Wizard's Porn

OK, people getting antsy here, yep, there’s a lot of lose ends – but they’re all going to come together quite nicely into something resembling a tassel on the end of a scarf! :)



Warning: angsty chapter – but it will start to pull it all together.







Lucius had been fined twenty-thousand galleons, as much as Kingsley

could legally do for the crimes he had committed. It wasn’t really a dent in his vault – he paid more in tax on an annual basis, but his reputation had gone down in opinion a little.



Having been conveniently locked in Azkaban for the last year-and-a-half of the war – a plan he had been rather proud of – he’d only been punished for minor crimes and let out a free man. He’d lain low for a year afterward, but gave huge donations to charities without asking for publicity. He blamed it on his guilty conscience – but in reality it was just a method of getting back into the public’s good graces – it’s financial graces. Malfoy Incorporated and Malfoy International were the work of five generations, and Lucius didn’t want Draco to be the last generation to run them.



He’d managed to get a foot inside the door at the ministry. He was genuinely a changed man, but he didn’t think vampires – dangerous creatures – should be allowed to roam among the population, never mind have the same business rights as Wizards!



Quite how he’d missed the public extrication of Hermione Granger was something he pondered over while he went over the accounts for his three florists, thanks to some prize roses (of long life once cut, and at a reasonable price) they were doing brilliantly. Though, Narcissa had stopped talking to him, she normally reported the gossip pages to him.



“Father.” Draco said as he stepped into the study. He had a medium tan, and his hair was practically white, thanks to the sun. He held a case of scrolls of parchment and a gait of an adult. Draco Malfoy had matured mentally and physically away from the influence of his peers and former ‘friends’. Europe had been good to him, and he’d been good for European magical trade by propping up vital, but failing companies with a cash injection from Malfoy International. There were twenty companies under their flag – and Draco actually relished being the Managing Director.



“Draco. You look well.” Lucius said, lost for words, what did you say to someone you hadn’t seen face to face for two years? Especially someone who, upon parting, had quite clearly stated they hated you.



“You don’t. But I’m not here to discuss pleasantries. Here are the annual reports for the Internationals, Italy’s hit a bit of a rough patch at the moment, but they’re getting through it.”



Lucius blinked, this wasn’t the Draco Malfoy he remembered! Who was this young man, and what had they done with the son who didn’t give a rat’s arse about anything but himself?



“I assure they’re all in order, but I will look over them later.” The senior Malfoy sighed, when had things got so out of hand? Out of his hands?



“Any particular reason you kidnapped Granger?” Draco asked, leaning against the huge desk and over his Father.



“I thought myself in love with her – or more accurately, as I now realise, in lust with her… not even that, her alter ego, a glamour.”



“You make absolutely no sense.” Draco said, raising a white eyebrow.



“That’s what worries me.” Lucius muttered, looking into the fireplace, watching the dancing flames.



“Start at the beginning, I’ll get my Public Relations people on it – they’re good. You’ll no doubt come up smelling of roses.” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper, “As per fucking usual.”



“Hm?” What was the last?” Lucius blinked, suddenly blinded when he tried to look at his son, he only saw greenish-blue flames.



“If I had wanted you to hear, I would have spoken louder. Lets get you out of this mess – your behaviour has made a mess of the stocks and shares in Malfoy Incorporated – and it’s crossing the channel to muck up the Internationals.”



*****



At dusk, Harry and Haldor escorted Hermione and Lysander back to the cottage. The wards had been re-set by Hermione, fortified by Harry and Kingsley; and Haldor had added his own branch of magic into the mix.



Nothing was getting into that residence without Hermione’s permission. Not even the snow that had been falling crossed the perimeter of the wards, leaving the impression of a backward snow dome.



“Will you be alright on your own?” Harry asked, stroking Hermione’s arm. Lysander, getting sleepy, was busy telling Haldor about the flowers by the path in his own little language.



“We’ll be fine, Harry. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” She said, giggling as Lysander picked up a sprig of the Winter perennial and putting it into Haldor’s long brown hair.



“Oh? Do I look beautiful now? Hm?” the vampire said, picking up the little boy as he continued to chatter. Haldor was a very dangerous being, but Lysander wasn’t remotely frightened of him. In fact, Lysander could be found frequently sat on the Vampire’s knee if they went out in public – nobody was stupid enough to aim a hex at a vampire. Lysander had associated the undead man with safety; and Haldor would protect the child with his existence, he was considered as family by these humans, and would behave thus.



“I think its bath time, story time then bed time.” Hermione said, taking her son back and moving through the door. “You are invited over my threshold and are welcome in my home – may the moon stay high and the sun stay diminished on our company.” Hermione said, the formal invitation for a vampire.



Haldor bowed low, Lysander patting him on the head like a dog. “Let go ov my hair zo I can stand, young man.” He chuckled.



“Dor!” Lysander yawned.



“Yes! It is me! Let go ov my hair, please?” the vampire said, scowling as Harry laughed. The baby let go and they entered the fortress that the cottage had become.



*****



It was dark before Lucius had told Draco the whole sordid tale, and the younger Malfoy sat stunned.



“Is this the part when I wake up, get out of bed, have a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and go to the office?”



“No. What I told you is the truth.” Lucius said.



“Oh? Makes a change.” Draco said, menacingly.



“I think I deserved that.” Lucius said, resigned. He was insulted, but knew he had no right to be. Draco had suffered too much because of him. “What can your PR people do?”



“Absolutely nothing.” Draco said flatly, leaving no room for argument.



“Pardon?” Lucius said, confused.



“You’ll get what you deserve. Granger was the smartest witch in Hogwarts – she’s probably still the smartest witch in the population. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned – and you scorned a very intelligent woman… her revenge will be clever and damaging.” Draco said, wise beyond his years.



“What do you think she will do?” Lucius asked, his son seemed to be the expert at the moment.



“I have no idea. But she won’t hit your coin bag or business. Too many people rely on you for wages or charity… no, she’ll harm you and only you. Granger never caught anyone in the crossfire when she cast a curse or hex – she aimed true and struck her target.” Draco said, remembering back to his time in school. He owed her a long-time-coming apology. Perhaps he could send her an owl now he’d managed to forgive himself?



“Where else would she aim, if not my money? The Manor?” Lucius mused.



“Don’t be daft – you’ve got twenty house elves!”



“Nineteen, your Mother took one with her.” Lucius corrected.



“Nineteen” Draco spat, obviously angry about being corrected.



“So, not my money, not my property… my roses?” Lucius couldn’t think of anything else he had that could be targeted by a vengeful Mother.



“Perhaps… but what good would it do? They’re plants!” Draco was now at a loss, “I don’t know where, when or what she’ll form her revenge against – but I know it will hit you where it hurts; and when she hits you, you stay down.”



“I could apologise to her.” Lucius said.



“Erm… a week too late for that one. She’d see it for the escape route it is and not accept it. You put her and her child in danger!”



“The child is a Lestrange.” Lucius said, noticing Draco smile weakly.



“Be glad he is – it could have been a Malfoy.” Draco muttered, heading out of the study door; he had almost escaped before his sire spoke again.



“What do you mean by that?” Lucius demanded. He might not be in control of the situation, but he was Lord and Master here, and would not be walked away from.



“Oh? Let me think…” Draco said with sarcasm, “Do you remember a certain Homicidal Megalomaniac Psychopath? You know… the bastard you pledged my allegiance to when I was fifteen? The foul piece of work who branded me with this?” Draco yanked his cufflink free and rolled up his left shirt sleeve, revealing the grotesque mark still as vivid as the day it was formed. “Well… he-who-fucked-up-my-life-with-your-permission quite liked to witness mass rape – and you either did as he told you or were tortured right along with the woman they’d captured.



“I refused to participate once, and I never went against what the evil wretch commanded again. You, were nice and safe in Azkaban at the time… leaving me to try and defend Mother – I couldn’t defend myself.



“Oh yes, I was a coward to participate in the revels, but just once I tried to do the right thing; and then I stopped believing in all that was good in the world.



“But if I am a coward for not doing the right thing, then what does that make you? You deserve what she does to you – as do I – but at least I didn’t have a choice in my crimes. Severus tried to talk you out of it, and you didn’t listen. She said no, and once again, she was ignored.”



Draco left the room, tears streaming down his tanned cheeks. Lucius had never heard him speak such a long speech. The senior Malfoy sat staring into the flames of the fireplace until they burned down to mere embers.



He suddenly had a lot to think about.



*****



In Lysander’s bedroom, the little boy lay in his cot, looking at the vampire with sleepy eyes as his melodic voice sang him to sleep. A powerful vampire had the ability to harmonise their own voice – and Haldor was doing just that – leaving Hermione and Harry speechless at the talent. Haldor wasn’t one for showing off.



“Are you going to Scarborough fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Remember me, to one who lives vere,

She voz once a true loff of mine.”



“That was beautiful!” Hermione whispered, leaning into the cot to kiss her son and cover him with his blanket.



“I hear him sing in the shower every evening, but I’ve never heard him sing without water masking the talent!” Harry said quietly, proud.



“He vill sleep vell tonight, his teeth are no longer a trouble, and he seems to haff recovered from last veek.” Haldor said, closing the door as the three left.



“You are great with him.” Hermione stated, hugging the vampire.



“I voz the eldest ov vourteen children, twelve vho survived… I became good at calming a child to sleep.”



“Fourteen!” Hermione said, “I have enough on my hands with one!”



“You are a brilliant Mother. He is a vonderful child.” The vampire stated.



“Yeah, Haldor’s right, you’re brilliant with him. He’ll grow up loved and happy; he’ll have manners and brains; and a gorgeous Mum too!”



“Oh, definitely, a ravishing beauty!” The vampire chipped in.



“Why are all the good ones either married or gay?” Hermione giggled.



“Or both?” The vampire grinned, flashing his fangs.



“Come on boys, can I get you a drink?” she said, getting back into a routine.



*****



At half-past midnight, Hermione finished completing the letter she would send to the Daily Prophet; along with a bottled copy memory of what really happened - not what Skeeter wrote it to be. First, she needed to find her Gryffindor courage and finally clear her own name; she had to face her own demons and fears.



Once she was no longer controversy’s puppet, then, and only then, would she set about ruining Lucius Malfoy.



Hermione went to bed tired, but for the first time in a long while, she fell to sleep without having to go through the meditative exercises Severus had taught her.



*****



Lucius slept uneasily that night, the words of his son laying heavily on his mind. He had forgotten about the witch he had wronged – she hadn’t done anything for over a week – and thus his guard was down.



*****



Lysander slept peacefully, lulled into happy nonsensical dreams by the melodic voice of his uncle Haldor.