Just Around the Riverbend
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
76
Views:
60,003
Reviews:
826
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
76
Views:
60,003
Reviews:
826
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money off of this story.
Garden Variety
Special thanks to:
Nemesis
Heidi91976
angeles
Anathema
Voracious Reader
Alina
Serin Blackmoon
sirsevchick
I thank all of you that reviewed, and I hope to see many more of you do the same with this update. ^_^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phelan sat on one of his salvaged wood chairs, balancing the cloak he was patching back together. He’d stolen this little gem from the trash can of some random neighbors that lived a few miles from the Malfoy grounds. Apparently the wife had gone through her husband’s closet, and thrown out his older cloaks. Lucky for Phelan, they were close enough to his size that a bit of discreet needlework would make them look half decent.
He swung the tattered cloak around his shoulders, and used a Reflection spell to see how it looked. He stared at the reflection for a few moments.
“Gods damn it. I look like a fucking hobo.” He snarled. He absolutely hated being poor. He was away from the pack, and his clothes were at home. Not that they were much better. Being a werewolf certainly had its disadvantages. Like not being able to just walk into a store and buy a new cloak. Store owners had the right to deny business to any patrons they chose to, and that usually meant werewolf, vampires, and half-breeds were screwed when it came to shopping.
He ripped the cloak off, and threw it into a corner with a frustrated roar. He couldn’t go back home until he was capable of killing his father. And although his father would not be missed by him or anyone else, it was a heavy burden to put on the shoulders of a minor. And he was still a minor. He was fifteen years old.
Phelan’s life had been a hard one. He took his mother’s life coming into the world, and so had never known her love. His father was cruel and calculating, and refused to pamper or coddle his son. He had been beaten and mistreated the entirety of his short life and the only way to make it stop was to kill his own father.
He buried his face in his hands with a soft groan. He could return home, if he could kill Lucius Malfoy and present the man’s body to his father as a gift. But the more he got to know the man, the less likely it seemed. Lucius Malfoy was not a pushover by any means. Were he a werewolf there was no doubt in Phelan’s mind that he would be an Alpha.
He still thought Daisy was an annoying little brat. She was so sure of herself, the little chit. He wanted to sink his fangs into her throat, and yet….there was something else about her. There was something different from any other female he had ever met. He’d met females that were sure of their bodies and abilities. He’d met the ones that threw themselves on him to gain his favor for the day when he took over as Alpha. But never in any of his few years on this earth had he met a girl who was so….kind. That was it. He’d never known kindness. And he didn’t know what it did to him. The only few feelings he’d ever picked up from the humans regarding him were anger, pity, disgust, and fear. But she did not fear him, nor was she disgusted by him, nor did she pity him.
He opened the door of the little garden house, and walked outside on the gravel trail he’d prepared. It had taken him hours to break down enough rocks to cover a little path up to the door. He was getting attached to this little house. He’d put so much work into making it livable.
With another sigh, Phelan began to walk up towards the large manor house. Perhaps the little human-girl was working in the garden again.
~~
Daisy had a small metal trowel in her hand, planting some of her little flowers. Harry sat on a wall nearby, smoking a cigarette. He’d been so much more relaxed today. He’d even hugged Daisy at breakfast.
“Werewolf at two o’clock.” Harry said softly, and took another drag of his cigarette. He’d found the whole idea of Phelan Greyback suspicious. He’d had a few run-ins with Fenrir, but he’d been able to pretty much ignore this young man. He was certainly grateful that Phelan had saved Daisy, or she’d never have been able to make his dream catcher, but why had the forest been on fire to begin with?
Harry was just suspicious enough to think Phelan was up to something.
Daisy looked up, and grinned when Phelan sulked into the garden.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” she asked. He pulled a face at her, and his yellow eyes flicked up to where Harry was sitting.
“Well, well, well. Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding World, and general pain in the arse.” Phelan said, grinning nastily. Harry merely smiled.
“Phelan Greyback, son of Fenrir Greyback, slobbering beast of Knockturn Alley, and general nuisance to polite society.” Harry returned. Phelan showed his teeth with a growl.
“Okay, boys, play nicely.” Daisy interrupted. “Would you like to help, Phelan? Harry’s too busy killing lung cells to help.” She said. Phelan turned to Daisy.
“Of course I’ll help you, Daisy. I myself am no stranger to hard work. I wasn’t born with a golden spoon in my mouth.” He said, and gave Harry a pointed look. Daisy raised a dark eyebrow, and turned around to retrieve a flat of flowers for Phelan to work on. Phelan promptly used both hands to give Harry a double middle-finger salute. Harry returned the gesture happily. Phelan bared his fangs at Harry, who merely took a drag of his cigarette.
“Here.” Daisy said, and shoved the flat into his hands. “You can plant them around the other side of this walkway. Try to get them in a straight line, no more than six inches away from the paving stones. The roots have to have room to spread out.” She said. She stood up and brushed off her knees, and headed for her tools to get Phelan a trowel. Phelan put his flat of flowers down on the side of the walkway he’d be planting them.
“I can hardly wait to watch wolfie dig in the dirt.” Harry said. Phelan was surprised for a moment at the animosity in Harry’s voice. Then the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he showed his teeth again, parting them in a snarl. “So where did you get fangs, anyway? Are you also part vampire, or are you just one big magical freak of nature?” Harry asked.
“Harry!” Daisy scolded. “That was particularly cruel of you.” She said. Phelan said nothing, but the growl stayed deep in his chest. Daisy looked over at him, noting the way his fingers had crooked into claws, and his nails had lengthened and sharpened. “Phelan, you gotta calm down…” she said softly. Phelan looked over at her, and then back at Harry. Harry winked at him.
Phelan whirled on the ball of his foot, and stomped away from the garden, upturning the flat of flowers in the process and completely pulverizing one of the tender plants under his foot. Daisy howled in anguish, and dropped to her knees beside the ruined flowers.
“If you’re going to act like an ass hole, then don’t come back!” she sobbed after Phelan, and threw a rock at his retreating form. It missed by several feet. Daisy gently picked up the crushed plant, and set it aside from its brothers. She drew her wand from her pocket, and accio’d a larger pot that she’d emptied a few days earlier. She carefully filled the pot most of the way with dirt, and put the hurt flower inside of the dirt, gingerly arranging its roots. Then she covered the flower with a bit more dirt, making sure the roots were well protected by soil. She wet the soil slightly with water from her wand, and then put the pot down in front of her, and put her wand away.
Harry watched curiously as she then put her hands around the pot like one might hold a coffee mug, and then closed her eyes. A soft green glow showed under her palms, and immediately the crushed flower perked back up a little, its broken stem stiffening slightly. It still looked rather dead to Harry.
“Okay, little one. Now it’s up to you. I’ll bring you up to my room and protect you.” She whispered to the plant. Then she quickly and efficiently put the upturned plants into the ground so that the roots wouldn’t die from shock. Then she picked up her potted plant, and walked out of the garden without so much as a glance back at Harry.
~~
Hermione was leaned back against Lucius as he ran his fingers over her scalp, massaging away her tension. She went completely boneless when he applied his fingernails lightly.
“Do you like that?” he asked, a smirk firmly in place. She made a pleased nonsensical sound in the back of her throat. He gently eased his fingers to the back of her neck. “I received an invitation to the Ministry Summer Ball in the mail this afternoon.” He said conversationally.
“Hmm.” She moaned softly when his fingers moved right below her ears, where her jaw line started.
“I was wondering if I might have you accompany me this year.” He added. Hermione was quiet for a moment, before regretfully pulling out of his grasp. She turned her head towards him.
“Why?” she asked.
“It’s always such a boring affair. And I do believe you’re on the guest list anyway. I merely thought to ask you to show up on my arm.” He said smoothly.
“What’s the theme this year?” she asked. Each year those damned Ministry Balls had such garish themes. Last year the theme had been Peacocks, and the guests had been encouraged to dress in the colors of the vibrant birds. Hermione was positive she’d go colorblind. But Lucius Malfoy had dazzled the entire ballroom by showing up in pure white. When confronted about his choice of costuming, he’d merely smiled and made the remark that no one specified that it had to be blue peacocks. He’d merely chosen the color of the Albino variation’s plumage.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He said, sneering slightly. Hermione merely snorted.
“You’d make a fantastic faerie.” She teased. He raised a flaxen eyebrow, and sniffed disdainfully.
“Very well. But I shall be the king of the Faeries. And Oberon needs a Titania.” He said. Hermione grinned. “So, will you go with me?” he asked.
“On one condition.” Hermione said. Lucius narrowed his eyes at her, noting the way her eyes began to twinkle again.
“What?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Invite Phelan to go along.” She said.
“Hermione.” He started.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong. He seems like such a sweet boy beneath all of the gruff exterior. Werewolves are not bad people, but they are many times the victims of terrible circumstance. You could change his whole outlook on life with just a small invitation to a ball. I bet even his father wasn’t born blood thirsty. In fact I’d probably bet the better half of a broom that he may have even been a normal person until society turned its back on him.” She said stubbornly. And she looked so adorable at that moment that Lucius didn’t have the heart to tell her Fenrir Greyback had indeed always been bloodthirsty. Bit maybe she was right. Maybe the boy could be saved. It would certainly save society quite a bit of trouble not to have to deal with another Fenrir.
“Very well.” He conceded, sighing as if it had been a great concession on his part. He was rewarded with a peck on the lips.
“We may make a Gryffindor-worthy humanitarian out of you yet.” She teased. He sneered again.
“Not bloody likely.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So we have some character development, and a little bit of plot advancement. I do hope that was enough for a review. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with cherries and sugar and chocolate sauce and nuts and whipped cream and caramel on top?
You've read, now rate/review......OR ELSE!!! I'm just kidding, it's not like I'd kill ya or anything. 0_o
Nemesis
Heidi91976
angeles
Anathema
Voracious Reader
Alina
Serin Blackmoon
sirsevchick
I thank all of you that reviewed, and I hope to see many more of you do the same with this update. ^_^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phelan sat on one of his salvaged wood chairs, balancing the cloak he was patching back together. He’d stolen this little gem from the trash can of some random neighbors that lived a few miles from the Malfoy grounds. Apparently the wife had gone through her husband’s closet, and thrown out his older cloaks. Lucky for Phelan, they were close enough to his size that a bit of discreet needlework would make them look half decent.
He swung the tattered cloak around his shoulders, and used a Reflection spell to see how it looked. He stared at the reflection for a few moments.
“Gods damn it. I look like a fucking hobo.” He snarled. He absolutely hated being poor. He was away from the pack, and his clothes were at home. Not that they were much better. Being a werewolf certainly had its disadvantages. Like not being able to just walk into a store and buy a new cloak. Store owners had the right to deny business to any patrons they chose to, and that usually meant werewolf, vampires, and half-breeds were screwed when it came to shopping.
He ripped the cloak off, and threw it into a corner with a frustrated roar. He couldn’t go back home until he was capable of killing his father. And although his father would not be missed by him or anyone else, it was a heavy burden to put on the shoulders of a minor. And he was still a minor. He was fifteen years old.
Phelan’s life had been a hard one. He took his mother’s life coming into the world, and so had never known her love. His father was cruel and calculating, and refused to pamper or coddle his son. He had been beaten and mistreated the entirety of his short life and the only way to make it stop was to kill his own father.
He buried his face in his hands with a soft groan. He could return home, if he could kill Lucius Malfoy and present the man’s body to his father as a gift. But the more he got to know the man, the less likely it seemed. Lucius Malfoy was not a pushover by any means. Were he a werewolf there was no doubt in Phelan’s mind that he would be an Alpha.
He still thought Daisy was an annoying little brat. She was so sure of herself, the little chit. He wanted to sink his fangs into her throat, and yet….there was something else about her. There was something different from any other female he had ever met. He’d met females that were sure of their bodies and abilities. He’d met the ones that threw themselves on him to gain his favor for the day when he took over as Alpha. But never in any of his few years on this earth had he met a girl who was so….kind. That was it. He’d never known kindness. And he didn’t know what it did to him. The only few feelings he’d ever picked up from the humans regarding him were anger, pity, disgust, and fear. But she did not fear him, nor was she disgusted by him, nor did she pity him.
He opened the door of the little garden house, and walked outside on the gravel trail he’d prepared. It had taken him hours to break down enough rocks to cover a little path up to the door. He was getting attached to this little house. He’d put so much work into making it livable.
With another sigh, Phelan began to walk up towards the large manor house. Perhaps the little human-girl was working in the garden again.
~~
Daisy had a small metal trowel in her hand, planting some of her little flowers. Harry sat on a wall nearby, smoking a cigarette. He’d been so much more relaxed today. He’d even hugged Daisy at breakfast.
“Werewolf at two o’clock.” Harry said softly, and took another drag of his cigarette. He’d found the whole idea of Phelan Greyback suspicious. He’d had a few run-ins with Fenrir, but he’d been able to pretty much ignore this young man. He was certainly grateful that Phelan had saved Daisy, or she’d never have been able to make his dream catcher, but why had the forest been on fire to begin with?
Harry was just suspicious enough to think Phelan was up to something.
Daisy looked up, and grinned when Phelan sulked into the garden.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” she asked. He pulled a face at her, and his yellow eyes flicked up to where Harry was sitting.
“Well, well, well. Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding World, and general pain in the arse.” Phelan said, grinning nastily. Harry merely smiled.
“Phelan Greyback, son of Fenrir Greyback, slobbering beast of Knockturn Alley, and general nuisance to polite society.” Harry returned. Phelan showed his teeth with a growl.
“Okay, boys, play nicely.” Daisy interrupted. “Would you like to help, Phelan? Harry’s too busy killing lung cells to help.” She said. Phelan turned to Daisy.
“Of course I’ll help you, Daisy. I myself am no stranger to hard work. I wasn’t born with a golden spoon in my mouth.” He said, and gave Harry a pointed look. Daisy raised a dark eyebrow, and turned around to retrieve a flat of flowers for Phelan to work on. Phelan promptly used both hands to give Harry a double middle-finger salute. Harry returned the gesture happily. Phelan bared his fangs at Harry, who merely took a drag of his cigarette.
“Here.” Daisy said, and shoved the flat into his hands. “You can plant them around the other side of this walkway. Try to get them in a straight line, no more than six inches away from the paving stones. The roots have to have room to spread out.” She said. She stood up and brushed off her knees, and headed for her tools to get Phelan a trowel. Phelan put his flat of flowers down on the side of the walkway he’d be planting them.
“I can hardly wait to watch wolfie dig in the dirt.” Harry said. Phelan was surprised for a moment at the animosity in Harry’s voice. Then the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he showed his teeth again, parting them in a snarl. “So where did you get fangs, anyway? Are you also part vampire, or are you just one big magical freak of nature?” Harry asked.
“Harry!” Daisy scolded. “That was particularly cruel of you.” She said. Phelan said nothing, but the growl stayed deep in his chest. Daisy looked over at him, noting the way his fingers had crooked into claws, and his nails had lengthened and sharpened. “Phelan, you gotta calm down…” she said softly. Phelan looked over at her, and then back at Harry. Harry winked at him.
Phelan whirled on the ball of his foot, and stomped away from the garden, upturning the flat of flowers in the process and completely pulverizing one of the tender plants under his foot. Daisy howled in anguish, and dropped to her knees beside the ruined flowers.
“If you’re going to act like an ass hole, then don’t come back!” she sobbed after Phelan, and threw a rock at his retreating form. It missed by several feet. Daisy gently picked up the crushed plant, and set it aside from its brothers. She drew her wand from her pocket, and accio’d a larger pot that she’d emptied a few days earlier. She carefully filled the pot most of the way with dirt, and put the hurt flower inside of the dirt, gingerly arranging its roots. Then she covered the flower with a bit more dirt, making sure the roots were well protected by soil. She wet the soil slightly with water from her wand, and then put the pot down in front of her, and put her wand away.
Harry watched curiously as she then put her hands around the pot like one might hold a coffee mug, and then closed her eyes. A soft green glow showed under her palms, and immediately the crushed flower perked back up a little, its broken stem stiffening slightly. It still looked rather dead to Harry.
“Okay, little one. Now it’s up to you. I’ll bring you up to my room and protect you.” She whispered to the plant. Then she quickly and efficiently put the upturned plants into the ground so that the roots wouldn’t die from shock. Then she picked up her potted plant, and walked out of the garden without so much as a glance back at Harry.
~~
Hermione was leaned back against Lucius as he ran his fingers over her scalp, massaging away her tension. She went completely boneless when he applied his fingernails lightly.
“Do you like that?” he asked, a smirk firmly in place. She made a pleased nonsensical sound in the back of her throat. He gently eased his fingers to the back of her neck. “I received an invitation to the Ministry Summer Ball in the mail this afternoon.” He said conversationally.
“Hmm.” She moaned softly when his fingers moved right below her ears, where her jaw line started.
“I was wondering if I might have you accompany me this year.” He added. Hermione was quiet for a moment, before regretfully pulling out of his grasp. She turned her head towards him.
“Why?” she asked.
“It’s always such a boring affair. And I do believe you’re on the guest list anyway. I merely thought to ask you to show up on my arm.” He said smoothly.
“What’s the theme this year?” she asked. Each year those damned Ministry Balls had such garish themes. Last year the theme had been Peacocks, and the guests had been encouraged to dress in the colors of the vibrant birds. Hermione was positive she’d go colorblind. But Lucius Malfoy had dazzled the entire ballroom by showing up in pure white. When confronted about his choice of costuming, he’d merely smiled and made the remark that no one specified that it had to be blue peacocks. He’d merely chosen the color of the Albino variation’s plumage.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He said, sneering slightly. Hermione merely snorted.
“You’d make a fantastic faerie.” She teased. He raised a flaxen eyebrow, and sniffed disdainfully.
“Very well. But I shall be the king of the Faeries. And Oberon needs a Titania.” He said. Hermione grinned. “So, will you go with me?” he asked.
“On one condition.” Hermione said. Lucius narrowed his eyes at her, noting the way her eyes began to twinkle again.
“What?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Invite Phelan to go along.” She said.
“Hermione.” He started.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong. He seems like such a sweet boy beneath all of the gruff exterior. Werewolves are not bad people, but they are many times the victims of terrible circumstance. You could change his whole outlook on life with just a small invitation to a ball. I bet even his father wasn’t born blood thirsty. In fact I’d probably bet the better half of a broom that he may have even been a normal person until society turned its back on him.” She said stubbornly. And she looked so adorable at that moment that Lucius didn’t have the heart to tell her Fenrir Greyback had indeed always been bloodthirsty. Bit maybe she was right. Maybe the boy could be saved. It would certainly save society quite a bit of trouble not to have to deal with another Fenrir.
“Very well.” He conceded, sighing as if it had been a great concession on his part. He was rewarded with a peck on the lips.
“We may make a Gryffindor-worthy humanitarian out of you yet.” She teased. He sneered again.
“Not bloody likely.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So we have some character development, and a little bit of plot advancement. I do hope that was enough for a review. Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with cherries and sugar and chocolate sauce and nuts and whipped cream and caramel on top?
You've read, now rate/review......OR ELSE!!! I'm just kidding, it's not like I'd kill ya or anything. 0_o