Chapter 25

Hermione and Lucius were enjoying a quiet morning, drinking tea and talking about places they'd travelled, neither mentioning the fact that they were both, rather obviously, awaiting the arrival of the morning owls with their newspapers. Lucius had subscriptions to the Daily Prophet, several business, economic, and Ministry-centred newsletters, while Hermione had had her subscriptions...which consisted of the Free News, a non-profit, left-wing paper that lacked the dissembling the Prophet revelled in, and Wizarding World Today, a reliable news source with competent journalists...both rerouted to the Manor.

Though neither was saying anything, the quick and unsubtle glances toward the open dining room window was evidence enough of their anxiety.

Draco was glorying in the upside of being unemployed, sleeping in greedily, barely even stirring when both Lucius and Hermione had left his bed.

Hermione took a thoughtful sip of her tea, sweet and strong and made perfectly for her by Lucius. The night before had been an adventure, to say the least. True to Draco's promise the last time they'd made love, the men had switched positions, with Draco taking her hard and fast while Lucius filled her mouth. Both men were as intent on her pleasure as they were on their own, if not more so, and Hermione had gone to sleep extremely satisfied.

But more than that, there had been a certain freedom to their lovemaking. Before yesterday and the press release, their lives together had been clandestine, and Hermione hadn't even been fully aware of the discomfort that secrecy had been causing her. She felt as though a weight had been lifted; though, while awaiting the news, that weight might have redistributed itself.

She knew Draco felt the same way as she did the night before...weightless, free. Hermione had been on the edge of sleep when she'd heard him repeat those three words he'd first said before they'd ventured into the fray, so to speak.

Yesterday had been too taxing for Draco's confession of love to truly settle into her psyche, but this morning she'd thought of nothing else, between sporadic flashes of panic when she thought of what the reporters, and Rita Skeeter specifically, would have to say about her.

For the Malfoys were, as ever, made of Teflon, and nothing bad said could be made to stick. Not with all the money and power behind their name. People were still afraid of their influence and of getting into their bad graces, but with Hermione, the press had nothing to lose. They could easily skin her alive and be no worse for the wear themselves. It was true that now, as an official member of the Malfoy household, people might be persuaded to hold their tongues a little in deference to the notorious name, but Skeeter would doubtlessly cast aside such considerations. There was no love lost between them, and Hermione's inquiry, through Harry, into the Ministry's Animagus Registration had revealed that Hermione had nothing left with which to "bargain." Skeeter was registered, and Hermione found herself at the mercy of a tongue so sharp, Hermione suspected she might need goggles to read the morning paper.

"Don't be so nervous, pet," Lucius said softly, reaching across the table and taking her hand. Her fingers curled around his gratefully. Hermione was thankful to be Muggle-born, as she had no relatives who would be disturbed or alarmed at the news.

"I just hate that it has to be like this," she said. A slight tug on her hand made her come around the overlarge table and sit next to Lucius. He usually liked for them to employ decorum at the dining table, but he seemed to be making an exception for her anxiety. Hermione went on, "Don't you ever just wish that no one knew our names...that no one cared? And why do they care? Why do they act as though I owe them something?"

Lucius put a steadying arm around her shoulder, tilting her face to meet his. "When you are in the public eye, they will always think they own you. That they made you. Of course, we both know that you don't want this, but they don't realise that. When all they see of you is what biased, subjective journalists choose to write, you can hardly expect them to know the truth of it."

Hermione thought about that. She felt bad for complaining. Harry had it a hundred times worse; the press still followed him around, and most papers even had a running column on where he was, what he was up to on a daily basis, what sort of shampoo bottles found their way into his trash, and what food was left on his plate after an evening at a restaurant. She had so little to worry about, in comparison.

"But why am I so interesting to them, Lucius? I mean, I never do anything to encourage this sort of behaviour. I'm so completely normal that I don't understand how it isn't boring to them!"

"Ah," Lucius drawled in the tone of someone who'd just had his point made for him. "But you are interesting, Hermione. You are a Muggle-born witch who has easily outstripped decades of pure-bloods when it comes to intelligence and the mastering of spells. You are an enigma. You are proof, to everyone, including me, that so many beliefs espoused for centuries are wrong. And now you are the head of a triad with two of the most infamous villains against whom you fought during a war that was not long enough ago for people to have forgotten. People will be confused, angry, disappointed, shocked, proud, supportive, and more. We can only hope that, amongst all those things, that hateful and vindictive does not lie."

Though she knew his words to be honest and wise, Hermione latched on to something he'd said in the beginning. "So because I'm clever and smart, I changed your mind about blood politics?"

Lucius kissed her on the top of the head, but not dismissively. More like he was thinking. "In many ways, yes. My beliefs were born from generations upon generations of bigotry, so ingrained that it was barely noticeable from the inside. But in all those years, there had never been anyone to challenge those beliefs. Half-bloods, yes, but never a Muggle-born. And Draco's reports of how he was beaten, time and again, by you during your school days used to infuriate me. But once I'd learned of your role as Potter's... sidekick, shall we say, I knew that the beliefs I held, whose foundations were already falling into disrepair, needed to be torn down completely."

"What needs to be torn down?" came Draco's voice as he settled gracelessly in the chair on the other side of Hermione.

"Your father's prejudices, of course," Hermione said smartly, sipping her now-cold tea. She waved her hand experimentally over it; she'd be able to do the simple warming spell non-verbally for years, but she'd always needed a wand. To her delight, the tea immediately steamed, releasing a refreshed aroma to her nose.

"See that?" she asked excitedly, poking Draco and smiling at Lucius. Lucius nodded with the aura of someone long-patient, and Draco smiled genuinely. A moment later, he waved his hand over the pot of tea, laughing as steam rose gently from the spout. He poured himself a cup and doused it liberally with sugar.

They both looked at Lucius expectantly. He stared back a moment, as though unsure as to what they were indicating, but eventually he waved a determined hand over his cup of lukewarm tea. Hermione frowned as nothing happened, and Draco was about to say something when an owl flew into the room, and all eyes moved toward it.

"It's the Daily Prophet, " Hermione whispered, picking it up with only the tips of her fingers.

"Who's going to do the honours?" Draco asked when Hermione didn't move to open it.

"I shall," Lucius offered, "as it was my idea to go public in such a way."

Hermione handed the paper over, but said, "This wasn't your fault, you know. And I'm still glad it's out, no matter what that... woman has to say."

Lucius nodded, unrolling the paper. Predictably, she saw a glimpse of the three of them looking rather impassively over the crowd. As Lucius turned the paper, she read the headline, "Former Golden Girl Turned Servant to Snakes? Or Master of Them?"

Hermione groaned, and Draco immediately wrapped his arms around her. They both faced Lucius as he began to read.

"Lucius and Draco Malfoy, infamous defectors of You-Know-Who, revealed to the press only yesterday that they are involved in a torrid affair with none other than the Golden Trio's resident brain, Hermione Granger, writes Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter.

Lucius Malfoy did most of the talking as he revealed the steamy details of his new sexual relationship with Granger, more than twenty years his junior. His stormy eyes pierced the crowd as he elaborated on the intimate details of the nature of his relationship with the best friend and former love interest of Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. His arm enveloped Granger possessively as the young woman remained uncharacteristically silent, instead choosing to gaze almost dazedly over the crowd. This reporter has to wonder if the relationship is as mutually consensual as the elder Malfoy was quick to insist.

Harry Potter himself attended the proceedings, looking dashing in his Auror robes and all too ready to take charge of the events if need be. And his welcome intervention was needed as rival reporter for Wizarding World News made a spectacle of himself. This reporter was only too grateful for the ready abatement of whatever Mr. Franklin Triptenhoof had in mind.

Harry Potter personally escorted this reporter to the Apparition point, with a guiding hand and the gentle attentions we've come to expect from our Hero. He had no words for the Daily Prophet on Granger's new enterprise, but he did look a little weary when asked.

Perhaps Hermione Granger should spend a little less time exerting control over two such eligible bachelors, and a little more thinking about what Harry Potter has to say about her choice of lifestyle."

Lucius took a deep breath. Draco's arms had tightened around her to the point of discomfort. But Hermione wouldn't be held. She twisted out of the grip and stood up shakily.

"I... am going to... murder... that bitch," she growled before turning on a heel and stalking out of the dining room. She absently heard two chairs scrap hastily against the marble floor, but she was already on her way out the front door.

"Hermione!" Draco called from behind her. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer him or Lucius, when the latter ran up beside her and tried to hold her back.

"You will only regret whatever you do if you choose to act now," he warned, falling easily into step beside her despite her angry stride.

"Oh, no, I don't think so," she said, scoffing. Once at the Malfoys' Apparition point, she turned to Lucius and Draco, who had quickly caught up.

"If you come with me, you'll both be accessories. I'm not going to kill her, I promise. But I don't think you two should be there. You've only just restored your family name. I have no such title to protect."

"Yes, you do!" Draco cried, holding onto her arm. "You're a part of our family, and our name is your name. If you care about us, it's hypocritical not to care about yourself."

"Draco, you heard the things she wrote. People read that; people believe it! I thought I'd taught her a lesson before, but this will be one she takes to heart," Hermione vowed before shaking off Draco's hand and Disapparating.

Standing in front of the Daily Prophet building, Hermione's rage only grew. She stormed inside, passed the cubicles of diligently working subordinates, and walked directly into Skeeter's office, so ostentatiously labelled in gilt.

"Skeeter!" she said, commanding the hated woman's attention. Rita Skeeter looked older up close, shark's grin widening and gold teeth glinting viciously in the scant sunlight streaming in.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. So nice of you to stop by. Perhaps you'd like the opportunity to get your side of the story told?"

"Are you insane? That's why we called the press release in the first place! But you had to twist our words and our relationship into something ugly and dirty! And Harry didn't escort you out, he kicked you out! What gives you the right to tell such lies?"

Skeeter only looked thrilled beyond what Hermione thought was normal for such a confrontation. Maybe Hermione wasn't the most intimidating witch at first sight, but she had power beyond what Skeeter could even dream of!

In fact....

"Animus laqueus!" she cried, throwing her hand out at Skeeter. The woman only had time to blink before she shrank to a beetle, landing on her desktop, skittering around before seeming to lay eyes on Hermione. The beetle froze, and Hermione laughed.

"Not so full of spite now, are you?" she taunted, the power of the wandless magic thrumming through her.

The door behind her flew open, and Hermione stilled, realisation flooding her. She slowly turned, exhaling deeply when she saw Lucius and Draco.

"Hermione," Draco said slowly, surveying the room. "What did you do?"

"I... I locked her in her Animagus form. I think I... invented the spell. I've never heard it before...." Hermione looked to Lucius for answers, but he was studying the beetle, which flinched whenever someone's gaze fell upon it.

"Is that her?" Draco asked incredulously, pointing at the insect. Hermione nodded, and Draco chuckled. "Not very scary, is she? I mean... really, we could just..."

"Draco! Do not finish that sentence. Do you know how much trouble Hermione is facing right now? This... borders on Dark magic," Lucius said sternly, closing the door and casting several silencing and Notice-Me-Not spells.

"But I didn't really mean to!" Hermione protested, but it sounded weak, even to her ears. "I mean, I did mean to do something, but not that. Not really."

"Regardless of your intentions, we have a situation to deal with. Draco, make sure that thing doesn't get away," Lucius commanded, and Draco immediately trapped the befuddled creature under an empty teacup.

"Can you undo the spell?" Lucius asked quietly.

"I... I don't know. I think so. I think it was more intent than an actual incantation, because it's no spell I've ever heard."

"Good. Draco, get ready to free her while I cast petrificus. She needs to be totally still while we Obliviate her."

"Whoa!" Hermione interjected, grabbing hold of Lucius' arm. "We can't go around Obliviating people, Lucius. That's illegal. We'll be no better than...."

"I know how you are feeling right now, and I sympathise. But I have no desire to see you carted off to Azkaban because your temper outran your common sense and you gave your newfound powers free rein when you should have been controlling yourself!" Lucius tirade ended in an exasperated shout, and even Draco looked shocked.

"Father," Draco began, hand on the overturned teacup. He seemed to think better of whatever it was he'd been about to say, however, turning to Hermione instead. "He's right, you know. We have to do this. If we don't, we'll lose you, and that's not something I can even think about."

Hermione hung her head. She felt angry and disappointed at herself, but she was also upset that they seemed to think she couldn't control herself. And yet another part of her was saddened for letting them down.

"Okay. Okay, let's do it, then."

"You'll have to Obliviate her, Hermione. You were here before us, and we might not be able to get the entirety of the memory," Lucius said softly, his anger visibly escaping him.

"Oh, gods," she whispered.

"It's going to be okay, love," Draco reassured her, smiling softly, though it didn't come close to being reflected in his eyes. It was evident that they were both upset at having been forced into a position to be casting illegal spells, when they'd done so much to avoid that. Or at least, that was how Hermione saw the regret in their faces.

"Draco, you'll lift the teacup. Hermione, reverse the spell. I'll Body-Bind her, and then you'll have to Obliviate her. Have you ever done that?" Lucius asked her.

Hermione's fingertips had gone numb, but it was almost as though she wasn't really here, wasn't really dealing with the consequences of her actions. "Of course not."

"All right. It's fairly simple, based mostly on intention, rather like the spell you apparently invented. Just think about how much you want her to forget and have that amalgam of moments firmly in mind when you say the spell. If you... do something unintended, Draco and I will deal with it."

Hermione wanted to object to whatever he was implying with those cryptic words, but she was too shocked. She nodded.

Draco freed the beetle, which immediately set to scurrying. Hermione held her hand out, whispered, "Animus libero! " and watched in detached amazement as Skeeter regained her human form, sitting gracelessly on her desk, mouth open to begin berating or screaming for Aurors any second. Lucius headed her off with a strong "Petrificus totalus!" His wand was firmly in hand and trained on the stiffened witch, whose face was a perfect mask of outrage.

Hermione walked up to Skeeter, feeling regret, but also as though she'd been pushed beyond her limits. "I know you won't remember this, but I wish you would learn your lesson. You hurt people, and that isn't right. You should work on that."

Skeeter's eyes flashed, but no other movement betrayed her consciousness. Hermione once again raised her hand to the witch, thinking of this entire conversation and her own initial outburst. She saw Draco and Lucius slip from the room, but knew they were only just outside the door in case anything went wrong.

"Obliviate!" Hermione said, voice breaking. She quickly followed it with a barely-verbal, "Finite incantatum," and watched as Skeeter tried to straighten her from her awkward perch on the desk.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked in mock concern.

Skeeter huffed, fixing her absurd blonde curls with one red-taloned hand. "Of course. Where were we?" Her eyes were slightly glazed, her focus a touch off.

Hermione sighed. "I was just saying that I had hoped you would tell the truth for once."

"Well, Ms. Granger, it appears that you and I have a different conception of 'the truth,'" Skeeter sniped, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"That's just it!" Hermione cried, but with none of the same passion of her previous conviction. "There is no 'truth,'" she said, mocking the finger movements with her own, exaggerated ones. "There is only the truth. And you refuse to tell it! One day someone will make you see," Hermione vowed, feeling empty.

"Is that a threat?" Skeeter said, smirking. She looked as though she'd like nothing better than for Hermione to confirm her suspicion.

"More like a promise," Hermione clarified, feeling like she was having two different conversations.

"I don't have time for this, you silly girl. If you want to make a statement, feel free. If not, you can leave now."

Hermione didn't bother saying anything further. She passed through the doors feeling like an entirely new, not necessarily improved, person. Lucius and Draco silently flanked her, and the trio quickly left, Apparating home and sitting silently in the parlour, each clearly wishing they could say something, but none daring to.

"She didn't even mention me at all," Draco said quietly, breaking the tension.

Hermione laughed. Some things never changed.

Hermione was only in slightly better spirits when Draco brought her the Wizarding World News, reading excerpts for her when her head was pounding too hard to really focus.

"Hermione Granger, who we remember as being a fiercely intelligent and loyal young woman, remained a silent sentinel, along with fellow Triad member Draco Malfoy, as the well-spoken and commanding Lucius Malfoy fielded questions at the press release. This was obviously a pre-arranged effort, possibly stemming from Lucius Malfoy's experience in dealing with the press, and Hermione's own previous negative experiences doing so."

Hermione managed a weak smile. At least not all the news was on Skeeter's level.

"He goes on to talk about the different things Father said, including how he and I have no intimate relationship, and how we stressed the consensual nature of the entire thing. He does give a few examples of famous triads in history, and he makes note of the power benefits, faster healing abilities, longer lifespan, et cetera. Everything Father already told us, but that we didn't tell the press. Obviously this Triptenhoof character does his homework, though I have to admit, I thought he'd be trouble at the release."

"So did I," Hermione said, hugging a pillow to her stomach. "But I should have been more focused on the devil I already knew. Draco... how can I live with myself?"

Draco hugged her against his chest. "You did what you had to do, love. I'm sorry it happened this way, but from now on, I hope you'll let Father and me help you when you need it. You can't go off on your own like that. We're here to support you, no matter what." He kissed her cheek, making her smile.

"You sound just like me," she said, finally wrapping her arms around him. Lucius watched on, but she had the feeling that he was very disappointed in her, and that knowledge made her ill. "What I used to say to Harry when he'd go off half-cocked with no plan."

"Maybe now you can commiserate with him a little better, yeah?" Draco said, rocking her teasingly.

"I feel different," she whispered a moment later.

"It's in your head," Draco insisted. "You're still you; nothing's changed."

But Hermione had the overwhelming feeling that something, something vital, had changed.