The End Is The Beginning Is The End

Lucius appeared calm.  Bored even as he issued his orders in the most matter of fact manner.

‘A prisoner has managed to escape.  I want her captured and returned to me immediately.’

‘The prisoner?’ His head guard asked.

Lucius delicately crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow, ‘Hermione Granger.’

The guard gaped, ‘But then that would mean—‘ He collected himself, ‘I will organize a team to find her immediately sir.  She could not have gotten far.’

‘If she is not returned to me alive and untouched I will execute you and your team,’ He politely stated.

The other man blanched, ‘Yes, of course.’  Bowing, he turned and exited.

Lucius walked over to the bay windows overlooking a beautiful view of a lake, the source of their fresh water.  Above the sun shone.  It was a beautiful day.

Turning on his heel he carefully walked towards the room where she had been held.  The elf was fortunately dead.  He would be questioned in the evening, once medic finished repairing him.  Elves were far more quick to heal than humans, after all.

The mess had been cleaned up.  The room looked perfectly clean.

He stared into the mirror hanging on the wall and suddenly pooched it with all the force he could muster.  Glass shattered and he stared at the blood running down his arm in mild fascination.

‘I am going to kill you when I find you, Hermione.’  He shook his head and laughed. 

‘No, I am not going to kill you.  I am going to make you wish you were dead.  Leave me?’

He wiped his hand along the wall, spreading blood. 

‘Your Grace?’

He did not look up, ‘Hmm?’

‘The elf is conscious.’

Lucius frowned.  He looked up.  The room was dark.

How long had he been standing there?

Turning the servant girl gasped when she saw his hand, ‘Y-your grace?’

Lucius ignored her and apparated to the infirmary.  The elf was laying down, his head caved in one side but the skin had healed over.

‘Is he able to speak?’

‘Barely.  In fact it is a miracle that he is still alive.  The only thing keeping him alive is magic, once that is removed…’  The medic trailed off, ‘Your hand?’

‘What happened?’  He was quiet, but his eyes glittered angrily. 

The elf coughed up blood, and he ignored this.  Shocking everyone he grabbed the elf and shook him, ‘Tell me where she went, what did she say?’

The medical staff’s eyes were wide in shock.  Where was the calm, patient Lucius Malfoy that they all knew?

‘M-Master took her…’ he coughed hacking up more blood.

‘You fool, I—‘

And he paused.

And stared at him.

‘…of course.’ He dropped the elf, his mind racing a mile a minute.  Who would have the nerve to take her, or rather, who had a reason to take her? 

It made no sense, no sense at all, that she would leave—plausible, yes, but unlikely. 

So she had been taken.

Something like relief washed over him, but he did not waste his time thinking about it.

‘Your Grace, the elf—‘

‘Oh yes, you can let him die now,’  Lucius walked towards the door, ‘I need to have a word with my son.  Several, in fact.’