Last Exit to Eden

Title: Last Exit to Eden-Chapter 8
Author: lucretziathevagabond
Rating: NC-17 for the story overall, NC-17 for this chapter
Disclaimer: I’m not making money from this, just maybe a few friends and the ability to improve my writing skills. JKR et al own all recognizable characters. No copyright infringement intended.

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Chapter 8: The Terrible Truth

Hours later, Hermione and Pansy were in her office; sorting through reams of paperwork. Juno McGonagall had been kind enough to copy the pages via a replicato spell onto muggle paper for easy searching and had sent them via Dobby the elf to the house.

Pansy was absolutely fascinated by the muggle highlighter Hermione had given her and now there were pink hearts and flowers in addition to the lines she had marked in the margins. They had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, and both needed a stretch break.

“I don’t think we’re going to find the answer in these papers”, Pansy said finally. Hermione silently agreed with her friend. Juno McGonagall had been very thorough in her research, but was unable to come up with any real name of a physician who had treated the children. She noted that Mrs. Thumbel had called him Dr. Mel, and that was as close to an identity as she had been able to get.

“Without a name we have little to go on. An Auror would question the survivors for any information they would have. Unfortunately, this would have been forty or so years ago. I can’t imagine they would remember a name this many years later.”

“Plus, we suspect that they were obliviated, right?” Pansy asked.

“Yes. We’re almost certain of it. Jezebel’s diaries indicate that they came back from the doctor’s appointment dazed and exhibiting memory loss. That sounds like an obliviate to me.”

“It sounds like a poorly done obliviate. The whole point of the thing is to not have people realize something is wrong. Obliviated memories can still haunt your dreams, especially if they try to take a large chunk of memory. It’s almost impossible to suggest an entire childhood, and you can’t just take memory away. You need to overlay it with something, or else the original memory will leak through in time.”

“Meaning that the person would have partially recovered memory.”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t know it was memory. I mean, we see heads in fireplaces or moving portraits and we know it’s normal. A person with no knowledge of the magical world wouldn’t be able to understand it.”

“People would think they were delusional or paranoid. That’s a good idea, Pansy. Let me look in my computer and see if there are muggle death certificates for the children. I have a list of their names somewhere.” She turned to a box at her feet, pulling out notebooks and setting them on the table.

Pansy reached out and picked up a book, pulling it to her. “Are these from Juno as well?”

“No. I found them in a safe in the house when I bought it.” They seem to be just ledgers of expenses, bookkeeping things.” Pansy opened one, and looked at the figures, tracing the spidery handwriting with a finger. She left it open and pulled out another one, flipping through the pages.

Hermione booted up her laptop and began to search public records. The going was slow, but an hour later she had compiled a list, and was double -checking her work. She finally looked away from the screen to see Pansy with a quill scribbling figures on blank paper, lost in thought. Hermione had virtually ignored the ledgers, considering them useless. Pansy seemed to have found something interesting, however. A call from the floo drew her attention, and she walked into the living room.

Draco Malfoy’s head was in the fireplace and he looked furious.

“Granger, please tell me that after someone broke into your home and destroyed your sitting room that you have made plans to sleep elsewhere.”

“Draco, I’m not in the mood for this, I’m working.”

“Damn it, Granger! My father is beside himself with worry. Hang on, I’m coming through.” Moments later, he was climbing through the fireplace, and angry look on his face. Hermione was struck for a moment at how similar Draco looked to his father and her heart clenched. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

“For your information, your father is not worried. He’s in Ireland negotiating with the Druids.”

Draco stood in front of her, arms crossed and jaw clenched. She remembered Lucius’ jaw set in the very same way that very morning, and turned away, fighting back tears.

“We’re trying to find out the rest of the thallium mystery, and the clock is ticking before my stalker comes back. Either help or leave; we don’t have time for an argument.”

He walked around the room, then lifted his wand, locking windows and doors, then pulled out his wand. He went from room to room, setting wards. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

“Kingsley lifted the ban on magic in this house this morning. You may not have a wand, but he wants to make sure that anyone who is here to protect you can cast without worrying about having to explain themselves. He owled my father this afternoon to tell him.”

“I was told nothing could happen until after November 3 when I get permission for a new wand.” She tactfully ignored the comment that Kingsley had contacted Lucius after his rant that she was being used by the Malfoy patriarch.

“No one is going to argue with the Minister of Magic, Granger. Believe me, if you were to get hurt and completely unable to defend yourself he would be tossed out of office. For that matter, so would the Wizengamot.”

Satisfied the lower level was secure, he moved upstairs. Ten minutes later he was descending the stairs, smirking.

“Nice place you’ve got here, Granger. I’m coming over to take a shower in your nice bathroom. I may even bring friends, there is certainly enough room.”

He ducked to avoid the balled up paper she threw at him.

“I’ve warded the entire house. My father contacted me before he left for Ireland to ask me to do it until he can get here on Samhain. He also wants me to remind you that he has a bonfire planned at the Manor to celebrate the holiday. He is hoping that you’ll agree to host with him.”

“I’ve never hosted a holiday party. What do I do?”

“Stand next to my father and look beautiful; he has everything planned. I warn you though, if you attend with him, you are pretty much going to be announcing to the world he is your one and only. Anyone of importance will be there.”

Pansy’s words about his insecurity echoed in her head. Still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. The truth was, she knew what she wanted, she just didn’t want to admit it.

“Tell him I’ll seriously consider it.”

Draco looked surprised, but relieved. He walked to the table, and touched her shoulder.

“I need to get back. My wife is going to be floo-calling, and I’ll owl father. Would you mind if I were to come over tomorrow? I’ll be more help to you then. Right now I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Sure. Come over if you want. Just be warned that first we are going to see my parents, then we are making jack o’ lanterns and doing a fondue here.”

“I’ve never eaten fondue. Isn’t that where you all eat out of the same bowl?”

“Sort of. You all dip from the same pot, but you each have your own utensils. It’s really fun; you should try it. We’re doing a cheese course and a chocolate course.”

“Don’t come until later. Hermione is taking me to get my haircut in a muggle salon, and I’m going to get waxed. Then I’m going to get my belly button pierced, so I can write about it in the magazine. My article on muggle pedicures and facials will be in the issue that comes out next week, and I need new material.” Pansy interjected.

“I’m not entirely sure what waxing is, but I know what piercing is. People actually pierce other places than their ears?”

“I’ll show you tomorrow. Now go home, sleepyhead!” They pushed him gently toward the fireplace and he laughed as he disappeared.

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October 29 found the two witches giggling as they walked down the street to the Granger’s house. They had gone out early to find pumpkins and carried them home, along with fondue supplies. Tonight was Ruby’s night off, but she wanted to carve a pumpkin as well, so they brought her a smaller one.

Supplies purchased, Hermione took Pansy to her salon, and the ex-Slytherin had her first muggle haircut. Hermione had also been talked into a cut, Pansy standing over her and directing the stylist. The new cut definitely suited her, and she was grateful once again to have a friend who actually knew what to do in the fashion and beauty department. They had also gotten waxed, and as they left Pansy gushed about what she was going to write in Affluent Witch about the painful yet practical and longer lasting alternative to shaving charms. Hermione had thought the bikini wax would terrify the girl, but she had taken it all in stride. After massive cups of coffee, they went to get their piercings done. They held each others hand during the actual piercing, and the two left with Pansy pulling up her top every few feet to admire it. Hermione felt as though she had a delicious secret, and wondered what Lucius would think of it.

Now, the two were sitting side by side on the loveseat in the Granger’s sitting room, trying to remain pleasant as they listened to Uncle Tom’s monologue about his dog and Hermione’s cousin Ella try to get them to hold her screaming nine month old baby.

Smoke was thick in the air as Uncle Tom smoked his cheap cigars near them, and Hermione tried not to gag. Lucius often smoked a cigar after dinner, but he always went outside at her house, and the smell seemed less offensive, less chemical. Of course, Lucius’ cigars were probably aged Cubans hand rolled by elves; Uncle Tom bought his at the corner store.

“So, Hermione,” the annoying Ella said, bouncing the screaming child on her knee, “When are you going to settle down and give your parents some grandchildren?”

Pansy spoke up first. She liked Hermione’s parents, but this Ella woman was getting on her nerves.

“She’s only 25, there’s no need for her to reproduce yet. Just because you wanted to have children at an obscenely young age doesn’t mean she does.” Pansy stood and opened a window to let out the smoke, causing Uncle Tom to sputter about her letting the chill in.

Mr. Granger stifled a laugh behind his hand, and his wife smiled. Pansy was a bit abrasive, but the Grangers had grown very fond of her. Hermione seemed to be much happier now that the woman had moved in with her. Of course, they suspected Hermione had a new boyfriend, but they hadn’t had the chance to ask her privately.

Ella’s retort was cut off by a knock on the door. Mrs. Granger went to answer it, and returned with a tall blonde man in a leather jacket and jeans. He ambled into the room, tried to wave away the smoke and situated himself between Pansy and Hermione on the loveseat.

“Draco, I didn’t know that you knew where my parents lived.” He grinned and lowered his voice, as he kissed their cheeks.

“I did a locator spell on Pansy; I knew the two of you would be together. I have news, but I don’t want to discuss it here.”

Hermione introduced Draco to her parents; and to their credit, they only flinched a little at the Malfoy name. They remembered their daughter coming off the train in tears after being taunted by the boy. Clearly he had done some growing up; the man’s manners were impeccable and he seemed very close to the girls. He was obviously not her boyfriend, though. The wedding ring on his finger was a testament to that.

Uncle Tom continued his monologue on Daisy the dog who was currently sniffing Draco’s leg. The young man looked revolted at the oddly proportioned creature’s curiosity, and completely ignored the others in the room to speak in a low voice to the girls.

“Draco, I don’t know what you know about dogs, but as I was telling the others earlier, it’s all about the bloodlines. Take Daisy for example. She is a pureblooded Welsh Corgi, from the same line as Her Majesty’s own canines. I paid a fortune for her, but she’s worth it. She has impeccable lines, not a defect in the lot and can be traced back hundreds of years. Perfect hips, perfect markings-she’s a perfect specimen.” He patted the dog’s head affectionately.

Draco pulled the girls to their feet, tired of the man’s droning on and on.

“Well, we really should get going. We’re going to fondue tonight.”

“I don’t think fondue is a verb, Draco.”

“Of course it is.” He said, pulling their coats off the rack and helping them slide them on. He missed this know it all side of Granger; lately all he had seen was scared, argumentative Granger. Bossy Granger was much more fun.

“I’m with Hermione. I think it would be a noun: have a fondue. How would one fondue? I mean, you can’t ziti something.” Pansy said thoughtfully.

“Of course, you can barbecue something, or have a barbecue.”

“Which proves my point.” Draco and the girls said their goodbyes and walked into the chilly air.

“Is barbecuing as a verb proper English, I wonder?” The trio walked out of sight of the house, as the debate ensued for several blocks.

“Where are we apparating from?” Draco asked, changing the subject.

“We aren’t. Hermione says apparating makes her sick.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Granger, we are not walking, and I am not getting squashed on the tube. Let’s go into this park, and I’ll side along you.” He opened the gate, and ushered them in.

“Draco, side-alonging isn’t a verb either.” He groaned, turned and grabbed her around the waist. Seconds later, twin cracks were heard, and the trio vanished.

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The sun was setting by the time they had ,as Draco called it, “gutted the gourds”. Now on the steps into the back garden sat four oddly carved jack o’lanterns with candles flickering inside them, and a formerly white kitten who had played in the pumpkin pulp and was now what she felt was a rather fetching peach color. The toad thing was here somewhere, and she was going to find it. Without warning, Ruby came out and carried her in for what Buttercream was sure would be a warm cuddle.

Instead, she got the water torture.


The three humans were cutting up cubes of bread and apples, and grating Fontina and Swiss cheese for their fondue.

“I cannot believe you actually give your house elf a day off”, Draco grumbled as he sliced through a Granny Smith apple.

“Draco, you are supposed to be the potions master here; cutting things up should be like breathing for you. I went to school for arithmancy, and Pansy went for Charms and finance. We should be the ones complaining .”

Pansy emptied the bowl of cheese into the pot on the stove, and stirred as Hermione added the white wine. Draco opened the three bottles of Barolo he had appropriated from the Malfoy wine cellar to let them breathe. The table had been set, and the group sat down to eat.

Draco was a little reluctant to dip his bread in the cheese. It had been ingrained in him since childhood that one does not eat food from the same container as another. This was Granger and Pansy, though; they didn’t have any gross germs. He and Pansy had kissed a few times, and his father certainly didn’t find Granger germs offensive. He put the bread cube in his mouth, and smiled. This wasn’t something he would do with strangers, but among friends it was probably okay. It seemed rather intimate; and these people were practically family. He speared another cube.

The fireplace ignited and a familiar voice echoed through the sitting room. Hermione dropped her fondue fork and hurried toward it.
“Lucius!”

“Hello, my love. I take it my son didn’t mention my plans?”

She shook her head.

“The Druids have a council meeting tonight that I am not permitted to attend. I had hoped to stay with you tonight and return in the morning for the last round of meetings.”

Her heart leaped, and she gestured for him to come through. Moments later, he had come through the fireplace and had pulled her into his arms. His lips were warm and soft against hers.

“I missed you.” She murmured. She could feel him smile against her lips.

“And I missed you as well.” His voice was husky and she could feel the strength in his body as tightened his arms around her. She felt safe now; all thoughts of her stalker and their motives had vanished from her mind.

“Hey Granger, Pansy just stole my apple slice and I’m going to poke her with your spearing utensil if you don’t get back in here!”

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The four had finished the cheese and chocolate and had relocated to the sitting room with their wine glasses. Lucius was stretched out on the sofa, his cloak, tie and waistcoat lay forgotten on a chair. Hermione sat on his lap, as he toyed with strands of her hair. Pansy was in a similar position to Lucius, but Draco’s head was in her lap. The wood-burning fireplace crackled merrily and the house was otherwise warm and silent.

Draco broke the relaxed mood.
“So, what have you ladies learned about the thallium mystery?”

“Well, we have gone through all of Juno’s notes with little success. All of it was pretty much what we already knew. I found some ledgers with expenses, and discovered something interesting. She received monthly stipends from a Gringotts vault for many years. I also found the galleon-pound conversion formula. We assumed Walcott was an unknowing muggle, but on reflection I think we may have been wrong.”

Pansy slipped herself out from under Draco and went to get the ledgers. On her return with the box of old books, she sat at the other end of the sofa, her legs stretched toward her friend. Looking over at the other sofa, she smiled to see Hermione dozing, and Lucius gazing at her with affection. He looked so unguarded in that moment and she knew he had fallen hard for the younger witch.

Draco had pulled out another book and was glancing through it. This book was not related to expenses, it seemed like a chart of some sort. He continued to flip through, recognizing potion notation and latin incantations. Definitely not muggle. He couldn’t help but feel that the answer lay in this book, if he could just figure it out. Flipping through a few more pages, he gave up for the night. He looked at Pansy and smiled. He was headed to try out that shower in her room. Getting her attention, he angled his head in the direction of the stairs. With a smile, she closed the book and they left the other two on the sofa.

Hermione awoke to the sensation of being carried, and she came to alertness almost immediately. With a smirk, she wrapped her legs around his waist and listened to him hiss. She almost moaned out loud herself at the feel of his hardness near her. Carrying her into her room, he kicked the door closed and lowered her to the bed. She sat up and reached for him, tangling her tongue with his. Lucius’ hands slid under her jeans to caress her bottom and she smiled.

“I want to undress you.” She whispered. He stopped his advances and pulled back from her.

“As my queen commands.” He answered her, his pupils dilated. Reaching for his wand, he spelled candles to light before tossing it onto the nightstand. Then he surrendered to her clever hands.
The Oxford shirt went first, slowly unbuttoned and removed before being tossed onto the floor. The undershirt went next, revealing pale skin, criss crossed with old curse scars and hex burns. She felt him stiffen as she touched them, then groan as she traced the path of each one with the tip of her tongue. She bit his nipple playfully as she looked for more.

“More on my back”, he whispered through clenched teeth. She moved to his back, taking in the firm muscles of his back and shoulders. A rather large tattoo of what appeared to be the Malfoy family crest took up most of his left bicep, and the serpent writhed and hissed under her ministrations. She repeated her attention to each of the scars on his back, hearing him whimper and throw his head back as she worked. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he fought for control. If his queen wanted him to suffer this sweet torture, then he would do so gladly. It had been years since he had been submissive in foreplay, and he relished giving himself over to sensation. He winced as she clutched his biceps to balance herself as she went on tiptoe to follow the path of an old scar his father had given him as a boy. This witch was driving him to distraction; her lips and sweet touches were haunting his daytime thoughts and nighttime dreams. She found one that curved to the side of his flank, and he bit his lip to keep from giggling as she laved the ticklish spot.

If he had his way, he would be buried deep inside her right now. No, that’s not true. He wanted their first time to be Samhain night, after he had declared her as his to the entire wizarding world and convinced her to stay with him at the manor. Since Narcissa’s death, the lavish indigo duvets and draperies had been replaced with cream colored silk and brocade, shot with gold thread. Hermione would look glorious, her dark hair spread out on the pillow as he claimed her in the most primal and intimate way possible. Yes, his manor would once again have a queen and they would rule society from within its’ walls. With her brilliant mind and his connections and cunning, the world would once again hold the Malfoy name in esteem higher than that of any other.

Yet, this wasn’t just about power. She had ensnared him; her bossy voice and unmanageable hair were no longer an annoyance; rather a sign she couldn’t really be controlled. She was soft and feminine with a streak of bravery and will that was stronger than any metal in existence. This woman had brought him beyond infatuation, and replaced it with a fierce love that shocked him sometimes in its’ intensity.

He heard the clink and rasp of his belt buckle, and realized she had moved back in front of him. She snorted at the numerous buttons at the fly of his trousers; the muggle zipper was something wizards had never taken to well. Sliding the silk lined wool down his thighs, he stood in front of her completely exposed and vulnerable. She put her hands on his hipbones and knelt in front of him, her position one that almost made him explode. He knew what she intended, and he couldn’t find his voice to stop her, to tell her that he was already on the edge and ready to tip over to oblivion.
Her warm, wet mouth slid over his cock, and he grabbed at the bedposts for support. His breathing was ragged and he began to fight once again for control as she licked and sucked and slid her hand down his length. He could taste blood from where he had bitten his cheek in an effort not to cry out and bring Pansy and Draco running.

“Hermione”, he rasped, intending to beg her to …do what? He had no idea, because this was straight out of one of his fantasies and he didn’t want her to stop. Not really.

She looked up at him and their eyes locked. Those huge brown eyes took in his trembling body and kept themselves trained on him as she stroked him long and hard along his length with her mouth. He exploded, cumming with such intensity that his hands slipped from the bedposts and he nearly fell as his legs no longer held him. He could feel her arms around him and cool cotton sheets met his back as she lay him down. He was gasping for breath, and she lay next to him as she waited for him to come back to earth. Minutes later, he rolled over to look at her. He still felt a little weak, but looking at her fully dressed form, he felt himself smile wickedly and brace himself over her as he claimed her mouth.

“My turn.”

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Hermione made her way gingerly down the stairs to the kitchen. Lucius had kept his word, and had explored every inch of her. Her body was now covered in love bites and stubble burns from his cheek when he awakened her again this morning. If this was what their lovemaking was like without intercourse, she wasn’t entirely sure she would survive the real deal. Her inner thighs burned and ached, and he had whispered the most naughty things to her as she whimpered and climaxed. She was really hoping Pansy and Draco wouldn’t be downstairs yet; she wanted a few minutes to herself before being civil to anyone.

Ruby was in the kitchen making waffles when she finally got into the kitchen and sat carefully in the chair.

“Draco tells me he wants waffles this morning, miss. He’s in the sitting room looking at those books again.”

Damn it.

She stood again and walked into her workspace for a pain -relieving potion before entering the sitting room. Draco was on the sofa, reading the ledger and making notes. He smiled when he saw her.

“I’m going to ask you to not look all blissed out right now because it creeps me out thinking my father is the cause. Also, I’ve just finished the ledger, and I want you to take another look at it. I think I know what I’m seeing, but I don’t quite understand.”

She nodded and sat down with her coffee cup. He held the book up out of reach.

“No, we can review it at breakfast. I’m starving.”

Hermione was definitely not used to eating breakfast at 0600, but she could appreciate that Draco was an early riser (most potions masters were), and Lucius needed to get back to Ireland. She looked around the table and shook her head at the idea that right now her most immediate protectors were all Slytherins who used to hate her. Now, she felt safer with them than with anyone else.

She glanced to her right to see Lucius neatly eating his waffles. He glanced at her and took her hand, raising it to his lips. She smiled and blushed, looking back at her plate and hearing him chuckle as he picked up his juice glass. She missed Pansy’s wide grin, and Draco’s knowing one.

“So, this is what I found, Granger. As we said last night, Pansy found evidence of money being transferred to a muggle account from a Gringott’s one. It’s a low number vault, so it’s an old family.”

“What’s the vault number?” Lucius asked.

“64.”

“Wow. Mine is in the 700’s.” Hermione said.

“Ours is 3. Vaults 1&2 are owned by an ancient goblin family.” Lucius took another sip of juice, ignoring the stares of the table.

“Okay, and I found a bunch of ledgers last night showing years of health information. Things like daily weights, temperatures, seizure activity and mental status changes. It’s strange, because before almost every child died, there was a seizure that was not fever related. According to information from another ledger, no child had a history of seizure activity.”

“There is a record of all the deaths?” Hermione wanted to know.

“Right up until five years before the orphanage closed.”

“That’s when the money stopped coming in as well.” Pansy said, pushing her plate out of the way to make way for the ledger, and flipping rapidly through to the end.

“We should check wizarding death records for that year.” Hermione got up and retrieved a pen and paper to take notes.

“A poorly cast obliviate can cause a seizure; either from not enough power or aiming at the wrong part of the brain. It’s actually much more difficult than people think.”, Lucius offered, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“So, these kids were obliviated? From what I understood, that only happened when they were getting ready to be sent out into the muggle world.” Hermione said.

“Or alternately, periodic obliviates were performed so they didn’t have to try to erase ten or fifteen years at one go. It’s tricky though, you have to catch the tail of the hex stream and meld it with your new hex. It’s pretty exacting work; most charms masters can’t even do it.” Pansy muttered as she flipped through the ledger again.

“I keep forgetting you all have knowledge of dark spells.” Hermione said.

“Catching a hex stream isn’t dark. That’s how really advanced healers are trying to pull out and reverse various unforgivables. It’s not the hex, it’s the intent that makes it dark. You should be glad we’re the ones helping you, Hermione; Potty and the Weasel would be absolutely no help to you now.”

“I know Pansy, I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just saying, I don’t know much about the dark arts.”

Pansy smiled at her. “Let’s try to make a list of what can cause an afebrile seizure.”

Ten minutes later, they reviewed the list.

“Okay, here we go. Epilepsy, obliviates, prolonged unforgivable exposure, assorted potions, head injury, electroshock therapy, and alcohol withdrawal. What do they have in common with children?”

“Tell me the names of the families again.” Lucius asked, looking at his pocket watch.

Hermione recited from memory.

“Malfoy, 2 from Parkinson, 4 from Zabini, 3 from Black, 2 from McGonagall, 2 from Dumbledore…”

“So, not just old families. Ancient houses, tied to what was once considered the vein where magic began. Purebloods believe the further you go from the central vein, the higher the risk of squib birth. That’s why there was so much intermarriage. Of course, you just proved that wrong a few months ago. The two oldest houses in existense are Malfoy and McGonagall.”

Hermione’s mind flooded with a recent memory. Her uncle was sitting in his chair talking about that horrid dog of his.
“Impeccable bloodlines, not a defect in the lot…a perfect specimen.”

Dear god.

She barely made it to the sink before wretching. Pansy was there instantly, pulling back her hair.

“Merlin, Granger. Are you pregnant?” He yelped as his father’s cane struck his hand, and apologized.

Hermione made it back to her chair, sweating and pale. She barely sat down before she spoke.

“I know what happened.”

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“Okay. Let’s go back. The thallidomus potion is given to purebloods for morning sickness, and eventually to induce labor. The side effect is the delay of magical expression. During that time period, children were sent away for being squibs at very young ages; long before they would normally start having uncontrolled magic.

“They get brought to these orphanages, wherein they are essentially abandoned. There is a doctor who treats them here, who they come from his office confused and ill. The matron of the orphanage kills for profit, and could care less about these kids, and keeps meticulous logs of their deterioration and eventual death. After death, she bills the family for burial in one last twisted act.

“This goes on for years, unmonitored. The names on those tombstones are all purebloods, I’ve checked. Finally, Juno defies everything and gets the place shut down.”

“I’m not getting it.” Pansy said.

“Juno said that they suspected thallium as being the cause of the magical delay for years before it could be proven. Despite the suspected link, it continued to be given, causing a steady supply into the orphanages. Not muggleborns. Not even just Purebloods. Ancient families.”

In muggle animal research, detailed records are kept to keep the lines pure. I think someone was tapping pureblooded families close to the central magical vein for human research.”

Lucius went ghostly white. Draco and Pansy fought each other to get to the sink before getting sick themselves. She reached for Lucius and he clung to her, soaking up her body heat. She could feel him tremble, and stroked his hair in what she hoped was a soothing motion. He pulled her onto his lap and fought to steady his breathing. It was all too horrible to think about, but it was the only thing that made sense.

“The reason you’re at risk is because they know you’ve figured it out. The irony is, if they hadn’t threatened you, it would have taken longer for you to do so.” Pansy said quietly.

“We need to see that Walcott woman. Today, Granger. I want answers.” Draco snarled.

She nodded.

Lucius stood, leaning on his cane for support. She watched in awe as he pulled his invisible mask over him, straightening his posture and becoming the cold bastard she had loathed.

“Hermione, you go nowhere by yourself. I’ll be back tonight, and we will discuss strategy. We are going to need to bring the Aurors in on this; I’ll have Kingsley and Potter meet us here tonight.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice almost timid. His expression softened, and he pulled her close into his embrace, kissing her.

“This is almost over, my love. Now we just need a name, and we can put this behind us. She tried not to cry as he disappeared into the fireplace back to Ireland, but when the last flame went out, she sobbed as Draco and Pansy held onto her for support.

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Coming up next: The Interrogation, and Samhain night. This will carry an adult rating.