Last Exit to Eden

Chapter 2: 
 
Lucius Malfoy looked out his glass wall at the afternoon sun.  He would like to stay and get caught up on the reports his managers had submitted for this week, but he needed to leave.  He needed to face his past, and plan for his future.

He heard his secretary’s voice greet someone, and he looked down again at the small leatherbound book; which had made him neglect his other responsibilities in order to finish it.  He smoothed a hand over the cover.

Wizarding Eugenics and the Muggle Factor
By Marguerite Blakeney


A knock on the door drew his attention, and two men walked in.  Even in a similar situation, one could always sort out the Muggle from the pureblood.  It had to do with carriage, and comportment.  His muggle employees always managed to look like rats scurrying around.

“Sit down, gentlemen.”

Lucius watched as Blaise Zabini made himself comfortable in the deep leather chairs.  The young man was confident  Lucius would be very pleased with his findings.  Lucius turned his gaze to his senior researcher’s pale face.  Myron Stimple was an excellent laboratory worker, but had the public manners of a flea.  Still, it was Myron’s opinion he was most interested in hearing.

“I am hoping you will be able to shed some light on this little tome.  It seems to have taken the wizarding world by storm.  Well, the academic faction of the wizarding world, anyway and those interested in bloodlines.  What do you have to tell me?  Blaise, you first.”

“Well, Mr. Malfoy I am happy to report that I have some news as to the identity of Marguerite Blakeney.  I have found that she has published six scholarly papers in the past three years; most having to do with history and genetics.  This is her first published book.  I have learned that she lives in London, and has a contract for two more books in the next three years.  She has identified the next topic as having to do with magical development in children.”

“Did you find a photograph of her, or her address?”

Blaise looked frustrated.  “No.  I have also learned that she is a bit of a recluse.  She lectures at no universities and has not spoken at any recent gatherings.  She is a member of the Potion Brewers Guild, and the Association to Protect the Watervole.”

“Interesting.”  He turned his attention to Myron.  “Tell me about this book.  Is it scientifically sound?”

Myron nodded, starting to sweat again.

“What are you not telling me Stimple?”  Lucius was not happy about Blaise’s failure and wanted this sweating idiot to just get on with it.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, it’s just…”

Lucius took a deep breath and waited.

“The science is very sound, cutting edge really.  She blends both muggle and wizarding knowledge effortlessly.  More importantly, she makes a point about the inbreeding common to old pure blood families and it’s effect on levels of power in their descendants.”

“My family does not inbreed, Mr. Stimple; nor does Mr. Malfoy’s.  Please do not insult us with ….”

“Go on, Mr. Stimple.”  Lucius cut off Blaise’s tirade.  I have read the book, but I am not clear on many things.”

Mr. Stimple looked as though he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

“All right, well as you know magical ability is thought to be an inherited trait, found only in the genetic code of wizarding families.  These families trace their lineage back to a few ancient bloodlines.  Yours, for example Mr. Malfoy, or the Dumbledores.”

“We know that, Stimple.  During courting season, every wizarding parent becomes obsessed with it.  Tell us something we don’t know.” Blaise interjected.

Lucius rolled his eyes.  If Blaise didn’t shut up, he was going to be late for his weekly appointment.  Plus, today was the day he had planned to reintroduce himself to Miss Granger.  He gazed out the window again.

“Blaise, if you are unable to stop interrupting I will ask you to leave.  Mr. Stimple, please go on.”  Blaise sat in his chair and sneered.

“Well, it is well known in Muggle science that the pairing of genetic code that is too similar can lead to problems.  That is why Muggles cannot marry sisters or cousins.  Their genetic codes are too similar and there have been problems with severe retardation or other genetic defects.”

“I am familiar with the concept of genetic codes, as much as a wizard can be.  Explain this Eugenics concept to me.”  Stimple looked flustered.

“Sir, the term eugenics isn’t really used much anymore.  It got a bad name because of a particular group in history that exploited it, even though it was a new science at the time and not well understood.  Eventually genetics made eugenics rather obsolete.”

“Mr. Stimple, there is no need to be delicate.  We are all in search of knowledge here.”

“The Nazis”  Stimple blurted.  “The Nazi’s believed that the Aryan standard, that is blonde with blue eyes, white skin and tall frame was considered most desirable for Germans during that era.  There was a Nazi doctor who used various tests to compare people to that standard in order to evaluate people for what they considered to be dirty blood.  In this case, dirty meant those of Jewish or non-white descent.  Those who didn’t measure up were prevented from career advancement, couldn’t marry as they chose, and in some cases were taken to labor camps.  That’s why Muggles hate the term Mudblood so much.  Not just because of the connotation of dirty blood, but from where that idea hails from.”

“I wonder if the Dark Lord knew about these concepts,” Lucius mused.

“Undoubtedly.  Voldemort was a half blood living in muggle London during the 1940’s.  He would definitely have known about it.  It wasn’t practiced in London, but he may have learned about it through the papers.”

So, Ms. Blakeney is comparing purebloods to Nazi’s.”

“Certainly, she believes that you at one time had similar goals.”

“We should sue her for slander.” Blaise said.
“Not if she’s right, and I believe on this case she is.”  Stimple argued.

“In what sense?”Malfoy said, interested.

“In the muggle world, genetics is new, but in the magical world it is cutting edge.  Pureblood marriages are based on a limited number of potential mates.  Eventually, everyone in the pureblooded world is related by blood or marriage.  Ms. Blakeney believes that by having one standard: powerful, aristocratic looking, you limit marriage to a small percentage of people, and become too similar genetically.  Rather than only marrying for looks, find a powerful but average looking mate who may be overlooked and you may produce someone who is powerful.  She says you don’t need a Marriage Law, but more an encouragement to marry witches and wizards in general.  Pureblood plus muggle born doesn’t mean more power than two muggleborns, provided they are both powerful.  Totally pureblooded lines have been seeing diminishing power for years, because they don’t take other factors into consideration.  Further, she theorizes that magical ability may be a matter of a mutation in existing DNA, which can explain muggleborn witches and wizards.”

“And the reason the Malfoy line has remained so powerful, yet pure?”

“Your line has been known to marry witches and wizards who are foreign born and so supply new genetic material.”  Stimple paused before going on.

 “Marguerite Blakeney is obviously a pseudonym.  The name is taken from a  character in the book the Scarlet Pimpernel.  The character is torn between two worlds: her life in England where she married a member of the aristocracy that was safe, and her homeland in Paris that was embroiled in the French Revolution.  Should she choose a life for love, or a life lived for a cause?”

“Bah.  The French Revolution, boring Muggle squabble.  In the French magical community, there was no war.  Completely irrelevant.”  Blaise sneered, waving his hand in dismissal.

Lucius looked out the window, distracted..  He had known the author’s identity from the beginning.  Marguerite Blakeney was firing back at the magical community that had made her choose between the life she loved and a price that was too high.  She had been his obsession for more than three years, and he felt he knew her as well as anyone could from a distance.
Even exiled to a house in a cemetery in muggle London, Hermione Granger was stirring up controversy.

“Blaise, the point is, even in her choice of name she is taking a stand.  The French Revolution changed France forever.”  Stimple was now facing Zabini, his anger obvious.
 
“How?”  Stimple opened his mouth to respond, but Lucius beat him to it.
“It wiped out an entire aristocracy, and brought down a king. Ms. Blakeney  is subtly reminding the world that the will of the people is greater than the will of the ruler.  Choose your battles wisely, Mr. Zabini.  This kitten has claws.”

___________________________________________________________________________
 
He was late.

Hermione Granger looked up from the nightshade she was clipping and looked again at the sparkling white tombstone.  She had come out here today to see him; for the past three years since she had owned the house, he came at exactly at 6:00pm every Wednesday and stayed thirty minutes.  She had recognized him after about three months of owning the house, and was surprised he never came to talk to her.  He had been instrumental in getting her over her pity party and out of her parent’s house, and had even helped to get her business started by encouraging Fred and George.
She was at a loss as to why Lucius Malfoy never came to see her.
Of course, she was muggleborn and he had no real need for her in his life.  Fred and George had given her copies of the Daily Prophet, and she saw the long line of wealthy, pureblooded witches on Malfoy’s arm at Ministry functions.  No doubt he had plenty to keep his attention.  But really, it’s not like he had to go out of his way.

A man was striding across the cemetery now, headed for the stone.  She recognized Malfoy immediately, his long blonde hair streaming down his back, and his walking stick tapping in front of him.  She watched as he repeated his usual ritual of wiping the stone with a handkerchief, pulling errant weeds and laying the white rose at the base of the stone. 
He turned to face her, and she waved.  He raised his hand in a small gesture, and this time started to walk toward her.  Autumn had arrived, and she watched as he wrapped his cloak around him as he approached.
“Good evening, Ms. Granger.”
 
 
 Lucius had to admit, the house looked wonderful.  When he first started coming to see his sister, the home was dark and forboding with its broken window panes and keep away signs.  Now, the windows were sparkling and a warm fire took the chill of as he sat in the surprisingly modern living room.  If he would have had to guess, he would have thought Ms. Granger was like most muggles, and collected horrid knick-knacks; she looked like the type to treasure everything she was given.  Of course, witches and wizards were not immune to the clutter bug.  He had been in drawing rooms where the clutter was so extensive he had no place to put his teacup.

Miss Granger had obviously been cooking and the aroma of something delicious wafted into the room.  While he would never admit it, he often went to social engagements because he had no desire to eat alone and spend the evening in the empty manor.

She entered the room, carrying two wine glasses and a bottle of chardonnay.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?  I’ve made Spiked Pumpkin Soup and Pork Tenderloin with Blackberries and Sage. .  It’s nothing fancy, but I would like it if you stayed.”

He stood and took the wine and glasses from her.  Hermione Granger had certainly grown up in the past few years.  He had glimpsed her during his trips to visit Celestina’s grave, but had never taken the time to stop to see her.  It was nice to see the angular figure of her youth had softened, probably from not having to worry about fighting in a war every night.  Even her hair seemed more relaxed, although he attributed that to a good stylist and an arsenal of hair products.

“I would be happy to stay.  The food smells wonderful, and I have not had the opportunity to examine a muggle kitchen before.”  She nodded and led him into the kitchen, explaining the function of the microwave and the food processor.

“So what have you been doing for the past few years?” she asked.  Lucius sipped his wine and examined the dishwasher before answering.
“My business ventures have expanded across the continent, and as a result so have my engagements.  I am only home a few days every week.”  He was about to turn the knobs on the stove, but she stopped him.  “You’ll burn yourself, it’s hot.”  He nodded.

“I still get the Prophet from time to time.  You’re usually in it somewhere.”  He snorted.

“As a favor to Amos Diggory, I escorted his niece to the Ministry Ball.  Since then the young woman has, I think, been semi stalking me.  Rowan is a reporter for the Prophet,” he explained.

“I see.”  She took two plates and flatware, then set the table.  Pulling the dish out of the oven, the two sat down for their meal.

Lucius was impressed.  The food was simple and sophisticated, paired with an excellent wine.   She didn’t seem unnerved by his presence or babble about random facts the way she once did.  Her manners were impeccable; and her home welcoming.  A good start, he thought.

They retired to her sitting room, and he asked about her book.  She seemed amused that it was a muggleborn who had figured out the reason behind her name.

“Do you feel like you were forced to choose between love and your cause, like your namesake?”  he asked.  She smiled sadly.

“In many ways.  I had been told I wouldn’t be a witch without a wand.  To ignore either the muggle or magical part of me would be a betrayal of who I am.  I’ve lived long enough now back in the muggle world that I have learned to accept it.  Given the chance, I’m not sure I would choose to go back.  Although I despise Umbridge and everything she stands for, she was right in many ways.  I don’t belong in the magical world anymore.”

“Surely, you don’t believe that.” He said faintly.

“I most certainly do.  There is very little in the wizarding world that I miss.”

“Yet, you spend your days brewing potions and your evenings writing books that scandalize the very world you claim to have no interest in.”

“I am merely setting the facts straight.  The wizarding world should have this knowledge.  My new book will expose even more of the lies the Ministry  and the pureblooded snobs tell themselves.. ”  Her face was flushed, and she was starting to get annoyed.

“Now, wait one minute Miss Granger.  I am a member of the pureblooded community, and you have no right to criticize me.”  His ire was rising as well.

“Why, because I am just a poor little dirty blooded street urchin, and you are the omniscient, all powerful pure blood?  Spare me your arrogant explanation.”

She stood and walked toward the door, pulling it open.

“I will not be verbally attacked in my own home.  I have potions to work on, and you no doubt have plans for this evening.  Please leave.”

“Are you throwing me out of your home?”  He was stunned.  No one had ever thrown him out of anywhere before.

“Consider it an opportunity to detach yourself from a situation, and reconsider your position before making a fool of yourself.”

Lucius stood.  “Before I leave, I should like to know the content of your next book.”

“It’s not your concern.”

“It bloody well is, and you will answer my question, or I will sit in your doorway until you do tell me!”  As he spoke, he realized how ridiculous he sounded.  Honestly, he wasn’t a schoolboy anymore.  What kind of argument was that?

“As you wish.”  She turned and headed toward the potions lab.  Trying to regain his composure, he stood.

“  Miss Granger,I apologize for my outburst. I will clear my schedule and return next Wednesday evening.  By that time, I expect that you will be ready to tell me about the new book.”

“If you choose.  I in turn will expect that you will be in a sufficiently humble state of mind.”

“Which as you are no doubt aware, is my natural state.”  There now.  He had regained his footing, and was able to turn on the charm.  Her lips had quirked into a half smile, and her face was less flushed and more playful.

“Good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Good night, Miss Granger.”

He walked away from her house, realizing that she had thrown a rather large wrench into his courtship plans.  Still, he would adapt.  He would have her by his side, no matter what it took.
___________________________________________________________________________
 
The next morning,   Hermione was sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet when Argus Filch arrived carrying a box.  She looked up in curiousity.

“Found this for you outside”.  He handed her the box and a parchment scroll.  As she opened the scroll, she read:
Dear Miss Granger,

            First let me apologize for my boorish behavior last evening.  It has been many years since I have been openly challenged intellectually and I responded poorly.  There may be some truth in your claims about my arrogance and if you would find it in yourself to look past it, I think you will find we have some common ground.

            You should know that I slept very poorly last night, and as a way to atone for my transgression I decided to have an elf drop this off for you.  After your claim that you missed little of the magical world, I decided to get you a kneazle kitten.  She has no name yet, but I thought this could be a reminder to you as to the wonderful, and dare I say adorable parts of our shared world?

            I look forward to our next meeting Wednesday evening.  Again, please accept this gift from an apologetic man who is trying to correct his mistakes.
 
Warmest regards,
Lucius Malfoy

She looked in the box at the pure white, blue eyed and squash nosed ball of fluff.

“Okay, now you’re just playing dirty, Malfoy.”  The kitten climbed up her shirt and nuzzled her cheek.

She was in love with the little white furred creature already.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ayWYdA-n1zA&feature=related