No Looking Back

Written for my lovely friend, Dynonugget. Rawwwrrrr!


I wrap my arms around this woman, this witch. My witch. I have no answers, but for now, I have enough.

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A half hour later, I am sitting across from Ms. Granger, looking to all the world as if our interlude has never occurred.

She fled my bedroom with a muffled sob, and I thought it best to give her time to sort herself out. Where this softness comes from I cannot fathom, for I am not a soft man. I shower and dress for the day before joining her. She is no longer Hermione; she has reverted once more to Ms. Granger, and she has announced she has urgent news, hence her unexpected appearance in my bedroom.

That she is able to sit composed and in control is unsettling. I feel more at ease with her discomfort, her cheeks flushed and unable to meet my gaze. As it is, I am left at a disadvantage. The erection I’d taken care of in my shower this morning has not assuaged my desire for the woman, and while I am no longer the young schoolboy who must wank every time a stiff breeze hardens my cock, the uncomfortable tightness is a reminder of questions still not answered.

She has ordered breakfast, and a tense fifteen minutes pass before we set aside our cups of tea and face the matter at hand.

“Begin,” I say, sitting back on the sofa.

“Almost three years ago, you bought a Muggle company, MicFabTech, or MF Tech. They developed a new micro fabric that can withstand most forms of mistreatment. Not only is the material fireproof, it is also able to withstand most common hexes and jinxes. Not that the Muggle company knew of this, of course, but you’d read the specifications that had been reported in the trade papers and made the owner an offer.”

I wave her on. “This is not new to me, Hermione, I’ve been through my ledgers.”

Hermione has the grace to blush, but whether it is from my use of her first name or the confirmation that I had begun filling in missing pieces of my life, I cannot say.

“MF Tech had two competitors; the first was barely keeping up and was heading for bankruptcy. The other, Tebric, Inc., was gaining on MF Tech as far as improved wearability in their outdoor clothing line. By you buying MF Tech, you virtually shut down Tebric. You pouring money and resources into this company virtually overnight ruined Tebric, who could no longer keep up.

The owner of Tebric is a Muggle named Michael Flannery, and his son, Michael Jr., is a fifth year at Hogwarts.”

Michael Flannery was a guest of Narcissa’s last weekend, I remember.

“Monday past, I contracted PW Investigations to retrace your steps from Dublin to London. On Friday, before Apparating to MI’s corporate headquarters, you received an owl. From eyewitness accounts, you met an unidentified man at The Duke. Witnesses place you there between half twelve and one o’clock in the afternoon. Your waiter remembers you and the man arguing, but could not remember hearing anything specific. You left first, making your way to the Apparition point in Duke Alley. According to the waiter, the man left shortly after.”

Hermione pauses and heaves a short sigh. “A witch riding a bike on her way to work on Grafton Street can place you in Duke Alley, close to the Apparition point. She remembers watching a man in a blue overcoat approach you.” Hermione smiles softly before continuing.

“Apparently she can remember because she was quite taken with your… hair. Regardless, the waiter from The Duke confirms your lunch guest was wearing a blue overcoat. It seems as if it was a rather vivid shade of blue.

“PW traced the credit card the Muggle used at The Duke. It was Michael Flannery. They went to have a little chat with him. It would seem that being face-to-face with two fully-grown wizards, instead of his son’s classmates and professors, was a bit too much for Mr. Flannery. He confessed to hiring a wizard to cast an Obliviate. He’d heard about the spell from reading his son’s Defense Against the Dark Arts text. It seems he wanted to erase the memory of the MF Tech sale so that he could make you a partnership offer. Unfortunately, the caster was a little too intent on causing injury.”

I sit for a moment, soaking in the information as it hasbeen presented. The urge to kill is strong, and I force myself to stay in my seat. I wait for Hermione to finish.

Hermione does not leave me waiting long: “The witness on the bike confirms that a third man joined you and Mr. Flannery in the alley. The third man cast the Obliviate that knocked you unconscious. Then a Portkey was activated that transported you to the alley in which you came to hours later. Ron’s got a sworn witness statement.”

“Who is PW Investigations? Are they reputable?” I cannot have some fly-by-night private investigator knowing the extent of my memory loss.

Again, Hermione smiles softly. “Yes, they are reputable. You hired them last year to investigate Draco’s fiancée. You insisted on a thorough background and credit checks.”

I let that sink in for a moment, approving of such actions, before asking my next question. “Does Draco know I had his fiancée investigated?”

At this, Hermione is laughing. “He is the one who asked you. The sneaky arse, he didn’t want to be called on the carpet if Diana somehow found out about it. He was going to let you hang.”

I chuckle. I am pleased to hear my son taking such reasonable precautions. After all, this witch would one day carry on the Malfoy legacy.

“I presume as Draco is still engaged, the report was satisfactory. Who are P and W, by the way?”

Hermione’s smile grows wider. “Draco recommended them to you. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.”

By the look of satisfaction on her face, she has been waiting to drop those names in my lap. I am torn between congratulating her and inquiring if she has taken leave of her senses. What a difference five years make, I think as I struggle to mask my smirk.

“Indeed. And what of Michael Flannery?”

Her face is a delight to behold. “PW still has him. Harry’s convinced the man that he is better off in their custody than with the Magical Law Enforcement.”

“What of the third man, the unfortunate one who cursed me. Who is he, and where is he now?” He had best pray that he is in MLE custody before my wand finds him.

“Mr. Flannery gave Harry a name, and he is following up on it as we speak. Harry will find him; he is the best tracker out there.” She begins fidgeting with the piping of the chair upon which she sits, a nervous reaction that matches the now sober expression on her face. “There is more.”

“What is it?” By the tone of her voice, it will not be pleasant.

“Mr. Flannery and Narcissa… seem to be having an affair.” The last words come out in a rush, as if saying them in a hurry will cause less damage. She looks at me, waiting for an explosion, I suppose. What is she expecting me to say? I wonder. Does she expect me to become indignant and rush home to confront my wife? I cannot say I am surprised by the news. When I don’t comment, she jumps to her feet and begins pacing.

“The question now, I suppose, is if Narcissa knew about this, if she participated in this assault.” Hermione sounds indignant, she appears angry and defensive on my behalf. For reasons best left unexplored, her indignity on my behalf warms me, then I quickly turn my thoughts away from the unsettling emotions. I pour another cup of tea as I ponder this last bit of information. Do I believe Narcissa capable of such a plot? She is a Slytherin, there can be no question. Do I believe she would be involved? She has more to lose than I. I think not. Still, there are too many coincidences. Perhaps some Arithmancy will help me work out the logistics of all this new information. Perhaps a triple finger of Scotch can do the same thing without the headache.

“Do you believe Misters Potter and Weasley are discreet enough to sit on this information?” I must begin damage control. I need to ascertain how much they know, and how much they are willing to keep secret.

“We’ve gone over….” Hermione stops and offers me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Yes, Harry and Ron are very discreet. They’ve some high-profile clients, both Muggle and wizard, and they’d soon be out of business if they began sharing confidences. Draco trusted them enough to suggest using them.”

I nod, accepting her statement, trusting her, and she looks at me quizzically. “Yes?” I ask, realizing this is not the reaction she had been expecting.

“No argument? No telling me that Harry and Ron would like nothing more than to see you destroyed? No insisting that they not be involved in the investigation?” Hermione rattles off what are apparently the justifications I’ve used in the past to disassociate myself from the boys.

“Is that what would have happened a fortnight ago?” I ask, thinking for the millionth time what a difference a week makes in one’s life.

“Yes,” she admits cautiously.

“And how do they feel about our association?” Hermione is blushing again, and I can’t help but wander what is causing the delightful reaction. Are they, perhaps, aware of a tendre she holds for me? What a delicious thought, I muse.

“They accepted our... association years ago.” A wealth of meaning is behind those words.

“Hermione.” To say her name is a pleasure. I want to say it again, to hear it in my ears, to shape her name with my lips and tongue.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” I did not intend to invite her. The words were past my lips before my brain could censor them. But I do not regret it.

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea, Lucius.”

“What happened,Hermione? Why would you think I don’t want you?” I do not mean to bring this up, not now, not when only an hour ago she was losing herself in my arms. But I cannot let go of the words she’d said.

Hermione jumps to her feet and begins pacing. She does not turn to look at me, but a fierce expression takes hold of her features, and when she speaks, her voice is anything but normal or calm.

“You told me. Flat out, you told me you didn’t want me. I thought you cared about me! I thought we were going to find a way to be together! Gods, this happened months ago, I thought I was over this. I thought I could talk about this with you, knew it would come out at some point, but I can’t.”

She stops her pacing, and turns her back to me. I see her breathing deeply, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. Finally, she faces me, and her features are composed, even if her voice is less so.

“I realize you have no memory of our history since the war, so I will summarize it for you. Three years ago, we began working together via the Ministry’s new programs.” I lean forward to inform her I’ve read of this in my journals, but she raises her hand.

“No, don’t interrupt; I will not be able to say this more than once.”

I sit back, intent to listening to her point of view, her perception of our dealings together, and finally getting some answers as to who we are to each other.

“We began by fighting; you hated me, and you hated the position you had been put in, regardless of the deal you’d made and the incentives you’d been offered. And I hated you. I wanted nothing more than to see you fail, miserably. But you didn’t. You excelled. Everything you touched turned to gold, and I was enamored by it all. You began mentoring me, teaching me how to use my skills to my best advantage. Somehow, along the way, we ended up… not hating each other. We shared a joke; we had a cup of tea. Eventually, we became friends. Then, we became more.” Once more I lean forward, wanting to reassure the witch that I was somewhat aware of what had passed between us. But she glares as me with her hands on her hips.

“Please, Lucius, let me finish.”

With a small, exasperated sigh, I once again lean back and motion for her to continue.

“We were not lovers. The painful truth is, I offered to be your lover, and you refused. No explanations, no justification, no remorse, even. Just, ‘No. I do not want you for a lover, Hermione.’”

I sit transfixed. Horrified. This beautiful woman couldn’t see why I would never take her for a lover?

“I never said anything more, Hermione? Not any other words to you?” Not knowing anything about our former relationship, I know I must have said more to her than ‘No, thank you.’

“Oh, you said some drivel about time and circumstances and danger. I knew what you meant, however. How could I think you could possibly want a Mudblood?”

That she would use my words against me, against herself, cuts me to the quick. For all intents and purposes, I have only been in her presence less than a week; and yet I know, she is no Mudblood. While I will never admit to all wizards being equal, the woman in this room is far removed from those classless wizards who come into magic accidentally. This woman was born to be a witch. That I could have insulted her in such a manner is inconceivable. That I feel so strongly of this after having only known her such a short time is incomprehensible, and yet, I do.

“No, Hermione. I know for certain, as sure as I know my name and Draco’s birth date, I know I have not called you a Mudblood. Not after our ‘association’ began.” I add at her arched eyebrow.


“What I know for certain, Lucius,” she spat my words at me, “is that on the Friday I offered to become your lover, you refused. Then you announced you were returning to the Manor, for you needed time and space to get your life in order. I thought perhaps you would re-think my ‘offer’. When you returned on Monday, you barely spoke to me, much less looked at me. I took that as my cue to stay out of your life. As much as I could, anyway, having signed a five-year, irrevocable contract with the Ministry and Malfoy Industries.”

I want to take this woman in my arms and kiss her until all her hurt feelings give way. I want nothing more than to make love with her, but all the reasons for not making her mine in the past still exist. I am still married. There is still danger. I still have a life to put in order. And now I also need to discover why I have not done all this to date. Why have I stepped back, instead of moving forward? Why have I not told her?

Once again, I have to tell this woman I need time to think and get my life in order. I need to return to the Manor. I need answers, and I need them NOW.

I am not going to tell her all contracts are revocable.

“Hermione, there is nothing I can say to you at this moment. We both know that. For now, we have to accept things as they are, until I can finish piecing my life back together. I am not… indifferent to you. I am returning to the Manor.” The look of shock on her face hurts me, but I have a plan.

“I need Gobbert, Hermione.” And just like that, her face transforms. While her eyes are still bright with unshed tears, there is a smile about her mouth.

“Severus informed me of my dilemma regarding Gobbert, and after witnessing Narcissa’s treatment of him this weekend past, I am open to your idea. Do not expect me to free all my house-elves, Hermione,” I say sternly, standing and walking slowly to her. She does not move away from me, and once more, I draw her gently into my arms.

“Now, tell me how I am to free Dobby’s oldest brother, Gobby.”


Huge thank-yous to my fantastic betas, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f!