Last Exit to Eden

Last Exit to Eden, Chapter 3
Author: lucretziathevagabond
Rating: Mature.
Summary: Lucius and Hermione flirt, argue and get closer to a real relationship. We get to see a glimpse of the man behind the Lucius mask, and get some answers about his long dead sister. Plus, what does Draco think of this whole mess?
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the reviews. It certainly motivates me to write, and I am really enjoying writing this story. I love to answer the questions JKR never did in canon, and do it my way. Plus, who doesn’t love Lucius?

Chapter 3
I’m broken, but I’m still alive
And slowly, I will feel my soul revive.
In time, I’ll find a way to right this wrong,
If it takes my whole life long
Lord, I’ll fight my battles all alone
But make me strong
Prayer, The Scarlet Pimpernel
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Hermione Granger was waiting for him by her garden when he arrived promptly at 1830. She noticed that he had actually departed from his formal dress robes and suit, and was wearing a rather attractive pair of black trousers and a grey long sleeved oxford open at the collar.
She was holding Buttercream when he approached, and the tiny kitten purred with delight as he scratched her behind the ears.

“Good evening, Miss Granger.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek gently, She was enveloped in the scent of a rather citrusy herbal cologne. It seemed to suit him, she decided. His behavior was decidedly odd, much more friendly than their last visit. She chose to watch him further and challenge him on it later.

“Good evening Mr. Malfoy. I hope you are not allergic to fish.”

“I rather enjoy fish, actually. What are you cooking?

“Potato and herb crusted snapper with yellow pepper salsa.”
“Sounds lovely.”

He followed her into the kitchen, and put himself to work opening the bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. She thanked him, and went back to the stove, stirring and tasting. Feeling that she was being watched, she turned and met his eyes.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” He shook his head, and walked over to a barstool, sitting and positioning himself so that he had an excellent view of her form.

“You really enjoy cooking, don’t you?” She nodded.

“My parents both cook, and I learned early on how to do many things in the kitchen. It’s quite a bit like potions, though I would never have told Professor Snape that.” The blonde man snorted.

“Yes, I can’t envision that going well. Poor Severus has always been so insecure in his masculinity; although why I have no idea. He is always able to attract female interest when he so chooses, and even when he doesnn’t want to.”

“I keep forgetting that you and Professor Snape were in school together. I have a hard time accepting that you are actually Draco’s father, not his older brother.”

He grinned. “Age is a relative sort of thing; while I am certainly older than you, by wizarding standards I am not even middle aged yet. Many witches and wizards live to over 150. I certainly hope you don’t consider me a doddering old man.” His voice was playful, but she could sense an undercurrent of concern in his voice. Was he flirting with her?

“Not at all. Most older men I know have lost their hair, and no one can accuse you of that.” She motioned to the casually plaited locks that would have looked feminine on most other faces. On him, she thought of renaissance paintings of angels. Appearances can be deceiving, she thought.

“Well, to not so subtly change the subject, I am not sure if you are aware that the Marriage Law was overturned three weeks ago. Apparently the lines for divorce are so long that they are actually drawing lots now to decide who goes first.”

“Kingsley sent me an owl last week. He also offered me a job in the Office of Magical Cooperation.” She could tell that the news surprised him; although why she had no idea. It’s not like he would have known.

“What did you decide to do?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going back; I told you that last week. I admit, Buttercream is an excellent example of the magical world. However, I am not inclined to go work for the same Ministry that could not only introduce but pass such a ridiculous law. They only want me there as a public figure; look at the girl who left and how she works for us now.”

Lucius breathed a sigh of relief. Her position was that she would not work for the Ministry, not that she wouldn’t return, period. He could work with that.

“Plus, of course you have your beautiful home.” She beamed with pride.

“ I absolutely love it here. I know every inch of this home, and I honestly can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve worked so hard here; my hands are still chapped and bleeding from all the limewashing.” She held up her hands; they were indeed cracked and bleeding in spots. He must have looked horrified, because she looked at him sharply.

“Honestly, Mr. Malfoy, I’m not going to contaminate your food. They’re not that bad.”

“Come here and let me see them.” It was a quietly spoken command, and while she hated following orders, he seemed more concerned than angry. Setting down her turner, she walked over and laid her hands on the table.

Lucius took them in his hands, and she could feel the softness of his skin as his fingers caressed the palms of hers. She could feel the slight calluses from holding a quill on his left hand. A warm tingling spread over her hands, and when she looked down, they were smooth and unblemished. Her head snapped up to look at him.

“How did you do that?” He smiled sadly.

“In …my former life, you must understand that while casual cruelty was not the order of the day I did very often sustain injuries. Small ones of course; but ones that would prove bothersome during the day. I often wear gloves in public, but I rarely do at home. Thus I learned to do small healing spells without a wand to avoid nosy questions. Also, Draco hated to use healing salves because they itch, and as a young boy he was always getting scraped up. This way it wouldn’t hurt him and we could take him out in public with out looking like he’d been fighting trolls.”

She giggled. Lucius Malfoy was such a reserved person in public; she was surprised he would open up to her like this. She didn’t realize he was still holding her hands until he lifted one of them to his lips and kissed the knuckles one at a time. She felt her arousal flare to life in her belly, but tried to push it away. When he spoke, his voice was husky and she felt tendrils of desire curl around her.

“Miss Granger, you are such a mystery to me. Give me the chance to know you as a woman, not as an adversary. I promise you, it will be worth the trouble.”

Time seemed to stand still, at least until the timer on the oven beeped and Hermione shook off the daze. Walking toward the stove, she took out plates, cutlery, and cloth napkins and then handed them to Lucius to set the table. A new awareness had come alive between them , and she realized it was as though she were seeing him for the first time. Not the evil Death Eater, or the hyperprotective father or even the wealthy businessman and society fixture. She felt as though she were being given a chance to see behind the mask he wore everyday, and learn about the man behind it. God, she wanted to kiss him.

Dinner was spent in small talk, and she found out how skilled he was at drawing a person out and get them talking about themselves. He was an excellent listener, and she felt as though she were dominating the conversation. He waved away her concern, and the two found themselves in her sitting room after dinner arguing about the Werewolf Registration Act and whether they qualified as Beast or Being.
It wasn’t until their second glass of scotch that he asked her about her current research. Buttercream had made herself comfortable on his lap, and the fire warmed the room and cast a flickering glow across their faces. Hermione was seated on the matching couch across from his, and was irrationally jealous of the tiny kitten and her current position.

“I’m not entirely certain you want to hear about my findings, Mr. Malfoy. This house has a rather sordid past.”

“I understand that. I am interested in what you know. I attempted to research the building when I first began coming here. Unfortunately, I was limited by the fact that I am not well acquainted with Muggle research methods and where to look.”

She regarded him over her tumbler. ”I have boxes of documents and other information that I found locked in a safe. I have also done research through the library and interviewed the former owner. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, if you answer a question first.” She watched him shift uncomfortably in his chair and study his own tumbler before answering.

“Celestina was my sister, Miss Granger.” He spoke softly, anticipating the question.

“Actually, I knew that.” He looked surprised, then quickly schooled his features.

“My question was how you knew about the cemetery in the first place. Most people in the magical are either interred in a mausoleum or cremated. Burial in the ground is a custom predominantly muggle in nature. Plus, you are the only person I have ever seen come to the cemetery to visit.”

“ I found my sister’s death certificate and information on the cemetery in a box of my father’s papers.” His answer was delivered in the icy, clipped tones she remembered from her school days. He flexed his fingers and looked at his walking stick sitting by the door as though he longed to go for his wand.

“More scotch? Or perhaps coffee?” Truth be told he had certainly had enough scotch, but what she was going to say would upset him further and alcohol was likely to slow his reflexes enough for her to get away.

“I don’t suppose you have any Ogdens?” She shook her head.

“Never mind then. Please continue with your story.”

“It is not a story. It is a factual account.”

“Even better.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Probably not. I still want to hear it.”

“Fine.” Hermione took a deep breath, and then began.

“Between 1940 and 1968, this house was an orphanage. Interestingly, it was not an orphanage for those children whose parents had died in World War II or any of the other muggle wars that followed.

This orphanage appears to have been specifically for those who had been banished from their family for lack of magical ability. Ages of the children here ranged from 5 years to 9.”

Lucius interrupted her. “ Many children do not show magical gifts until much later. In some cases, parents are relieved to get a Hogwarts letter.”

“Yes, but that is today. During the immediate post-Grindlewald era, pureblooded families would intentionally try to force the appearance of magical abilities earlier. It was believed that early manifestation of ability would be a sign of stronger magic in adulthood. Of course, the idea is ridiculous.”

He nodded. Some pureblooded families still clung to that fallacy. Draco had been nearly nine when his magic had first manifested. Narcissa’s mother had believed he would be magically stunted. Lucius had discovered Mrs. Black hanging four year old Draco out a window by one foot while he screamed and cried out in terror. Lucius had banned her from ever seeing her grandson again. In truth, Draco had become a very powerful wizard. Evil witches, the entire Black family; Narcissa excepted, of course.

Hermione went on. “As you are no doubt aware, children are not considered part of society until their magic manifests, unintentional or purposeful. When it became apparent to the parents that the children had no ability, they were brought here. In most cases, it was probably a bit premature. They had gone from being pampered little princesses and princes to nothing in a heartbeat. Children have a tough time understanding adult motives.”

“So then, what happened?” His voice was strained, but she didn’t notice.

“Most died within the first month of being in the orphanage. There were no standards to these homes, they were unknown to the Muggles and abandoned and forgotten by the magical world. Conditions were rather dire in some places, I understand.”

Lucius leapt to his feet, nearly dropping his glass. Hermione rose also, and reached for his hand. He backed away as if she were contaminated.

“I am very sorry, Miss Granger. I seem to have forgotten a previous engagement. Please forgive me.” He backed out the door, reaching for his walking stick as he passed. Hurrying out , he apparated barely outside of her wards.

“What in the world?” she thought, walking back into the kitchen. She thought back to her last comments and the realization of her thoughtlessness hit her.

Hermione, you idiot.

Buttercream was sitting on the barstool Lucius had vacated earlier in the evening, purring as she picked her up, and buried her face in the soft fur. She would just have to apologize when he came by next Wednesday. It was a good plan.

Only, for the first time in five years he didn’t come.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco Malfoy hurried through the silent manor, trying not to panic. He had received an owl moments before regarding his father, and had left immediately, with lunch on the table and no explanation to his wife. He had taken two separate international floos and a portkey hastily (and illegally) created once he was in England. Something felt wrong.

“Lizzy!”he whispered.

The tiny house elf popped into view wringing her hands and wiping her eyes on her tea towel.

“Oh, Master Draco! You is here and can fix everything! Lizzy was so scared, she was!” The elf squeaked and hugged Draco around the legs.
“Where is Father? Tell me, Lizzy!” he commanded, as the panic stricken elf dissolved into tears again. She pointed to the East Wing, where his grandmother had lived until Draco was born and Lucius had sent her to live at the country house. A loud bang echoed through the corridors and Draco broke into a run.

When he finally got through the door to the old apartment, he froze in the doorway at the sight.

Drawers had been pulled open and the floor was littered with parchments. Moonlight cast an eerie glow in the darkened room that hadn’t been used in decades and shards of vases that had been hurled across the room lay sparkling on the carpets. Overturned furniture blocked a visual path to the other side of the room. Wand at the ready, Draco edged forward cautiously; he could hear movement in his grandmother’s old bedroom. Afraid to light his wand to tip off the man in the room, he crept forward until he could see the man digging through the drawers.

“Father?” he asked in shock.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later, Lucius Malfoy was sitting in a gold silk brocaded armchair. Instead of the regal air he customarily gave off, he looked defeated, slumped in the antique chair like a simpleton.. Draco privately thought his father had looked better in Azkaban than he did now. In the wizarding prison, Lucius had at least attended to his grooming, his hair always gleaming and his standard issue jumpsuit kept impeccably clean.

The man in front of him looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His silky blonde hair was greasy and now hung limply over his shoulder blades. He had several days beard growth and his dressing gown was wrinkled and stained. Most disturbingly, Draco thought-he smelled of body odor and stale whisky.

“Father, your secretary owled me when she hadn’t heard from you. You haven’t been to work in a week. She even called a mediwizard, but he couldn’t get through the wards. That’s why she called me.”

“I’m busy.”

Draco looked at his father. The last time he had seen him this disheveled was when Narcissa had been murdered by his crazy nut of an aunt. In that situation, though Lucius had been bent on revenge. This man looked as though he would just wither away.

“Father, let’s get you to your room. You can take a shower and shave; and I can have Lizzy make us dinner.” He stood and reached out for his father. Lucius showed no reaction.

“Sir, please.”

“It’s not my room.”

“What? Of course it’s your…”

“It’s hers. This manor, the money, the prestige, it should all have been hers.”

“Whose?” Draco asked desperately.

“Celestina’s.”

Draco was floored. He had known of father’s sister; having secretly followed him to the old cemetery once. He had been so certain his father was going to see a mistress, he had been stunned to see his father tending to a child’s grave. When he had asked his mother, she had told him to never mention it again. He never had.

“I don’t understand. Celestina died years ago.” His father looked up at him sharply, and Draco flushed.

“I knew you followed me Draco. I was always curious about why you never asked me.”

Draco blush deepened. “Mother told me never to mention it again.” Lucius snorted.

“She would never want anyone to know about my sister. It would have been an embarrassment to her. Nearly a thousand years of pureblood and no squibs. Narcissa was very proud of that.”

“Celestina was a squib?” Draco was stunned. Why had he never heard of this before? Every pureblooded family had at least a few in the family tree. It was considered normal, at least it was now.

“I don’t know!” he shouted. “For years, I thought she died in St Mungo’s. Then I find out she had been sent to some orphanage, and died. I never understood that, then I find out why she was sent away. The point is, she died before we really knew if she was a squib. She was only seven when she died.”

“My magic didn’t start until I was nine.” Draco was now starting to understand. If Celestina had in fact been magical, she would have inherited the entire estate; or at least the largest piece. His father had inherited because he had manifested magic early, and the older sister was sent away. Now his wife was dead, his friends dead or in prison, and he was deprived of any family except his son.

“Abraxas Malfoy would never risk a squib at the head of our family. Stupid, just so stupid. He was always a selfish bastard.”

“Grandmother always said he put his family first.” Draco was trying to find some redeeming quality in his grandfather, but the truth was, the man HAD always been a selfish bastard.

“Putting your family first does not mean walking away from a child because they were different. For god sakes, even muggle families can even accept their magical children.” Lucius was up and pacing again.

“This is my punishment for swallowing all the lies, for believing I was above it all. I can only produce one child, and then I lose my wife. All this money is pointless. Then I lost my sister as well. But the thing, the worst part of it all is that I can’t remember her face. I can see her so clearly, playing with her and listening to her read. I can hear her voice, I can remember the way she laughed and I can remember the way she smelled. But Draco, I can’t see her face anymore. How could I have forgotten my sister’s face?”

His voice was broken, and Draco realized he was looking at a man who was finally facing his past. There were no more excuses, no more distractions. His family had made a terrible choice, and now he was the one suffering for it.

“There are no pictures of her?” Draco asked gently.

“That’s just it. I can’t find any, not one. It’s like she never existed. We had a portrait painted before she left, but I can’t find it. Mother would never have take it with her, but it’s nowhere in this godforsaken manor.” Lucius slumped back into the chair.

“We’ll find it father. I promise.” Draco was desperate to get his father out of this slump. “You just need to get some sleep.”

“I need to talk to her. I have to know the rest.” He was up again, walking toward the apparition point.

“Father! You can’t go anywhere like that. You aren’t even dressed. We can go tomorrow and talk to her.” He had absolutely no idea who it was they were going to see, but he needed to keep his father here. It was almost midnight, and he was exhausted.

Lucius turned abruptly and walked up the staircase. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, as he saw his father turn toward his room. He had just flooed his wife and was walking away when he saw an envelope in the flames, obviously sent via the floo and addressed to his father. The handwriting looked familiar, but he couldn’t place the tiny script. Puzzling over the writer’s identity, he sat down to a small supper in the breakfast room when he heard his father’s walking stick clicking against the marble. Hurrying out of the room, he saw a clean shaven and freshly showered Lucius Malfoy dressed in winter robes and muggle suit descending the stairs.

“Where are you going, father? It’s nearly midnight.”

“I’ll be back shortly Draco. Don’t wait up.”

“Wait I’ll go with you. Just let me get my boots on.”

“Son, there is really no need. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Draco was already walking toward his father. “She’s part of my family too, father. I would like to go.”

Lucius slumped slightly. “Fine. Five minutes and I’m leaving, with or without you.”

Draco held out the letter. “I found this in the floo.”

Lucius glanced down at the envelope. “Four minutes.” Draco called for the elf as he tried to remember where he had put his cloak.
Exactly three minutes later, Draco slid into the entry to find his father pale, and gazing down at a small piece of paper, tears rolling down his cheeks. Draco reached for the parchment and read:

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

When we last met, I said some things that obviously caused you pain. My remarks were made without thinking, and I am very sorry. I had hoped to apologize to you when you came to the cemetery, but you didn’t come.
I only mean to let you know that your secret is safe with me. No reference to you or your family will be included in my new book. As a token of good faith, I have enclosed what few documents I could find related to your sister. There is the initial letter to the orphanage owner, and a copy of her letter to your parents after Celestina died requesting funds for burial. Of more importance to you is likely to be two photographs I found. They appear to be of the same girl, and one is labeled on the back with your sister’s name.
Respectfully,
Marguerite Blakeney
HG

In his father’s hand were two muggle photographs of a small blonde girl with an unmistakable smile.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Father? Are you ready?”

The older man stood, tucking the photos in the inner pocket of his robes. Nodding, he wiped at his eyes, and Draco watched as he pulled his hair back with a ribbon. He seemed to draw himself together, banishing any sign of weakness or emotion.

“I don’t know where we’re going. We’ll have to side along. He wrapped his arms around his father, and felt the man relax slightly. They would get through this; they were Malfoys. Draco would be damned if he would lose his father after so many years apart.
“Whitechapel Cemetery, London.”

CRACK!!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Buttercream sat on the ledge of the big tub of water in the bathroom and watched her witch slide under the water. When Hermione’s head went under the water, the kitten cried out in alarm. Her head popped back up and Buttercream was relieved. Every Kneazle knew water was evil, especially flowery smelling water; why humans wanted to get in there was a mystery. Her witch blew bubbles from the water at her, but she batted them away and pounced on them for good measure. Die, bubbles,die. Her witch giggled, and Buttercream felt better.

Hermione had been working very hard with the smelly potions, and barely looked at the mouse presents Buttercream thoughtfully put on her pillow every night. The nice smelling man who took her away from the pet store and gave her to her witch hadn’t been by lately, and her witch looked sad.

A door opened, and Buttercream jumped down from the tub and went to investigate. She hurried and hid under the chair, just like a spy and watched two sets of feet come into the sitting room. Her witch probably couldn’t hear them because of her music, so like any good Kneazle she jumped out to confront the intruders, making a vicious roar. Being a baby Kneazle though, it came out very small

“Mew”

It was the nice smelling man! Maybe he could get her witch out of the horrid water! She pounced on his feet and got his attention.

“Father, we can’t just break into a muggle house in the middle of the night.” Draco protested, clutching his wand. This was quite possibly the strangest house he had ever been in. The doorplate read Marguerite Blakeney, and Draco had to admit he was intrigued. He had read the woman’s book, and although he didn’t quite understand it all he knew his father had interrogated Blaise about it.

So, his father knew the mysterious woman. No big surprise, his father seemed to know everyone. The way Lucius had been able to get through the wards and was now moving through the house indicated he had been here before. Maybe they were having a torrid affair, the sly dog! He imagined some middle aged academic with glasses and a fondness for tea. A fluffy little kitten darted out from under a chair and he watched with interest as the creature pounced on his father’s boot. Lucius had scooped up the cat and scratched it behind the ears before setting it down. It hurried away, and they followed. As they followed the kitten, they pushed open the door and Draco got the shock of his life.

A very naked Hermione Granger was lying in the tub surrounded by candles.

Hearing the door open, Hermione turned and saw Lucius and, dear god was that Draco? Walk into her bathroom.

“What in the hell are you doing in here?” she shrieked. “This is a naked place!!”

Lucius grinned. “Clearly.” He could see through the water and she was indeed naked. Delicious little form too. He didn’t realize he was staring until a washcloth hit him square in the chest.

“Out! Out! I’ll be out in a minute!” Lucius’ smile widened as he turned and walked out of the bathroom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Draco followed him, confused.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

They were resting on the sofas and Draco was playing with the remote control to the television when Hermione came in, dressed in a long sleeved stretchy little dress that reached her knees and was slightly wrinkled, as though she had just picked it up off the floor. Unfortunately, the stretchy material clung to her cleavage, and Lucius was immediately drawn to how it stretched and curved around her surprisingly ample bosom. She huffed and glared.

“So, Mr Malfoy, will you be stripping down for me to ogle you as well?”

Lucius smile widened. “If you would like me to. I am at your command.” She glanced down at his starting to tent trousers and raised an eyebrow. He actually laughed out loud, and winked. “Where would you like me to start?”

Draco’s mouth hung open. He had never seen his father be so flirtatious, even with his mother. Of course, his mother was very formal in her manners and expected him to behave the same way. Either that or his father had just gone completely around the bend.

“So, Mr. Malfoy…”

“Lucius.”

“Pardon?”

“You may call me Lucius if you choose.”

“Fine. Lucius, what are you doing here at 2:00 in the morning in my living room? It’s a bit late for a social call. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

“Of course, please forgive my poor manners. I am here to listen to the rest of your research. I left last time before I could hear about it.”

“Now?”

“Wait.” Draco interrupted. “Father has told me while we were waiting for you some of how you became reacquainted. I just don’t understand how you could be on such friendly terms. Plus, I just portkeyed here from Spain. If you intend to tell your story, you’re going to have to feed me first. Do you have an elf?” He looked around.

“No, Malfoy. I don’t have an elf. I can make you something, come on into the kitchen. I have some left over pie in the icebox.”

Ten minutes later, they were back in the sitting room, teacups in hand. Lucius’eyes were starting to droop slightly, and Draco was devouring a piece of pie as big as the plate.

“Excellent pie, Granger.”

“Thank you.”

“Now get to your story. It’s been a rather emotional day for all of us.”

“Draco, enough” his father admonished. “We have intruded on Miss Granger’s privacy. She will tell the story when she is ready.”

“Draco, how much do you know already?”

“I have told him about Celestina, and that she was sent away for lack of magical ability. I still maintain, however, that she was sent away too early, as I have mentioned. She still may have been capable of magic.”

“I agree, Mr. Malfoy…Lucius.” He nodded.

“So not to sound morbid, but how did she die?”

His father was looking down at his teacup and said nothing. “We are even now not certain. Her death certificate listed cause of death as pneumonia, and as she came here in the winter it is entirely possible. I have most of the second floor shut down because it costs too much to heat. I’m not certain the director would have paid to heat it either. When I spoke with her, she was obsessed with money, and I imagine that isn’t anything new.”

“I’m not familiar with pneumonia. Is that like a cold?” Draco asked.

“It can spread like a cold does, but it is much more dangerous. It affects the ability to breathe, and can lead to death if it isn’t cared for properly. These rooms were set up in a way that disease could have spread quickly.”

“Meaning what?”

“This room was once the boy’s dorm. It held six to eight beds, all lined up in a row. The orphanage director was Muggle, remember. This room could not have been magically stretched.”

“So, like the Weasley’s hovel then.” Draco sneered, and then yelped as the snake headed cane rapped him on the knuckles. He tried to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“How long was Celestina here before she died?” Hermione looked at Lucius, and he answered.

“Just over a week.”

“For those that survived, life wasn’t easy. When they were old enough, they were sent to work at factories or as nannies to wealthy families. I have been trying to track down the man used as the doctor or healer for this house. There has to be one by law. So far, I’ve had no luck.”
“Why do you need to talk to the doctor?” Hermione paused, unsure how to be tactful and truthful at the same time. The Malfoys had all sorts of contacts; they could track him down far more quickly than she could, especially if he was a wizard.

“ The director’s diaries indicate that the children of marriageable age were taken to the doctor for a physical before being married off to muggles and came back very docile. I’m wondering if they weren’t obliviated. It would erase any memory of the magical world, but more importantly it would stave off magical emergence at least temporarily. In the muggle world during this time, women who were restless and agitated were often given tranquilizers like Valium to keep them calm and docile. These same drugs are used on long term spell damage wards to prevent uncontrolled magic”

“ Restlessness, moodiness and agitation are all signs of pre-magical manifestation.” Lucius’ eyes were narrowed. He had made the connection more quickly than she expected him to. Apparently Draco had as well because he spoke next.

“So these children may not actually been squibs. They may have simply been delayed magically.” Hermione looked down. She ignored the unasked question, and went on.

“It is possible that this phenomena explains muggle born witches and wizards.; latent magical talent buried in the genetic code. They may have been born to muggles, but somewhere in the ancestry is magical talent.”

“That’s just a theory.” Draco sneered, but it lacked conviction.

“Do you have a better one? How do you explain people like me? We have to come from somewhere.”

His father was staring directly at Hermione waiting for eye contact and she was studiously avoiding his gaze. She was hiding something, and his father knew what it was. On Draco’s part, he had so many questions he didn’t know where to begin. What had he missed? Changing the subject to keep her off guard, he asked “So why did this place close down? She seemed to have quite the scam going.
”
“Professor McGonagall’s sister Juno was a healer who objected to the practice of forcing magical expression. She was able to convince the public to wait for nature to take its course before making rash decisions. She wrote a series of articles exposing the practice along with the high death rate, and public outrage followed. Also, medical advances in both muggle and magical technology led to what may be a drastic reduction in squib births.”

“What advances? Even today, we can’t predict squib status in utero with any accuracy.” Lucius asked. She didn’t answer. Draco looked at his father, who was still trying to force eye contact with the young woman. He sighed.

“So the death rate was high because of a high rate of disease in the orphanages?”

“I have no proof of anything else.”

“But you have a theory.” Lucius prompted.

“There are all sorts of theories.”

“I’d like to hear yours.” He watched her stroke Buttercream and play with her teacup. She was fighting her natural urge for eye contact, it wouldn’t be long.

“Fine,” she sighed. “ I believe the director had something to do with it. I spoke with her several years ago, and she told me some interesting facts about her life which I was able to confirm.”

“I’m listening.”

“This woman was married three times by the time she was twenty one; each time to wealthier men who died suddenly in their late thirties with no cardiac history.”

“Surely that happens on occasion.”

“Not three times in five years. Lightning doesn’t strike that many times in the same place.”

“So she inherited their estates, growing wealthier in the process. That certainly happens in the magical world.” Lucius said, clearly baiting her.

“Yes, but when your two children also die at seven and nine years of age, that is a whole different story.”

“What financial benefit is there to killing a child?’ Draco wanted to know.

“In the muggle world, parents can insure their own or their child’s life.”

“What?” Draco had never heard of anything so bizarre.

“Parents often insure their child’s life for different reasons, most very honest. The insurance money can help pay for funeral expenses or medical bills if the child has been ill for a while. The problem is, children don’t just die in their sleep.”

“Some do. I remember a Hufflepuff whose brother died.”

“Yes, if they are under a year old and at risk for sudden infant death syndrome, or if they have a chronic illness. These kids were perfectly healthy, right up until they died. Then they died, and she collected the insurance money. This woman is really heartless, Draco. She told me about “keeping spares”, extra children because she “knew” she ‘d lose some during the winter. Who plans on children dying? People run foster care agencies for years and never have a death. She was being paid for the orphans, her own children were just costing her money.”

“That’s disgusting, Granger.”

“How was she paid for the children again?” Lucius prodded
.
“Lump sum for each orphan and the family paid for the funeral. I also did some rather interesting research and found that she was also receiving monthly payments from social services for the care of each orphan. She told them that they were dumped on her doorstep in the middle of the night, so she didn’t have social insurance numbers.”

“And she told you all this?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“Of course not. I told you, I did research. You’d be amazed at how much information is available to the public. In twenty eight years, she took in almost 400 children. Nearly a third of them, one hundred thirty in total died. A social worker doing research noticed the trend and reported it. She was shut down, and put in a nursing home. They couldn’t prove she killed the children, but the suspicion was too great to ignore.”

“Dear Merlin.” Draco breathed.

“Exactly.”

“What was the woman’s name again?” Draco asked.

“No way. I am not telling you so she can go fall down the stairs.”

“Her name was Jezebel Walcott. It was on the documentation you sent me.”Lucius finished. Hermione’s head snapped up, and then it happened.

He was in her mind.

Before he could begin looking in the labrynith that was her mind, she had shut him out. When he regained his focus, she was standing over him, trembling with rage.

“How dare you invade my mind! I have been forthright with you all night, when you burst into my house and demand explanations I am under no obligation to give. Who the hell do you think you are? If you want to know something, ask me. Otherwise, get out of my home.”
“Miss Granger, I am sorry. I am not accustomed to such straight answers. I could tell you were holding back, and I need to know.” Lucius was backpedaling now, but she was not in the mood.

“Unacceptable. You are constantly stepping out of bounds with me, Mr. Malfoy and I have had about enough of it. I am not awed by your charm or your bloodlines. Further, I don’t give a damn about your apologies. They are worthless to me. I was wrong to think you had changed and actually wanted to be my friend. All you want is to pump me for information, and then be on your way. You use people.”

“Miss Granger, I can promise you, when I give an apology it is sincere. I don’t feel the need to apologize often, but when I do it is because I truly regret what I’ve done. Please give me a chance to prove to you that I am not the same man you once feared.” His voice was soft, coaxing. He reached for her, but she moved away out of range.

Draco was once again speechless. This was far more serious than he thought. His father actually cared for Granger, truly cared about her. His father did not apologize and he certainly did not beg. Merlin, Lucius had actually fallen for her.

He didn’t really care for Granger, but Draco loved his father dearly. For all Lucius’ mistakes, he had made them trying to do what he thought was the right thing. If making his father happy meant Granger would be the new Mrs. Malfoy, then fine. Pureblood society wouldn’t know what hit them, because Granger would steamroll those society hags.

“Granger, we are all exhausted and cranky. It’s too late to go home. You have extra guest rooms don’t you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. Picking up Buttercream, who was snoozing on a vacant chair she said, “Second door on the left. You’ll have to share with your father.”

Draco nodded; and practically dragged his father away from her.

“Night Granger. I want pancakes for breakfast by the way.”

Draco managed to dodge the pillow being thrown at him as he walked toward the guest room.

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Coming up next: The Thallium Theory.