Last Exit to Eden

Title: Last Exit to Eden
Author: lucretziathevagabond
Rating: NC_17 for the whole story; R for this section
Disclaimer: I only own the characters you don’t recognize. I am merely trying to improve my writing skills. HP et al. belong to Bloomsbury, Scholastic, WB, JKR, and whoever else owns them.

Chapter 9: Interrogation

Author’s Note: I was rereading my fic, and realized how many times I’ve had Hermione crying; frankly it’s annoying me. I love Hermione because she is a strong character, and usually has titanium testicles. I hope to get her to dry her eyes and get back into life in this chapter.

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The trio was grim as they made their way up the walk to the old nursing home where Jezebel Walcott resided when Hermione had last visited. Hermione was pale but resolute as she climbed the steps and walked through the old building. The front entry was decorated for the season with scarecrows and hay bales, along with the usual pumpkins. Crossing the threshold, they signed in and walked toward the dayroom.

Jezebel Walcott was sitting in a wheelchair, a tartan blanket on her lap. She smiled pleasantly at them as they sat down across from her. Hermione felt her heart sink as she observed the woman, so dramatically changed from their last meeting.

“Hello, it’s so nice to see such nice looking young people. Are you volunteers?” she was smiling broadly, and patted her curly, white hair.

“Ms. Walcott, I came to see you a few years ago. My name is Hermione Granger. Do you remember me?”

“No, dear. I think I would remember you if you came to see me before. You have such unusual hair-there’s so much of it! The girls here do my hair, I love them as though they were my own daughters.” Draco snorted and even Pansy smiled at the comment.

“Yes, well…” Hermione said, glaring at her friends’ amusement. “I came to see you about your old house. I live there now.”

The elderly woman smiled and hummed to herself as she looked out of the window. Folding her gnarled hands in her lap, she watched another resident as he glued random items into a scrapbook, appearing to forget their presence. Draco’s cough brought her attention back to the assembled group.

“I’m sorry. Are you still here? I thought you left hours ago.”

“Ms. Walcott, we wanted to talk to you about the children that you cared for when you lived in your house on Cemetery Lane.” Hermione said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

The elderly woman looked at them blankly, then her round, bulging eyes welled up with tears. She wiped at them with a corner of blanket, then fixed her eyeglasses. She folded her hands in her lap once again and looked down, not making eye contact with the trio.

“The only children I cared for were my children. They both died in childhood, of natural causes. I blame myself, really. If I had been a better mother, they would still be alive today.”

“Or if you weren’t a murdering sadistic monster”, Draco muttered, low enough so only the girls could hear him.

Hermione pulled out a packet of pictures and laid them out on the table, putting a black and white photo of a group of children playing in the back garden in front of the woman.

“Is this you, Miss Walcott?” She pointed to an image in the foreground, obviously a younger version of the elderly woman herself. Jezebel picked up the photograph and examined it closely.

“Miss, this looks so familiar. I feel like I should know this picture, but I don’t. I’m sorry you’ve come all this way to ask me these questions, but I really don’t know any of the answers.” She waved at an ebony skinned woman who was standing in the corner of the room observing the interaction. The woman approached, and Hermione recognized her as the caregiver who had helped her after she nearly passed out the last time she had come to see the Walcott woman.

The woman motioned for them to follow her as she wheeled Jezebel down a long corridor and through an open door. A group of other elderly residents were assembling for what a nearby sign indicated was going to be a sing along. With a promise to come back for her later, the caregiver turned and motioned for them to follow her. They walked back down the corridor, turning abruptly into what appeared to be a staff lounge of some sort. The woman poured a cup of tea and offered them one as well. When they refused, she shrugged and seated herself in a sagging armchair.

“Miss Granger, I remember you from the last time you were here to see Ms. Walcott. You’re doing a lot better than the last time you saw her.”

Hermione agreed, wondering where the conversation was heading. The ebony skinned woman watched her carefully for a reaction as she asked the next question.

“Miss Granger, did you know that up until a week ago, you were the only person to have visited Ms. Walcott in the fifteen years that she has been a resident here?”

Hermione shook her head. For a brief moment she felt sorry for the elderly woman, to be utterly alone in the world. However, when she recollected that the reason Jezebel had no family left was likely by her own doing, the sympathy faded. The woman went on.

“Last month a woman came to see her. It was kind of a big deal, because as I said before she has had no other visitors here. Adding to the mystery was that the woman claimed to be related to Jezebel; she said she was a niece, I think. We were suspicious, but our activities director took her picture with Jezebel as she does with every visitor. Well, we kept an eye on them because it seemed odd that after all this time a family member would show up. As it happens, it’s a good thing we did.”

The trio sat up, looking at each other then at the caregiver.

“ Jezebel was still in her right mind then; well mean as a snake but still very much knowing what was going on. Like she was when you met her.

“At any rate, Jezebel seemed to recognize the woman and they sat down to talk. It wasn’t very long before they started to argue, and Jezebel said something about the situation being too complicated and that the woman shouldn’t concern herself with the situation because she wasn’t intelligent enough to understand it anyway. Then she mentioned that you had been by, called you by name and everything. The woman raised her voice and started arguing, saying something about muddy blood or some nonsense. The assistant came to get me because she was afraid to confront the strange woman. When I came into the dayroom, the woman was hitting Jezebel with a tree branch and shouting at her in some other language. Jezebel slumped over and I hurried over to her. The woman ran out of the room and the assistant ran out to follow her, but she had disappeared into thin air. We called the police, and they filed a report, but there’s been no progress as far as I know.

“After that, Jezebel has had problems with her memory. She feels like she should know things, but she can’t remember them. The doctors think she’s suffering from dementia, but I don’t believe it. That woman did something to her memory when she hit her.”

Hermione looked at the woman in shock. Although the conclusions the woman had drawn were not exactly right, the muggle woman had given her a number of answers.

“Ma’am, do you happen to have that picture?”

“Sorry, I gave it to the police; and the sign in log sheet in case that was your next question.”

Hermione was disappointed, but undeterred. They were so close to having the answer; there was no way she was going to give up now. She moved closer to the woman.

“Do you think you could tell me who her emergency contact is?”

“No. That is confidential information.”

Hermione saw Draco and Pansy’s right hands twitch and she knew they were thinking of going for their wands. She needed to stall them.

“Well, could I at least speak with her doctor?”

Her doctor is Dr. Martin, but he’s not going to be able to help you much. Her doctor for years was a woman, but she died last year. Dr. Mel Govan was what she always went by. Dr. Martin was never able to get copies of Dr. Mel’s notes and so he had to start over. She was a strange woman; used to wear dresses that looked like housecoats and this cloak like thing that looked like a vampire cape. Also, I never saw her use a stethoscope or even take a blood pressure when she examined her. It was very odd.”

“What kinds of medication does she take?”

“None for several years. Since she was attacked, Dr. Martin has put her on tranquilizers because she has terrible nightmares; disembodied heads and being buried alive. She starts to hyperventilate, and then it takes hours to calm her down.”

A woman walked by in a pair of purple scrubs and the woman excused herself to go talk to her. Moments later she returned, smiling.

“Vera is getting you a copy of that photo you wanted; she took it with her digital camera so she still has the original. She’ll meet you at the entry where you signed in.”

Thanking the woman, they walked to the entry where Vera was there; holding a photograph and looking serious.

“You didn’t get this from me if anyone asks. We do our best to maintain our patient’s privacy. I wouldn’t even give this to you if the head nurse didn’t order me to.”

No one said a word until they were several blocks away. Pansy broke the silence.

“We need to talk to Kingsley.”

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It was an odd group of people sitting in Hermione’s sitting room. Remus and Kingsley sat by Harry and Ron. Draco was sitting by the McGonagall sisters and across from Bill Weasley. Pansy and Hermione were on the sofa. Juno was glancing through the ledgers, and Bill was watching Buttercream terrorize the toad in the garden.

When green flames shot out of the fireplace, Lucius appeared, carrying an overnight bag and accompanied by Blaise. Lucius ignored the snarl from Ron, and pulled Hermione in for a kiss. When everyone was seated and Ruby had ensured everyone was holding glasses of either tea or whiskey, the conversation began.

Draco outlined the results of their visit to Jezebel Walcott; including the strange visitor.

“Sounds like Walcott was obliviated,” Harry observed.

“To be specific, she was inexpertly obliviated. The woman stripped a chunk of memory away without trying to replace it. What she did was akin to mind rape, and is actually a crime.“ Lucius commented, then sipped his whiskey, sliding his hand in Hermione’s and lifting it to his lips. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

“Obliviation is a skill that takes years to learn how to do properly. We’ll have to send someone out there to modify her memory somewhat, or she’ll go mad.” Kingsley offered, watching the Malfoy patriarch’s deliberate yet unspoken statement of possession with some amusement.

“The head nurse said that the woman mentioned Granger’s name, then a reference to ‘muddy blood.’ So we know that they are likely magical and not muggleborn,” Ron said, joining the conversation and causing the rest of those present to roll their eyes at the obviousness of the statement.


“I’m concerned about this human research business.” Juno said, cutting off Draco’s retort. “ What sort of research would they be doing? The children sound as though they were also only partially obliviated from the documentation here.” She held up the ledger.

“Pretend you were doing the research, Juno. What would you want to know?”

“I wouldn’t hurt a single child, Minerva. What they did was immoral and unethical. They should get The Kiss for their actions. Before the kiss, they should be stripped of their healer licenses.”

“Juno, stop being so obnoxious. I know you wouldn’t do it. Just try to put yourself in their shoes.”

“It could be anything.”

“If I were going to do something that horrid, I would have to convince myself that it couldn’t be done any other way. They chose children, not adults. I feel that fact is important.” Hermione spoke softly.

“Unforgivable counter-curse.” Harry blurted out. Juno shook her head.

“Children respond differently to the curse than adults. We saw that both in the most recent war, and in the Grindlewald war years ago.” Juno said, her mind distant.

“The thallium ingestion points to wanting to control magical manifestation at some level. There is an antidote to thallium, correct?” Bill wanted to know.

“Prussian blue is the antidote to the thallidimus potion. I don’t think thallium has an antidote.” Draco muttered .
An argument ensued afterward as to possible theories or research topics. Finally, Kingsley cut them off.

“We can argue about this for days. The fact of the matter is that we won’t know why or what until we know who. Lucius, are you familiar with the family name Govan?”

“No. I’ve never heard the name before. They are certainly not old line.” He finished his whiskey, setting the crystal glass on the side table. He desperately wanted to smoke a cigar, but needed to wait until the Aurors left. He had no intention of sharing his imported stash of Cubans with idiots like Potter who wouldn’t be able to appreciate them.

“I can contact St Mungo’s in the morning and talk to the Senior Healer. They’ll be able to search records for a Mel Govan in their directory. I’ll owl you at the manor.” Juno said, standing. Her sister followed suit, and they disappeared into the fireplace. Kingsley dismissed the Aurors, and they reluctantly stood before glaring at Lucius and flooing home.

“Excellent. I am going outside for a cigar. Would you gentlemen care to join me?”

Hermione paced the sitting room as she looked outside at the men smoking cigars. She was pleased that Lucius had made the invitation to include Bill and Remus; they seemed to have won Lucius’ respect, which was not an easy thing to do.

She had come to a decision in the twenty minutes the men had been outside. She knew her request would anger Lucius, but it needed to be done. She may very well hold the key to the mystery in her mind. , and she needed to get at it. Pansy agreed with her idea, but warned her that bringing up the past was something that needed to be done delicately. Before they could discuss strategy, the door opened and Draco walked in followed by the rest of the men.

“You have that look in your eye, my love. The one that says you’re going to say something I won’t like.” Lucius moved toward her, but she held out her hand to stop him. She refilled his glass with whiskey, and passed the bottle around. He sat down, his face a blank mask. God, she hated that look.

“Right. Well, I’ve been doing some thinking and I realize that we actually do have access to Jezebel Walcott’s mind prior to her botched obliviate. I went to see her a few years ago, and the memory is still in my mind. The problem is, I can’t extract it because I have no wand. I can consciously remember the gist of the conversation, but I don’t recall details.”

She took a breath, then let it out.

“Lucius, you are supposed to be one of the magical community’s most skilled Legilimens. During the war, I know you were Voldemort’s head interrogator. I want you to go into my mind and view the memory. I also want you to take Kingsley with you, as an Auror he may see something valuable.

Lucius nearly dropped his drink. He glared at her.

“Absolutely out of the question.”

“Lucius…”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The Malfoy patriarch got to his feet and walked to the window.

“My love, I haven’t invaded someone’s mind since the early days of the war. I will not do it to someone I …care deeply about. It is not a pleasant experience, and I promised you long ago that I would never intentionally hurt you again.”

“It wasn’t pleasant because you didn’t want it to be so. I trust you, Lucius. You won’t hurt me, and we may hold the key to the whole mystery right here.” She tapped her head.

“Granger’s right, Malfoy. If she’s willing to let you in, then let’s at least try.”

“Minister, I’ll thank you to stay out of this.” His voice was gruff. A silent battle was fought between the two.

The glare was back. He cursed under his breath; he was going to give in. She was right; the only way to solve this whole mess was to get the name. The problem was, she could inadvertently get into his mind during the process. Side alonging Shacklebolt would mean opening himself up even more, making it more likely she could get inside by accident. Still, if she was willing…

“Fine. I’ll do it.”
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They sat facing each other, forehead to forehead. Kingsley had his hands on Lucius temples, ready for the mind meld. He had only done this once before; but if he was going to take the journey with anyone, this was the man to do it with. Lucius Malfoy’s skill was legendary.

Lucius matched his breathing to hers. In. Out. In. Out. He looked into her eyes, so trusting and innocent. Sliding his hands into her hair, he whispered into her ear.

“I love you.”

He felt her minds protection drop, and slid inside.

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Looking around, he saw Kingsley standing next to him, and breathed a sigh of relief. Side alonging was always complicated. They looked around at the darkened room, illuminated by a crackling fireplace. There were books, thousands of them on shelves that took up three walls.. Several sat on a long table, along with a neat stack of handwritten pages as though someone had just gotten up from their research and left the room. One was labeled “Lucius”, and he reached for it almost instinctively. Kingsley grabbed his hand.

“No. We are here to look for the Jezebel memory, not feed your ego.”

At the mention of the needed memory, a book flew off of a shelf and obediently landed on the table in front of Lucius. He looked at it, surprised. Apparently it was easier to find a memory if the person was willing to give it to you. He felt an awareness in the room, and realized Hermione was able to hear them in her mind. He opened the tome, and the library vanished; it was replaced by a vision of Hermione walking up the steps to the nursing home. The air was crisp and the two felt her shiver with the cold. She walked into the room and encountered the evil Walcott woman. As they listened to the conversation, Lucius felt the strongest urge to hex the woman.

She was clearly annoyed with Hermione’s presence, and told her tale without a shred of remorse. When she made her reference to keeping spare children around to compensate for the “inevitable losses” during the winter, they could feel the horror in the Gryffindors mind and the realization that she was speaking to a woman who was evil to the core. Lucius wanted to comfort her, but recalled as he reached for her that this was a memory.

Kingsley took in Lucius’ rapt attention to the conversation and began to scan the room in Hermione’s peripheral vision. He found nothing of significance, Hermione’s attention had been completely on the old bag’s memories. Sighing, he turned back to the old woman in front of him. That was when he saw it.

Jezebel Walcott was wearing a pendant around her neck, a gold medallion with an ornate letter D in the center studded with sapphires. It looked incredibly old and valuable; a far cry from the faded polyester and cotton attire the woman wore.

Memory Hermione had risen unsteadily when the two men were thrust out of the scene and back into the study. Lucius crashed onto the carpet in front of the fire and Kingsley fell next to him.

“Damn, Hermione. I would assume you’d want your boyfriend’s mind back in one piece, but maybe not.” They could feel her laughing as the Dark man and his blonde companion picked themselves up. The handwritten pages flew off the table as though someone were fanning a deck of cards and as they caught them, they were trust into another memory.

This memory was from earlier that day, which might explain why the memory hadn’t been bound into a book yet: she hadn’t had time to process it yet. They followed the trio as they walked up the steps, and Lucius narrowed as he saw Pansy and Draco touch hands, then look away quickly. He would be having a word with Draco the next time they were together.

A niggle of annoyance drew him back into the scene, and as he took in the clearly obliviated Jezebel, he and Kingsley spotted it at the same time- the pendant was missing. They both doubted she would just take off something so valuable and leave it in her room with no lock with visitors and staff coming in and out. They felt themselves move involuntarily and braced themselves for the inevitable crash into the study once again. They landed, clutching the library table for support. Before Kingsley could stop him, Lucius reached for the book with his name on it. As they were once again thrust from the study, he was horrified at the realization of what was happening.

The book wasn’t her perceptions of him; it was the link to his mind. Dear Merlin.

The two men got up and walked around the new room. It was round, with open windows and clearly several levels above the ground. Lucius had organized his thoughts during his stay in Azkaban, and he had made sure that he would never be confined again. A massive tapestry hung from the center of the room, and he felt his hand reach for a few glistening strands that hadn’t yet been woven in. The strand cut into his hand and he barely had time to grab for Kingsley before they were thrown into the memory.

Lucius was walking in Powerscourt Garden on the trip to Ireland he had just returned from, admiring the blossoms as he waited for his appointment. A family of copper haired parents and their two toddler children walked by; the boy pulled his sister’s pigtails and she slugged him in the stomach. As he went down, the father picked the little girl up and sat her on his hip as the boy wailed. The memory got foggy, then cleared again as that Lucius imagined himself swinging a curly haired brunette daughter into his arms while Hermione knelt to help their young son to his feet, a son who looked remarkably like a young Draco. Of all the memories, why did she need to see this one? He could smell the little girls apple shampoo, the scent of flowers in the garden and feel the warmth of his daughter’s arms around his neck.

This was his desperate and fervent dream, one that he had never spoken of to anyone. He wanted a family again, to be a father raising a child in peacetime with his brilliant, bossy witch by his side. He looked at Kingsley, who gazed back at him in understanding: this was his true redemption, and as it was only a dream, it lay on the table. It was not ready to be woven into the tapestry.

The dream faded from view, and when Lucius opened his eyes they were back in Hermione’s sitting room and she was looking at him with damp eyes. He flushed deep pink, embarrassed that she had seen his dream. She giggled and pressed her lips to his. Bill coughed, and the two separated, a promise to continue this later silently communicated. Kingsley looked at him with a new respect, and the room was quiet until Draco broke the silence.

“Well, did you find anything?”
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The men left after the retelling of what they had seen, with Kingsley promising to floo call Lucius and Hermione at the manor the next day. Draco and Pansy sat on a sofa talking quietly, and Lucius pulled her into the kitchen to talk.

“I see you think I’m going to age well,” she teased. He felt himself flush again, cursing his pale skin that made it so obvious.

“Hermione, do you want children?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Well, I mean not right now. In a few years though, I would like to be a mother.” His shoulders slumped with relief. His dream was still alive, and once this whole mess was over they could get married and start over.

Before he could ask any more questions, he heard a growl, then saw Hermione’s face flame. Realizing it was her stomach, he laughed.

“Would you like to go to Diagon Alley for dinner?” The words were out of his mouth before he could process them

After waiting twenty minutes for Hermione and Pansy to change their clothes, the group set out. Lucius had taken the time during the girls absence to grill his son about his marriage.

Apparently, Draco had returned to England after a major row with his wife. She had been seeing someone for a while, she told him and wanted to marry him. Instead of a divorce, she was seeking an annulment. Draco had raged and then begged but she had been adamant. She was not in love with him anymore, and she wanted out of their “youthful mistake.” The papers had arrived the day before by owl; she was not seeking the Malfoy fortune nor was she willing to give up any of her own. Draco was frustrated by the failure of his marriage, but had been reluctant to tell his father during this whole turmoil with the stalker.

Lucius was deeply disappointed. However, Draco wasn’t the first Malfoy to be divorced, and he was only glad that this had occurred before there was a child in the middle of a custody battle. He was not thrilled with the idea of the Parkinsons being any closer to his family; but Pansy had all but disowned them recently, and she was the only Parkinson he actually liked. He would have to check the tapestry room when he returned to the manor to see if the marriage dissolution was evident in the tapestry room.

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As they approached the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione began to tremble. Lucius directed them onto a side street and pulled her into the lengthening shadows..

“My love, you need to calm down. I know this is difficult for you, but please try to control yourself. We will be there by your side; nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Do you think my stalker is in there? I feel like I’m going to be attacked.” She looked around wildly, trying to look around him. Panic was making her illogical, and all her confidence had fled.

Pansy appeared by her side, and wordlessly pulled her away from Lucius. They moved about ten feet away from the men and the dark haired girl spoke in a low voice.

“Look Hermione, I know you’re scared. The problem is, if you go in there like a shrinking violet the public will eat you alive. You are the girlfriend of the most powerful man in our world; now is not the time to be modest. You are brilliant, you are powerful and all the critics and gossips should mean less to you than the dirt under your feet. Fake it if you have to, but never let them see you struggle.”

Hermione nodded and walked stiffly back to Draco and Lucius. She stepped into his embrace and tipped her head up to kiss him. He smiled down at her, his eyes darkening as he saw her flush. With a returning smile of her own, she slipped her arm through his and they turned to walk through the Leaky Cauldron.

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They made it through the Leaky Cauldron without too much attention; the pub was half empty and Tom had merely nodded to them as they walked through. Draco tapped the bricks to make the archway, and moments later they had crossed into Diagon Alley.

The sky had darkened and the shops were lit from within by flickering candles. Pumpkins were carved and lit with tiny votives and the fragrant scent of mulled cider wafted through the crisp evening air. Witches chatted happily and tried to keep hold of their children’s hands. Wizards puffed on their pipes and congregated under awnings charmed for warmth as they sat playing chess and arguing over cards. Hermione’s breath escaped in what appeared to be puffs of smoke as she took in the familiar scene. They passed the pet shop where Buttercream had come from, and Lucius indulged her by looking at the piles of black furred Kneazles before moving on. Madam Malkins was their next stop for window shopping, and Pansy declared the window display to be tacky and disgusting. Privately, Hermione agreed that the robes were hideously bright for this time of year, and grinned as she nudged Pansy and pointed at the saleswoman inside the store.

“Pavarti Patil. I should have known, she never did have any fashion sense.” Pansy muttered, as they walked on. Hermione listened out of one ear as Pansy informed her of the superiority of Parisian fashion and how they should plan a shopping trip there soon. As far as Hermione was concerned, she could just buy a few cloaks and wear muggle clothes. However, she knew her friend would explode if she ever gave voice to the idea, so she wisely kept silent.

Their destination was next door to Madam Malkins, and it wasn’t until they had entered the restaurant that she first heard the whispers.

“…Hermione Granger doing with him?”
“…thought she’d died or something?”
“…Lucius Malfoy goes through loads of women, thought she’d be smarter…”

She ignored the whispers and blatant stares before being led to their table in a corner of the restaurant. The entire group pretended they heard nothing unusual as they perused the menu and ordered from the flustered waitress. After she departed, Lucius reached for Hermione’s hand and lifted it to his lips; his eyes playful. She blushed furiously, met his gaze and bit her bottom lip as she fought her reaction, causing him to laugh out loud. He lowered their hands to the table, refusing to relinquish it.

Despite the scandalized looks their table was getting from other patrons, Hermione found that she enjoyed her dinner very much. The scallops she had ordered were moist and flavorful and the wine Lucius had chosen complimented the meal beautifully. Several business owners and Ministry officials had greeted them as they stood to depart, and Lucius returned the greeting formally, introducing Hermione to them. They stepped into the chilled night air, and carefully navigated the cobbled streets.

Hermione wanted to go visit the Weasley twins at their shop, and Lucius walked her to the door before leaving to run some mysterious business with his son. She and Pansy stepped into the shop, ignoring the guffawing chime that signaled their entrance.

“Hermione!”

The Weasley twins swept her up in an embrace, nearly knocking her off of her feet. She took the tour of the shop, rolling her eyes at the new line of products created especially for use at schools. Her argument that they were corrupting wizarding youth made them laugh harder, and finally Fred disappeared to get her monthly check for Whitechapel sales, and a reminder that they would need the next Wolfsbane order ready by next week. Hermione tucked it into the inner pocket of her long muggle coat unopened. The girls went to find some warm cider as they waited for the men.
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Lucius entered the tiny shop, the small chime signaling his arrival. A stooped man greeted him, and Lucius stood at the counter as the man went to get his order. A well dressed witch in navy robes was examining a pocket watch next to him, and looked up with a smile.

“Lucius, how wonderful to see you!” She held out her hand and Lucius bowed over it.

“Madam Bones.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t return your owl yesterday. Our docket has just been crammed full of late, and I didn’t even see it until this morning.”

“I understand you are busy, Miss Bones. Unfortunately, I needed to discuss with you a matter of great importance. A witch’s safety is in danger, and my owls have all been unanswered for the past three weeks. I have had to get the Minister himself involved in this, and I will not rest until she is safe.”

Madam Bones smile froze on her face. Involving the Minister of Magic himself was very unorthodox, as it essentially gave a vote of no confidence to the highest court in wizarding Britain. If Kingsley was involved, then the issue was serious. Thinking that he must be teasing (though she had never known a Malfoy to be the joking kind) she said lightly:

“Come now, Mr. Malfoy. Who is the witch who has you all in this state? She must be very special; I don’t remember you expressing such an interest in any of your dalliances before.”

The stooped man returned, holding a small velvet box. He opened it with a flourish, and Draco drew in his breath sharply as he looked at the ring nestled in plum silk. Madam Bones had peered into the box as well, and her eyes widened. Whatever this woman’s relationship to Malfoy was, it was no mere dalliance.

The ring was platinum, with three baguette diamonds, each about a carat in size. Between each diamond was a sparkling black stone of the same size and cut. The ring sparkled and shone in the light, and a faint sheen of charm overlay the stones.

“Black diamonds. The most rare stone on the planet, with alternating clear diamonds. I have the usual anti-theft charms in place, as well as the runes for fidelity and forgiveness. This is one of the most unusual rings I have ever designed; the lady who is receiving this must be very special indeed.”

A woman stepped forward and Lucius could feel her open mouthed breathing on his neck. He turned quickly, and nearly hexed a short, pudgy woman who was wearing a magenta alice band and looking up at him through amphibian like eyes. She fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

“What do you want?” Lucius snarled as he made no attempt to help Dolores Umbridge to her feet. The woman stood, and simpered.

“Your Excellency. And Mister and Mr. Malfoy of course. I just stepped in for a bit of shopping, and there you were.”

“How did you get in madam? You didn’t come through the door,”the jeweler asked, his brow furrowed. Umbridge turned and waddled out the chiming door without answering.

Lucius closed the box and placed it in the deep pockets of his cloak. Thanking the man, he turned to walk away. Madam Bones voice stopped him.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’d like to speak with you tomorrow about your issue. Will you have any working hours tomorrow?”

“I will be meeting with the Minister in his office at ten thirty. We will be joined by various Aurors and cursebreakers.”

“I’ll be there.”
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Lucius and Draco met up with the women outside the pet shop, where Pansy and Hermione were holding steaming mugs of cider and cooing at the kittens. Deciding not to bother with the walk back to the Leaky Cauldron, they apparated to Cemetery Lane. Hurrying into the warded area of the property, they wasted no time in getting out of the cold air.

Hours later, Lucius awoke lying in a now familiar bed wrapped in cashmere blankets. The fire had been recently banked and the room was warm, the firelight casting shadows. Looking around, he saw Hermione standing at the window overlooking the cemetery, wrapped in her favorite plum blanket. She didn’t seem to be aware of his wakefulness, and stared out the window lost in thought. He rose, walked to the window and pulled her close, loosening the blanket from her grasp until it fell to the floor. They stood together naked at the window, his arms wrapped around her waist, allowing the fire and their body heat to keep them warm.

Lucius slid his hand slowly down her body, starting at her collarbone and ending between her thighs. He could see her smiling reflection and grinned as he turned her toward him and propped her up on a ledge, before lowering his lips to her body. She closed her eyes and lost herself in sensation, forgetting about everything but his touch. Tomorrow on Samhain, they would finally consummate their relationship and she was looking forward to sharing that part of herself with him. She slid her hands in his hair and relaxed. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.


Two stories below, four eyes watched the unfolding scene above them with disgust.

“What they’re doing is absolutely revolting. She must have my Lucius under some sort of enchantment; or he wouldn’t be doing…that with the little mudblood.”

Another voice, this one higher pitched agreed. ”The whole community has been turned upside down by that horrid woman. First, she renounces the wizarding world to live with the Muggles, and ends up seducing your Lucius so I get sacked. It took me years to get back in the Ministry’s good graces. Now, she writes that book exposing our family’s secrets in what should be our ancestral home. We have to stop her.”

“You aren’t going to the gala tomorrow?” A smirk covered the younger woman’s face; she knew her aunt hadn’t been invited, and secretly gloated.

“You wouldn’t be either if you weren’t going for work. Remember, that mudblood is going to be the new Mrs. Malfoy if you fail tomorrow, not you.”

“I won’t fail, Aunt.”

“Good.” The couple in the window had switched places and the two women down on the ground watched in disbelief. Their faces flushed at the sight, and they stood to leave. The younger one had a spring in her step as they hurried away; she couldn’t wait for tomorrow night.

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Coming up: The Gala, and some more answers.

Thank you for my reviews, I sincerely appreciate them.
LV