Chapter 6: The mask falls off
The next day, Hermione woke up hours before Mr. Malfoy arrived. She had breakfast and finished in time, because she didn't want to keep the man waiting. In the meantime, she was thinking about Harry and the others, who must be on their way now. They said goodbye last night, and Hermione could not forget the heartbreaking moment, Mrs. Weasley's tearful face, Ginny's gloomy gaze and the boys' determination.
At nine o'clock, however, there was no knocking on the door, but something else happened: the flame of the fireplace glowed green, but instead of Lucius Malfoy, a message flew out of it.
Searching of the mansion postponed. Kingsley wants us to go to my brother-in-law first. He'll get the visiting permit by the afternoon. You don't have to come over until then, I won't be home. I'll be there for you at 6:00. L.M.
Hermione grimaced. He's not very communicative... She sighed hard, and for the first time in her life, she had no idea what to do in the unexcpected free time. Her job was given to a deputy, Mr. Malfoy is doing his own business, and she's standing here waiting for nothing. She shook her head and went to the library. It was much smaller and less imposing than Lucius Malfoy's, but compared to her youth, it had a considerable number of books in it, in chronological and thematic order. First, she reached for the Hogwarts: A History, and then she took some less chunky volumes, if any of them contains something about the cup's pair or anything else that might bring them closer to the solution.
***
Lucius Malfoy sat cross-legged on the sofa as he gazed through the homely living room.
"I must admit, Draco, your wife has excellent taste," nodded to her son and Astoria. She smiled in disbelief.
"I know it's not your style, Lucius. But in Venice, I simply fell in love with these things," she pointed out in a saloon which was much smaller than Lucius Malfoy's drawing room.
"That's right, but I still like it. Well done, Astoria," he nodded at his daughter-in-law and smiled back.
He was perfectly satisfied with his son's life, as well as his chosen one. The pure-blood girl quickly settled into their family, and also Narcissa, who defended her son as a mother tiger, came to love her.
"So what brings you here, Father?" Draco asked.
"That's a longer story."
"So will you stay for lunch? Great, I'll tell the elves," Astoria's face shone, not waiting for her father-in-law's answer.
"No. Stay and sit down, please. What I would like to talk about is your business too."
"A business problem? The message you sent me the other day was kind of ominous. But then you said it wasn't urgent. What happened, Father?" Draco asked with his eyes drawn.
"I didn't want to scare you until the theory was proven, so I wrote in my second letter that it wasn't urgent. Now I can't put it off any longer. It's not business. The Lord... He didn't die," he said slowly.
The teacup fell out from Astoria's hand, and landed on the floor rattled. No one cared. The eyes of Draco and Astoria were round, looking at Lucius in horror and disbelief. The man decided to report on the events in details, starting with Granger's visit, all the way to the horcruxes. When he got to the end of what he had to say, the couple were still staring at him in shock.
"Are you sure he can come back?" Draco asked with a dry throat. He felt like he was back in the nightmare that still haunted him many times at night. With his right hand, he unwittingly squeezed his left forearm, where Lord Voldemort once burned the Dark Mark.
"Yes," said Lucius.
"I can't believe it. Are you a member of the Order?!" his son asked in disbelief. The man nodded again. "But how? They hate you there, and the way I know you, you hate them."
"In fact, we're not going to be bosom friends, and I'd rather see them at the bottom of hell, but I have to think about myself, Draco. And both of you. When the Lord returns, his wrath will be more terrible than anything. My interests at the moment dictate that I defend myself and you in every way possible."
"I'm going home with you. I'll help you," said Draco.
"You're not coming! You're staying here!" Lucius's voice was commanding. "You must be with Astoria, and I will remain calm until you are in this country. The most important thing is..."
"Draco is right," interjected Astoria. The young woman was one of the few who was not afraid of Lucius. The man liked the determined and smooth nature of his daughter-in-law, and Astoria strengthened the group of few whom he did not offend, but treated as equals. "We're family, we should be with you. Draco wants to go, and if he's going, I'm going!"
Astoria raised her head and looked at the two men in a challenging way. Draco returned the fragile woman's gaze with unusual tenderness, and Lucius's mouth sagged. That's exactly the kind of woman he imagined for his son.
"I'm not going to argue about that. Like I said, I don't want you to move in with me. You're safe here, so I'm calmer. As a matter of fact, I happen not to be alone."
"WHAT?" Draco struck the comment. He suspected that since his mother's death, his father had had been having some fun, but he didn't blame him for it, because he was a man after all. But the thought of someone else taking Narcissa's place... He didn't really like that possibility. "Just don't tell me, please, that you've got some crappy..."
"It's not like that," said Lucius. "The woman in question is no stranger to you... I'm talking about Hermione Granger."
"Sorry... WHAT?" Draco said. "You had your eye on that annoying, bushy mudbl..."
"Don't say that word, Draco!" Astoria said in a sinister tone. More than anything, she loved her husband, but she refused to tolerate living the old ideas of his father. It was agreed a long time ago, and Draco agreed with her. They didn't want their future children to grow up like the former Slytherin had to. He looked venomously at Lucius, as if blaming the man for the nearly slipped-out swear word.
"Calm down, you don't have to got on each other's throats." Lucius said in a convivial tone. "Of course, nothing like this happened. You should know me better than that, son. Besides, she's not shady anymore, she's quite pretty. Although I don't argue with the annoying epithet," he said. "No, it's just that the good Shacklebolt doesn't trust me, so he sent Granger after me. Together, we learned of the existence of the cup's pair, and on ministerial orders, she spends a lot of time in my company. Which is good for me, because the more people standing by me, the less harm I could get. By the way, apart from the fact that we're working together on the Dark Lord's possible return, I'm having a lot of fun with her. She's a feisty filly," Lucius smiled, and then he was frowned. "Once again, I don't want you to interfere in this. I'm here to prepare you and discuss everything thouroughly. Our family must come out victorious from this fight."
Astoria took a meaningful look at her husband, who was still shaking his head in disbelief. His new, calm life, built over the years, seemed to be falling apart.
***
Precisely at 6:00pm, somebody knocked on Hermione's door. The girl stood in front of the hallway mirror and smoothed through her dress. She felt like she did when she was Viktor's girlfriend. She couldn't afford to neglect herself, and from the experience of the previous day, she realized that she was more confident with Mr. Malfoy when she had an impeccable appearance. She stepped to the door and opened it.
"Can we go now?" The man asked without saying hello.
"I'll be right back. In the meantime, come in," she waved her hands toward the living room.
"She went upstairs, pulled out a dark blue trench coat from the closet, and put it on.
Lucius Malfoy looked contemptuously around the room, where there was no shortage of various muggle structures. How middle-class... Granger apparently placed homely well ahead of the splendor. The room with pastel furniture was not ugly, but he himself could not have imagined living in such a place.
Finally Hermione came back.
"Can I offer you something, or..."
"No," said Lucius. "We have work to do, let's not waste time. Shacklebolt sent me the permit and this." He took out a chipped mug from his inner pocket. He glanced at his pocket watch and placed the object on the coffee table. "We'll be on our way in a minute. When we get there, I'll talk to Rodolphus. I'd better take care of it."
Hermione nodded. Lucius put his finger on the key, and she did the same. After the spinning cavalcade, they landed on gravel ground. Around them, waves slammed the cliff, and next to them, Azkaban's prison was looming. Hermione had never been to the wizard's prison, from where, after Voldemort's fall, Kingsley removed all dementors. Despite this, she was possessed by unexplained anxiety and bad feelings.
He looked at the man and saw Lucius staring at the building with his feet rooted in the ground. His face has hardened. Of course... After all, Mr. Malfoy spent almost a year in Azkaban after the aurors caught him in the Department of Mysteries.
"Well... Perhaps we should go in," Hermione awkwardly proposed, though she did not want to enter beyond the huge gate.
Finally, they entered the entrance, and Lucius took out the permit and touched it on the door. Hermione saw his hands were shaking. The gate opened, and they entered the building. There were dozens of aurors in the lobby. Although the wizard's prison was protected by many spells and curses against escapes and uninvited visitors, Hermione knew that skilled guards were also much needed.
The man closest to them, with a stern look, approached them. Lucius didn't tell anything, he just gave him the permit. The auror looked at it and nodded.
"The Minister has informed us of this visit. Cell E 35. Rodolphus Lestrange. Follow me," he said, turning a corner and directing them to a wooden elevator in one corner without a door. He got in with them, announced the destination, and the elevator slowly moved upwards.
They arrived on a sparingly lit floor full of narrow corridors. In the footsteps of the auror, they set off on the winding road. Hermione saw Mr. Malfoy shaking all over his body, his face was twitching. She has never seen this self-confident, slanted and conceited man in such state. They passed by cells, but who sat in them and why, Hermione could not determine, because instead of bars, they were covered by a magical wall. When they arrived at the cell bearing the inscription E35, the auror looked at them.
"He's not going to be able to hurt you. Anyway, I'll wait here. You'll have 15 minutes," he said, but before he could give them a ride with his wand, Hermione interjected.
"Our conversation is rather... Um... it... would be private."
"I'm not going to listening. The spells wouldn't let me anyway. But if there's anything wrong, I'll know about it. As I said, fifteen minutes," the auror nodded toward the girl, then waved his wand and signaled to the visitors that they could already walk through the magic wall.
Hermione would have appreciated if the Gryffindor courage she had mentioned hadn't left her almost entirely this time.
She looked at Mr. Malfoy. The man swallowed big and stepped over the wall. Hermione followed him.
There was a rather bad smell in the cramped cell, and the equipment was not captivating either. A crappy bed in one corner, a stinking toilet hole in the other – that's about the end of a line of items for the comfort of prisoners. In the windowless room, a single torch burned with eternal flame. Rodolphus Lestrange was sitting on his bed. His once black hair was striped with white hair knots, as was his exuberant facial hair, from behind which he looked at the arrivals with thin-cut, evil eyes.
"Well, well, well... Here's my most cowardly pal. What brings you here?" he asked, looking viciously at Lucius, and then looking at Hermione. "I hope you brought the mudblood here for me for having some fun. You know, without my dearest Bella, my days here are kind of boring..."
Hermione felt like she was throwing up, and to her surprise, she saw a similar expression on Mr. Malfoy's face.
"Shut your mouth, Rodolphus!" he threw it there, hoarsed.
"You're not the same either. We've done some great little operations together in the past."
"I came here," he ignored the other's words, "to tell me about one of your heirlooms."
Rodolphus's lips under his beard were snotted with a mocking smile.
"What, you're broke, and you're running right to me to get you out of this? Well, I won't, my dear brother-in-law. You didn't stand up for me when I was stuck in here."
"I'm talking about Corvus Lestrange's brooch. The one you gave to the Dark Lord."
Rodolphus frowned, and his gaze was in the distance.
"I can't give you that. I gave it to the Lord, that's true. And he used it as he pleased."
"As he pleased... You know what he made of it, don't you?" Lucius whispered, and Rodolphus laughed.
"Why, you know, Lucius? You know, and you're scared, right? You're terrified that the Lord will rise from his dead again and will be stronger than ever. You're short of the idea of the walls of this prison falling down, and you're in a rage you didn't believe in your worst nightmares. That's how it's going to be, Lucius. Don't worry, it'll be fulfilled. Then you and your slippery son will get what you..."
Lucius, leaping in front of the man, pulled him from the bed and pushed him against the wall by the throat.
"I'll tear you apart with my bare hands if you don't talk," he hissed ominously. To Hermione's surprise, Rodolphus' face reflected no fear, only immense arrogance and satisfaction. "Where's the brooch?"
"I'm not going to talk. I'll stay calm, and I'll wait here for the Lord to return and give me a second royal reward. I've remained faithful, Lucius. I have nothing to fear... But you, your worm son, and mudbloods like this have plenty to fear!"
Lucius backed away from the man, then swished his fist forward and punched him vigorously in the face. And then again, one more time...
Hermione screamed and grabbed the blonde man's arm.
"That's enough, Mr. Malfoy!" she shouted.
Meanwhile, the auror, who had been on guard, also appeared in the room.
"What's going on? The visit is over!"
"It will be over when I say it," said Lucius, squeaks his teeth. He trembled with rage in every way. "Don't you ever talk about my son again like this!"
"If you don't finish this right now, you can easily take a break here." The guard shouted as he separated the two men.
"Yes, come on, Lucius. As I know, you still have your old cell. I'm sure the others would welcome you," Rodolphus laughed sarcastically.
"Let's go, let's go!" the guard said to them.
"Maybe you're physically free, Lucius," Rodolphus shouted afterwards. "But your inner prison is more horrible than the one I'm in."
Rodolphus joyless laughter echoed in their ears even as they returned to the lobby and stepped out from the prison. The auror shouted after them.
"There will be consequences, Mr. Malfoy. I will report the incident to the Minister," he said, slamming the huge door.
"Report me to whoever you want, you damned!" He mumbled and staggered.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you all right?" Hermione asked alarmingly, but Lucius did not answer.
She had never seen him like this before, his face was ash grey, he was shaking all over his body, and he seemed to collapse. She didn't have time to weigh in, grabbed the man's arm and apparited to her own house with him.
She led the man into the living room and had him sat on the couch. Mr. Malfoy sat there like a puppet, and he didn't say anything to resent the girl for the destination.
Hermione haste out into the dining room and opened the cupboard in which she kept the drinks she had received as gifts. She pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. She went back, inged for both of them, and stretched one of the glasses to her guest.
"Drink it. It will be good for you," she said, sipped into the drink to prove her words. She calmed down a little. Lucius, on the other hand, still stared at himself with a glassy look, and grasped his glass with a statue. Hermione pulled one of the armchairs in front of him and sat opposite to Lucius. She leaned over and directed the glass to the man's mouth with her hands.
"It's not poison. Have a sip and you'll feel better soon," she whispered in a voice intended to be calming. "Please..."
The request worked, Lucius inged the drink for a shot. Hermione refilled the glass with her wand. They just kept quiet for minutes, and Hermione wondered what she could say. What stirred the man up so much, she had only a vague idea.
In the end, Mr. Malfoy broke the silence, and spoke in a hoarse voice, not addressing the words to Hermione, but rather than his own.
"I was there for a year... The dementors... They've done terrible things to me."
Hermione sighed, but she didn't interrupt.
"Nobody... No one was allowed to visit me. I was all alone. Narcissa... Narcissa tried to go to the Ministry for a permission to talk to me, but they wouldn't let us. Then... Then the Dark Lord took over the Dementors. He got me out. At the time, I thought I was free again. But everything just got worse... The Lord has moved into our house, into our minds, into our thoughts... He forced Draco to join the death eaters. Narcissa was in a lot of pain... We suffered together. We never really loved each other, but I could count on her. She was the only one I could count on... We were terrified every day, every night. We couldn't eat, we couldn't sleep. We couldn't live...
Hermione didn't get a word in. She was stunned by the man's honesty. If she'd heard this story a few weeks ago, she probably would have snorted contemptuously, saying the Malfoys were looking for trouble for themselves while hurting so many defenseless people around them.
"I wanted to get out. Narcissa, too. But we only sometimes, in whispers, were able to talk about it, very briefly. Draco didn't even want to get involved... It's my fault the Lord took revenge on him for me. Him and Narcissa. He tortured them, enjoyed being cruel. I didn't want to make a move, I was a coward to do anything because I knew if he got wind of it, he'd hurt them. He had a masterful sense of my weakness. He knew death would be a salvation to me compared to the nightmare he kept us under. Then the Lord was finished... Or so I thought. Narcissa and I tried to get on with our lives, but... There were deep traces of what happened in her too. She got sick. I tried everything, we went to the best healers, but they couldn't help. Before she died, she said she'd be better off. She was young. It wasn't on time. She died because of me, because of my stupidity.
Mr. Malfoy didn't cry, but he gave the impression of a broken man like Hermione had never seen him before.
She didn't know what to say, so maybe Mr. Malfoy didn't expect her to say anything. She stood up to write Kingsley about the developments, but the man grabbed her hand.
"Don't go away. Stay... Please," he whispered, dragging Hermione down to the couch next to him.
"You should rest," muttered Hermione gently. The man nodded barely noticeably, ingested the contents of his glass with his hands treming, and leaned back with his eyes closed. With his right hand, he was still holding Hermione's arm. The grip eased over time, and Hermione saw the man fall into a deep sleep.
Nevertheless, she kept her promise and stayed by his side. It was dark outside, and in the room there was only a wicker floor lamp sparingly lit up in the corner.
Hermione was shocked by the absurdity of the situation. She had no idea that visiting Azkaban would bring such terrible feelings to the man. She now believed with certainty that Lucius Malfoy did not want Voldemort to return. Perhaps he wouldn't want him back if the Lord held him in his bosom and accepted him as his chief confidant. Hermione felt that the dark experiences he had had over the past few years had erased something in the man forever. Everything else, the humility, the hubris he showed to the outside world, was a mask. The mask of a broken man.
She was thinking about what happened and how easy it is to put the stamp on others that people can never change. Over and over again, she spun through the events in her head, surprising her by sitting on the couch next to Lucius Malfoy with the utmost naturalness while the man slept and his hand rested on her arm. The dream suppressed her unnoticed.
Lucius woke up at dawn. Something was on his shoulders, and his face was tickled by stray tresses. He looked slowly around the dimly lit room before realizing where he was. Hermione Granger's head rested on his shoulder. She slept curled up, her legs tightly pulled up next to her.
Well, of course... That visit to Azkaban. Lucius's mind is finally cleared. He was in terrible shape, and Granger brought him here. And he told her everything, everything he'd never told anyone before... Granger tried to calm him down, stayed with him when he asked her to. Now she was sleeping on his shoulder. It's very unpleasant... He overlooked the young woman as she dreamed.
He sighed a lot. He needs to get out of here. He's got his throat mated in case the other one wakes up. Nothing. He raised his hand carefully, as if he were afraid of what he was about to do. She smoothed through her soft, flower-scented hair. Nothing. He had to go home, even though he wanted it more than anything, and, at the same time, less than anything.
He gently freed himself from her weight, almost inch by inch, and Hermione's head slowly fell to where he had been sitting a moment earlier. She still hasn't woken up. He noticed a wool blanket at the end of the couch. He covered Granger with his wand, and left the house in quiet steps.
As the cold November air sobered him up, he cursed himself for telling the girl everything he really wanted to keep to himself forever. He apparited home at lightning speed and made his way to his bedroom almost running. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so incapable of staying in control? He picked up an ornament from the shelf closest to him and threw it into the back of the room in helpless rage. He buried his face in his hand. That still smelled like flower-scented...