A Thief to Catch a Thief; a Death Eater to Catch a
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,728
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,728
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
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.
Setting the scene
Setting the scene.
The Aurors managed to finally capture the last of the ‘Next Dark Lords’ – they found him sat in the corner of a dim pub cellar in the middle of Wizarding Nottingham. He had one sock over his hand, and had drawn eyes on it, and was having a rather pleasant conversation with the grimy cloth.
“Oh, Sokka, they left us here? Why did they leave us? Didn’t they like us? Didn’t they want us to help take over the world?” he muttered, holding the sock-puppet to his heart and stroking it’s ‘head’.
“You will come with us.” Lucius said, pointing his wand at the man who proceeded to push himself as far into the crevice as he could.
“Its him, Sokka – its him – they wanted him to help, they did! They wanted the blonde one to be with them. Didn’t want us, Sokka, didn’t like our ideas; didn’t let us help.” The man babbled, shaking his head, looking at Lucius.
“Erm, I don’t think this one is good for Azkaban, can you let Saint Mungo’s know, Jess?” he asked his partner, his eyes and wand never leaving the man whimpering in the corner.
“I am going to put you in a full body bind and apperate with you to Saint Mungo’s.” Lucius said, watching as the man screamed, clutching at his sock-covered hand as he began to sob.
“He wants to hurt us, Sokka, he wants us to be in pain – so much pain. Lots of pain and then nice words telling us what to do, and the pretty green light that hit the wall, and then there was more pain as other people pointed wands.” Muttered the man, trapped in a memory that was fragmented at best.
“He was target practice.” Lucius said with a sigh; using a gentle spell to knock out the unfortunate man before apperating to the wizarding hospital to hand him over to the healers. There was little they could do for him now his mind was so broken; he would be cared for in the hospital until he died.
***
“That brought back a lot of memories.” Lucius sighed, he was sat in front of the fridge, his bottom on the cold tile floor, a magnet pressing onto the back of his head as he remembered.
“You alright?” Hermione asked, bending down to his level and pushing his hair out of his eyes – it was rare for Lucius to not have his hair tied back at work, a distinct sign that he was rattled over something.
“That young man, target practice for fools who broke his mind.”
“What’s past is past, let go what you did then and move on.” Hermione prompted, motioning for Dave to get his cup of tea later so she could help Lucius. Unfortunately, it only served to gather a small group of tea-breakers who wanted their three o’clock cuppa.
“I did nothing, I was the one aimed at.” He whispered, dropping his head into his hands.
“Oh. Shit.” Hermione said, not able to come up with a better reply.
“If they’d done it to Draco – like they wanted to, he would be occupying a bed on the spell damage ward for years. It almost did me in, but for some odd reason a week of being hit with various hexes and curses didn’t send me mad… I don’t think. I don’t talk to my socks.”
“You had a pretty good conversation with Crookshanks last week…” Hermione joked gently, trying to pull Lucius out of this small depression.
“He was trying to creep behind me, get all four paws into my back and shove me from the sofa! I wasn’t having a conversation with him – I was arguing with him!” Lucius said in all seriousness.
“Crooks is my alpha male – and he doesn’t like someone else sitting next to me, especially as it was his spot on the sofa.” Hermione chuckled.
“Sorry about this.” Lucius said, looking up at her with a forlorn expression, “The falling to pieces, I mean.”
“This is nothing – you haven’t seen me wake up from nightmares screaming… sometimes memories are so painful that I can’t face getting out of bed on a morning, never mind carrying on with my day. We all have bad times, it’s the negative part of being an auror… I just have a good cry and get it out of my system.”
“Yeah, not an option…” Lucius began before Hermione interrupted him.
“Malfoy’s don’t cry?” she said, serious.
“No, the poor sod I took to Saint Mungo’s stole my handkerchief, he said that Sokka needed a friend…” Lucius chuckled.
“You know, you could just use bog roll like the rest of us meer mortals.” Hermione teased offering her hand to help him stand.
Lucius looked at the clock: “Come on then, we’d better put our plan into action and get the party planned.” Lucius said, elegantly rising from his crumpled position on the floor. It was like the images of the evolution of man; as Lucius stood straighter, his arrogance, power and strength returned to him and he walked from the kitchen/staff room with his head held high and a calm expression.
***
Three months later, the sham held at the Spear and Arrow for Hermione’s ‘leaving party’ was a huge success. Only the aurors knew that Hermione hadn’t actually accepted the job as the Canadian head auror, the Minister presented her with a lead crystal vase, while Harry gave her a huge bouquet of flowers. Ginny and the other auror spouses had no idea it was a set up, and that the smartest witch of the age was infact remaining firmly on UK soil.
“I am truly sorry to leave you all; you have been wonderful colleagues and even better friends. I will miss you all, but I have to move on in life, and the opportunity in Canada is one I cannot miss. I wish everyone well for the future, and would like to remind you that the bar closes at midnight.”
A short round of applause followed the brief speech, as Hermione mock-sobbed onto Harry’s shoulder as he spouted something about missing his big sister, who was going to look after him and correct his paperwork now?
***
On Monday morning, Kingsley assumed the (temporary) role as head of the auror department; careful to keep secretive information Hermione passed to them away from public eyes. They needed evidence before they acted – the raids on the establishment in question had proved inconclusive, heavy spell work in place to give an air of perfection, and due to the underage nature of the people living there, the aurors were forbidden from casting any hexes.
This was a tricky situation – and only one woman would be capable of pulling it off…
***
“Hello, and you are?” snapped the pointy woman looking down at the shy girl knocking on the door.
“Claire, Claire Barrow.” Said the young woman, not looking up.
“Ah – the new member of staff… you can change in the office, you can’t wear that.” Snapped ‘Pointy’ as she marched down the dim hallway in her dismal grey robes. “I am Gertrude Hopplewink, I am head nursemaid here – you answer to me.”
Claire sighed, following the other woman’s retreating back; taking in every detail of her surroundings before the heavy wooden door slammed shut and plunged the narrow space into darkness.
She changed into the grey robes, folding her pastel yellow ones; rubbing around her neck at the itchy collar. “You will get up at five o’clock in the morning and you will go to bed at ten in the evening. You will make beds, do laundry and smile at the people coming to look around.” Snapped ‘Pointy’ none-too-gently pushing the tiny Claire into a Spartan room that bore an uncanny resemblance to Azkaban’s cells. “The wards on the property keep you in – you do not leave the building unless told to do so.” Hopplewink slammed the door to the room before storming away.
Hermione looked into the mirror, checking her glamour was perfectly intact before she set about the list of chores on the tatty list she’d been given; while formulating a plan to gain hard evidence of money laundering and child cruelty. On the outside, Catherine’s Children’s Home was a perfect example of care and attention, but rumours had hinted that not all was well behind the façade.
The Aurors managed to finally capture the last of the ‘Next Dark Lords’ – they found him sat in the corner of a dim pub cellar in the middle of Wizarding Nottingham. He had one sock over his hand, and had drawn eyes on it, and was having a rather pleasant conversation with the grimy cloth.
“Oh, Sokka, they left us here? Why did they leave us? Didn’t they like us? Didn’t they want us to help take over the world?” he muttered, holding the sock-puppet to his heart and stroking it’s ‘head’.
“You will come with us.” Lucius said, pointing his wand at the man who proceeded to push himself as far into the crevice as he could.
“Its him, Sokka – its him – they wanted him to help, they did! They wanted the blonde one to be with them. Didn’t want us, Sokka, didn’t like our ideas; didn’t let us help.” The man babbled, shaking his head, looking at Lucius.
“Erm, I don’t think this one is good for Azkaban, can you let Saint Mungo’s know, Jess?” he asked his partner, his eyes and wand never leaving the man whimpering in the corner.
“I am going to put you in a full body bind and apperate with you to Saint Mungo’s.” Lucius said, watching as the man screamed, clutching at his sock-covered hand as he began to sob.
“He wants to hurt us, Sokka, he wants us to be in pain – so much pain. Lots of pain and then nice words telling us what to do, and the pretty green light that hit the wall, and then there was more pain as other people pointed wands.” Muttered the man, trapped in a memory that was fragmented at best.
“He was target practice.” Lucius said with a sigh; using a gentle spell to knock out the unfortunate man before apperating to the wizarding hospital to hand him over to the healers. There was little they could do for him now his mind was so broken; he would be cared for in the hospital until he died.
***
“That brought back a lot of memories.” Lucius sighed, he was sat in front of the fridge, his bottom on the cold tile floor, a magnet pressing onto the back of his head as he remembered.
“You alright?” Hermione asked, bending down to his level and pushing his hair out of his eyes – it was rare for Lucius to not have his hair tied back at work, a distinct sign that he was rattled over something.
“That young man, target practice for fools who broke his mind.”
“What’s past is past, let go what you did then and move on.” Hermione prompted, motioning for Dave to get his cup of tea later so she could help Lucius. Unfortunately, it only served to gather a small group of tea-breakers who wanted their three o’clock cuppa.
“I did nothing, I was the one aimed at.” He whispered, dropping his head into his hands.
“Oh. Shit.” Hermione said, not able to come up with a better reply.
“If they’d done it to Draco – like they wanted to, he would be occupying a bed on the spell damage ward for years. It almost did me in, but for some odd reason a week of being hit with various hexes and curses didn’t send me mad… I don’t think. I don’t talk to my socks.”
“You had a pretty good conversation with Crookshanks last week…” Hermione joked gently, trying to pull Lucius out of this small depression.
“He was trying to creep behind me, get all four paws into my back and shove me from the sofa! I wasn’t having a conversation with him – I was arguing with him!” Lucius said in all seriousness.
“Crooks is my alpha male – and he doesn’t like someone else sitting next to me, especially as it was his spot on the sofa.” Hermione chuckled.
“Sorry about this.” Lucius said, looking up at her with a forlorn expression, “The falling to pieces, I mean.”
“This is nothing – you haven’t seen me wake up from nightmares screaming… sometimes memories are so painful that I can’t face getting out of bed on a morning, never mind carrying on with my day. We all have bad times, it’s the negative part of being an auror… I just have a good cry and get it out of my system.”
“Yeah, not an option…” Lucius began before Hermione interrupted him.
“Malfoy’s don’t cry?” she said, serious.
“No, the poor sod I took to Saint Mungo’s stole my handkerchief, he said that Sokka needed a friend…” Lucius chuckled.
“You know, you could just use bog roll like the rest of us meer mortals.” Hermione teased offering her hand to help him stand.
Lucius looked at the clock: “Come on then, we’d better put our plan into action and get the party planned.” Lucius said, elegantly rising from his crumpled position on the floor. It was like the images of the evolution of man; as Lucius stood straighter, his arrogance, power and strength returned to him and he walked from the kitchen/staff room with his head held high and a calm expression.
***
Three months later, the sham held at the Spear and Arrow for Hermione’s ‘leaving party’ was a huge success. Only the aurors knew that Hermione hadn’t actually accepted the job as the Canadian head auror, the Minister presented her with a lead crystal vase, while Harry gave her a huge bouquet of flowers. Ginny and the other auror spouses had no idea it was a set up, and that the smartest witch of the age was infact remaining firmly on UK soil.
“I am truly sorry to leave you all; you have been wonderful colleagues and even better friends. I will miss you all, but I have to move on in life, and the opportunity in Canada is one I cannot miss. I wish everyone well for the future, and would like to remind you that the bar closes at midnight.”
A short round of applause followed the brief speech, as Hermione mock-sobbed onto Harry’s shoulder as he spouted something about missing his big sister, who was going to look after him and correct his paperwork now?
***
On Monday morning, Kingsley assumed the (temporary) role as head of the auror department; careful to keep secretive information Hermione passed to them away from public eyes. They needed evidence before they acted – the raids on the establishment in question had proved inconclusive, heavy spell work in place to give an air of perfection, and due to the underage nature of the people living there, the aurors were forbidden from casting any hexes.
This was a tricky situation – and only one woman would be capable of pulling it off…
***
“Hello, and you are?” snapped the pointy woman looking down at the shy girl knocking on the door.
“Claire, Claire Barrow.” Said the young woman, not looking up.
“Ah – the new member of staff… you can change in the office, you can’t wear that.” Snapped ‘Pointy’ as she marched down the dim hallway in her dismal grey robes. “I am Gertrude Hopplewink, I am head nursemaid here – you answer to me.”
Claire sighed, following the other woman’s retreating back; taking in every detail of her surroundings before the heavy wooden door slammed shut and plunged the narrow space into darkness.
She changed into the grey robes, folding her pastel yellow ones; rubbing around her neck at the itchy collar. “You will get up at five o’clock in the morning and you will go to bed at ten in the evening. You will make beds, do laundry and smile at the people coming to look around.” Snapped ‘Pointy’ none-too-gently pushing the tiny Claire into a Spartan room that bore an uncanny resemblance to Azkaban’s cells. “The wards on the property keep you in – you do not leave the building unless told to do so.” Hopplewink slammed the door to the room before storming away.
Hermione looked into the mirror, checking her glamour was perfectly intact before she set about the list of chores on the tatty list she’d been given; while formulating a plan to gain hard evidence of money laundering and child cruelty. On the outside, Catherine’s Children’s Home was a perfect example of care and attention, but rumours had hinted that not all was well behind the façade.