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The Downfall of Greed	By : tcarlson Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 40804 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money off this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
My wife and son weren’t too pleased about the Mudblood living upstairs. Narcissa saw it as an invasion of her home and Draco thought it was unfair that he still couldn’t “play” with her when she was just down the hall. I told them that there was no use arguing and to drop it.

I gave my first bi-weekly report to Voldemort over Floo the first day she was resting. It was meager, but the Dark Lord seemed pleased that there was progress. I didn’t mention the mishap that occurred the day before. No need to if it didn’t affect the final outcome, right?

During meal times, I sent a House-elf up to her room with broth or oatmeal and instructions that she was to finish it all. With a couple of days of free time, I decided to finish some work I had taken on for the Ministry and not waste time with the invalid upstairs.

The second day that she was supposed to be resting, the House-elf I had charged with her feedings popped in front of me in my office. It bowed low, waiting for me to acknowledge it. “Yes?” I drawled over the top of the papers I was reviewing for the Minister.

“Sir, the Mudblood be asking Nilly if Nilly could be asking Master to allow the Mudblood a book,” it squeaked.

“A book?” I repeated, bored.

“Yes, the Mudblood be saying that she is bored, sir.” It wrung its hands together nervously.

“You may tell her that if she is well enough to read, then she is well enough to think of something else to entertain herself while she recovers.” The House-elf started to squeak something out, stopped, and clenched the bottom of its tea towel. “If you have something else to report, stop wasting my time and just tell me,” I snapped.

“Sir, she also be asking when sir was going to be showing his cowardly face again.”

“She did, did she?” I growled.

I threw my papers on the desk and stomped up the stairs. Throwing the door to her room open, I flew across the room and grabbed her by the throat. She had been sitting on the bed but was forced to rise to her knees or she wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Her eyes widened in fear.

“I heard you were asking for me?” I snarled in her face.

“I was j-just wondering how l-long you were going to ignore m-me,” she answered, trying to breathe around my hand.

“Do you long for my company that badly?” I shoved her head away from me. She rubbed at her neck.

“No! I was only curious about how long your guilty conscious would keep you away.”

I slapped her. She fell against the bed and clutched at her cheek. “How dare you speak to me like that! As if I could feel guilty about a low-down, good-for-nothing Mudblood!” I yelled in her face.

She sat up and straightened her robe, anger flashing in her eyes. “Stop calling me that! You are in no way, shape, or form better than me, Lucius Malfoy!”

“Does nothing get through to that tiny brain of yours? Look where you are! Look at your Mark! You are nothing more than a slave to the Dark Lord now.”

“Yes, I realize my predicament, thank you very much! But my identity is all I have left and I won’t let you take it from me!”

We stood in the center of the room, both of us out of breath. “Your identity is a Mudblood. At least in this point in your life,” I whispered dangerously.

“You can tell me that all you’d like. I know differently.” She crossed her arms obstinately.

“Don’t push me,” I warned

“Or what? You’ll torture me? Or lock me in a dungeon? You’ve already tried that! It didn’t work!” Without breaking eye contact, I slowly lifted my sleeve to show my Dark Mark. “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding nervous.

I pressed my finger to the Mark. She gasped and fell to her knees, her head bowed respectfully. When I lifted my finger she fell back as if awoken out of a trance and scrambled away from me as far as the room would permit. “What did you do to me?”

“I thought I’d show you one of the little perks of your Mark: complete obedience. Just a little reminder of who’s in charge.”

“You’re such a bastard.”

I laughed and left her alone to think about this new piece of information.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione Granger had me doubting myself. One minute I was afraid that I’d gone too far, the next I was afraid that if I didn’t go further she’d never learn her place. What was so special about her that she stood tall and proud in the face of torture and slavery? Better men than her had crumbled at the slightest taste of what I had to offer. I needed to reevaluate my methods.

I decided to get drunk. Properly sloshed. Genius ideas were bound to come to me if I finished that bottle of brandy and started on the bottle of Firewhiskey that I had been saving. Right?

Unfortunately, no good ideas came to me, even as I shakily spilled liquor on myself when pouring my 11^thshot. I giggled as I tried to catch the liquid with my tongue as it ran down my hand. Actually giggled. Me! This sobered me up a little. Lucius Malfoy does not giggle. I needed to rein myself in a little. I shouldn’t lose control like that.

Thinking about me losing control got me angry. I brooded over how angry I was at the Firewhiskey for making me giggle. Then, I realized that I shouldn’t be mad at the wonderful alcohol, I should be mad at the girl who made me want to drink the wonderful alcohol. Hermione Granger.

Damn that girl.

I hunched over in my seat, seething. I got angrier and angrier the longer I sat there with her face swimming in front of my eyes.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I stood up quickly and stumbled across my room and over to the door that she was locked behind. The key was being stubborn and the lock seemed to keep moving around, but I managed to open the door.

She was sleeping soundly on top of the dirty mattress. One hand was flung over her head and the other was resting on her stomach. Her hair lay fanned out around her. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath. I sat on the floor by her face, leaning against the wall and glaring at the bane of my existence.

Her eyes blinked open and she jumped back at the shock of seeing me sitting across from her. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to figure out how to destroy you.”

“You’re drunk. I can smell your breath from over here.”

“So?”

“So if I can’t trust you when you’re sober, I definitely can’t trust you when you’re drunk.”

“I wasn’t asking you to trust me,” I grumbled, feeling tired. Maybe going into her room wasn’t such a good idea. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“Don’t you dare pass out in here,” she ordered.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” That nearly sounded like childish whining. I didn’t have the brain capacity at this point to feel embarrassed.

“Lucius, go to bed.”

“No.” I opened my eyes a bit and gave her the meanest look I could conjure at the moment. “And don’t call me Lucius. I never gave you permission to call me Lucius.”

She huffed and jumped out of bed. She stood over me with her arms crossed and then put her hand out to help me up. I pushed her hand away and used the wall to stand. Standing was a bad idea. I stumbled forward and landed ungracefully on the bed. Good thing Hermione Granger had good reflexes and moved or she would have ended up underneath me.

I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes to wait out the spinning sensation. The bed dipped and she sat down next to me. Her hands tentatively roamed over my sides and up my chest. Through my liquor-induced haze, I moaned my approval. I won’t lie; it felt good. I cracked opened my eyes and was greeted with the very shocked face of Hermione Granger. Oh, right. The Mudblood. I had nearly forgotten who I was in the room with. “What are you doing?” I asked.

She was smart enough to know to take advantage of the situation. Lowering her voice seductively, she asked, “Lucius, where’s the key?”

“For what?”

“The room.”

I grabbed her hands and she fell half on of me. “I’m not that drunk.”

“Damn.” She tried to pull away. I wouldn’t let her.

We lay in silence with her still on top of me. I closed my eyes to rest but I could still feel the burn of her stare. Her heart was pounding so hard that I could feel the pulse fluttering in her wrist where I was holding on to her. After a minute, she tried to pull away again and this time I let her. She moved across the room.

I groaned and sat up. I needed to gain control of the situation. Not only had I made a complete fool of myself that night, but somehow it seemed that she had the upper hand for a minute or two. I needed a graceful way out.

My stomach heaved as if the Firewhiskey seemed to disagree with that last thought. I managed to ground out “Go to bed, Miss. Granger,” walk out the door calmly, and lock it behind me. Then, all bets were off as I ran into my bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet.

Leaning my head against the cool porcelain, I cursed Hermione Granger for making me lose control again. She would pay dearly.
- 7
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- 9
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The Downfall of Greed