Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Last Gift	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 9748 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
�We should tell her.�

Tonks looked up from her tea, which she had been staring into
morosely.� �Tell who what?�

�Tell Hermione about Lucius.�

Tonks sighed.� Her hair had
faded from pink to a shade of strawberry blonde.� It was not quite as bad as the mousy, dull
brown that had topped her head during the rough patch in their relationship,
but Remus knew it was a definite sign that she was unhappy.

�Let�s permit her to have her moment of happiness, all right?� his
witch sighed.

Remus nodded and walked over to the crib.� Teddy was sleeping soundly on his stomach,
already having kicked half of his blanket off.�
He reached down to stroke his son�s back.� He made sure to do it lightly enough that he
didn�t wake the little boy.

�Do you think they were telling the truth?� he asked, his eyes
drinking in the sight of his son.

�About the baby?�

Remus nodded.

�I don�t know.� After what
Lucius has lost��

�He�d take the bait.�

Nymphadora frowned and crossed her arms.� �Why would Parkinson do that to him?� They�re supposed to be friends.�

�They�re friends, but they�re also Slytherins.� Parkinson might have wanted to save his own skin.� Or maybe he genuinely thinks that he�s going
to be able to save Pansy by doing this.�
I don�t know.�

His wife ran her hands through her hair.� �Hasn�t the Dark Lord taken enough?� From everyone?�

Remus crossed the room and crouched before his wife. �He cupped her face with his hands.� She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes
tightly.� He knew that was a habit of
hers when she was trying not to cry; he�d seen it too many times when he had so
foolishly tried to pretend that she would be better off without him.

In the chaos of the war he sometimes forgot that Dora had lost her
father.� Both she and Andromeda were so
quiet about it.� He had lost both his
parents, but neither experience was the same as hers.� Remus had lost his father at a time when he also
lost himself; his grief was more at the misfortune of surviving.� When his mother left the world he felt a
sense of relief.� She had been so
miserable all the time, only holding on for him�

But Dora loved her father fiercely.� His loss was keen and festering.� She didn�t show it, but he knew it wore on
her.

�We will stop him, Dora,� he whispered.� �We will.�
Teddy won�t grow up in the same world we did.�

She opened her eyes.� They
were hazel � their true color � and bright with controlled tears.

�I know.�

Remus rose up to kiss her, and when her sweet lips parted under
his, he tilted her back onto the bed to cure her of what ills he could.

He was nauseous.� Everything
was a dull throb, but especially his head.�
Groping for the source of his pain, his fingers met the rough, caked
texture of dried blood along his right temple.�
There was no light so he could only assess the injury through
touch.� The gash was large, but closed and
no longer bleeding.� He couldn�t tell if
it was infected.

For the time being, though, it appeared that he was not missing
any pieces of his skull.� That was
perhaps the only good thing about his situation.� Or maybe it was a bad thing; if he was brain
damaged the days to come might be a little less excruciating.

Lucius knew that he should have thought this through a little
better.� His gut reaction was so strong
to the news that he had a grandchild.� He
didn�t think Miles was bluffing.� Men
like him were not brought to tears by just anything.� He had begged for his daughter�s life, not
his own � just as Lucius had begged for Draco.�
In all likelihood, the only thing that saved Pansy was her usefulness as
bait to one person that the Dark Lord very much wanted to catch.

He forced himself to think.�
It had been nearly two months since Draco�s death.� He knew it to the day, possibly the hour, or
at least he had until now; he didn�t know how long he�d been unconscious and
that threw off his count.� It had been at
least another month before that when Draco had last mentioned seeing Pansy.� At a minimum, she would be three months
along.� For all he knew it could be
more.� Young women like her sometimes
didn�t begin to show until the fifth month; she could have concealed it.

He fought off the desire to vomit.�
If she was further along, had Draco known?� Had he known he was going to be a father and
purposely not told anyone?� Or would he
never know?

Draco would never see his son or daughter, if he or she was even
allowed to be born.� If the Dark Lord was
stupid enough to allow his lackeys to abuse her, or to do it himself, she could
easily miscarry.� Her body would seek to
protect itself and the great energy and nutrient sap of an ever-growing baby
was not conducive to that.

Lucius laughed quietly to himself.�
His best hope now was that he could distract the Dark Lord�s
attentions.� All the torture and pain
would go to him�and Pansy would be spared until he could figure out a way to
free her.

Hermione finally sat down and draped her arm over her eyes.� She was bone tired. �It was a sign of relief that this particular
chapter of angst was over.� She didn�t
fool herself into thinking that there wouldn�t be more before the war�s end,
but she was glad that at least she had not lost everything.

Her parents were still out cold.�
The others had helped her to arrange them in a hastily-cleared bedroom
in the dungeons.� It was the only place
that still had any spots left due to the lack of Slytherins.� Even so, there were more here than she ever
would have expected and she wasn�t going to complain.

The reversal of the memory charms would not be as difficult as
many of her associates seemed to think.�
She had made it so that the only thing that would cause their previous
memories to return was the sight of her and
her saying the phrase, �Mum/Dad, it�s me, your daughter Hermione.�� With those two criteria met their memories
would come crashing back.

They would probably be angry at her.� Hermione couldn�t muster much fear at the
prospect of it.� She would be angry, too,
in their position.� However, once she explained
the situation and how close they had come to being killed anyway, she had a feeling they would understand.

She could barely keep her eyes open.� With a glance at the still figures of her
parents, she decided that a nap wouldn�t do any harm.� She was careful to set an alarm charm on her
wand; it would vibrate and make a beeping noise when her parents began to
regain consciousness.� That way she would
be prepared.

With the charm set, she climbed into an old, overstuffed chair
that smelled faintly of hot cast iron and astringent potions ingredients and
drifted into an easy sleep.

�Welcome, Lucius.�

He still couldn�t see anything, but this time it was because he
was blindfolded.� He was deposited
unceremoniously on the floor.� If he knew
the Dark Lord, he was at the foot of some grandiose stone dais�knelt before the
throne, as it were.� He snorted softly to
himself.

�Do not insult me with niceties,� he responded.

�I suppose there is no need, now that you have thrown your lot in
with the dregs of our society,� Voldemort drawled.

He heard quiet, derisive chuckles echoing through the room.� Ah, so the others were here, summoned to
watch him suffer.� He was the spectacle
today.

�I think you have it backwards.��
He got his legs underneath him and rose up in a defiant gesture.� Lucius knew he would just be knocked down
again when the fun began, but he didn�t care.�
�I have left the dregs of our
society here with you, their lord and master,� he spat.

�I am still your Lord, Lucius,� Voldemort growled.� �You may run, you may hide, but I own
you.� I own your wretched little soul.�

Lucius turned his head slightly, trying to judge where his
audience was from the swish of robes and shifting feet.� �This is the man you choose to serve?� he
addressed them, knowing that it was a grievous insult to turn away from the
Dark Lord and he would pay for it.� �A
man who believes he owns you?� Are you so
afraid of change that you will let him corral you like frightened livestock?�

�Be silent!� Voldemort hissed.

�He murdered my family, my wife and son, purebloods both.� When will he come for yours?� What slight will be the trigger?� When you fail in a mission?� When you speak a little too freely?� When you look at him the wrong way?� Or nothing at all?�

There was absolute silence for a moment.� Then the Dark Lord spoke up again, his voice
tinged with venom.

�You are trying my patience, Lucius.� You will not sway them.�

Slowly, he turned back to the creature that would try his
damnedest to kill him in the near future.�
�No, I suppose I won�t.� Sheep are
only swayed by the slaughterhouse.��

He knew too well how true that was.� He had not recognized his mistakes until he
was at the end of the chute with the frothing blood of his beloved lambs
seeping between his toes.�

When the first curse fell, he relished the pain as only a free man
could.

Hermione woke with a start.�
Her alarm charm was going off.�
How long had she been asleep?� It
was dark in the room.

She ended the charm and repositioned herself in the chair.� Her body was a little stiff but not sore,
miraculously.� Squinting, she could make
out the form of her father sitting up in the bed.

�Dad?� she said hesitantly as she lit her wand.� It cast a small pool of light,
bright enough that he would be able to see her, but it barely put a dent in the
thick dungeon darkness.� In the shadows,
she saw his head turn.� �Dad, it�s me,
your daughter Hermione.�

There was a long pause.�
Hermione waited with an almost paralyzing anticipation.� She didn�t care if he screamed at her; she
just wanted to know that it had worked.�
However, what he said when he finally spoke was so far from what she
expected that she had to blink and wonder if she was still asleep.

�Expelliarmus.�

She was definitely asleep, because her wand slipped out of her
hand and landed next to him on the bed.�
The room was completely dark once again.

Hermione shook her head.�
What was going on here?

�All right.� I�ll wake up now,� she said nervously.� That was when she felt a thick hand clamp
around her wrist.� His grip was rough and
painful.� �Ouch!� You�re hurting me.� Dad�?�

His other hand claimed her free wrist and he yanked her roughly
against his chest.� �Shut up.��

The low, rough voice had the wrong accent and was filled with
malice that chilled her to the bone.�
Hermione�s eyes widened and panic began to flood in.� She struggled against his grip, her heart
pounding and her brain shouting at her to get away.

Unexpectedly he released her and Hermione went tumbling to the
floor.� She landed hard against her
elbow, jamming her arm up into the socket of her shoulder.� Pain shot in wicked bolts all throughout the
joint and immediately she knew she had damaged it.� That wasn�t the most immediate of her
concerns, though.

The intruder had pinned her down, his substantial weight on top of
her and his meaty hand around her neck.�
She could barely breathe.� The
tears in her eyes weren�t just from the pain.�
By now she was realizing what had happened.�

She had been duped.� These
people weren�t her parents.� They were
Death Eaters Polyjuiced to look like them.�
And the only way they could have the right ingredients to make Polyjuice
was�

She gasped out a ragged sob.�
Her parents were dead.�

The last thing he remembered was pain and the world going orange.� When he woke he was being dragged down a
corridor by two men.� His bare feet
scraped on the rough stone floor, quickly becoming raw and bloody.� His brain was too fogged to do anything about
it.

They threw him on the floor inside the door of a cell.� The impact did nothing to clear his
head.� He was terribly groggy and there
was a metallic taste in his mouth.�
Lucius lay there, trying to piece together a rational thought.

It took some time.� Even
when the raven-haired girl cautiously approached him, he couldn�t speak.� He knew her face and was very sure that he
knew her name, but his mind simply refused to cooperate.

She touched him, pushing the tangled mess of his hair back from
his face.� Her hands were cold.� He felt so tired�so�jumbled�

She turned him over onto his back and the movement set off a fresh
flurry of muscle spasms.� He grimaced and
hadn�t the presence of mind to try to conceal the pain it caused him.� The curse persisted.� Cruciatus took time to fade.

The girl who he knew was very important was cleaning him.� She was toweling the blood and piss and
Merlin knew what from the body that didn�t even feel like his own.� It felt like some traitor, some burrowing,
undulating beast that wanted to burst out of his skin everywhere at once.� He wished he could tell her to let him be;
every movement of her hands, those fine, dexterous fingers, was stirring up bouts
of intense pain.� He did not mind lying
in mingled filth until it passed.

But she was done now, done with the unintentional torture.� Merlin, who was she?� It drove him insane not to know.� What had they done to his brain?� Had they cursed him so badly that his mind
was deteriorating?� Or
worse, Obliviated him?� Fear began
to beat at the edges of his consciousness.�
He could take any punishment, anything that sought to hurt his body, but
not this�

�It�s all right,� she whispered.�
�You�re all right, Mr. Malfoy.�

At that moment, a stab of despair hit him that was so potent he
forgot to breathe.� Tears peaked in his
eyes.� The niggling fear grew into
terror.� But with it came a name and a
memory.

Hermione.

He remembered her, and in remembering that, everything fell into
place, like dominos tipped by a careless hand.

She felt a rough tongue lick away the tears that were trailing
sideways into her left ear.� A tremendous
shudder wracked her body.�

�That�s more like it, you nasty mudblood,� her captor
snarled.� �By now you�ve figured out that
I�m not your father.�� He leaned down,
his hot and stinking breath so close that it made her want to vomit.� �But,� he whispered coldly, �you can still
call me Daddy.��

She wanted to die.� In that
moment, she just wanted to die.� The
Death Eater was pulling the clothes from her body and her mind flashed back to
her imprisonment, when she had been denied clothes and told that she wasn�t
good enough for it.� She tried to shrink
away from him and his hand tightened on her throat.� Maybe he would kill her�

The memories flooded back, one by one, some chronological, some
not.� But when they had all fallen back
into place, he knew what caused his heart to hammer and his breath to come in
ragged gasps.� The fear and pain weren�t
his.� Yes, he was in pain, but he was not
afraid, not when he knew he had all his faculties about him.

They were Hermione�s.� She
was in pain because Rodolphus had killed her parents and she was afraid because
he had replaced them with Death Eaters.� The Carrows.� They
were torturing her.

Lucius had wanted so badly to spare her the agony.� Watching his wife and son die had been the
worst experience of his life.� She had
not had to witness her parents� death, but the knowledge that she had been too
late would be crushing.� So would the
guilt.� He knew all about guilt�

His hands tightened into fists.�
Lucius had given her his rage once before.� He had poured every ounce of it into their
coupling in Knockturn Alley, hoping that she could avenge his losses while he
could not.� She had done so well.� He wished he could have seen her; there was
something so beautiful about a vengeful woman when her vengeance was not
directed at you.

If she was too destroyed by grief to fight�if she bore any thought
at all of giving up, giving in, and letting them destroy her�well, that simply
wouldn�t do.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, praying that it would all be over
quickly.� That was when a flare of
something feral lit in her.� An explosive
anger boiled over in her chest and raced down her arms.� She felt like a puppet on strings as her
hands shot up to wrap around his neck, heedless of the pain in her
shoulder.� His muddy eyes reflected a
momentary shock.

She felt her lips peeling back from her teeth.� She wanted to kill him.� Her nails dug into
his neck, creating bloody half moons, and he lifted his hand from her neck to
pry at her unyielding grip.� Hermione
squeezed harder.� She would hold on until
she died if she had to.

She knew this feeling�this pulsing hatred.� It was what had coursed wildly through her
that night when she returned to the Death Eater camp.� It was Lucius.� Lucius, spurring her on,
telling her to fight, to punish those who dared to take her family from her.� But this time�this time, if she killed, she
wouldn�t blame it on him.� This time, it
was all her.

She was fighting.� His body
went limp with grateful exhaustion.� He
was distantly aware of his cell-mate, who he could now positively identify as
Pansy Parkinson, speaking to him.� The
words didn�t penetrate his fatigue.�
Whatever she was saying�it would have to wait.

Molly Weasley looked up from what she was doing with the air of a
person who had just realized she�d forgotten something.� She had intended to send someone to check on
Hermione, to see if she and her parents needed anything.� They�d all gotten so caught up with the news
(and the person) Kingsley and Tonks brought back from the mission.� Her inner worrywart was on full blast.� How strange it was that the worry was for a
Malfoy.

War always seemed to put people in odd places with unexpected
people.� She sighed and pushed a few
orange curls away from her face, wondering when they would begin to go
grey.� She�d thought for sure that Fred
and George�s adolescence would do her in, but apparently not.

Just then, Charlie walked into the room.� He started to sit down, but Molly beat him to
the punch.

�Charlie, dear, what are you doing right now?�

He paused in his descent to the chair, recognizing very clearly
his mother�s intent to nag him into doing something.� For a long time it hadn�t bothered him
because he only saw her in small doses when he wasn�t in Romania.� Now that he was here all the time, it was
starting to drive him insane again.

�Not sitting down, apparently,� he grumbled and straightened up.

�I�m sorry.� It�s just that
I meant to send someone to check on Hermione earlier and got caught up in other
things.�

He smiled.� That was
certainly one of the more benign favors she could have requested.� He�d always liked Hermione and he was glad
that at least somebody had gotten a happy ending out of this mission gone
wrong.

�All right.� I�ll go and see if she needs anything.�

He was halfway out the door when his mother�s voice sounded
again.� �Charlie?�

�Yes, Mum?�

�Don�t mention anything about Mr. Malfoy.�

He turned back and frowned.�
�She doesn�t know?�

Molly shook her head.� �No
one had the heart to rain on her parade.�

Slowly, Charlie nodded.

He thought as he walked.� He
wondered what the Dark Lord would do to Lucius Malfoy and if Miles Parkinson
was telling the truth about his daughter or just trying to save his own
skin.� Regardless, they would probably
never see the Malfoy patriarch again.

Charlie was certainly not concerned with blood purity in the
slightest, but even he had to admit that the thought of a line as powerful as
the Malfoys coming to an end was a little disturbing.� They had been entrenched in wizarding history
for so long, for good or ill, that it was hard to imagine society without
them.� And to meet their demise like
this�blotted out by the very master who wished to make the rest of the world as
pure as them�it made his stomach turn.

At least Lucius had turned things around.� He had made it so that his family would no
longer be remembered with hatred and infamy.�
Perhaps there would always be some degree of that, for dark wizards were
dark wizards, but he had at least shown that he had a heart and that he was
capable of thinking beyond himself.

With a shake of his head, Charlie chased those thoughts away.� There was nothing he could do for the man
now.� He might already be dead.

He began his descent into the dungeons and marveled at how quiet
it was.� Even the Slytherins seemed
skittish about their usual territory.�
People were beginning to stay down here simply because everywhere else
was taken; that was why Hermione�s parents had been put in an annex to the
Slytherin dormitory.� With a slight shake
of his head, he wondered what they would think of Hogwarts if the dungeons were
their first view of it.

He was nearly to the door when it burst open forcefully.� So forcefully, in fact, that splinters flew
from the heavy wood.� A second later
someone was ejected, flying across the corridor in a blur.� Charlie�s mouth fell open as the person hit
the wall.

It was Hermione.� Her lip
was split and bleeding, her hair in disarray, and her shirt torn so that he
could see her pink bra encasing her left breast.� Immediately his protective instincts flared
to life.� Had her parents done those things to her?�
What was wrong with them? �She had
just saved their lives!

Just as he was about to open his mouth, another person flew out of
the room.� Charlie had never met her
parents, but he could conclusively say, simply upon looking, that the man that
lunged for her was not her father.� He was short, rotund, and resembled an ape
more than a man.

�Now, you nasty little bitch--�

He never finished, because Charlie closed the rest of the distance
between them and hit him so hard his knuckles hurt.

Hermione thought she was hallucinating.� That wasn�t Lucius.� She had expected him to come.� If he had given her his anger, he would have
known something was happening to her.� He
should have come.� Why was Charlie here?

Regardless, she was glad he was.�
The Death Eater probably outweighed Charlie by three or four stone, but
Charlie was used to wrangling dragons.�
One dumb Death Eater would be no match for him.

Her head was fuzzy.� She had
been unable to stop herself from cracking her skull against the door and the
wall when the Death Eater caught her with a hex.� Hermione leaned against the rough stone wall,
willing the dizziness to recede so that she could help Charlie.

Whoever he was, he was strong as an ox.� Charlie had long since knocked his wand from
his hand, but he�d also lost his own; this fight would be decided by
fists.� Well, he�d fought dragons.� This bastard was no dragon.

He was a Death Eater.� He
caught the flash of the Dark Mark as they grappled.� The snake hissed at him, clearly expressing
its displeasure at its master�s plan being thwarted.� The moment of inattention cost him; a meaty
fist caught him squarely across the jaw and the world exploded in pain.� He shook it off quickly.� That was nothing.� He�d been hit harder by Bill at least a half
dozen times.

It took every ounce of strength he had, but Charlie managed to
flip him over with a shout.� He was ready
to restrain him when out of nowhere the man had a second wand, one that was
aimed directly at his freckled face.

�Avada--� he began to growl.

Charlie did the only thing he could.� In one quick, brutal movement, he snapped the
Death Eater�s neck.

After the sharp crack of vertebrae, the corridor was silent.� For a moment, anyway; then Charlie remembered
to breathe.� Hermione stared at him with
wide eyes.� She had seen death, even
perpetrated it herself, but for some reason the thought of a Weasley killing so
easily was quite disturbing to her.

Breathing hard, he plucked the wand from the dead man�s hand and
rose to his feet.� He stood there for a
moment.� Then he looked up.

�Is�is this wand yours?� he asked quietly.

Still in shock, Hermione nodded.

�Here, you better take it.�
Are you all right?�

What an absurd question.�
She stared at him after taking the wand, wavering on the line between
screaming and laughing.� He had not
realized that the presence of these people meant that her parents weren�t here.

Something jolted inside her.�
People.�
There were two of them.� Where was the other one?� Hermione lurched forward, heart in her
throat.

�Where are you going?� Charlie asked, following her into the dark
bedroom.� �Lumos
maxima.�

The bright swathe of light illuminated an unremarkable bed
chamber.� It was especially so because of
the empty bed.

�Oh, God,� she whispered.

It took Charlie a moment, but when he understood, his eyes
widened.� �There�s another one?�

She nodded, her breath coming fast as too many thoughts crashed in
on her at once.� There was a Death Eater
loose in Hogwarts.� He could be
anywhere�and no one knew except for her and Charlie.

Two pairs of eyes met and instantaneously reached the same
conclusion.� They had to warn the others.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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