Sins of the Father

Title: Sins of the Father
Rating: NC-17 eventually, but not for several chapters
Pairing: LM/HG
Disclaimer: Alas, the HP characters are not mine. They belong to the fabulously talented and wealthy JKR and her merry band of lawyers. No copyright infringement intended. I am just trying to improve my writing skills.

Chapter 3: Pride is not a Virtue

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Lamps burned through the night at Hermione’s flat as Healer Zabini worked on his slowly recovering patient. Aided by several bottles of potion that now littered the nightstand, the bruises on Lucius’ chest had faded to a light green, his broken arm was nearly mended and the hastily done stitches on his forehead and across his abdomen were now just tiny white lines. Unfortunately, the residual weakness from trying to heal so many injuries quickly would almost certainly linger for several days, affecting both his magic and his ability to move.

In the kitchen, Hermione and Snape were sorting through the rather thick medical record. Hermione was concentrating on the emergency services report that picked him up in the alley. A medical dictionary and her laptop were at her elbow, but the medic’s nearly illegible handwriting was depleting whatever remaining patience she had. Professor Snape was examining x-ray reports and the medication administration record. His injuries were extensive, but apparently occurred over a period of days. What was not clear was why Lucius would even be in the area- there were no wizarding families within a three -mile radius, and the area was incredibly disreputable.

Blaise appeared, his normally impeccably attired and groomed appearance was nowhere to be seen. He had removed his robes, and there were sweat stains and blood on his shirt. His hair stuck out in several directions, and he gave off the general air of someone pushed to their limit.

“Granger, do you have any alcohol? I’ve told Mr. Malfoy that it isn’t a good idea, but he is ignoring my advice.”

She pointed to a small alcove near the laundry room.

“There’s tequila, rum, I think some Stoli, and a bottle of Chivas. The Chivas is the closest thing I have to firewhiskey.”

“It’ll do.” He pulled out the Chivas and poured healthy measures of it into two glasses. Then without warning, he gulped one of the glasses down in one go, then lay his head on top of Mosby’s Medical Dictionary.

“Healer Zabini! I hardly think that drinking on the job is professional.” Snape glared down his nose at his former student.

“Then you go reason with him. He’s difficult enough on a normal day. Now, he’s being completely intolerable. If I’m going to go back in there, I need the fortification.”

Snape nodded in understanding. “Is there no way to persuade you to allow house elves in here, Miss Granger?”

“Absolutely not. This flat is my refuge from the magical world. I will not allow enslaved creatures in my home.”

Snape looked at the clock over the mantel, and then pulled out a small blue vial from an inner pocket of his robes and handed it to Blaise.

“In that case, a dose of Dreamless Sleep would not go amiss. He won’t take it, so add it to the whiskey, or none of us will be able to get any rest. I will meet with you tomorrow to discuss our next step.” Snape stood, gathering the paperwork and setting it on the sideboard.

“Zabini! Where’s my whiskey?” Malfoy shouted from the guest room. The bed creaked as though someone were trying to get up, and Blaise hurried toward the sound. The words “revolting muggle alcohol” could be heard, and then a conversation in lower tones. Twenty minutes later, Blaise returned to the kitchen, looking relieved.

“Finally. He’s fallen back asleep, so I suggest that we do the same. If it’s all right with you, Granger, I would like to stay here overnight so I can be here if he needs me. The potions will wear off in a few hours, and despite his protests he is really quite weak.”

Hermione left the room, returning with blankets and pillows. Blaise laid them out with his usual precision, perfectly aligning the sheet and blankets. He reached for Hermione’s hand as she turned to leave, squeezing it gently.

“Hermione, it’s a very decent thing that you’re doing. Letting him stay here, I mean. I know you don’t know or particularly like the Malfoys very well; Lucius is an honorable man, although it can be very deeply hidden in behind a veneer of arrogance. Please try to hang in there until he can regain his equilibrium; he can be such a git when he feels off balance.”

Hermione pushed hair from her face, rolling her shoulder to work out the kinks.

“I‘ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now Blaise. The first time he utters the word “mudblood” though, it won’t matter if there’s a gang war going on outside. He will be sitting on the street for whoever is after him to finish him off. This is my home, and I won’t be insulted inside of it.”

“I understand”, Blaise told her, although he looked a bit doubtful.

“Good night, Blaise.”

“Good night, Hermione.”
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Lucius awakened to the smell of coffee being brewed. Looking around, it took him a minute to recall where he was. It was certainly more quiet and luxurious than the horrid hospital room he had spent the last few days. The mattress was quite soft, and the sheets were clearly well made. The horrible beep-beep-beeping of the various muggle contraptions he was attached to in the hospital were gone, now the sound of muggle autos and conversing muggles outside formed the backdrop for his awakening.

Rolling over, he examined the room. The bed was low and platform-like, clearly Asian inspired. A large cherry wood armoire with brass hardware took up one corner of the room, but other than that the only furniture was the bed and a small nightstand. Rice paper shades covered a window and an open door appeared to lead to a bathroom. In all, the intentional simplicity was a far cry from the splendor and French antiques that crowded Malfoy Manor.

On the nightstand was a small pile of clothing that once again bore no resemblance to the luxury to which he was accustomed. Scowling, his body made its needs known. There was nothing to hold on to as he struggled to stay upright on his way to the bathroom. One step, then another. He would need to rest when he got into the bathroom, but he was damned if he would crawl. As he took a third step, he felt his knees give way. Flailing his arms, he crashed to the floor; his hospital issue gown billowing as he fell on to his side, cursing with pain and mortification. This was a nightmare. It couldn’t possibly get worse, he had hit rock bottom. Then again…

“Mr Malfoy, are you all right?” The door was pushed open and the frizzy haired muggleborn walked in, clad in those horrid denim trousers that young people wore, and wide eyed with curiosity and pity.

“Naturally, Miss Granger. It was my intention to seat myself in just this area of the floor and expose my bare buttocks for your viewing. Everything is going quite to plan, I assure you.”

“Here, let me help you up. Blaise and Professor Snape aren’t here just now.” She reached down, taking in his greasy hair and dry, flaky skin. He was in desperate need of a bath. As she touched his skin, he recoiled as though he had been burned.

“I can do it myself.” Merlin, he was going to wet himself like a baby if he didn’t get to the bathroom. He was going to have to crawl, there was no way around it. Damn it.

She threw up her hands.

“Fine. I’m going to make breakfast. Blaise has gone to the apothecary and Professor Snape has gone to try to locate your wand.”

She turned and left the room. Silence came from inside for a few minutes. Finally, just as she finished setting the table, she heard the frustrated voice from the guest room.

“Miss Granger, if you could help me to the shower, I would be most appreciative.’

Stubborn bastard. She threw the dishtowel she had been holding onto a chair arm, and then virtually stomped back into the room. He was on his knees now, still trying to get to his feet. Without a word, she got behind him, and hoisted him to his feet. He growled at her roughness.

“Absolutely no elegance, honestly” he grumbled as he was virtually dragged across the floor into the bathroom.

“Don’t look” he snapped, as she held him upright so he could urinate. She snorted with amusement, but looked away. His face flushed with humiliation. Just wait until he found the bastards who did this to him; they would die, slowly and painfully. When he was finished, she conjured a small stool and placed it in the bathtub. Helping him onto the stool, she turned on the water and reached for the flowery smelling shampoo.

Oh yes, the bastards were going to pay.


Lucius may have been to weak to walk or stand, but he clearly had enough energy to complain, which he did without any interruption as she washed his hair and scrubbed his back and legs.

“Gently. Don’t agitate my hair like that; I don’t want it to look like yours.”
“Ouch. You’re scratching my skin. It’s very delicate, be careful.”

Finally, she finished her task and handed him a clean washcloth. “Here, you do the front.”

“Get out. I’ll call when I’m finished.” He snatched the washcloth from her.

Rolling her eyes, she left the room.
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Ten minutes later, she was summoned back into the bathroom. Helping him out of the tub she walked him back to the bedroom as he leaned on her heavily and sat him on the bed.

Handing him the clothes, she braced herself for some sort of comment. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Whom do these clothes belong to?”

“I bought them earlier today when the shops opened. You don’t have any clothes here, and I’ll not allow you to sit around here naked.”

“Severus can go and get some from the manor. I’ll only wear these until that happens. These are inferior quality.”

Praying for patience, she looked at the clothes she had chosen. Charcoal trousers and a black oxford were plain certainly, but didn’t stand out; a necessary factor if one wanted to blend in or “pass” in muggle society. Of course, Malfoy would find them insufficient-he had a need to stand out and advertise his wealth to anyone who he encountered. Arrogant prat.

He allowed her to dry him briskly with a soft towel, then helped him put on the white cotton undershirt and oxford, buttoning it when it became apparent his coordination was not back to normal yet. Without a word, she slipped socks onto his feet, then helped him stand as he pulled up the trousers and black silk boxers.

“Would you rather sit in the living room?” she asked. At his nod, she led him out to the living room, picking up a brush as she seated him on the sofa. Then, she wordlessly began to brush his hair.

When Hermione was a child, she loved her mother brushing her hair. As she separated sections and worked the brush through them, she felt his body relax. He leaned back into her, gliding his hand down her bare arms and tangling it with hers. He turned over, obviously asleep and snuggled into her like a child, or a lover. She ran her fingers through long blonde locks; soft as a babies. At that moment, Lucius Malfoy was more human than she had ever known him to be. He was injured and needy, seeking comfort from anywhere he could find it. The arrogant lines of his face had softened, and he had possibly the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. He was beautiful; a beautiful bastard.

A soft knock at the door forced her to disentangle herself from his sleeping form. He didn’t awaken, and she covered him with a blanket before answering the door. Blaise smiled as she let him in, followed by Snape.

“I have just finished running bloodwork; he had very high levels of a drug called sodium amytal. It’s muggle in origin.” Hermione nodded.

“It was used as truth serum in psychiatric facilities. It’s a fairly old drug, used for hypnosis and to treat dissociative disorders. Unfortunately, it can also be used to plant false memories, which can dilute the whole truth serum part.”

“You know this how?” Snape wanted to know. He’d never heard of the drug.

“I am doing research on the treatment of magical people who had been declared delusional and sent to psychiatric facilities in the days before magic was suppressed by medications. It’s actually quite fascinating.”

“There is no documentation indicating he received this drug in the hospital. We need to investigate this further.” Blaise noted, pulling out a parchment and making notes.

“Did you have any luck finding the wand?” Snape smiled grimly, and held up a broken wand, the inner hairs and feathers sticking out.

“Draco summoned it, near the place where he was found. We had no luck, so we went to the hospital. It flew through several windows, but it must have been broken before.”

“Where is Draco now? Doesn’t he want to see his father?” Snape looked away, then scowled.

“Miss Granger, mind your own business. If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll check on Lucius now.”

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Lucius awoke to quiet conversation and the clinking of cutlery. The scent of cinnamon and bacon wafted into the open living room, and his stomach rumbled. Struggling to sit up, he realized that he was feeling remarkably better. He was able to make it to the table, holding on to the wall and other furniture. Seating himself at the table, he watched as Hermione stood to go get him some food.

“It’s nice to see I was awakened for the meal” he said, a trace of annoyance coloring his speech.

“Relax, Lucius. You needed rest. It is nice to see that you managed to get yourself bathed and dressed. That hospital gown was not flattering.” Snape was expressionless as he made the remark, but his eyes glinted with humor.

A plate with french toast, berries and bacon was placed in front of him. He inhaled at the scent; he loved french toast; but he hadn’t had any in ages. The elves preferred to make egg dishes for breakfast. A thought occurred to him.

“It is four o’ clock in the afternoon. Why are we eating breakfast food?” he asked.

“I had some berries and bread that I wanted to use up. Why, what’s wrong with it?” She looked around the table at the other men who were eating as though they hadn’t had sustenance in weeks.

“I will not eat this.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’ll eat it, or you’ll go hungry. I’m not making you anything else.”

“I would like chicken cordon bleu and grilled asparagus. Get up and make that for me.”

“No.”

“I refuse to eat this swill.”

Without a word, Hermione stood and took his plate. His smirk of triumph faded a bit as she dumped it in the bin and then sat back down at the table. Picking up her fork, she speared a blueberry.

“I’d like my food.”

“You had food, but you didn’t want it. Now you’ll have to wait for dinner when I get home later tonight.”

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me here alone. Now, get up and make me my chicken.”

“No.”

“Granger.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. She ignored him and took a bite of bacon, smiling as his stomach rumbled.

“Listen you filthy little mudblood…”

Without pausing, Hermione drew her wand. Moments later, Lucius had vanished.

“Where did you put him?” Blaise asked faintly, nearly dropping his fifth piece of french toast.

“In the alley behind the building. I told you I wouldn’t tolerate that name.”

“He’s too weak to be out there alone”, Blaise argued.

“Then you’d better go find him and take him somewhere. He’s certainly not coming back here. He should have thought of the consequences before he began spewing vulgarities.”

To her utter amazement, Snape began to chuckle; a low melodic sound that she had never heard before.

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I have never known anyone to have the audacity to do that to Lucius Malfoy, although Merlin knows he deserves it.”

Blaise hurried out the door to find the missing man. Snape’s demeanor sobered.

“He’s not coming back here; you can take him to the manor.”

Snape frowned. “There is no one to care for him there. I know you must have helped him get bathed and dressed. He needs someone to take care of him for the next couple of weeks. Otherwise he’ll soak himself in alcohol, and end up permanently weakened.”

“He has a wife; that’s her job.”

“Narcissa is not a particularly…nurturing woman. Draco is not much better, and hiring help is out of the question. They cannot be trusted to keep quiet until we figure this out. There is only you.”

“He should have considered that before he married.”

“Miss Granger.”

“Absolutely not.”

He stood. “I’ll speak to you on Monday, then. I do hope you will at least research with us.” She nodded, and he stood to leave.

“Professor Snape.”

He turned to face her; she motioned for him to wait as she pulled a reusable container from the shelf and filled it with french toast, fruit and bacon. Into a portable coffee cup went orange juice. She handed the cups to him.

“I know he must be hungry. He’s just being a prat.”

Snape nodded, regarding her in that unreadable way he had about him. With one last look he left the flat.

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Lucius sat in his bedchamber, reading in his bed. Severus and Blaise had just gone home, following his evening potions. He had been greeted by neither his wife nor his son upon his arrival, the former probably under the influence of some sort of sleeping potion, or else out shopping. He hadn’t bothered to ask.

After being removed from Granger’s flat, he had been delivered to the manor and had nearly fainted from hunger. He ate the food Snape had brought him from the flat, it was one of the best meals he had ever had-even cold. After that, she had consumed his thoughts.

Granger had treated him well, despite his insults. She had bought him clothing and helped him bathe. Although it was humiliating, she had behaved very professionally and had helped him. He wouldn’t have even asked Narcissa to do it, but a relative stranger had taken it upon herself to help him.

Sipping his Ogden’s, he made a note to send her flowers in the morning. He wouldn’t apologize to her, but he could perhaps show her some compassion. Snape had made it very clear she would be helping them figure out who was behind his attack; it wouldn’t do to alienate her.

A knock on his door drew his attention. Looking up, he was surprised to see Narcissa enter, dressed in a heavy brocade dressing gown and her usual several layers of nightwear. He couldn’t recall the last time that she had entered his chambers.

“Good evening, Lucius. I hope you are well; I told Severus that you should perhaps have stayed where you were until you felt more like yourself. Apparently, he did not take my advice.”

“I chose to return to my ancestral manor. Blaise will assume my medical care; I will be back to full strength in a few weeks.”

“ I see.” She didn’t look pleased.

“Did you need something, Narcissa?”

She paused, then straightened as though bracing herself for something unpleasant.

“I have come to do my duty as a wife, and offer myself to you for you to meet your needs. It has been nearly two months since I have needed to relieve your desires. I assume you are in need of such comfort now.”

She then moved to the bed, climbed in fully dressed and untied the ribbons holding the crotch of her undergarments together, leaving a six -inch slit. She then spread her legs wide.

“Healer Entwhistle has given me a stronger sleeping potion. Please hurry and find your pleasure. I don’t know how long I will be able to stay awake.”

Lucius looked at his wife in disbelief. He was not a man to turn down a willing shag, but his wife’s prudishness and obvious reluctance to have sex with him made it a bit difficult to get his body to respond to the fully dressed woman. Resorting to his usual habit of fantasy, he was able to force his body to gain an erection.

“Narcissa, if you could please come a bit closer. My legs are a bit weak at present.”

With a sigh, she moved over an inch. He rolled his eyes.

“If I may make a request, Narcissa. If you were to straddle me and…do a bit of the work, I would appreciate it. I find myself too weak at present to do much …strenuous exercise.”

“I will certainly not straddle you. I have never heard of such a thing; it sounds deviant to me. Perhaps you have engaged in such behavior with a mistress, but not with me. I have a tea scheduled for tomorrow, and I’ve just gotten my hair done.”

She retied her ribbons and got off of the bed.

“I will need my weekly pocket money by breakfast. I can bring the chequebook to you if necessary.”

She turned and left the room. Lucius leaned back, set his book aside and lay awake for hours pondering how his life had turned out this way.

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Coming up next: Lucius goes back to the Granger flat. Research continues.