Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

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Updated 10-6-07


I thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Your kind words and careful analyses help me make the story adhere to canon (i.e., following the official story line, not the cannon that goes boom in battle) when I may not have been on track otherwise. Thank you for adding so many precise details to the tale. This thing is turning out so much better with your input.


pluto_rising Yes the first shot of Jason Isaacs looking up into the therapist's camera on Brotherhood was jolting and it was because I was seeing Lucius Malfoy glaring upward instead of Michael Caffee. LOL And there is a Jason Isaacs Fans yahoo group I belong to if you want to talk about or get info on him and his doings. A nice group and pretty active. http://movies.groups.yahoo.com/group/Jason_Isaacs_Fans/


Just so Amethystique doesn't smack my Muse I'll tell all of you, if any were worried, that Draco is NOT one of the bad guys. I wouldn't do that to poor Lucius. He has enough problems.


chelleybelle You've noticed that I adore words. I promised myself when I began to write that I wouldn't constrict my prose. If a certain word suited the action, I'd use it, no matter if it was a common word or not. I collect words like others collect stamps or seashells. (My poor child soon learned not to use the phrase 'prodigious proboscis' in the fourth grade when the other kids figured out what he was saying about them.) I hope the words enhance your reading pleasure.

So - are we ready for dinner at the Grangers'?


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Chapter Twenty-Six

Dinner at the Parents’

By the time they came awake it was nearly time to leave for Hermione’s parents'. They struggled up from the sofa, Lucius helping Hermione to gain her feet and steady her as he rose to stand next to her. “Did the servant come? I didn’t hear anything.” He stepped over and opened the door, letting in the piney smell of cleaning fluid, which answered that question.

Hermione was a little cranky at having slept the afternoon away, but she was incredibly refreshed from her nap in Lucius’ lap and that made her even more cranky. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge him in any permanent role in her life yet, but that dratted Death Eater kept sneaking under her skin.

“We’ll have to hurry a bit, Lucius, if we want to be on time and that’s all my parents asked of us, if you’ll remember.” She stomped through the hall and into the bedroom, slinging off her dress and removing a short evening gown from her closet.

Lucius followed her into the bedroom, walking over to his wife and touching the fabric of the gown. A quiet grunt told his wife he approved of the panne velvet in a slate blue. Lucius mentally inventoried his jewels and remembered he had a beautiful necklace in sapphires and diamonds that would enhance the gown, but it was locked in his vault on the estate. If they had a fireplace big enough for flooing, he groused silently, he could have fetched it. His constant apparating to and from this humble Muggle dwelling was starting to make his head ache occasionally and he knew that it was a sign to keep his own apparating down some. He wasn’t quite as young as he used to be and they still had to apparate to and from her parents’ home. Ah well, another night he’d have the necklace out and adorning her throat. The matching earrings were too ornate for her delicate features. He’d have another, simpler set made for her to wear.

For tonight, he needed a quick shower, feeling a bit sticky from being Hermione’s mattress in the parlor for hours. He doffed his clothing, adjusted the water temperature and finished his shower in minutes, drying his hair and body with a quick spell. He selected a black evening suit instead of a robe for meeting Hermione’s parents, pairing it with a white shirt, a black dull satin waistcoat and muted green tie showing the Slytherin shield in a small overall print.

Hermione was trying to tame her curls as she watched her husband dress and she saw the Slytherin designs on his tie. Her eyes rose and saw Lucius regarding her inimically, just daring her to comment.

She opened her mouth but Lucius warned her with a growl. “Not a word, Hermione. Not a single word. I’m Slytherin through and through. Take it or leave it.” Then a smile broke the frown on his face and he said slyly, “You do realize our child will be sorted into Slytherin, too.”

Hermione merely laughed and went out into the hall for her coat. They would see what the hat decided, when the time came. That wasn’t for a few years yet and Hermione had more pressing problems than a ritual she couldn’t control. But Gryffindor wasn’t out the question for their babe by a long shot.

Lucius resumed his frown - did she know something he didn’t? Malfoys always were sorted into Slytherin. Always.

Lucius made sure Hermione was bundled up securely in her outdoor clothing before donning his cape and adding his fur hat and gloves. He picked up his cane from the umbrella stand and then nodded to his wife that he was ready to leave, then said, “Wait!” He went to the kitchen for the wine and returned to his wife, then nodded again.

Hermione took hold of Lucius’ hand and quickly apparated them to the front porch of a much larger Muggle home. Lucius barely had time to look around before Hermione pressed her finger on a button and a hollow sound echoed inside the home somewhere. The door opened quickly and light spilled out from another warm interior. Lucius was starting to like this Muggle idea of a warm home very much.

“Hermione, Lucius, come in. It’s freezing out tonight. Did you apparate?” Hermione’s mother stepped back into the hall and allowed the couple to enter, stomping their feet to get the excess snow off from the front porch.

“Yes, Mum, but doing it a few times won’t hurt anything. Don’t worry.” Hermione was helped off with her coat and Lucius hung it up on the hooks along the wall next to other coats. He sincerely hoped there would be no other guests.

Hermione’s mother held out her hand, taking Lucius’ cold one, “I’m Vera. I’m happy to meet you finally. Come into the lounge where we can be cozy. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Her mother looked back at her daughter, “I wish you’d let us get you a car.”

“I know, but I don’t need one, truly, Mum.” She could just see the pandemonium on the streets of London with Lucius behind the wheel of a car that appeared suddenly in traffic only to disappear again. A slight shudder wracked her small frame.

Vera led Hermione and Lucius into a large sitting room where a slender, nice-looking man with graying brown hair got up from one of the easy chairs dotted around. Crookshanks looked up from his cozy spot on another of the easy chairs, made a lazy chirrup and went back to dreaming of the stupid sparrows that never learned to check under the hedge before looking for bugs in the backyard grass.

Hermione went over and petted her traitorous fuzzball cat that had instantly chosen to stay in the wide open ranges of her parents’ backyard rather than emigrate to her much more modest postage stamp, concrete-covered rear space. He had also now chosen her father as his personal property, sneaking onto the much larger lap whenever it was on offer. Hermione’s lap had disappeared and was of no use whatsoever to the half-Kneazle.

Crookshanks loved helping his new person in the backyard Granger greenhouse in the evenings and had become quite the gardener, being an able digger. Unfortunately at first he had mistaken the petunia seedlings for kitty litter, but they saw eye to eye now. Best of all in the feline’s mind, the kitty treats kept coming if he begged just right. Hermione’s father was a pushover.

This evening Crookshanks had been out on patrol ridding the greenhouse of any impudent rodents. He usually dragged in just after dawn and snoozed all day on various chairs in the lounge according to his whim of the moment, but he had come in early tonight in Hermione’s honor so she could pet him.

The half-Kneazle knew better than to bring his erstwhile witch-owner a present. His new person was much more amenable to giving suitable encomiums for the cat’s hard work when Crookshanks deposited his victories on the back porch. Hermione had never understood that he was a mighty hunter deserving of the highest praise for his bravery and cleverness. She always ruined the moment by saying something deflating like, “Oh, the poor little bird.” The minute the petting was over, Crookshanks closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Lucius stepped forward toward Crookshanks’ Muggle pushover, extending his hand for a solid handshake in greeting, then he put both bottles into Dr. Granger’s arms. He stood back and sought his wife’s eyes. His narrowed in a slight scowl when he saw her eyes were definitely laughing up at him. Well, so what! he grumped a fast facial reply.

Hermione’s parents saw the brief byplay and were a little relieved about this very odd marriage their clever daughter had contracted. The magical couple was able to communicate nonverbally and it looked like Hermione was actually having some sort of fun at her husband’s expense – and he was accepting it. That boded well for their life together, to be able to tease one another. Maybe they had come to terms with each other now.

“I’m George Granger. We’re glad you both were able to come to dinner. I hope you like roast beef, Lucius.” Both men were of a size and both attitudes were a little reserved.

Lucius inclined his head, “I do. I assume it’s a favorite of your daughter’s? It’s served quite often at home. Perhaps you two will come for dinner when Hermione and I have settled back on my estate.” Lucius turned to include Hermione’s mother in his invitation and caught a glare from his witch-wife promising retribution.

“We haven’t decided just when or if I will move in with Lucius – he’s just hoping.” Hermione elaborated, but her parents were not on her side on this issue.

“We assumed you would be living together in your husband’s home, Hermione. Your place will be too small for the three of you.” Her own father made that shocking statement and Lucius began to unwind a little as he saw potential allies in his desire to have his wife in his ancestral home.

“Please, sit for a few minutes while I finish up the preparations for dinner.” Vera started to move out of the room and was halted by her daughter.

“Do you need any help, Mum? She slid her arm through her mother’s and they exited the lounge, leaving the two men standing somewhat awkwardly together.

George Granger put the wine bottles on a sideboard near an arrangement of white chrysanthemums before showing Lucius to a chair across from his. He resumed the seat he’d been in before. “Hermione says you’re something of an investor, doing business deals, but she didn’t tell us much more than that.” George left the sentence there, tacitly asking Lucius to explain his work in more detail.

Lucius cocked his head trying to figure out just what information Hermione’s father wanted. Business advice? In-depth, background check? “I already have a large income from a personal, inherited fortune and that has to be invested and scrutinized constantly. But, yes, I do also make various business deals at times, organizing group projects with other investors. It’s lucky that I really enjoy the financial world. But I also like botany. Are those mums from your garden?”

George’s eyes gleamed suddenly, “They’re from our hothouse. We have a small one in the back yard. I can show it to you after dinner if you like.” Hermione’s father liked to dig in the dirt and grow flowers and some herbs for his wife as a hobby. Their dental practice took up the rest of his time.

Lucius relaxed even more, finding himself in comfortable territory. “I’d like that very much. When the furor dies down from the baby, you might wish to visit my conservatory and later in the year, my gardens will be abloom with several unusual flowers I could show you.”

“Yes, I’m sure Vera and I would love to see your gardens. Thank you.” George cleared his throat, “I understand this isn’t your first child. You have a son?”

Lucius gave his most charming smile while mentally his guts curdled at the probing question. He saw it as a comparison of his and Hermione’s disparate ages, but girded his emotional loins and dove in, “Yes, my son Draco went to school with Hermione. I think she’s nearly a year older than he is, but I may not have that quite right. Did she start Hogwarts when she was twelve instead of eleven?”

“Um, yes, I believe so.” George tried to remember, then shrugged. “So your wife and your son know each other quite well, then? I vaguely remember her talking about a Malfoy at school sometimes, but I don’t think they got on too well.”

“Oh, yes, they knew each other quite well and you are correct that they didn’t get along much in school being from different houses. The rivalry is often acute, you know. But I don’t think there is any lasting animosity between them as adults. In any case, Draco lives on the continent now, so I don’t see him nearly as often as I would like.” Lucius mused, “They don’t have much in common at all, I guess, except for me, of course.”

A chime rang from the back of the house and George stood up, “That’s the dinner bell. Shall we?” and he motioned Lucius out the door to the hall.

Lucius and George entered a lovely, softly lit dining room with candles in sconces on the wall and several bouquets dotted around the room, including a low one in the middle of the linen tablecloth, all of which offered up their various light fragrances to delight the senses. Lucius thought the ambiance was charming for a small Muggle home and he knew now that this abode was not the smallest that Muggles could live in. He figured Hermione had cornered the market on miniscule homes.

They all sat down and Vera started passing the bowls of food, while George asked how much beef each wanted, and started carving the roast. Dinner progressed easily with reminiscences of Hermione’s childhood and Lucius, Vera, and George trading their experiences raising children. Lucius hadn’t been as ‘hands on’ as the Grangers, but he had been a careful, if indulgent parent and he’d followed his son’s school career closely. He had that in common with Hermione’s parents. The meal ended with a homemade cheesecake with a strawberry topping that Lucius enjoyed very much and went so far as to ask for the recipe.

Hermione shivered in her shoes that he was going to attempt to make one himself, until he remarked that he wanted his elves to try their hands at the confection. Hermione’s relief was palpable and completely puzzling to her spouse who only thought maybe she hadn’t liked the cheesecake very much.

Dinner came to a close with everyone having truly enjoyed the conversation and the wine, which Lucius had remembered and retrieved from the lounge for dinner.

George asked, “Lucius, would you like to see the greenhouse now?”

“Oh, that’s a grand idea, dear. Hermione and I will be only a moment cleaning up, then we’ll wait for you two in the lounge.” Vera stood back for Hermione to use her wand on the dining table clutter, sending it into the kitchen as Lucius and George meandered out the back door into the dark garden area.

Lucius pulled out his wand, “Lumos!” and the back yard lit up enough to show the two men the path leading to a sizable greenhouse near the rear of the property.

“Handy things, those wands,” George chuckled, putting away his flashlight as he led the way, both entering the structure to be immediately assaulted by the smell of damp earth and growing things. Each man inhaled appreciatively and they smiled at each other, in harmony with the nature around them. “Over here is a tropical shrub I think you might be interested in. I like the unusual leaves.” Lucius found himself fascinated by some plants he’d not seen before and an engrossing discussion entertained them both for several minutes. Lucius was bent over a small bonsai when George’s light touch on his arm caused him to look up inquiringly.

“Do you love my daughter, Lucius?” George’s eyes were watchful as his guest slowly straightened.

Lucius didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t used words to communicate his feelings except in the bedroom and then only to enhance their lovemaking. If anyone should hear about Lucius’ feelings first, it should be his wife, not her father.

In the seconds before Lucius managed to control his face after being blindsided by Mr. Granger, George saw anguish, fear, resignation, sorrow, and anger cross his son-in-law’s face, before the wizard’s icy eyes finally softened and that was enough for Hermione’s father, although Lucius never said a word.

“That bad, huh?” George gave Lucius a big grin and stepped back. “Hermione and you will have to work out your own concerns. Vera and I want the best for our daughter but we trust her judgment. She chose you and that’s enough for us. The rest is up to you and I don’t envy you at all. I love my daughter but she’s a distinct handful and needs someone who’s up to her weight both in intellect and determination.” George turned for the door to the greenhouse chuckling, “Good luck!”

Lucius trod a little unsteadily after his host, his mind dazed with the uncertainty of a situation he’d rather not face, while absently lighting the back yard again before re-entering the house. Lucius thanked the Grangers for the evening and wonderful meal and Hermione said their good-byes, leading Lucius to the front door. A moment later, they were out of the house and had apparated back to Hermione’s small parlor.

George and Vera wandered into their bedroom, “Well, George, what do you think?”

George grinned at his wife, “I think this is going to be a battle royal with no-holds barred and no prisoners taken. Two more stubborn people I think we’ll never meet.”

“As long as they’re truly in love, that’s not a problem.” Vera said complacently.

“No, that’s not a problem at all,” George replied, smiling at his wife.

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Hermione went into the hall and put away her outdoor clothing, then went straight into her bedroom and began removing her velvet dress and underclothes.

Lucius followed much more slowly, still unsettled by Hermione’s father’s question. Do you love my daughter? Was it love? He’d thought it was love in Azkaban, but it hadn’t survived her departure and betrayal. He didn’t want it to be love – not any more. So was it now something more primitive, lust perhaps? He could live with that. But if this was lust, the poets should have spent more time extolling it over the centuries, instead of wasting their time on love. Do you love my daughter? When Hermione was angry with him, it hurt. Lucius hated to be estranged from her in any way. Even by a silly argument over biscuits. Do you love my daughter? Lucius shook his head. He felt he could safely label it obsession for now, and decided to put away his nagging emotions for a while yet. His incipient headache immediately dissipated.

He entered the bedroom to see his wife had managed to completely disrobe and had scuttled under the bedcovers, smelling of toothpaste. Lucius removed and carefully hung up his own clothes, brushed his teeth and slipped under the covers with his tidbit to find she was already deep in slumber. Wrapping his precious double burden in his arms he found a sense of utter contentment before also submerging in the peaceful waves of sleep.


tbc...

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I always get a kick out of writing about Crookshanks. He just makes me smile. I see him as the feline version of a Lucius Malfoy, I think, so his antics come easily to me. Actually maybe it's the other way around - Lucius is like a big, tawny lion, another feline who thinks he's mighty lord of the jungle.


I hope you enjoyed Hermione's parents. I think she would have
folks as basically nice and decent as she is, with their own senses of humor. She didn't get her intelligence from the postman either. I hope all your expectations were met and you enjoyed the wine and roast beef.

Reviews are breathlessly awaited because so many of you were looking forward to this chapter. (Crosses fingers not to have disappointed anyone...)
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