All Coming Back to me Now

A/N: Right, this is an “I’ve just finished an assignment that’s taken two months; and had five full re-writes” calm down oneshot (that ended up HUGE 6091 words!). I know I’ve got quite a few fics on hold – but uni comes first. This is just to calm me down and get my head back on track for an assignment that’s probably going to take a fortnight or so to do.

Disclaimer – characters not mine (except the munchkin), song not mine, plot is mine. Simple.

The flashbacks are in chronological order down the page, interspaced with present day stuff.

Warnings: Non-con, non-cannon.


It’s all Coming Back to Me Now.


(Present Day)

Lucius Malfoy was thrust from deep sleep to instant wakefulness by the burning pain of his dark mark. Biting his lip to stifle his cry of agony he attempted to creep from the warm, soft bed and his peacefully sleeping wife.

He moved swiftly and silently to his dressing room, and with a wave of his wand he lit the flickering candles, blinking at the sudden light. He pressed his finger to a non-descript panel on the seemingly empty wall, exposing the hidden wardrobe that contained his protective armour and reaper robes.

His arm continued to burn, but with less intensity. The Dark Lord had a sick sense of humour, and would give his loyalist Death Eaters exactly five minutes to arrive at his feet if he called them in the middle of the night. Voldemort had three Death Eaters who were permitted to arrive late: Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange (if she wasn’t already wrapped around him like a mink stole). No others were allowed that time, and often arrived in their pyjamas. Voldemort’s summons had taught Goyle to wear clothing to bed, after he apparated to his Lord completely naked, and was crucioed for it.

“It’s terrible weather; so cold.” Yawned his blonde wife from the doorway to the dressing room, picking up her husband’s skull mask and tracing the elegantly-hideous runes depicted on it with a perfectly manicured finger.

“Typical.” Lucius winced, dragging on his clothing as quickly as he could. He wanted to be there with time to spare – those few extra minutes ensured his loyalty.

“Be saf…” she said, not completing her sentence before the crack of apparition declared his departure. The Beautiful woman couldn’t help the tears that ran down her cheeks, following the same path of the night before, and the night before that.


There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window


Walking gracefully to the huge French doors leading to the Master suite’s balcony, she peered out into the dismal weather, wrapping her arms around her waist in a meagre attempt at comfort.

A knock at the door startled her for the smallest fraction of a second before her quick mind took affect.

“Mother! Mother – may I enter?” came the worried voice of Draco from behind the closed door.

“A moment.” She sobbed, grabbing her cashmere robe with the angora collar. Reaching into her bedside cabinet, she pulled out a silver cup of steaming sludge, added a tiny pinch of ready-cut blonde hair and drank.


There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever


Hermione could easily recall the bright Summer’s day, two years earlier, when an unconscious Lucius Malfoy was carried into twelve Gimmauld Place by a heavily bruised Severus Snape. The Order’s two spies were in desperate need of a healer; Lucius more so as he lay there cationic, unblinking.

Narcissa Malfoy had thrown herself from the balcony of the Master suite of Malfoy Manor, and had died instantly on impact with the patio. Her simple note stated that she could take no more, telling Lucius to move on and protect Draco.

What was done could not be undone, but it did give the Order an opportunity to insert another spy into the nest of evil – in the form of a polyjuiced Hermione Granger, posing as Narcissa. Only Hermione, Lucius, Snape and McGonagall knew of the plan. Voldemort had made Malfoy Manor his headquarters, and who better than to spy on him, but the Mistress of said property.

A complex spell altered her voice, and the seventeen-year-old scoured books on etiquette and behaviour and played her part beautifully.

She had permanently died and straightened her hair, and from behind you could not tell the difference between the deceased Lady Malfoy and the impostor. It was a backup in case the polyjuice potion wore off before she could drink more.

Hermione’s death was faked all too easily – and Lucius was punished severely for killing the princess of the Golden Trio, when he should have brought her to the Dark Lord for interrogation.


I finished crying in the instant that you left
And I can't remember where or when or how
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made

(Present Day)

“Mother…” Draco said, shuffling over to the most beautiful woman in the world (in both his and his Father’s opinion), and gently touching her shoulder. “I heard the crack…”

Hermione dashed away her tears and stiffened her spine (as instructed by a ‘Witch’s guide to proper breeding and manners’) before speaking.

“I know, Little Dragon, I know.” She said wearily, stroking the blonde head as he bent down to lean on her shoulder. He’d let his hair grow like his Father’s, and it was ruffled with sleep. “I can’t call you Little Dragon anymore – you’ve grown a foot taller whilst away at university!” she let out a fresh sob as Draco held her in a firmer hug for a moment.

He had no idea his Mother was dead, and that an impostor, an arch rival, a person of inferior birth and younger than him by a month, stood in her image.

He had no idea that it was Hermione Granger that had held his hand when he was sent home from University in France when he had been dreadfully ill; had no inclination to question that it wasn’t Narcissa who wrote to him weekly; he did not consider that Hermione Granger was the Mother of his little brother.


But when you touch me like this
And you hold me like that
I just have to admit
That it's all coming back to me
When I touch you like this
And I hold you like that
It's so hard to believe but
It's all coming back to me
(It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now)


(Flashback)

The night Hermione’s ‘death’ had been expertly staged, Lucius had provided a real memory of ‘torturing’ Hermione for information about the Order (that they were prepared to let slip) as well as false information.

They had not expected Voldemort’s utter wrath at being presented a dead body. And Lucius had paid for the Order’s miscalculation; the Dark Lord crucioed him within an inch of insanity before letting him leave, confused, disorientated and momentarily broken back to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius had little recollection of the past week; he remembered Draco returning to school after kissing Narcissa’s cheek at platform nine-and-three-quarters; he remembered it was their wedding anniversary in a week’s time, and that he needed to pick up her gift from the jewellers…

… He did not remember Narcissa was not the woman in his bed.

Desperately needing his wife’s comfort, he settled himself behind her, breathing in the scent of her chamomile shampoo.


There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things I'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than any laws allow
Baby Baby


(present day)

The storm slowly intensified, and a bright flash illuminated the sky for the briefest of moments before a clap of rolling thunder sounded, followed by merciless, unrelenting rain.

“Three… two… one.” Hermione whispered, nodding at the scream from a room down the corridor.

“Mamaaaaaaaaa!”

“I’ll get him; I’ll bring him to you.” Draco said, kissing his Mother’s cheek before dashing to his baby brother’s room to comfort the frightened child.

“‘Relius, shhh. Shhh. It’s alright, just noise and rain. Shhh.” Draco cooed, trying to soothe the screaming child who only had eyes for his Mother at a time like this.

“Come here, little one.” she said, cuddling the little boy close whilst she rocked him from side to side as she stood at the window. “See, just rain and noise, just like your big brother said.”

“No wike” He mumbled into her neck, still sobbing. Hermione rubbed his back over the hand-embroidered sky-blue baby grow that was covered in snitches.

“I know, but you are so brave. Mummy’s brave little boy.” Hermione soothed. Stroking down his mop of springy platinum ringlets.

“I can’t believe he inherited Auntie Bella’s snake-nest of curls!” Draco said, pulling a ringlet out gently before letting it spring back into perfect shape. Aurelius looked at Draco with a cross face before laying his head back on his Mother’s shoulder.

“His hair is just like yours is – so fine, the curls are so perfect because he doesn’t have the weight of hair Bella has pulling them out of shape.” Hermione said, moving to sit on the bed, Aurelius still wrapped around her.

“Da go?” the little boy finally noticed.

“Daddy had to go out for a little while.” Hermione said, holding back a sob for the sake of the eighteen month old in her arms.

“Beh tie.” He pointed out, patting the bed.

“Sometimes Daddy has to go out at bedtime.” Hermione offered, continuing to rock him.

Aurelius yawned, ending with a little squeak before he snuggled into his Mother.

“Shall Dragon put you back to bed?” she asked the child, knowing full well he’d refuse. Both the Malfoy children were spoilt by their Mother; they were never starved of affection.

“I think Mummy should read a story, and let us stay here.” Draco said, smiling an identical smile to his little brother.

“You’re twenty Dragon – I think you’re a bit big for a story!” Hermione laughed at his cheeky grin, but accepted the summoned book nonetheless. A house elf arrived with the infant’s ‘security blanket’ – a Hogwarts quiditch shirt with MALFOY printed on the back, a shirt that dated back over thirty years.

“Look, ‘Relius, it’s the story about Timmy playing quidditch!” Hermione watched the little boy’s eyes light up. Aurelius loved quidditch, and loved to watch Draco play for his university’s team when they managed to escape their own home and visit France. Hermione had been lucky that Narcissa disliked the game as much as she did, and managed to avoid all but Draco’s games.

“Qwi!” the little boy shouted, giggling and clapping his hands, for the moment fully awake. He snuggled into his Daddy’s old quidditch shirt, sulking when his Mummy pulled one corner out of his mouth, he settled for rubbing a dry area against his ear.

“One sunny day, Timmy went to the cupboard and got his broom…”


If I kiss you like this
And if you whisper like that
It was lost long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you want me like this
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago
But it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist
And it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
But it's all coming back

(Flashback)

Hermione woke as a toned leg was thrown over her waist as a hand sneaked around her chest.

“Get off, you prat.” She moaned, sleepily, making a half-hearted attempt in her fatigued state to shift Lucius’s leg. She’d never shared a bed with anyone before, and had soon discovered that Lucius was a snuggler in his sleep. She was playing the part of his wife, not being her; Hermione didn’t want to cuddle him.

“‘Cissy…” he whispered, hoarse from screeching in pain, shaking as aftershocks shot through him. He began to kiss the back of her neck, the way she always liked.

“Lucius!” Hermione snapped, fully awake and aware she was pinned by a much stronger wizard.

“‘Cissy… mmm.” He moaned, inhaling the scent of her hair as his hands roamed over her breasts. He started lifting the back of her nightgown.

“Lucius! No! Lucius!” she cried, struggling against him in a vain attempt to get to her wand on the bedside table. His leg thrown over her was too heavy to move and pulled her into him.

“Mmmm…” Lucius moaned, not recognising her words or struggle in his befuddled state of mind. He wiggled more into his wife’s curves, attempting to quickly enter her – and becoming more confused when he struggled.

“Lucius! Gods Stop! Lucius! No! Stop! Please!” Hermione sobbed, unable to escape his clutches as he stabbed and jabbed at her tightness, thrusting past her innocence with alarming strength.

“Mmmm. ‘Cissy.” He sighed, moving with quick, erratic, jerking thrusts within his wife, “So tight, so good, so warm. Mmmm.”

Hermione sobbed harder and continued to struggle, which only made the pain worse as he gave no regard to her pleas. “Stop. Stop. Stop.” She chanted, hardly able to breathe past the pain and through her sob-constricted chest.

“Need you. Need this. Need wife.” Lucius mumbled, his movements fast, hard, uncontrolled and purely instinct.

“No!” Hermione cried again, shaking as he gripped her breast with a bruising grip, his other hand in her hair. His leg crushed him to her firmer, offering him deeper penetration.

“Please. Please let this end soon.” Hermione whispered, going limp in exhaustion.

Her final plea was answered as Lucius shuddered behind her with the combined force of his orgasm and a crucio-aftershock. The blonde passed out, still pinning her to the mattress and his softening organ remaining within her.

Realising it was all over, Hermione tried in vain to move her fleshy prison; but Lucius’s leg was locked in place as he continued to jerk in pain. Hermione had seen him after being punished, and knew his muscles were not under his control. She remembered to the week before when he’d fallen asleep in his favourite chair, and been stuck that way for hours.

She was going nowhere.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucius woke six hours later and was blissfully happy to find his morning erection already seated in his wife’s tight heat, acting purely in his arousal he began to thrust gently to wake her.

“‘Cissy, ‘Cissy?” he whispered into her ear, listening to her exhausted moans.

“Not again. No! Stop! Please leave me alone!” Hermione whimpered, in too much pain to move and too fatigued to fight back physically.

“Come on, ‘Cissy, you love it when I do this.” He thrust deeply, tearing open wounds that had barely begun to heal after the night before.

Hermione lost consciousness through hyperventilation, a still slightly-confused Lucius presuming it was her orgasm before he spilled inside her; kissing her neck gently, peeling his body from hers and limping to the bathroom.

He lit the bathroom candles and began checking himself over for injuries, noting the blood staining his thighs and penis; unable to remember being injured in that area.

“Ah.” He whispered, no wonder she’d been reluctant, Narcissa wasn’t a fan of lovemaking during her moon flow… strange, it had been pitch black at the meeting, and the sky had been clear, not a full moon. “That can’t be right.” He mused, cleaning himself with a spell before re-entering the bedroom.

The polyjuice had worn off long since, and a sickly-looking, disorientated Hermione Granger lay in his bed.

“Oh no!” he said, moving to slowly lift the sheet, almost sick with his realisation. “Oh no! No, no, no!” he whispered, checking for a pulse and relieved to find one.

“Wake up, wake up.” He whispered, shaking her and at a loss of what to do.

“No. No more. No.” she sobbed, trying to escape his gentle shakes. She cried in agony as she jolted away from him.

Lucius managed to force a healing potion down the struggling witch’s throat, followed by a vial of dreamless sleep. He cleaned her and the sheets with his wand, waiting for her to wake.

there were those empty threats and hollow lies
and whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
and so much deeper


(flashback)


The Dark Lord sat at the head of the Malfoy banquet table and was about to give his orders of the next attack, but unable to do so as Narcissa fainted.

“‘Cissy?!” Lucius cried, dashing toward her but being hit with the cruciatus curse for moving from his seat without permission.

“My Lord?” Bella said sweetly, “May I assist my ridiculously week sister? It is probably something female.” Even Dark Lords were frightened of ‘female things’.

“Yesss. Move quickly.” He hissed, leaving Lucius to crawl back into his seat as Bella levitated the disguised Hermione and removed her from the room.

“My Lord!” she rushed back into the room, “She is dreadfully ill – she needs a healer!” the sound of violent wreching from the downstairs bathroom punctuated Bella’s words.

“Luciusss… ssssee to this dissstraction.” Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“I’ll see to it immediately, My Lord.” Lucius said, bowed and dashed from the room.

~ ~ ~ ~

Healer Wilfred Longwell was actually Poppy Pomfrey polyjuiced with her voice spelled, they needed a healer who was a member of the Order; Minerva had quickly briefed the mediwitch about Hermione drinking polyjuice to play Narcissa. The real healer was locked in one of the more comfortable dungeons with his wand taken away.

“Mr. Malfoy, you’re wife is fine.” She began, knowing from the look in Lucius’s eyes that Voldemort was listening outside the door. She’d managed to get more polyjuice down Hermione in the guise of a healing potion.

“She fainted and cannot hold down food! How can that be fine?”

“Her fainting was due to dehydration, and her vomiting is a very positive sign.” Poppy had read Narcissa’s notes and was trying to act like as a family healer – who had known them for years.

“Pardon?” Lucius asked, confused.

“Mr. Malfoy, your wife is with child. It is morning sickness that she is experiencing.” The healer smiled encouragingly, even as Poppy knew how much danger the child would be in. Polyjuice and pregnancy were not a clever combination, Severus would have to work on that one, but the child seemed fine, so far.

Lucius snapped out of his brief stupor, and uncharacteristically slid down the wall, his mind blank. He licked his lips before speaking, he had an act to keep up: “But we had so much trouble bringing Draco into the world – she drank gallons of fertility potion! How…?”

Lucius didn’t have to ask how, though he had very little memory of a month ago, he knew exactly why the ‘infertile’ ‘Narcissa’ was expecting.

“Well, how is rather obvious.” The healer chuckled, “But I can only put the pregnancy down to a better diet – not a fad diet, fresh air and a lack of fertility potions; I have reason to believe your Lady wife was allergic to one of the potion ingredients. A recent study has shown one of the digested products to be harmful in certain cases.” Poppy was talking nonsense, but the altering of ‘Narcissa’s’ medical notes was all too easy.

“I’m going to be a Father, again?” Lucius said, genuinely stunned and momentarily grinning like an idiot.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, in eight months you’re going to have another little one.” Poppy said, shaking his hand. “I have left a detailed letter for you to take to the apothecary when you collect the pregnancy vitamins – it warns them of the allergy.”

“I’m going to be a Father, again.” Lucius said, dazed.

“Yes.” The healer said, shaking his head at the pureblood sat on the floor, leaning on the wall. “This is for the apothecary, your wife needs the vitamin potions brewing specifically, we need to be mindful of her allergy.”

“I know a potion’s master, he’ll brew them personally.” Lucius nodded, looking like he was going to pass out.

The healer thrust his head between his knees, “Deep breaths, deep breaths, Mr. Malfoy.”

Bella, being nosey, wandered around the hall to find out what was going on, she gave a bow to her Lord as he stood in the shadows of an alcove, watching.

“Is it catching?” she asked, noting Lucius being held in an ‘anti-faint’ position.

“Oh no! Mrs. Le Strange!” Healer Longwell chuckled, “This is simply his reaction to learning he is going to be a Father again!”

“That’s why she was so sick?” Bella asked, putting two and two together.

“Indeed. Can you pass this onto whoever Mr. Malfoy says can brew pregnancy vitamins, there are special instructions in there.” The healer handed Bellatrix an envelope sealed with blue wax.

“Of course, he’s too busy being shocked to do it.” Bella said, moving away to locate Severus Snape.

The healer apparated away, just as the Dark Lord approached a still-stunned Lucius.

“Well done, Luciusssss.” He hissed, his red eyes glowing, “The purebloodsss need more adding to their rankssss.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Lucius said, still sat on the floor.

“Care for your wife. The child issss the future of the wizarding race. Guard her well and tell the otherssss how you got her with child, desssspite your previoussss problemssss. There are too few purebloodsssss among ussss.”

“I s-shall, my Lord.”

Voldemort let the trembling man on the floor kiss his Dark Mark signet ring before stalking away.

There were hours that just went on for days
When alone at last we'd count up all the chances
That were lost to us forever


(Flashback)

“Luciussss.” The Dark Lord said, beckoning the blonde closer with a curling, grey finger, “Isssss it normal for a witch-with-child to behave as a lowly housssse elf?” he hissed.

Lucius looked stunned for a moment, the front of his mind (always accessible to the Dark Lord) remained peacefully embedded in his financial dealings, whilst the back of his mind, closed to all Legilimency, was preying to whichever deity that would listen that this award-deserving actress wasn’t trying to start up the nonsense of SPEW under the nose of he-who-must-not-be-named.

“My Lord, was it only clothes for the babe?” he asked, remembering reading something about ‘nesting’.

“Yesssss.” Lucius’s master began walking to the nursery, his loyalist servant following. He pointed at ‘Narcissa’ as she carefully folded tiny vests; and arranged minute pairs of socks like regiments in an open drawer.

“Ah!” Lucius whispered. “My Lord, it is a thing termed nesting. She is preparing the nursery, the nest if you will, ready for the infant. You know how she adores outfits, yet she will not lift a finger to arrange her own – this is preparation for the little one.”

“How odd, my loyal ssssservant, how odd.” The Dark Lord looked quizzingly at Lucius, “This is normal? Sssshe was not ssso with the firsssstborn who disssappointed me ssso.”

“My Lord, I can only apologise greatly for Draco disappointing you.” Lucius bowed, he had become a first-class arse kisser since the Dark Lord made his residence in their home. “With Draco she was desperately ill, and was laid in bed sick when her ‘nesting instinct’ took over; the allergy to the pregnancy potions.” Lucius looked like he would burst out laughing as his wife took a toy unicorn from the shelf and sat rocking with it in the rocking chair. “Could a pregnant witch ever be called normal, My Lord, she certainly does not eat normal things.”

“Indeed.” He whispered, seeing the pureblooded Mother spot a package on the shelf, open it and promptly burst into tears. Lucius bowed and dashed forward, his Master continuing to watch.

“‘Cissy? What’s wrong?” Lucius asked, baffled when she held up a minute set of quidditch robes. “Why are baby-sized Slytherin quittidtch robes making you cry?”

She simply turned the tiny garment around to reveal MALFOY and the number 2 embroidered on the back.

“D-draco g-got t-them before h-he l-left for u-university.” She sobbed, “Aren’t they the m-most d-darling t-thing you e-ever saw?” she placed them down before reaching for another little outfit, “He s-sent these from P-paris.”

Lucius held up the miniature dress robes and shook his head as his wife turned from a sobbing wreck into a deliriously happy woman.

“Oh, ‘Cissy… how am I supposed to keep track of your changing moods and hormones? Your crying made me think something was wrong!” Lucius said, taking her hand and giving her his handkerchief.

“Bella bought the baby some miniature Death Eater robes...” Hermione spotted the unmistakable shadow of the Dark Lord on the opposite wall and quickly changed what she was going to say, “I think the leather will chafe the little one’s skin too much… but he’ll look just like you, if I can find a nice gentle cushioning charm.” She simpered, sick to her stomach with what she was saying.

“I don’t think he’ll be quite big enough for such things, but Our Lord will be pleased with this one, when he gets bigger.” Lucius beamed, falsely.

“Draco wrote and said he had gained Our Lord more support among his friends at University in Paris… Lucius said, lying out of his back teeth. Draco had done no such thing; in fact, he’d done the opposite by gathering support for the Order.”

Voldemort grinned, another generation of pureblood Death Eaters was a marvellous thing, the world would require re-populating after all the muggles, squibs, mud-bloods, partbloods, half-bloods and blood traitors were dead… Lucius would have to give a talk to the other Death Eaters and explain how he impregnated his supposedly infertile wife. And the firstborn Malfoy was starting to behave accordingly; the Dark Lord walked away, pleased with what he had just witnessed.


But you were history with the slamming of the door
And I made myself so strong again somehow
And I never wasted any of my time on you since then


(Flashback)

Healer ‘Longwell’ had put ‘Narcissa’ on bed rest through her pregnancy (due to unforeseen ‘complications’), and the other Death Eaters had left her alone at their Lord’s orders. Hermione had only to drink the polyjuice potion five times through the entire pregnancy (to keep up occasional appearances in public), thanks to her solitary confinement in the luxurious Master Suite.

The male Death Eaters were attempting to impregnate their wives, and were not having much success – even with Severus’s ‘improved’ fertility potions. Lucius had given more sexual advice at Death Eater meetings than information on the Order!

The Dark Lord had crucioed Bella for thirty minutes when he caught her drinking a contraceptive potion; and she promptly fell from his good graces.

Severus was being encouraged to find a suitable bride, and the Snarky Head of Slytherin was making absolutely no effort to do so. It was hard enough work brewing placebo contraceptives that appeared the same. He hoped the placebo wouldn’t have any affect, looking around at the other Death Eaters at the table he prayed the placebo would have no affect, discounting Lucius and himself, there were less than ten brain cells sat around the table. He didn’t want to teach any more dunderheads!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucius lay next to Hermione on their bed, lightly holding her hand, “Who’d have thought the Dark Lord would become broody?” he chuckled.

“Ooooh?” Hermione said, a most unusual expression on her face, followed by a face of someone eating Marmite when they didn’t like it.

“What do you mean ‘oooooh?’” Lucius asked, confused.

“My water just broke.” She whispered, squirming in the moisture.

Lucius promptly did the Slytherin thing to do at a time like this: pass out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Severus levitated Lucius out of the room as healer ‘Longwell’ closed and locked the door.

“What isss thisss? Sssseverussss?” The Dark Lord asked, peering down at an unconscious Lucius.

“The baby is going to be born, and he feinted at the sight.” Severus sniggered, before finishing his sentence hastily, “My Lord.” Forgetting the ‘My Lord’ part was an invitation for a crucio.

“I’m going to be a Daddy again.” Lucius said from the floor in an airy, not quite lucid voice.

“Oh dear, I think you need a stiff drink, Lucius.” Severus said. Helping his wobbly friend stand before bowing to his Lord and guiding Lucius out of the way.


But if I touch you like this
And if you kiss me like that
It was so long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you touch me like this
And if I kiss you like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
(It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now)


(flashback)

Three-hours-old Aurelius Malfoy lay looking up at his parents on the centre of the bed, Hermione once again polyjuiced into Narcissa. Lucius gazed down at the infant and smiled, the boy was perfect, and had a high magical signature – he’d be powerful when he was bigger. The little one grasped hold of his Father’s little finger and slowly fell asleep.

“Thank-you, he is perfect.” Lucius said, kissing the centre of her forehead.

“Indeed.” Said the Dark Lord from the doorway. He did not wait to be invited in before crossing the floor to gaze at the baby on the bed. “All isss well? Luciusssss?”

“Yes, My Lord, he is strong and healthy.” Lucius said, bowing while wiggling his little finger in demonstration of his son’s strength.

“You did well.” the Dark Lord said, leaving the room, letting the couple on the bed close the door.


There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than all your laws allow
Baby, Baby, Baby

(present day)

Hermione finished the story, noticing that both the Malfoy offspring were asleep, Aurelius held Draco’s hand while Draco had his other arm looped around his Mother.

She used her wand to summon another blanket and wrapped up her family; things were moving apace with the Death Eaters, and she didn’t know how long Lucius would be. She summoned another cup of foul potion and drank it down before falling asleep between Draco and Aurelius.

“Mother?” Draco asked sleepily.

“Shh. What is it, Dragon?”

“Did you and Father argue? Is that why you were crying?” he asked.

“No, Dragon, far from it. I’m just worried for him, very worried.” She kissed the top of the two blonde heads and fell into slumber.

“I overheard Bella saying something about you shouting at each other.” He mumbled, waking her.

She chuckled, “We were, but for more pleasurable reasons than what auntie Bella said. We’re not ready for another you, or another Aurelius; but we were practicing.” Hermione thought back to their afternoon and grinned like an idiot. There were plus points to being Lucius Malfoy’s wife.

“I didn’t need to know that.” Draco complained before snuggling into her and dozing.


When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now

(present day)

Lucius crept into the bedroom to find his family sleeping together and leaving no room for him. Carefully he woke Draco, gestuing for him to be silent.

“You’re too big for that. Out.” Lucius chided gently.

“We were reading ‘Relius a story.” He used as his excuse.

“I wonder what he’s dreaming?” Lucius mused, looking as the little boy smiled in his sleep.

“About Timmy playing quidditch and catching the snitch.” Draco chuckled, leaning over to gently kiss his brother’s head and his Mother’s cheek. “Father, Mother has changed, since my last year of Hogwarts, since ‘Relius…”

Lucius was dreading this, but nothing showed on his face, “Go on.”

“She’s… I don’t know how to describe it… softer? Warmer? More loving?... she makes it feel like home. I actually missed her in my final year and at university. He shrugged.

“I think having your brother changed many things for us both, but I see what you mean, and thank Merlin for it.” He inclined his head toward the door. “There is much to prepare for tomorrow – and you are needed at the headquarters.”

“Oh. Indeed. Good night, Father.” Draco said, sprinting off to escape to Grimmauld Place.


If you forgive me all this
If I forgive you all that
We forgive and forget
And it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
We see just what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now

(present day)

Lucius looked down at the cherub in Hermione’s arms, and carefully lifted him and the all-important quidditch shirt and headed for the heavily warded nursery. You had to be Malfoy or Hermione to walk through that door.

“Da?” said the sleepy boy.

“Yes, shhh.” Lucius was glad he’d changed his robes, he didn’t want one so innocent seeing him as a Death Eater.

“Beh tie?”

“Bed time, young man. Sweet dreams.” Lucius gently kissed his son’s cheek and watched him drift into sleep.

Lucius extinguished all but one candle and left the room.


(It's all coming back to me now)
And when you kiss me like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And when I touch you like that
(It's all coming back to me now)
If you do it like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And if we…

“He’s going to make a huge mistake tomorrow – he’s underestimated the Order… we’ll be free.” Lucius whispered, smiling as he slipped into bed. He and Snape had convinced the Dark Lord that he’d be facing a nineteen-strong gaggle of half-witted, ill-prepared of children. In reality, the Order had actually managed to gather over a hundred witches and wizards, and they had all been trained under Moody’s watchful eye. It was one-hundred against thirty.

“You’ll be free, Draco will be free, ‘Relius will be free. I will continue to play Narcissa, for their sake.” Hermione said, stretching as the polyjuice wore off.

“You don’t have to…” Merlin knew she’d given up enough in this act.

“I can’t disappoint them, I can’t break their hearts. I can’t leave you to manage alone… Hermione Granger died over two years ago.” She said, taking his hand in a soothing gesture.

“We’re running out of hair…” he pointed out. There was barely a month’s worth of snips left.

“Severus knows a spell to make it permanent, but it’s rather illegal. He’ll perform it during the battle so the ministry don’t notice another illegal spell among the many.” She said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is my entire fault… I’m sorry.” He began thinking back to the decision to place her in Narcissa’s shoes; his unwitting rape that left her with child; her sorrow at witnessing what the Dark Lord was capable of; her melancholy that Draco and Aurelius would know an actor as their Mother; her friends and family not knowing she was alive; her brilliant mind was wasted whilst she played the dull and boring part of a society wife… the list of transgressions upon her shoulders was lengthy.

He dragged her close to him as realisation hit him, sobbing into her permanently straight, blonde hair. He’d been selfish, and he’d do anything to keep her by him. She wasn’t the aloof and chilly Narcissa, she was an improvement. Draco loved her, Aurelius loved her, he was growing to love her… and he’d trapped her.

She rubbed his back and whispered: “I forgive you, Lucius.”