Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Last Gift	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 9747 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Everyone was jumpy in the wake of Voldemort�s
impromptu appearance.� Harry had become
quite sullen, Ron uncharacteristically quiet, and Lucius
had once again snapped shut like an alligator�s jaws.� At that night�s Order meeting, it was
unanimously declared that anyone close to the members of the resistance should
take shelter at Hogwarts as soon as possible.

That meant Hermione�s parents.�
She finally had to explain to everyone what she had done.� Now they knew how she�d obliviated
them, given them entirely new identities, and sent them to forge a new path in Australia.� People seemed to be surprised and relieved by
her forward thinking and were ready to move on to planning the search for
Harry�s cousin - until Lucius spoke up.

�Hermione,� he said from the corner he�d taken to leaning in
during meetings, �if he wants to find them, he will find them.�

All eyes turned to him; it was the first time he�d spoken since Voldemort�s appearance earlier that day.� Many had almost forgotten he was there.� Hermione, for her part, forgot that everyone else was there when his eyes met
hers.� The look that was there existed
only for her; how she knew, she wasn�t sure.�

�It�s like�trying to find a needle in a haystack,� she
responded.� There were millions of people
in Australia;
how could Voldemort possibly manage to find just two?

Lucius
shifted, standing up straighter.� The
look on his face said that he would rather be having this conversation in
private.� However, that wasn�t an option.� �You know what you took from him,� he said
carefully, in a low voice.

Bellatrix.� Hermione closed her eyes and fought
tears.� She knew Lucius
was right even if she didn�t know how he was aware of her actions.� He was a man who knew things and this time
wasn�t any different.� The Dark Lord hadn�t
loved Bellatrix, but he had borne a selfish obsession
for her.� That she, Hermione, had dared
to take her from him was a grievous slight and one that would not be
overlooked.

�What did you take from
him?� Harry asked suddenly.� His voice
was strange and his posture closed; he had been a positively foul mood since
the meeting began, but had thus far held his tongue.

Hermione turned to meet his stormy green eyes.� She hadn�t told anyone about her trip to the
Death Eater camp.� The way she�d
explained it to them, she had come straight from Knockturn
Alley.� But Harry�s gaze said that he
knew this wasn�t just about her escape or the horcrux.� She wouldn�t lie to him.� At last, without any emotion whatsoever, she
said,

�I killed Bellatrix LeStrange.�

The silence in the room was deafening.� Several people wore shocked looks.� Ron was gaping at her, McGonagall looked
extremely worried, and some others looked sad � though it certainly wasn�t over
Bellatrix�s death.�

Perhaps what was most interesting were those who didn�t look
appalled; Remus was stone-faced, Neville looked
relieved, though perhaps a little put out that it hadn�t been him, and Harry�s
expression hadn�t changed at all.� Even
Andromeda didn�t seem terribly troubled by Hermione�s confession.� Hermione didn�t feel troubled over it,
either, and that worried her; she was not that kind of cold person.� She couldn�t kill and feel nothing over it, could she?

Her eyes drifted back to Lucius.� He was watching her closely, unearthly blues
seeming to dissect her.� No, she couldn�t
take a life and move on as though nothing had happened � but he could.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly not as appreciative of his
spiritual bestowal as she had been.� She
remembered what he was, who he was�and that he had only
been swayed to their side out of a need for revenge.� He was using her to get it.� He was making her a monster�

Horace Slughorn cleared his throat.� �I�have some contacts in Australian magical
immigration.� I can alert them to the
situation.� If any Death Eater enters the
country, they�ll know � it�s all done by magical signatures down there.�

�That will be perfect, Horace,� Minerva replied.� �Thank you.�

After the meeting, Hermione left as quickly as her feet could
carry her.� All along she knew she was
being followed, and by who.� She tried to
lose him but that proved impossible.

In a seldom-used corridor, Lucius caught
up to her.� His hand, still cold like the
last time he�d touched her, closed around her wrist and pulled her about.� It wasn�t rough but it wasn�t gentle � like
so many other facets of him.

�I�m sorry,� he said.

She could only stare at him.

�I did not intend for you to have to tell them that.� I know it bothers you.� I�just wanted you to understand that the Dark
Lord will perseverate to the point of madness to get his revenge.� If there is any way in the world to find your
parents, he will do it.�� He looked away,
although his grip on her wrist didn�t lessen.�
�I don�t want you to have to lose your family like I lost mine.�

She wanted to scream at him.�
Hermione knew she shouldn�t, not in the wake of the sincerity and
concern he was displaying, but the emotions were too great.

�You�re wrong,� she spat.

�What?�

�I don�t feel bothered
from the fact that I murdered Bellatrix.� I don�t.�

He appeared not to know what to say, a rare event if ever there
was one.� Hermione�s momentum built in
his silence.

�You made me this
way.� You are an opportunistic, selfish
son of a bitch, do you know that?� All
along I thought you were doing something good for me, giving me a kind of
strength that I don�t have, but having no conscience isn�t a
strength.�� Tears filled her eyes
and she wrenched her wrist out of his grasp.�
�You used me.�

�I don�t deny that,� he said softly.

�You needed a way to stay alive and conveniently, a na�ve little mudblood strayed across your path just in time.�

�Yes, you helped me.� I
can�t claim that I didn�t benefit from what happened.� But haven�t I helped you?� I gave you the horcrux
� two of them, actually.� I gave you
money and property and a blacklist, all of which would have been given to the
Order whether I had come across you or not.�
I have stayed here to try to help you even though I would rather ingest
broken glass than spend any more time in my dead son�s school!�� His voice had risen steadily through the
brief speech, but now it dipped low again.�
�I am a selfish man,
Hermione.� I�ll be the first to admit it;
it�s what got me here.� It�s why I have
nothing.� Nothing of value, anyhow��

Silence reigned in the narrow, dusty hallway.� Lucius shook his
head and sighed.

�If it helps you to think of me as a villain, then go ahead.� It�s the role I play in my own mind,
lately.�� He turned to walk away.

This time it was Hermione who grabbed his wrist and tugged him
around.

�Don�t you dare!� she cried.�
�Don�t you dare act like some kind of martyr!� You did this to me!� You made me this�this person who can
just�kill people and not even care!� Why
did you have to send me after them?�
Why?�

�I didn�t send you anywhere!� he fired back.� �I was dead, or have you forgotten?� You
went to that meeting site.� You fired those spells.� I didn�t ask you to take vengeance for me or
anyone else.�

�I wouldn�t have done it if not for�if not for your�you�inside me!�

He looked down at her.� She
didn�t know how it was possible for his eyes to be hot and cold at the same
time, but they were.

�Maybe the piece of my soul enabled you, Hermione.� Maybe it gave you the permission you
needed.� But in the end, it was you,� he
said softly.� �I know it�s hard to accept
at first.�� He lifted his hand to stroke
her cheek.� �But it gets easier.�

�I don�t want it to get easier!� she shouted.� She wanted to push him away, to hex him, but
she ended up burying her face against his chest.� His arms went around her.� And, Merlin help her, she felt safe.

�See, you do care,� he murmured, his fingers unconsciously
stroking her back.

Hermione began to cry.� �I
care that I don�t care�not that I killed them.�

�Semantics.�� He lifted her chin.� Without preamble, he kissed the salty taste
of her tears away.� He was gentle, tame,
doing it with soft lips that didn�t seek to breach her control � but because of
their tenderness, she would have surrendered to him in seconds.

He didn�t give her the chance.�
He pulled back, a strained look on his face.

�You know there is a monster in all of us,� he whispered.� �I�m sorry that I bring yours out.�� Then he tugged lightly at one of her curls, a
curiously affectionate gesture, and walked away.

�

The school had become a refugee camp.� During a regular year it could comfortably
house about two thousand people.� It was
nowhere near that full yet, but the numbers climbed steadily in the days after Voldemort�s threats.�

They even saw the return of a few Slytherins;
Blaise Zabini, his mother,
and his younger sister Allegra had come yesterday, as
had the entire Greengrass family.� This morning Theodore Nott had limped in with
a black eye and a broken nose.�
Apparently he had told his father he wouldn�t take the Dark Mark or
participate in Voldemort�s mad schemes.� He was convinced he had only made it out of
his house alive because of a well-aimed tripping hex from one of the house
elves that had sent his enraged sire tumbling.�
Much to Hermione�s relief, he�d brought the elf with him; it was now
happily working in the kitchens to feed the burgeoning population of Hogwarts.

It didn�t escape her notice that the Slytherins
who came were those who had been associated with the Malfoys
for reasons other than money.� She hadn�t
paid much attention to the Slytherins, but she knew
who had been in Draco�s circle.� Blaise and Theo
were his best mates.� She had learned
through some turn of gossip that Draco had been
unofficially betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and that
the Greengrasses had always been quite close to the Malfoys.� People
expected the Parkinsons soon.� But as the days went by,
the Parkinson family never showed.�
Regardless, she came to see that as slippery as Slytherins
could be, some kind of loyalty did exist between them.

Several people had unearthed a muggle
radio from the Room of Hidden Things and they were carefully monitoring the
stations for any sign of what Voldemort had alluded
to.� For days on end there was
nothing.� Nothing but
the same mundane muggle news.� People started, foolishly, to relax.

It was a Wednesday morning, the sun barely up, when all that
changed.� The station they�d left the
radio on was nothing but static.�
Thinking it was merely between stations, they�d turned the dial.� The next station was just dead air.� Quickly, they discovered that there was
nothing receivable on FM.

They feared it was the same on AM until one crackly, distorted
voice came through.

��name is Ewan Keller, reporting live
from North London, where the world has truly
descended into hell.� Ladies and gentleman,
this is not a joke.� It is not a story, a
play, or a radio drama.� Late last night
the city came under attack by�what can only be described as zombies.�

�Zombies?� Luna
asked inquisitively.

�Inferi,� Harry and Hermione said in
unison.� The faces of the people all
around them drained of color.� The
entirety of the Great Hall was silent, straining to hear Ewan
Keller�s interference-ridden voice.

��are indeed the undead, many bearing gruesome wounds and injuries
that would be fatal to any living person.�
They have�killed without mercy, devouring the flesh of their victims,
and bodies litter the streets.�� Keller
went silent for a moment.� When he spoke
again, his voice was shaky.� �I don�t
know if anyone else is still broadcasting.�
I don�t know if anyone else is alive.�
There are three of us here, and we can only tell you what we see from
our roof-mounted camera, which has miraculously stayed functional through all
of this.� We have barely eaten or
slept.� It�s only a matter of time.� I can hear them in the building.�

He was silent again.�
Eerily, the static seemed undercut with a low shuffling, scratching
noise.� Unconsciously, many of the
listeners moved closer to one another, seeking comfort.

Keller sighed, his breath a quiet hiss.� �I don�t know if the whole world is overrun
with these creatures, or if it�s just London.� I don�t know if there will be anyone left to
relate this to; I might be talking to myself right now.� But if we don�t make it, we�ve downloaded the
footage onto a jump drive.� It�s in the company
safe.� Again, this isn�t a joke.� Zombies, the undead, body snatchers, whatever
you want to call them � they are tearing London
apart.� If you can hear us�someone�anyone�please help us.� Please help us��

A shiver passed through the room when he trailed off.� A moment later, Kingsley Shacklebolt
stepped forward.

�Can we do a location spell based on the radio waves?�

�It can�t hurt to try,� Dean Thomas, the unofficial radio expert,
said.� �I imagine it would point you to
the antenna that he�s broadcasting from.�

�For what reason?� Slughorn asked.

�These people need help.� We
can help them,� Kingsley replied matter-of-factly.

�So what are you going to do, apparate
in there with your wands blazing?�
They�re muggles.� You�ll reveal us,� Slughorn
accused.

�Horace,� Minerva spoke up with some bite in her tone, �there are Inferi roaming the streets.�
I think that after seeing the walking dead, a few muggles
won�t think much of magic wands and spells.��
She pursed her lips.� �And, if
necessary, we can always obliviate them.�

�He�s not just talking about those three,� Slughorn
returned.� �Are you, Shacklebolt?�

�No,� the stern man replied, his muscular arms folded over his
chest.� �We have to fight, or at least
teach their authorities how to handle the Inferi.�

�I agree,� Lupin nodded.� �Someone has to go to their Prime Minister.�

�I�ll do it.� As Head Auror, I know the protocol,� Kingsley offered.

McGonagall nodded sharply.� �All right.� Kingsley,
Nymphadora, you will go to the muggle
Prime Minister.� Remus
and Arthur, you will locate Mr. Keller and his friends and rescue them.�

�Where should we bring them?� Arthur asked.

Minerva turned to the woman at her right.� �Poppy, do you think St. Mungo�s
is safe?�

The mediwitch frowned.� �I can�t say.�
I don�t know who�s running it these days, with You-Know-Who in power��

�Why not here?� Harry
said.

�That seems to be our only option,� the Headmistress agreed.� �Bring them here, then.�� She surveyed the crowd, noting the worried
faces.� �Once we get an idea how bad it
is, we will delegate more responsibilities.�

It was bad.� Kingsley and Tonks had gotten to the Prime Minister just in time; when
they got there, he was huddled against the wall with two bodyguards.� All three men had guns in their hands; the
two Aurors had nearly gotten bullets in the face for
their trouble.� From the half-babbled
testimony of the men, they gathered that there were Inferi
just outside the door.� A pale, rotting
hand crashing through the wood a moment later confirmed that.

One of the bodyguards shot at the hand.� It did nothing, of course, except make a
mess.

�Forget the guns!� Kingsley shouted.� �You need to use fire!�� And in a whip of his wand, fire erupted all
around them.� The aurors
grabbed the cowering men and apparated.

So now they had three broadcasters, one Prime Minister, and two
bodyguards, all muggles, in the Infirmary.� Once his shock died down, the Prime Minister
was quite useful.� At the start of the
attack he had mobilized the country�s military, but it was slow to respond because
of the confusion and communication difficulties with certain areas.�

They had given him and his highest generals a quick tutorial.� By the next morning, they had managed to
evacuate most of the city.� Now the muggles knew that the only true weapon anyone had against Inferi was fire.�
Destruction of the body was the only way to stop the reanimated
monsters.� It wasn�t safe or pretty and
billions of pounds� worth of damage would be done to the city.� However, they wisely chose a damaged city
over one filled with flesh-eating zombies.

Harry had pledged their help, as well.� It was easier for a wizard to manipulate fire
than for the muggles to attempt to control it after
it had been set.� So he and several other
volunteers, including Lucius and Hermione, went out
with the military to provide the necessary assistance.

They would return home when the sun set, exhausted, sooty, and
smelling of death.� A third of London was on fire.� There were almost forty muggle
refugees now, people they�d found hiding or rescued from the Inferi.� The muggle military got most of them, fortunately, but they
couldn�t be in every corner of the city at every moment.� Six of their refugees were children, orphans
left behind by fearful caretakers.� That
had angered many, but it turned out that the children had the better strategy,
barricading themselves in the cellar; their abandoners hadn�t made it far out
in the narrow streets.

In a twist of luck, Harry�s cousin had been found with a small
group of muggles who had evidently figured out for
themselves that fire was most effective against their foes.� It had been very strange for Harry to fight
beside Dudley, each with their weapons of choice � a wand for the wizard and a
Molotov cocktail for his muggle cousin.� In the end, each was no less effective than
the other, and Dudley had willingly come back
to Hogwarts.

Through it all, the Ministry had remained silent and
impassive.� In all likelihood it had been
evacuated.� With Voldemort�s
people in power, they couldn�t expect any help from there.� St. Mungo�s was the same; nobody went in and nobody came
out.� Magical London was entirely unscathed.

Sixteen days after the Inferi appeared, the last one fell, burnt into a crispy mess at Piccadilly Circus.�
In total, there were more than three thousand of the creatures.� There were probably more that would never be
counted because they�d been reduced to nothing more than ash.� It was disconcerting; in a very short time, Voldemort had created an undead army and no one knew how.

The days that followed revealed cemeteries all over the country
that had been meticulously exhumed.�
Every single grave and mausoleum had been opened � but magically, so
that one couldn�t tell the graves had been disturbed unless they knew what to
look for.� Those who were dead two years
or less were taken; the rest were left behind in disarray.� Most were angry at the disrespectful nature
of it.� The members of the Order of the Phoenix were sick with the
knowledge of how much magic and manpower it had taken.� It suddenly seemed that Voldemort�s
forces were much larger than they thought � or that he was much more powerful than they thought.

On day 22, it poured rain and the fires in London finally went out.

Amazingly, they had not lost a single person during the battles
with the Inferi.�
There had been cuts, bruises, burns, and even one or two bad zombie
bites, but not a single magical casualty.�
It was a different story for the muggles.

The current death toll rested at 6,892.� The overwhelming majority of those people had
died the first night of the invasion.�
The rest had either been caught in fires or had very bad luck.� Massive sections of London had been completely destroyed.� It was, in a word, a disaster.

The victory didn�t feel all that exciting in the face of numbers like
that.� Though the muggles
were thankful and many links had been forged between the muggle
and magical communities, the fact remained that they were now both at war.� They couldn�t very well obliviate
several thousand military personnel.

But at least it was mainly military personnel and government
officials.� They understood the need for
discretion.� The greater public knew
nothing of magical intervention, and as the attack had been confined to London, the problem was
manageable.�

The muggles, in a show of extraordinary
good faith, had pledged their assistance with the wizard war, but everyone knew
that there wasn�t much they could do to help.�
Minerva and Kingsley had asked them to pay very close attention to their
intelligence and surveillance networks.�
They�d provided a list of words and phrases to use as red flags.� Most magical folk didn�t know that anytime
they went into the muggle world, they were probably
recorded, and as such they might not practice the discretion they would have in
the wizarding world.�
It was a small chance, but one they were all willing to take advantage
of.

Lucius strode
into the Great Hall, grateful that he was sitting down to dinner with clean
hands and clothing that did not smell like rotting flesh.� Though he had to admit, he rather missed
behaving like a bloody pyromaniac.�
Conjuring fire was agreeable, but somehow those very simple Molotov
cocktails were downright satisfying.

The Inferi invasion had also spurred
quite an exodus of London
purebloods.� The Puceys,
the Flints, and
Vaiseys had all come out of the woodwork and were now
safely ensconced at Hogwarts.� Aramis Vaisey had put it best
upon his arrival.� He�d said, quite
bluntly, �You-Know-Who is barking mad.��
The realization that Lucius had come to just a
little too late had hit them: Voldemort didn�t care
who he killed as long as he made it to the top.�
It wasn�t about ideals anymore.�
He only wanted power.

Theo Nott�s family had not come.�
Nor had the Crabbes, the Goyles, or Zabini�s father.� None of those surprised him.� What continued to surprise and worry him was
the absence of the Parkinsons.

Once upon a time, he had counted them as dear friends.� Surely they were not so foolish that they
didn�t understand the danger they were in�Lucius
frowned, but dug into his food.� They had
worn themselves thin the last few weeks and he couldn�t remember ever needing
more food in his life.

It was a strange world he was living in.� The table was lined with people who never
would have been together before.� Arthur Weasley was talking to Charles Greengrass
in a friendly manner.� Allegra Zabini and one of the
older muggle girls were fawning over Teddy Lupin.� Tonks was talking to Theo Nott, encouraging him to become
an auror after the war.� The muggle
reporter, Ewan Keller, had quickly become a mentor to
Colin Creevey and was talking to him about lighting
for photographs.� A burst of laughter
came from the end of the table; Susan Bones and Adrian Pucey
were clearly amused by something, and for once it wasn�t the other�s misfortune.

He shook his head and ate a spoonful of his stew.� Yes, it was strange, but oddly
comforting.� A moment later his eyes
sought someone else, someone he had not really seen or thought about much in
the whirlwind of the battle.� Their goal
had been to avoid one another and the Inferi had
certainly assisted with that.

Hermione was with her less intelligent sidekicks, as usual.� Lucius was
surprised to feel a stab of�something
in his chest.� He refused to label
it.� He had learned that labeling was
dangerous and best avoided.

He could see, though, how the dynamics of the trio were
changing.� Harry and Hermione were both
becoming hardened somehow, while Ronald was not.� It was easy to understand why a smile had not
graced the face of The Boy Who Lived in weeks; all the death was wearing on
him.� Hermione looked worn, too; she was
worried about her parents.� Ronald had
nothing to worry about.� His entire
family was here, safe � at least until the real fighting began.

Lucius looked
over the sea of redheads at a nearby table.�
He closed his eyes for a brief moment.�
He had once mocked them for having so many children, but now he wished
that he had been blessed with more than one.�
Not that having others would have made Draco�s
death any less agonizing�

He looked into his stew, staring at the potatoes and bits of meat
and vegetables.� Lucius
would never be prepared for the wicked slices of pain that hit him when he
thought of Draco.�
It was like nothing he�d ever experienced.� His entire body hurt.� His hands began to shake.� He put down his spoon so no one would notice.

It took fully five minutes of observation, counting peas and
carrots, noticing a bay leaf and a piece of potato with a dark spot in it
before he could regain his composure enough to look up.� It didn�t appear that anyone had witnessed
his fascination with the stew.� With a
sigh, he pushed it away.� He wasn�t
hungry anymore.�

Truth be told, he wanted to put his head down on the pockmarked
wooden table and cry.� He wanted to do
that a lot lately.� When he was kept
busy�when he had something to work towards, he could forget for a little
while.� It was when there was nothing to
do that it all caught up with him.� Since
the battle with the Inferi had ended, he�d had far
too much time to think.

Before the battle, he had been in the library researching
long-distance location and summoning spells.�
There was nothing else he could think of to help the war effort.� If they could somehow find out how to locate Voldemort, and when they were ready, summon him to them
like a lamb to slaughter�but it was a dead end, so far.� There was nothing useful in these books and
the books that would be useful were in his home.� Even if he didn�t think the Dark Lord had left someone behind to kill him the
moment he set foot on the property, he couldn�t go back.� Not yet.�
Maybe not ever.

He gave in.� He leaned
forward and rested his cheek against his folded arms.� People would just think he was tired, which
he was.� He had just begun to regain some
measure of serenity when Horace Slughorn came
skidding into the Great Hall with a piece of parchment clutched in his
hand.� He couldn�t quite stop himself and
ended up knocking a glass off one of the tables; the crash made Lucius jerk his head up.

The shattering glass also caught everyone else�s attention.� Slughorn was aware
of that and held up a hand, indicating that he had to catch his breath.� This would either be very good news or very
bad news; he wouldn�t have run all the way from the dungeons otherwise.

�My contacts,� he panted, �in Australian immigration.� They sent a letter informing me that Rodolphus LeStrange just entered
the country.�
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Last Gift