The Senior Project

Chapter 21

Draco stared at the empty spot in the doorway that had housed his father’s frame, pondering the older man’s words. And pondering his father. He couldn’t remember his father ever appear to be less than perfect, in any way, shape, or form, and yet he could have sworn that he had been limping as he left the dungeons. And now that he thought about it, he couldn’t ever remember his father having any wrinkles on his face, but today he looked, well, almost haggard.

Merlin! What was he doing thinking about his father’s appearance? His words were much more important than how he looked. He and Hermione. To be turned over to the Dark Lord. And his father was here to prevent it if he could. His father. Right-hand man of Lord Voldemort. Here to directly disobey Lord Voldemort’s orders. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he really had changed. The Head Boy smirked, albeit somewhat uncomfortably; certainly his father’s outward appearance had changed, even if nothing else had.

Circe’s wand. Why was he coming back to his father’s appearance? Simple answer. Because he had changed. And his father’s face was the key to his emotions – and ever since Draco had known him, his father had never shown anything in his face. And yet he was somehow transformed. Not just the lines on his face, or even the way he had had to rely on his cane. No. It was his eyes. There was definitely something different. The signature Malfoy-flint grey was the same, but there was something else. A softness, or something. It was indefinable, really. But there was definitely something there that he’d never seen before. And the gods knew that he had spent enough time watching the man, looking intently for any response, any sign of what his father was thinking. And despite the effort, the gods knew that he had never known what the older man was thinking. Not until today.

Damn it. How by all that was holy and cursed did Hermione do it? He had spent his entire life trying to talk to his father, and in a few short months, Hermione had actually managed to make his father human. Damn her! It just wasn’t fair! Not only was she going to graduate first in her class, stealing that honor from him, but she had also somehow managed to find his father’s soul, when no one else could.

Eh. What was he thinking? How could he be mad at Hermione? Yes, he would have liked to have been the man that captivated her. And yeah. He was jealous that she had done what he had never been able to do. But the results were still the same, right? His father was actually approachable and accessible. Hades! His father had actually wanted to talk to him. Sure it stung that he hadn’t been able to break through his father’s shell first, but if he had to see anyone else do it, he was glad that it was Hermione. And, if she was really able to make him a feeling, possibly even compassionate, individual, then maybe she really was be the best thing that could ever happen to him. And how could he be jealous of her for that?

Because if his father was sincere, then he should be going to Hermione and falling on his knees in gratitude.

If, of course, his father was serious. That was the question. But damn. Those eyes. They weren’t the same eyes that he had studied for the last 18 years. And it made him believe that he had changed. He sure looked sincere.

Ah, Merlin’s balls! If he didn’t trust his own father, who would? Suddenly, his inner voice spoke clearly. Damn it, Draco. You’ve got to take a stand – wasn’t that what his father had always said to him? And yet he’d always managed to play both sides – never committing to anything, while managing to give the impression that he was supporting both sides. It had always served him in the past. It was the only way he knew to survive – both with his parents, and then later at school. But instinctively, he knew that he had reached the time to make a decision. Time to call on those innate Malfoy reflexes – the family had always reacted correctly to these sort of ‘the dragon is at the gates’ crises, and so he knew that he could trust his gut. He had to.

It was time to talk to Dumbledore. He knew that his father would need all the support he could get, and Draco couldn’t deny him that. Not with those eyes.

&&&&&

Being on the Board of Governors for the school did have its advantages; rather than having to take the long route from Slytherin to the guest housing, Lucius knew a few shortcuts, and with a few taps of his wand was able to find his way back to his rooms in short order. Stumbling into the bedroom, he gingerly lowered himself to a sitting position on the bed, his body wracked with pain. He had so much to do; he needed to see Hermione, he needed to learn a little more about Severus, and where his loyalties were, so he needed to talk with Albus, and he needed to figure out how to save his wife and his son. But gods. He was tired, and his joints felt like they were on fire. He needed to rest. Just for a bit. He couldn’t deal with anything else until he rested. Painfully, he rolled onto his side and pulled his feet onto the bed. He closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf him.

&&&&&

After turning her parchment into Severus while trying to avoid his piercing glare, Hermione dashed through the dungeons and up to the Headmaster’s office. Professor Dumbledore gave her the password to the quest quarters, and she headed through the passageway. She was peripherally aware that she was still dressed in her school robes, and that she had her bookbag with her, but she didn’t want to take the time and stop by Gryffindor first. Lucius had been tortured! She couldn’t get it out of her mind, and the thought made her stomach turn. No wonder he looked uncomfortable at lunch. Almost subconsciously, her hand slid over her belly. Whatever it took, she’d fight until the end. No matter the outcome.
Reaching the guest quarters, she knocked on the door, but received no answer. Using the password Albus had supplied her (“Eskimo pie”, inexplicably), she entered the suite. The front room was unoccupied, so she went back into the bedroom. Her heart immediately jumped into her throat when she saw Lucius, sprawled face down on the bed, fully clothed. Dropping her bookbag, she raced over to the side of the bed, quickly checking for signs of life. As soon as she felt the rise and fall of his back, she let out the breath she had been holding, and looked again at her blonde lover. There was no way he could be comfortable like that! Trying not to awaken the sleeping wizard, she tried to ease a pillow under his head, so that he could at least breathe a little better.

She had just about maneuvered the pillow when Lucius awoke with a start; sitting up abruptly, and reaching for his wand. “Her-oh gods, Hermione. Oh Hermione. My darling.” His words were mumbled, but as soon as his eyes focused on her, his arms reached out to her and Hermione took his hands, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“Lucius, my love,” she murmured, drawing his head to her shoulder.

“Oh gods, Hermione. I didn’t ever think I’d see you again. Did I? Were you? Was I at lunch today? Or did I just dream it?”

Hermione nodded gently, “No, my love, you were there. You talked with Professor Dumbledore and me.” She stroked his hair lightly, saying nothing for a few moments, before speaking again. “I spoke with the Headmaster after lunch. He told me everything. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m just so tired. And sore.” Hermione’s heart tore at suppressed pain in his voice.

“Maybe Madame Pomfrey’s got something that might help.”

“No. There is nothing that works. Painkillers will just dull my mind – the effects of the curse have to just work themselves out. I just need to sleep for a bit.” He reached his hand up and stroked her face, turning his head to face hers. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He smiled faintly. “I’m sorry I’m just not able to entertain much at the moment.”

Hermione smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m not one to take advantage of a man when he’s down.”

The hints of his laugh lines became visible, “You couldn’t take advantage of me right now, if you tried. There isn’t an inch of me that doesn’t hurt.”

“Just get some rest.” Oh gods. For an instant, she longed for the childhood days when a kiss and a sweetie would make everything better. But those days were long gone. They had a lot to get through. Assuming that they could get through it. Better not to even think about that.

“Yes dear.” The uncharacteristic sing-song response brought a few giggles from Hermione. “I’ve got to meet with Albus later. We’ve got to figure out how to get out of this mess. I won’t let that bastard take my family. I won’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Just get some rest. Let me help you get more comfortable.” She stood up and took off his boots, and then helped him out of his cloak.

“Just cover me with that, will you. And will you stay with me? For a while, at least?”

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.” Lucius lay down on his back, and Hermione covered him with his cloak. She then retrieved her bookbag, and pulled up a chair next to the bed. When she sat down again, she had her potions text in her lap, and began to read. The dozing wizard slid one hand out from under his cloak and reached for her hand. Their fingers linked, Hermione noticed a relaxed smile cross the man’s face before his breathing became deeper.

About an hour and a half later, Lucius opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. Hermione! She was still here! Gods. Thank the gods. Just the sight of her gave him strength. Whatever he had to do, he’d do. “Hermione, my darling. Have you been here all this time?”

“Of course. Where else would I be?” She squeezed the fingers of the hand that she still held. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Not perfect, but better. That rest helped a lot. I’ve got a lot to do. I’ve got to talk with Albus. I’ve got to know who I can trust. Besides you, that is.” He sat up slowly, but moved with comparative ease when he put his boots back on.

Standing up, the blonde wizard took Hermione in his arms, and pulled her close to him, his arms forming a protective barrier around her shoulders. “I will not let anything happen to you, or our child. Or Draco. I promise it. I love you, my dear.” Their lips met in a soft kiss as they both held each other tighter. Still clinging to each other, Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, inhaling the still-lingering scent of sage. She would remember this moment forever.

“I’ve got to see Albus. You’ll come to me tonight?” The wizard’s voice was so full of hope that he almost sounded like a child asking for a much-hoped-for but unlikely-to-receive present.

Hermione smiled; “Of course, even if all I do is tuck you in and give you your goodnight kiss.”

Lucius leered in response; “You underestimate my recuperative powers!”

Still smiling, Hermione left the guest housing and went back to Gryffindor.

&&&&&

“Professor Dumbledore, I need to speak to you.”

The white-bearded man looked up from his desk; Draco Malfoy as Head Boy was a far cry from the arrogant boy who came to Hogwarts almost 7 years ago, spitting hate and spewing Lucius’ diatribes. “Sit down, Mister Malfoy. A jelly-baby?”

Draco tried (unsuccessfully) to hold back a smirk; the old man’s fondness for sweets never failed to amuse him. “No, thank you, sir. I want to talk to you about my father.”

“By all means.” Albus sat back, waiting for the young wizard to start. While father and son had put on a united front for years, it was obvious to those who looked beneath the surface that there was a growing rift between the generations.

“I talked to him after lunch. For a bit, at least. Something’s happened to him. I don’t know what, but something.” The headmaster nodded. Obviously Lucius hadn’t mentioned the Cruciatus. Interesting. “Beyond just Lord Voldemort demanding my and Hermione’s heads on platters, I mean. He’s really changed.”

Draco stopped. How to explain this? “Look, sir. I know why he’s here. I know that he’s here to try to protect me and Hermione – and, ah, their child. Also I also know that a lot of people are going to think that he’s here only to save himself. And until I talked with him, I would have thought the same thing. I mean, my father’s only ever been altruistic if he sees something in it for him.” Draco’s lips fought a wry smile.

The headmaster nodded again, trying to hide his pride. Draco had grown out from under Lucius over the years – and had learned how to form his own opinion on things. A finer education Hogwarts could not have delivered.

“And maybe he is still being self-serving. He is my father, after all. But he’s only being self-serving because he want to make sure that nothing happens to me or Hermione. Or their baby.” Draco paused, running his fingers through his hair, while staring at his shoes. Merlin! Talk about the one situation he had never anticipated. Finally, uncomfortably, he looked directly at his headmaster, “Sir. May I speak frankly?”

Hiding a smile of his own, the headmaster nodded. “Of course. As Head Boy, you always have the privilege to speak freely.”

“Look. I know that my father has been a plague on this school’s administration for many years. And he’s been an irritation for you personally. To say the least! Circe! He’s been my bane for years. To immediately believe that he has changed is hard to believe. It’s hard for me to believe. But, sir. I believe it. I honestly believe that he is here to fight against Lord Voldemort. He might be here to save himself, or to save Hermione, or to save me, but he’s here to fight for all that you hold dear. I know that you’ve got to be questioning why he’s here, and whether this is a ruse to out the forces that would fight against Voldemort, but I swear to you, professor, he’s sincere. He’s here because he wants to defeat Voldemort. He’s a different man from even 6 months ago. I know that you’ve got to make your own decision on this, of course, but trust me, sir, from one who knows him best, he’s changed. He really wants to defeat the Dark Lord. He’s not here as a part of some feint.”

Having had his say, Draco let out the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding.

“So, Mister Malfoy, you are saying that you believe Lucius’ intentions to be honest?”

“Yes, sir. If you asked me yesterday, I would have said no. But I’ve seen him. I’ve seen his eyes. He’s different. And if I may say so, sir, if it’s Hermione who did this, she should be given the Order of Merlin, First Class. Because if anyone can bring down the Dark Lord, it’s my father.”

“I must say, Draco, your faith in your father is encouraging. I believe, as you do, that Lucius is here in all sincerity. I have other reasons to believe – as you do – that your father means to do all he can to defeat Voldemort. But, as you say, there will be many who will not trust your father’s motives. There will be a meeting this evening of those who support our cause. And I think that your presence would be most helpful.” The headmaster raised a silent eyebrow in question. Draco believed his father, but would he be willing to publicly support him in the face of opposition?

“Let me know when you need me. I will be there.” He looked down at his shoes again, and then back to the headmaster. “My father is not the man he was. Thank you for giving him the chance. He is a good man – a changed man – and he won’t disappoint you.”

The old wizard smiled again. “And Draco. Your father is lucky to have you. As are we. And don’t worry. We’ll do everything to keep you – and Hermione, and your father – safe.”

&&&&&

Lucius ducked behind a tapestry and into an alcove; he didn’t want his son to know that he had overheard the last few minutes of his conversation with Albus. He was afraid that if Draco knew that he had heard, his son might be embarrassed, and it might make their fragile relationship even more delicate. But it was hard to not rush after Draco and embrace him. He and his son had been at odds for years – all his own fault, admittedly – but to hear him voice his support was striking. And even more motivating. He would defeat Voldemort. Or die trying. And he’d make sure that Draco was protected, as well. Loyalty needed to be rewarded.

Once Draco was down the hallway and out of earshot, he came out of hiding, and headed toward Albus’ office.

&&&&&

Hermione dashed into Gryffindor tower, speeding through the common room before anyone could stop her, and headed straight to her rooms. She could not deal with any of the girls from Gryffindor at the moment; she needed some time to herself. And some time to get some homework done; with the meeting tonight, she wouldn’t have much free time tonight.

Throwing off her school clothes and getting into jeans and a sweatshirt made her more comfortable and ready to attack the homework. She decided to start with Potions first. Best to do it while she could still concentrate. Rifling through her bookbag, she searched for her lab notes. Damn it! They weren’t in her bag! Damn. Which meant that they were somewhere down in the Potions classroom. Which means she was going to have to go down and get it. Damn it. Oh well. Severus was just going to have to live with the informal clothing. And with any luck, he wouldn’t even be there.

Racing out of Gryffindor again, Hermione made it down to the dungeon classroom in record time. The door was open, but the room appeared to be empty. Gods be with her…

Except she couldn’t find her notes. She looked around the desk where she’d been sitting, on the floor, and even the rows behind her, in case they had accidentally been scattered. Nowhere. Gods. How was she supposed to get her homework done if she didn’t have her notes? It’s not like she could rely on Harry or Ron. And certainly not Neville. Damn it!

“Are you looking for these, Hermione?” The silky voice washed over her. Severus! Merlin be damned! “It was quite careless of you to leave these lying around. Quite a detriment to your studies. But you were, no doubt, ah, distracted today.”

“Thank you, Severus. Yes. I was looking for them – I wanted to get a start on my homework, and didn’t realize that I had accidentally left them down here.” Gods! How the hell did he sneak up like that?

“That does explain your attire.” Severus’ eyes raked her frame, clearly disapproving of her casual attire.

“Yes. Us Muggles tend to want to be comfortable when we study. Something that hasn’t crossed over into the wizarding world, obviously. But I guess there’s no great surprise there.” Gah. Not really the biting response she was hoping to come up with. But how dare he criticize her for her clothes – especially outside of class hours?

“Indeed. And Lucius shares this view, no doubt?” His malice was badly masked by his still-placid demeanor.

“Lucius does realize that I am a Muggle, you know.” Merlin’s balls. Obviously it was time to talk with Severus about Lucius.

“I’m sure he does, Hermione. Although I’m surprised that you aren’t aware of his, ah, feelings towards Muggles. You are aware that he is a Death Eater, are you not? A Death Eater, loyal to Voldemort? And surely you are aware of Voldemort’s feelings about Muggles, and Muggle-born witches.”

“Yes, actually, I am aware of all of the above. Including Lucius’ feelings toward Muggles.” She smiled, hoping that she made her point concerning Lucius.

“I don’t think you know as much as you think you might,” he retorted silkily. “I’m sure that by now you are aware of Lord Voldemort’s demand.” Hermione nodded. Of course she was. Severus’ eyes narrowed. “Do you honestly think that Lucius is here for you? If you believe that, then you are even more foolish than I thought. Lucius is a pure-blood. Some mudblood whore isn’t going to be of interest for him. He’s here to save his skin. And if you think he’ll save you in the process, then I think you will be horribly surprised.”

“I don’t think you know him as well as you think you do. “ She took a breath. “I realize that change isn’t something that most Death Eaters are capable of, no matter how much they want to convince others, but Lucius is different.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Hermione. Maybe those words will comfort you when Lucius brings you to the altar of the Dark Lord.” The Potions master’s voice had become dangerously low.

“And what about you? Where will you be? Standing at ‘Lord’ Voldemort’s side? Or cowering at Hogwarts, hiding in your dungeons? I thought you were sworn to protect the students at this school. Surely your loyalty to Professor Dumbledore is unflagging.”

The dark-haired wizard grabbed Hermione violently by the shoulders. “Hush, you fool. That is not information that should be bandied about. Anyone could overhear, and –“

“Yes. Anyone could overhear. “ Lucius stepped into the Potions classroom and shut the door behind him firmly. Severus took several steps back from the young witch. “Although I do think that Hermione has a good question. Where do your loyalties lie? Surely if you were as loyal to the Dark Lord as you profess to be, you would have long since let him know about my presence. And maybe you have. “ Severus’ face was a mottled mix of emotions, ranging from surprise to anger. “Of course, you should know that the Dark One has you under investigation for treason. That was, after all, what brought me to Hogwarts under the guise of you, in the first place.” The blonde sneered delicately.

Hermione felt vaguely ill. Her eyes searched Lucius’ face, but she couldn’t read him. “Oh really? And I thought you merely came here to seduce Muggles, impregnate them, and then let everyone else pick up the pieces, while you escaped to your Manor.” Severus’ sneer was nowhere near as delicate.

Lucius stepped over toward Hermione. “Severus. I will ask you once, nicely, to not insult my wife. I ask you as a gentleman, although I realize that you may not be able to understand that.”

“Your wife? Did the Cruciatus scramble your brains? I should remind you that young Miss Granger is betrothed to your son. Draco. You do remember him?” Lucius took a step forward, reaching for his wand a split second before Severus did.

“Stop it. Both of you.” The two wizards looked around abruptly; Hermione’s voice came as a shock to them. They had been so focused on taunting each other that they had lost sight of anything except each other’s faces. Now they both turned to her. “Look. We’ve got a problem here. I don’t know the extent to which you want to help, Severus. Truth be told, Lucius has quite a bit more on the line than you do. And right now, I don’t know if you even want to be involved. It’s hard to tell, from the way you’ve been acting. But that’s between you and Professor Dumbledore. The two of you attempting to hex each other into oblivion sure as hell doesn’t help the situation, and it does absolutely nothing for my nerves. ” She glared hard at her Potions master before turning to her blonde fiancé. “Either you two play nice, or avoid each other. But we’ve got enough problems without you two going after each other.”

Hermione turned and left the classroom, grabbing her potions notes that had been sitting on a nearby desk since Lucius’ entrance, while missing the bemused smile that crossed her lover’s face.



****
A/N: Yeah, no smut here. But that little scene with Lucius and Hermione is based very closely on the experience that I had with my (now) husband right after he had surgery for his broken neck. I was at his side when he woke up (although it was still days/weeks after that he thought that was a dream), and he was pretty incoherent. I didn’t do anything other than sit in the hospital room and read while he slept. I figure that since the Cruciatus has the ability to drive people insane from the torture, that Lucius’ suffering would be in line with having a metal plate put in your neck….

Anyway, thanks for all the kind reviews. I am working away on the next chapters, have RedSugg back as my beta (I really need to bounce some ideas off her for the next chapters) , and really do plan on getting this finished (in a somewhat timely fashion, even!).