Last Exit to Eden

Title: Last Exit to Eden
Pairing: Lucius/ Hermione
Rating: NC-17/M. Including this chapter.
Author’s Note: Thanks for all my reviews. I am so happy that people are keeping up with my story; I’ve been trying to update frequently so no one gets bored. I’m about at the halfway point, so hang in there with me!
Oh, and FYI: I realize that Spain is not ruled by a king. When I wrote about Draco being married, I intended to go into Hermione meeting the wife and the differences of the Spanish wizarding and muggle societies. I ended up leaving it out, because it bogged the plot line down, but I had already posted the first part and never took the bit about his wife out.
Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they belong to JKR, et al. If not, they belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter 5: We’ll Do it My Way


Hermione stood at the ironing board, pressing a pair of wide legged trousers. She had bought several bags of clothing the day before, and was getting them ready to wear.

She had been surprised herself with some of her choices she had made. For most of her life, Hermione had favored practicality. She wore sensible shoes, cotton tops that washed well and jeans and trousers that were interchangeable with all of her other clothes. She could pick out any top and any trouser out of her closet and it would match.

Three days ago however, she had splurged, spending her latest bonus from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes (with an excellent conversion rate into pounds sterling) buying all those things she had admired from afar, but considered impractical. Lying on the chair fresh from the tailors were dresses made of silk and feather light crepe in a rainbow of jewel tones; black leather and satin numbers that hugged the curves she had worked so hard to achieve. She had even splurged on an overnight bag, thinking fondly of a time when she may use it.

It had all started with the shoes. Many women say that they start by finding the perfect shoes, then create the outfit around it. Hermione had always found that logic completely backwards. Why focus so much time and attention on something no one ever looks down to see? Then she found them.

The shoes had been in a small boutique near her favorite coffee shop. Often, she would look in the window and see the towering heeled creations that she was sure there was no way one would be able to walk in. They were strappy and made of midnight blue satin, with four inch heels and an attitude she found irresistible. When she gathered her nerve and walked in, she found saleswomen who were ready to help the shy woman, and nearly an hour later she emerged with not just the shoes, but a pair of buttery soft camel knee high boots and semi-practical open toed grey pumps all with the same four inch dangerously thin heels. She wore the boots out of the store, her practical loafers forgotten.

The first thing she realized was that she had to shorten her stride slightly and stand up straighter. Once she got the hang of it, she was striding down the street, exuding confidence and drawing the attention of more men than she had in the past three years combined. High on the attention, she bought clothes according to her whims, practicality be damned. Even after she got them home, she realized that she actually did like the luxurious fabrics and they fit her well.

Her favorite part of her splurge was on beautiful lingerie that there was no way she could explain away as having any practicality whatsoever. Bras that plumped up her breasts like they were on display, sheer numbers that seemed to draw attention to her nipples instead of cover them and panties and thongs that covered very little.

Hermione had always attended to her grooming, despite the wild mane of curls she could never quite manage to tame. While Hermione did her own manicures and pedicures, she allowed someone else to do her waxing, and when Lucius had propped her up on her front porch and lavished so much attention on the area, she had been glad she had suffered through the contortions and embarrassment of having that little strip of hair attended to.

She smiled as she remembered the day her relationship took an unmistakable turn. After the porch incident, she had delivered some horrible news, and he and his son had left soon after. Draco had floo-called her later that night, telling her that his father and Severus had been shouting at each other for half an hour. The potions master had been shocked a muggleborn in exile had figured out Voldemort’s secrets, and had admitted to having at least partial knowledge as to the effects of it.

She had fallen asleep that night worried that she had gone too far in telling him what she knew. The next morning she had been awakened by a warm, nude body holding her tightly, a rather impressive erection pressed into her back. She had been embarrassed to be sleeping in a stained old tank top, hence the drawerful of nighties in her bureau. He hadn’t crawled in bed with her since then, but had come over every night for dinner, leaving late in the evening.

A familiar voice in the floo drew her attention, and she walked into her sitting room and the fireplace.
“Hello, my love.” Lucius said softly. “I hope your evening is going well.”

“It’s going as well as it can. I missed you at dinner.” Her voice was playful, but she suddenly realized she meant it.

“I would love to be there with you right now. At present, I am hiding in my study, ostensibly trying to find a book. In truth, I am trying not to hex Draco.”

“What did he do?”

“As you are aware, I had a dinner party tonight. While I respect your decision not to be here with me, I am going to ask you to reconsider. Draco had the poor grace to mention your thallium theory at the table, and now my entire house is full of chaos. He has opened Pandora’s box so to speak, and now accusations and threats are being thrown around. I need you to come and explain it to my guests in a way they can understand.”

“So am I meant to be your referee or your bodyguard?”

“I would be most honored for you to be here as my lover and hostess, but I will settle for the adjective of your choice.”

“They are going to recognize me.”

“Hermione, while they may not respect your bloodlines, they have always respected your intellect. They may have insulted you in the past, but they have never doubted your abilities. As my guest, you will be treated somewhat better than you would otherwise, but I cannot guarantee they will be pleasant. “

“I would settle for lack of overt aggression and poisoning attempts.”
“I can definitely promise you that.” He seemed relaxed now, as though tension had abated.

“You owe me big time.”

“If you have no plans for tonight, you could pack a bag and stay with me. I will endeavor to pay my bill to you later.” His smile was full of mischief.

“I don’t have any robes anymore.”

“Muggle is fine. I would prefer sexy but tasteful. I am wearing a navy suit.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Absolutely. I will leave the floo to my library open for you. You may bring Buttercream if you would like. I’ll be here waiting; I don’t think they’ve missed me yet.”

Dear god. Her first reentry into the magical world would be in a viper’s nest without a wand. Lucius had better have something else in mind for payment than cuddling. She hurried away to pack and find her kitten.

Precisely nine minutes later, she stumbled out of the floo into his arms.

“We need to work on your entrance” he whispered, before kissing her gently.

“It’s the first time I’ve taken the floo in three years. Plus, I’m wearing heels.”

“I noticed. Your legs look like they go on forever.” He lifted her onto his desk and then inspected the shoe.
“These are very naughty. I shall have to keep my dueling wand by my side.” She giggled. When he propped up her other leg, she realized his intentions.

“Lucius, we can’t do this now! Anyone could walk in!”

“Hermione, this is my ancestral home. If I want to fuck you senseless in front of my entire dinner party I can, and I will. Now, you are far too nervous and I am far too considerate of a host and a lover to send you into that crowd so anxious you can’t think clearly.”

“In the muggle world, a lover refers to a person with whom you’ve already had sex with, I mean intercourse…”she babbled as he slipped her thong to the side and began to stroke her, sliding his finger inside.

“In society, It means a woman with whom I have begun to court, but have not proposed to. Tonight we can work on your definition, and then we can discuss working on mine. Now, as you are afraid someone will hear, you need to be quiet. Like a little mouse. Can you do that?” She nodded, and he slid a second finger in. She bit her lip and he smiled.

“Silencing charm.” She whispered desperately. She reached for his trousers.

“No. This is about self control. I don’t care if they walk in on us, but you do. Now, I am going to begin, and you will be silent. If you cry out, I will stop and we will go out there with your needs unmet. Do you understand?” She nodded again.

He lay her back against the cherry desk and lowered his mouth. The first touch made her swallow hard. A few minutes later, she was thrusting against him and biting her lip so hard she was drawing blood. When her climax hit, she was crying silently. He suckled her inner thigh, marking her as he always did when they were together. Pulling her to a nearby sofa, he wiped her tears away. She was trembling and he licked her neck and collarbone, rubbing her back to calm her.

“Hermione, listen to me. You are not a one off for me. I am taking you out there as my equal, and announcing to them without words that I intend to spend my life with you. Draco respects you, and he is the only other person I care about in that room besides you. Believe me, I will hex anything tonight that tries to come between you and me.” She nodded, and relaxed.

A knock at the door startled them.

“Father? I’m coming in.” He opened the door and was shocked to see Hermione there. He grinned sheepishly.

“Granger, I’m sorry to get you into this. This is not the way I would want you to come back to our world. “ She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Are you ready”, Lucius asked, ignoring Draco’s evident admiration of her high heels.

She nodded, and they walked out into the main part of the manor. Into the unknown.
Nearly an hour later, Hermione was starting to relax. She had explained the thallium issue repeatedly, whilst leaving out the orphanage issue as much as possible. There had been outrage when she talked about her perception of Voldemorts’s motives; although it seemed that the Marriage Law was as unpopular with this group as she had found it.

She was seated in an ivory chair in the front of the room. Lucius sat on the chair arm and Draco had positioned himself in an ottoman in front of her. The message couldn’t have been more clear: if you’re going to get to her, you’ll have to go through us first. And they say that Gryffindors lack subtlety, she thought.

“Granger, what I need to know is how, or if this is going to affect my ability to have children.” Pansy Parkinson, pug nosed hag of Slytherin had grown into a rather elegant woman. She was engaged to a Belgian wizard, who had a wicked sense of humor and a charming personality. It was pretty clear who wore the pants in this relationship, though.

“The truth is, I’m not sure. As far as you are concerned, you should be fine. It will just depend what potions your fiancee was exposed to.” Pansy had produced a quill and was taking notes.

“You may send it to the Manor, Pansy. I’ll see Miss Granger gets it.” Pansy nodded. Significant looks were shared by the guests.

“What about us?” Millicent’s mother wanted to know. “Are we able to still have children? What are the long term effects?”

“I am researching muggle thalidomide now, but I don’t have a copy of the recipe that was used to create the potion, so I can’t say . A potions master would need to look at it to be certain. Potion toxicity is not my forte.”

“You’ll have a copy by tomorrow afternoon.” Lucius’ voice was smooth. “Severus has informed me he will do whatever he can to help; and I believe him to be sincere.”

“What I’d like to know Miss Granger, Blakeney, whatever you call yourself now is how you can sit here surrounded by the very people who would have cheerfully killed you a few years ago and speak to them about trying to produce more children who will share their beliefs. You are not a healer or a mediwizard. You forget your place, young lady.” Mrs. Shacklebolt seemed stunned by the woman’s audacity.

“Mrs. Shacklebolt, I would remind you that you are a guest here. Granger is here as hostess. I would argue that you are forgetting yours.” Pansy’s voice was starting to rise.

“It’s all right, Pansy. To answer your question, I appreciate consistency in people’s beliefs and the willingness to fight for them. I may not agree with many people’s opinion of muggleborns, but I respect that they have one. I have been dealing with people who don’t share my opinions most of my life.”

“You left the magical world years ago because you wouldn’t comply with a Ministry order, and now you come back to flaunt it to the entire community on the arm of a Death Eater!” Mrs. Shacklebolt shouted. Hermione felt Lucius slide his hand into hers, and steadied herself.

“Long ago, I decided that others did not have my best interests at heart and resolved to follow my own opinion thereafter. The Marriage Law was my problem, not the magical community. I made a choice to leave. Now the Marriage Law is overturned and I am making another choice to return. I will not stay silent when my rights or those of others are being violated. If you pass another law as ridiculous as the Marriage Law, you’d better believe I’m going to let you know what I think.”

“And as for him?” Mrs. Shacklebolt asked, waving at Lucius.

“My relationship with Lucius is quite simply none of your business.”

Nods of approval from around the room and hushed whispers followed this proclamation.

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Shortly afterward, guests began to depart. Pansy Parkinson took Hermione’s arm and said quietly, “Granger, I know that you hate all the attention, but you’re going to need to get used to it, because you are going to have to explain yourself over and over again. People don’t understand it; I admit I don’t either. But a happy Lucius is a generous Lucius and he has been so much more relaxed since you arrived. Just be careful, not everyone will be as accepting as we are.”

With the warning ringing in her ears, she watched the dark haired woman depart.


“Ahh, finally alone.”

Lucius stretched and pulled her close, kissing her greedily. The house seemed colder to her now, as if all the warmth had been sucked out of the room as the guests left. She shivered and he grinned, pressing kisses into her hair.

“ I really should get going, Lucius. I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall and her sister at my house at eleven. We’re supposed to have tea at Claridge’s.”

His hand slid down her belly, moving lower. “I seem to recall owing you a debt. I would like to pay that now, but I have a more interesting place in mind than in my corridor.” His voice was playful, and he was already working at taking down the tight bun that restrained her wild curls. She looked up and froze.

A portrait of Narcissa Malfoy was directly in front of her, watching as she was being ravished by the Lord of the Manor. Bile rose in her throat, and Hermione froze, feeling as though she were moments away from committing adultery. Certainly, Narcissa had been dead for years, but the stern look and the regal carriage of the woman sitting in an ivory chair similar to the one she had been sitting in earlier made her uncomfortable. She was no Narcissa Malfoy. What was she thinking?

She felt herself starting to panic. Pulling away from Lucius, she felt him reach for her again. She made an excuse for her need to leave immediately, and hurried into the sitting room to find Buttercream. She didn’t see the tiny kitten and was on her hands and knees looking under sofas and chairs when Lucius entered, a purring Buttercream in his arms.

“May I ask why you are in such a rush to flee my presence?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp edge. “You did very well this evening, and I am sure by morning everyone will know about us, avoiding the need to make a formal announcement. I have already accepted two invitations on your behalf from the departing ladies for dinner engagements.”
“You did what?” she asked, feeling anger start to rise in her belly. “Why would you do that?”
“Hermione, you are not accustomed to accepting invitations given by society matrons yet. I felt that as your … whatever you wish to call me, that I was free to accept in your stead.” His attitude reflected his real assurance that he had done the right thing, and was baffled as to why she wasn’t grateful.

“Lucius, I am capable of my own social calendar. You don’t even know my plans.”, she protested.

“I am simply looking out for your interests until such time that you are able to do so yourself. I fail to see why you are so upset.” She watched him relax, although it took some effort and put the kitten on the floor. He pulled the witch close again, nibbling on her neck. She pulled away and scooped up a sleepy and confused Buttercream. Lucius was annoyed, and pulled at his tie in irritation.

“What is wrong with you? When you arrived tonight, you were nervous but relaxed quickly in a crowd of people that had previously wanted your blood. Now we are alone, and you won’t allow me to touch you.”

“I’m not ready for this, Lucius.”

“Not ready for what?”

“I’m not ready to be the woman by your side. I’m not the person who enjoys all these parties and events. I thought I would ease back into the wizarding world slowly. Maybe go out for dinner, shop a little. Maybe go to a quidditch match. Now, by morning everyone will think I’m your flavor of the week.”

“They are more likely to think of you as the new Mrs. Malfoy.” Lucius’ tone was serious. He had realized that she was insecure, but this was ridiculous.

“I am not ready to be the new Mrs. Malfoy!”

“Yes, you are correct. I had intended to talk to you in the morning about attending a school on protocol and society behavior. Pansy will be attending in preparation of her role as a diplomat’s wife. I thought you might want to attend with someone you know. It’s an intensive two month program, although you do come home in the evening.”

“You want me to go to finishing school?” she said in disbelief.

“Well, as my future wife it is your duty to hostess my business dinners, and accompany me to events. Would you know how to plan a banquet for thirty? If I were to introduce you to the head justice of the International Council of Wizards, would you know how to address them? Every society witch and wizard attends these schools. Usually, it is done immediately following their formal schooling, but there are separate classes for adult witches. Pansy’s family wasn’t able to afford the tuition, but it will be paid for by the diplomatic community as she and Jean are engaged. I have already enrolled you, classes begin in three weeks.”

He sounded so matter of fact about the subject that Hermione’s patience was at an end. Who did he think he was? She was not at his beck and call; she was not the little muggleborn on his arm to look pretty and keep her mouth shut. He was trying to take over her life, and she wasn’t going to allow that. She needed to stake her claim now.

“Lucius, I am not a house elf. You have no right to tell me what to do, or to schedule my life. I have obligations and duties of my own. Who do you think you are?”

“I am your partner, your lover and your eventual husband! Of course I have a interest in your behavior! I am offering you a chance at a life that is so far beyond what you can accomplish on your own, and you can’t even have the decency to be the slightest bit grateful?” His voice rose, and she trembled with rage.

“Lucius, right now all we have been to each other is a fling. I like you, and I respect you but I will not have you tell me how to live my life. I do not however owe you gratitude for calling me a poor-mannered simpleton who needs to have you find her a friend!” He threw up his hands in surrender, muttering to himself.

“Narcissa was never like this. Whatever I needed, she was there. She never challenged me like this. Never.”

“I am not Narcissa!”

“No, you most certainly are not.” His voice came out harsher than he intended, and he seemed to realize he had crossed some sort of line. She recoiled like she had been slapped, and making sure Buttercream was secure in her arms, hurried to the library and floo’ed home.
He sat in his chair, with his head in his hands. Every time he tried to do something lately, he just seemed to screw it up when it came to her. An angry female voice from the portrait in the hall seemed to agree with him.

“Lucius, I can see you’re as charming as ever.”

He turned to see portrait Narcissa with her hands on her hips. She ranted and raved at him about his conduct until he finally had to put a silencing spell on her. Walking to his library, he noticed a forgotten overnight bag lying on the sofa. A silky plum colored nightgown peeked out. He leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes in defeat.

Damn it.

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Hermione had slept poorly that night, and when the appointed time came, she looked pale and wan as she watched the group of people trudge up from her apparition point. She was not ready for this; she just wanted to go back to bed and sleep for a month.

In front were Professor McGonagall clad in tartan skirt and bright red sweater. Next to her was an older version of the same face, laying roses on the children’s graves and wiping at tears. Two uninvited guests, both red haired and middle aged, looked at the house in awe, and an odd little elf wearing a child’s overalls and turtleneck, clutching a small satchel.

She opened the door and stepped out to greet them. The older woman smiled, whilst wiping at her eyes and stretched out a hand.

“Juno McGonagall. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

After greeting the professor and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, they walked into the house. Mr Weasley began remarking on all the items which required plugs with great interest. Mrs. Weasley and the professor looked a bit nervous, and the house elf looked around. When she invited the group to sit, Hermione noticed that she elf did so as well, choosing a slipper chair by the fireplace. It was the first time she had ever seen an elf with that much confidence.

“Hello”, Hermione ventured as she held out her hand. The elf shook her hand, showing none of the subservience one would expect with one of the creature’s kind. Hermione noticed she had tiny earrings in her ears made from rubies.

“My name is Ruby, miss.”

Professor McGonagall broke in. “Ruby came to us seeking a job at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she was not happy with the type of work we ask our elves to do, so I brought her here in hope that you could use her. Mr and Mrs Weasley would take her, but we Ruby has said she would prefer to work in a manor house. Strictly speaking, this isn’t a manor. It’s closer to what she left, though.”

“What are your terms?” Hermione asked the elf.

“I want two galleons a week as wages, Wednesday all day and Saturday afternoons off and my own bedroom. I always wear my own clothes. I will not wear a tea towel.” Her tiny lips pursed in displeasure at the idea.

“Ruby didn’t want to look after hundreds of students, she has always worked in a private home. Her last position was for a family of robe designers. When her Mistress passed away, the children would not agree to her terms. Ruby is French in origin, you see and they believe in paid elves. The children live in Scotland and have different ideas.” Professor McGonagall interjected. The elf looked close to tears, and Hermione felt sorry for her.

“I have a kneazle kitten, Ruby. Her name is Buttercream. “

“I likes kittens, miss.” Her head craned to try to see this animal. At Hermione’s call, the kneazle peeked out from behind a pillow, mewing softly. Ruby climbed out of her chair and petted her, her sorrow gone. Buttercream purred happily.

“Ruby, I wasn’t really looking for a house elf. This house has always been muggle, you see and I live alone. I’m not sure what you would do here.”

“I knows how to clean the muggle way miss. This is a big house, miss and would need lots of care. Ruby can make everything spit-spot miss. Maybe in time you will have babies miss, and Ruby loves children. ” The elf looked terrified of being sent away, and Hermione’s heart melted.

“Okay, Ruby. We’ll try it for a month and see how it goes. You may choose your bedroom; you’ll be able to tell which one is mine. Any other guest room is fine.” The elf hopped to her feet and danced in circles, thanking Hermione again and again. Hurrying over to grab her satchel, Ruby’s feet could be heard pattering on the stairs as she climbed.

“Well, that settles that then.” Professor McGonagall stood, straightening her robes. We should get going if we intend to make it to Claridge’s on time.”

The tea had just been served when Molly started the conversation.

“It’s been too long, Hermione since we’ve seen you.”

Hermione tried for calm and nonjudgmental. “I had to leave the wizarding world, Molly. There was no law that said you couldn’t come to London. I’ve been working with Fred and George for three years now; they know where I live.” She looked down at her teacup, hating the awkwardness. Molly had been like a mother to her for years, now they were practically strangers. Arthur answered the unasked question.

“We had been hoping… well Fred and George hadn’t gotten married after the law had passed, they had the Marriage Office convinced they couldn’t have children, you see. When you started working with them, we had hoped you would form a connection with one of them. I always wanted you as a daughter in law, Hermione.”

“I felt my future lay elsewhere. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew it wasn’t going to to be with Wood or McClaggan. As far as Fred and George are concerned, they are my friends and business partners.” Arthur nodded.

McClaggan works with Lavender at the Ministry. He’s in the payroll department now, and poor Lavender complains about him constantly. Apparently, he married a girl much younger than himself, and they are getting divorced now.”

“I see.” Hermione said, not really caring one way or the other.
“You should tell her your news, Molly. Hermione will be pleased to hear it.” Minerva prompted. Molly blushed, then blurted out her secret.

“I’ve started taking mediwitch classes through St. Mungo’s. Bill and the twins have paid my fees and I started classes two weeks ago. I know I’m a bit old for it, but there are several in my class older than me.” She was beaming with pride, and Arthur looked at his wife with affection.

“That’s wonderful, Molly. You’ll be great.” Hermione was surprised, but really was pleased. Molly would be able to interact with other witches, and maybe her mind would open as well. At least, she hoped so.

“So, tell us your news. It was in the Prophet this morning that you were hostess at Malfoy Manor last evening. I called Kingsley and he told me it was certainly true. I haven’t seen Malfoy in years. I hope he’s changed at least a little.” Molly said, her voice full of concern.

“I’ve interacted with Lucius a few times over the years. The last time I saw him was last week, and he seemed much more relaxed and approachable than I’ve ever seen him. We’ll never be friends, but he was at least civil to me.” Arthur said, quietly. Hermione looked down at her plate, the question unanswered. Juno took up the space, chatting to Molly about her mediwitch classes until tea was over and they walked back. As the Weasleys departed, the two elderly women followed Hermione into the house.

Ruby was in the kitchen wearing an apron and wiping down the stove when they walked in.

“I got your mail, Miss. There were a frightful amount of owls outside; I think I used all your biscuits up. I can make more later.” Ruby pointed to the table which was absolutely covered with mail. Envelopes in every color, however the fair amount of red ones made her take a deep breath. Howlers. Most just had her name on them; no address. Good.

“Best to open them now and get them over with,” Juno said briskly. “The more you leave them, the louder they get. Start with that one there; it’s starting to smoke.”

Hermione pulled her letter opener out of the drawer and reached for the smoking letter. Ruby looked on curiously as she slid the metal implement under the flap. It leapt into the air, spewing out its message, then the other red letters leapt up of their own accord doing the same.

“Mudblood whore!”
“Blood traitor!”
“You must being impriod him bekuz lusius malfoy would kill you othrwiz!” This envelope had a tough time shouting out its message due to the sender’s poor spelling.
“You’ve let us down, Hermione!”
“Slut!” and so on.

After about five minutes, the kitchen was silent again and Hermione fell backward into a chair. Dear god. Is this what she had to look forward to every morning?

“Well, it could have been worse. No threats yet, so that’s a good sign.” Minerva seemed almost amused.

“I can’t handle this. I just can’t. Damn him for not letting me do things my way.” She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. The two elderly women looked on at her despair, each with a hand on her shoulder. Finally, Juno spoke up.

“Hermione, you are involved with one of the most charming and influential men in Britain. He has impeccable lineage and is right handsome. When his wife died, loads of middle age women were throwing themselves at his feet; dreaming about being the new Mrs. Malfoy. Then you come along: young, brilliant, a war hero and take their dream away from them. You must have famous people in the muggle world who have strangers in love with them because of who they are.”

She sniffled, and nodded.

“It’ll pass, young lady. Soon, people will find someone else to draw their attention. For now, just hold your head up and don’t let them get to you. Now, let’s look at some of the other letters, and see what else people have to say.”

Several letters were invitations to various events, to which Juno advised her to write a letter in response politely declining their invitation. Four were letters congratulating her on deciding to come back to the wizarding world; conveying a hope that she could somehow change Ministry policy. Hermione snorted at the idea; she had been to one event last night. She was in no position to change anything.

Two envelopes remained; one bearing the Malfoy seal, and written in a familiar hand and the other an oddly shaped square envelope. She opened the letter from Lucius first:

My Love,
Once again I find myself in a position of apologizing for my less than stellar behavior. What is it about you that arouses me to such passion that I act impulsively and hurt you with my actions? I have given you my oath never to deliberately hurt you, but I seem to do so by accident more and more. There is no intent to suppress your natural curiousity and fire; I simply want to spare you the humiliation of inadvertently making a faux pas that can affect your dreams and aspirations. I can only promise to try harder to win your trust and affection.

I need to tell you that a photograph of us is on the cover of the Daily Prophet; taken during our after dinner discussion with our guests. I have no proof of it, but I believe Mrs. Shacklebolt to be to blame; it appears to be taken from about the same place as she was seated. I never saw a camera, but she must have other means. You look absolutely radiant in the photograph, and had it not been taken without our knowledge I would have it framed and sitting on my desk.

If I have not offended you further, I would like to invite you to a private dinner with me at Le Magique, a new French restaurant in Diagon Alley. The food comes highly recommended, and as a chef yourself you will be able to appreciate the complexities of French cuisine better than most. Muggle attire is acceptable.

Please floo me back with your answer directly so I may make reservations.

Your Servant,
Lucius Malfoy

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“Humph.” Minerva said after reading the letter over her shoulder. What did he want you to do, meet his mother?”

“Go to finishing school.”


Juno cackled. “That request would have to be well framed remarkably well to not sound rude.”

“It did sound rude.” Hermione rubbed her temples.

“I honestly think he means well, young lady. He is just used to not having his judgement questioned.” Juno looked at her affectionately.

“Then he picked the wrong witch.” Minerva answered tartly.

“You seem like you know Lucius, Juno.”

“I am a Hogwarts alumna, Miss Granger. Abraxas, that is to say Lucius’ late father, was in my house. Handsome, charming, but not for me. From what I understand he has a lot in common with his son.”

“Abraxas Malfoy was in Gryffindor?” How had she missed that? The woman cackled again.

“My dear, whatever made you think I was ever a Gryffindor?”. Hermione looked at her closely, and finally noticed the serpent brooch at her throat. The woman grinned, and Minerva looked like she had swallowed something really foul.

“Somehow that explains a lot.” Hermione folded up the letter, and set it aside , sliding the opener through the flap of the last letter, noticing that her proper address was on the envelope. That was odd. Two photographs and a small sheet of parchment fell out. Hermione turned over the photographs and froze.

One showed Hermione and Lucius locked in an embrace on her back porch one night when he had come for dinner. The picture had been slashed viciously.

The other showed her slumped in a chair. Her hair matted with blood, her clothing lay in tatters and she was bleeding from her ears and nose. The image seemed to blink, then photo Hermione fell out of the chair and began convulsing; a sure sign of crucio. She had nearly forgotten the incident depicted; well, maybe not forgotten but she hadn’t thought of it in years. Memories came flooding back, the thick smell of stink and earth and burning. She swallowed hard, trying to push them away. Turning to the parchment were three words, written in what looked like blood:

“UNFINISHED BUSINESS, MUDBLOOD.”

“Dear God. I’m calling Kingsley.” Minerva headed to the fireplace, but was stopped by her sister. The professor was clearly shaken up.

“You most certainly will not. If Kingsley’s wife leaked that photo to the Prophet, then they can’t be trusted. Think of someone else.”

Minerva thought, then threw the floo powder into the flames.

“Harry Potter! I’d like a word, if you please!”

Hermione’s vision went spotty, then everything went black.
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Coming up: a reunion of sorts, and Juno’s tale.