourself. I'm not here to be your accessory!'
He didn't flinch. That irritated her.
'And stop insulting my hair!' she resisted the urge to yell for fear of attracting too much attention.
'Dear me, Miss Granger,' he tutted with false sympathy. 'If you're going to spend time around me, you will have to grow a thicker skin. I suggest an enchantment.'
She forced a smile. 'Are you finished shopping?'
'No,' his brow lifted. 'Actually I have much more in mind, yet.'
oOo
Hermione fell asleep by the fire with a book open on her belly. Kreacher poked around at the embers and added another log with a snap of his fingers. He stared at her in open contempt.
'Go on,' Harry said softly to him. Kreacher bowed and left with nothing but a single glance over his shoulder.
'Filthy...filthy beast...' he muttered as the door swung shut.
Harry draped a blanket over her and dropped onto the sofa opposite.
'I was trying not to wake you,' he said when her eyelids flickered open.
'It's OK.'
'How did it go with Malfoy?'
She closed her eyes again and sighed expressively.
'Horrible, Harry. He's such an arse. He hasn't changed a bit.'
'There's a surprise,' Harry smirked.
'What am I going to do? When am I going to find time to put a decent case together for funding when I'm stuck babysitting? I can't even remember...' she cast about for the right words. 'Anything, Harry. It's all just a blur. The Equation.'
'Maybe it'll come back?' Harry leaned on his knees. 'Why don't you make use of his book while you can?'
She smiled softly. She was footsore and weary and worse yet, she was upset. How dare he? How dare he try and change her so he could look better?
'He's definitely got a vendetta against me,' she arched a brow. 'He's got plans every single day this week! He's doing it deliberately. He must know I hate this.'
Harry grinned.
'I'm glad it's you and not me. I'd hex him.'
'I nearly did,' she admitted. 'Not like me at all. I can usually hold my temper better than that but he goes out of his way to be really annoying.'
Harry rose.
'Ginny's probably doing her nut. I should go. Don't let him rile you.'
He bent to kiss her temple and left quietly. Hermione closed her eyes and resolved to forget all about Malfoy, if only for a couple of hours.
oOo
Hermione waited in the study for him. It wasn't the clack of his cane that eventually caught her attention. It was the folded copy of the Daily Prophet on his breakfast table.
Emblazoned for all the world to see was a flushed Hermione and an aloof Lucius Malfoy caught in his trademark sneer outside the tailors. She read;
'Having lost her research grant, soft-hearted Granger seems to have embroiled herself in yet another sticky situation, this time with none other than illustrious ex-Deatheater Lucius Malfoy, previously under house arrest on his family estate. It's too early to tell if she's there for his money or his looks but either way; we can sympathise. Granger clearly has a weakness for strong, famous men. It's certainly not the first time she'd been known to flirt with danger. Ex lover Harry Potter refused to comment.'
Hermione took a slow, deep breath. She wanted to cry. Then a gloved hand reached around her and snapped the Prophet closed. Lucius laid it aside. He smiled tightly.
'Come now, Miss Granger. Surely this isn't your first experience of bad publicity? The wolves are always circling.'
Her eyes filled with tears. He lifted his chin at her. 'You'd do well to try that enchantment.'
She looked away from him, hoping a few breaths would calm her down.
'Don't talk to me,' she said softly.
oOo
Dr Cox was a pleasant, industrious little man in his late fifties, who specialised in supplying potions of the highest quality. He saw as much benefit in recruiting Lucius, and Lucius saw to recruiting him. He noted – during Hermione's brief absence to powder her nose – that she hadn't spoken a word but for a greeting and Lucius wasn't best impressed by her conduct.
'Your daughter?' Cox asked him.
'No. Thank Merlin. A business associate.'
'She bears a passing resemblance to that girl...you know...the one from the War. Potter's friend.'
'I hadn't noticed.'
Once Mr Cox was gone, Lucius pushed Hermione into the dark mouth of an alley and blocked her exit with his arm. He bent to speak softly to her.
'Miss Granger. Your mood is atrocious. It's most unbecoming. Even Cox noticed it. It won't do.'
Hermione was about at her wits end.
'Let me out of here!' she was almost laughing. It was that or cry. 'Malfoy. I mean it.'
He drew himself up. When he didn't move she stepped right up and glared back at his most imperious expression.
'If you can't bring yourself to give a good impression for the sake of my business affairs-' he began.
'Then you can have Fairwater!' she hissed.
His teeth flashed. 'Why you little-'
Hermione whipped her wand from her hidden pocket and jabbed it into his collarbone.
'Shut up, Malfoy. For once in your life, you can bloody well shut up! My lab is gone, Gillian's dead, my home is in tatters and I can't get funding because Skeeter is telling lies about me in the papers!' Hermione poked him a bit harder. 'And if that isn't enough, half the Wizarding world believes I'm having a...weird...affair with you for your money! I don't think I'll ever be able to show my face in public again after this!'
'Miss Granger,' he said, with a dangerous, deathly calm. 'Kindly move your wand.'
She flicked it back into its pocket and raked a hand through her hair. She tried to swallow back the tears but she was too angry. The truth spilled out with them.
'I thought you'd be grateful for a bit of freedom but all you can do is go out of your way to make me feel uncomfortable! It's frankly...pathetic! Especially when I'm actually here to help you!'
She threw her hands up in despair and turned her back to hide her tears.
'Accio tissues!' she snapped at her beaded bag when she couldn't find them by fishing. They flew into her hand.
Lucius' lips thinned. He removed his arm to grant her freedom but she didn't take it. Too ashamed of her tears, he supposed.
'Miss Granger-'
'What?' she whispered, her voice tight with tears. She wiped her eyes.
He closed his eyes briefly to compose the words but apologies never came easily to him.
'I'm sorry.'
'What?' She spun to stare at him.
He spread his hands expressively and gave her an apologetic grimace.
'I don't enjoy being chaperoned like a child,' he said. 'However...I can see it isn't your fault. Forgive me.'
She forced a breath in.
'I-' she tried to form a coherent thought. When she didn't respond he arched an eyebrow impatiently.
'Do stop staring,' he said with less venom than before. She'd never seen self deprecation on his face before.
'OK,' she nodded.
He offered her a gentlemanly hand. When she acquiesced to his touch, he kissed her knuckles lightly and smiled that tight little smile he favoured so. A twinkle in his steely blue eyes suggested genuine feeling. She went unexpectedly warm.
'Lunch?' he asked. 'We have an engagement this afternoon and you ate nothing with Mr Cox.'
oOo
She polished off lunch and side salad in a pleasant little park-side café frequented only by those of a certain status. Despite the chill a few runners were out, as well as those walkers bundled up to brave the cold. Lucius said little as he drank his glass of wine until he flicked her elbow off the table deftly.
'Kindly attempt to behave like a lady?'
She opened her mouth to retort, figured it probably wasn't worth it and finally asked;
'Where exactly am I supposed to put them, then?'
'Anywhere but there,' he looked pointedly at the tablecloth. 'Honestly, Miss Granger. It's like being accompanied by a vagrant,' he spat the word like it was the height of insult. 'Are you quite done?'
'I don't know,' she huffed, offended. 'Are you?'
'For now,' he drawled, that damned eyebrow risen again.
She bit back the urge to have the last word. He leaned back idly in his chair, one hand forever perched on his silver snakes head cane.
'I'm afraid we have an engagement this afternoon. The Minister has seen fit to impose once again. We're to visit an old...acquaintance of mine. Make no mistake, the man is...how shall I put it?' he feigned confusion that faded quickly. 'A monster. I did request intervention from the Unspeakables, but the Minister insists there's "insufficient evidence."'
He rolled his eyes in clear irritation.
'I swear, Miss Granger. I have one and only one frayed little nerve left and that...intolerable lackwit is aggravating my condition! I simply require a second pair of eyes for the sake of my back. Would you oblige me?'
'Am I likely to get hexed?'
His chilly eyes gave little away. He seemed annoyed by her question. She couldn't bring herself to care.
'Must I dignify that with an answer?' he drawled. 'Put it this way, Miss Granger. It wouldn't do for your charge to suffer an inconvenient Avada on your watch...all because you refused to accompany him to an appointment. Would it?'
'Must I dignify that with an answer?' she countered drily as she folded her arms, on the table.
He sighed out an irritated breath through his nose and leaned in, cane ready to flick her elbow again. Hermione drew her wand an inch from her pocket. He stopped, his face gone dark, eyes chilled. He withdrew his hand, his lips gone thin. His eyes promised fair recompense for her cheek.
oOo
The damp stone corridor lead into a mound of Earth that was surrounded by a lush, evergreen forest. It reminded Hermione of a wartime bunker. The forest smelled fresh and there was a heaviness to the sky that spoke of snow to come. It was already icy and a panoramic view of a wide valley suggested they were at altitude.
Lucius' instructions during apparition were quite concise but regardless, she felt shaken and invaded by the pull and tug of his mental suggestions, as though they'd been forced a little too close for comfort.
A jerk of his head toward the tunnel left her with no question of his intention. She eyed the glistening darkness and the worn stone steps, made slippery by ice and moisture. She hesitated. Lucius slipped ahead of her with a sigh.
'Afraid of the dark, Miss Granger?' his suggestion was biting as the Winter wind.
She didn't answer.
At the bottom of the steps stood a balding little man with a tub gut. His cigarette tip glowed. The reflection caught in his glasses and lent the illusion of glowing red eyes. He had the broad hands of a labourer with thick, strong fingers and knuckles that could break a jaw.
Hermione would bet a weeks salary he could pick her up and swing her like a cat. The thought didn't engender much confidence.
'Horace,' Lucius said with fake surprise. If the tone he used with her before was cold, now he was glacial. 'How nice of you to inform me of your change of location. I was forced to consult an old friend before I could even find you.'
'I sent an owl,' the fat man replied, with no hint of apology. 'Fucking Ministry dogs came sniffing about and we wondered if it had anything to do with you.'
Lucius drew himself up. 'What on Earth are you insinuating?'
Horace shrugged. Hermione couldn't help but think that if he was truly unafraid of the elder Malfoy, he was either stupid or ignorant.
'How did you worm your way out?' Horace looked positively hungry to know.
'I think,' Lucius said slowly, as his eyes dropped to the mans belly, 'That the pot should keep it's silence.'
Lucius leaned idly on his cane and went on languidly;
'The ground is icy, isn't it. I almost slipped on my way up here. It would be an unfortunate time to be outside for too long.'
Horace squirmed. Hermione couldn't make heads or tails of what had just transpired but the attitude drained out of Horace's face and in its wake came fear. Something had passed between them in the subtext that Horace found deeply disturbing.
'What's this?' the fat man changed the subject and turned his attention to Hermione.
'My assistant. Miss Infinity Black.'
'Any relation?' Horace asked hungrily.
'None whatsoever. Miss Black has been most helpful to our little...arrangement.'
'Did you bring any with you?'
Hermione felt relieved to be forgotten for now. Horace lead them into a small lift. He gave Lucius a great deal of space. Enough that he could be considered extremely nervous, though he masked it better than most. He flicked his wand at the door. She felt suddenly claustrophobic. She had to work to keep her anxiety off her face and out of her posture but thankfully neither man was paying much attention to her.
'Do you take me for a fool?' Lucius looked down his nose.
'You know I'm no good at patience,' Horace looked slightly apologetic.
'Well,' Lucius smiled tightly. 'Learn. I assure you, the payout will be worth your while.'
Horace wiped his grubby, fat mouth on the back of his hand and nodded. Then the door opened, they were underground, evidenced by the muffled voices that echoed in the way sound did when there was thick stone and dirt involved. Horace lead them down a long tunnel. Lights were tied every few yards, but their halo didn't stretch far enough to provide constant illumination. There were patches of light and dark and in the corners, mud and grime and maybe other, glittering substances that made Hermione extremely nervous.
I'm a researcher for Merlin's sake, not a bloody Auror!
'Miss Black has acquired an unusual specimen,' Lucius drawled casually as Horace opened a large metal door by the handle. 'A girl.'
Horace twitched.
'How old?' he rasped.
'Ten,' Lucius flicked a glance to Hermione. 'Blonde. A sweet child, too.'
'Sweet,' Horace parroted softly, as though he were fetishing dessert. It was enough to make her feel sick but not a patch on the sight beyond the door.
The smell. The ungodly, awful smell of blood and shit...she tried not the breathe but it was too late. She'd seen her fair share of bodies. Medical science would do that to you. Her stomach rolled over and begged for mercy. It was an underground lab. The cages were nothing more than dirt caverns hollowed by magic and propped up by extendable iron struts.
Lucius gestured for her to precede him. Hermione forced her legs to work. She gripped her wand in her pocket. Lucius' gaze didn't leave Horace's face.
Hermione's knees went weak, her backbone suddenly soft as a liquorice straw. She couldn't breathe. Sweat prickled on the back of her neck. It was too hot. A careful glance around caught the cause of that. A vat of silvery liquid bubbled gently. An enchanted stick stirred it tirelessly, bringing up bubbles. The metallic stench was too familiar from potions classes. Unicorn's blood, more than she'd ever seen in one place before.
Hermione jumped as a bare, red hand wrapped around the bars. She swallowed the urge to vomit. She guessed the boy was fifteen, certainly no older. Probably the unlucky victim of snatchers. He was dosed so high on painkillers that he didn't seem to realise half his skin was missing.
Human experimentation, she realised. It's a dream, Hermione. It's just a dream. A really bad dream that'll be over in a minute.
Rickety tables ran the length of the lab holding sample trays of silver-filled bottles. Words passed between Horace and Lucius, sparse and to the point.
'What about your catch?' Horace asked Hermione suddenly.
She gripped her wand until it dug into her hand and called up every ounce of her courage. Then a warm, strengthening hand touched her hip. The lightest press bought comfort and threatened to break her. She moved fluidly out of reach. She cast about for a lie but all she could up with was a convenient, if slightly cowardly escape. She affected her best expression of subservient fear and whispered cautiously; 'May I speak now, Mr Malfoy?'
'No,' Lucius pounced on her question. A flicker of gratitude passed over his face and was submerged under false pride. She wondered if Horace could decode his face so easily as she. 'You may not.'
He put a steady hand on the back of her neck. She didn't have to fake her shudder.
'Miss Black has been...extensively instructed...on her place. Half blood. Necessary, you understand, for work with Muggles. She has such a way with children.'
Hermione wasn't sure which she hated more. Horace's obvious hunger or the man who held her like a possession.
Hermione glanced at the vat. Silvery ripples stirred its molten surface.
She was brought up short by a pair of shiny, reflective silver eyes. A woman was slumped against the bars. Silver ran uncontained from every orifice and even gathered on the skin of her face and legs. She's bleeding the potion. Mactoduplex doesn't do this. What are they trying to make here?
Hermione swallowed the lumpy, foul acid that rose into her mouth and gasped as terror crawled up her back, wrapped around her heart and threatened to take the rest of her logic. She stared at the ground. Deep breaths didn't help. She could smell blood and shit. She swayed.
A hand shot out to grab her elbow and Lucius hissed; 'Come Miss Black. We're leaving.'
'No,' she whispered.
'Move,' his face twisted into such hatred that she felt her legs move without her consent. His fingers hurt where he gripped her arm.
'Let me know when you got a new batch!' Horace called.
Lucius gave him a curt nut. 'I'll see myself out.'
Lucius shoved her none to gently into the lift to buy himself time to perform a quick, complex incantation and sealed the lift door. She recognised it. A tracking spell. He caught her before she could wrench the door open.
'Let go!' she hissed.
With one hand on her wrist to stop her reaching her wand and the other on her throat, he twisted her into the wall and held her there.
'What're you doing!' she squirmed but he was too strong to fight like this.
'Control yourself, Miss Granger!'
'Stop,' she was almost pleading. 'We have to do something. We have to help them!'
'No,' he said sharply. 'Our job is done.'
'I won't walk away from them,' she was almost crying.
She tried to dislodge his hand. It tightened until she gasped and gave up. Regret flickered in the depths of his grey eyes, so close she could see his lashes. Hermione stared at him in mute shock.
'In sixty seconds, the Ministry hounds will arrive to decimate the carcass. You and I will walk outside, pause for the photographic evidence and then, you will take my hand and disapparate. Don't fail me.'
Hermione shoved him, hard. He was ready. Finally out of breath, lacking the upper body strength needed to overpower him, she slumped against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. He didn't let go until the lift ground to stop and the door opened.
His wand snapped free of his cane. He jabbed it into her hip.
'Walk, Miss Granger.'
She raised her eyes to look at him. If he was taken aback by the depth of her hatred, it didn't show. She walked.

A/N - More to come soon!
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The Xeoforce Equation