Chapter 32

No one had ever accused Lucius Malfoy of being selfless.

His entire life had consisted of trying to further himself, his career, and his family. For a very long time, he'd succeeded. Before he'd been sent to retrieve the prophecy from Potter at the Department of Mysteries so many years ago, his life had been precisely as he'd wanted it.

He'd had a beautiful wife who was devoted to him and who believed in the same causes he had. They'd been wonderful together, at first. The envy of all their friends.

Lucius' position as the Dark Lord's right hand man was the envy of all Death Eaters. His input was valued, his efforts rewarded graciously.

It had all come to a head quite suddenly. A mere year after the best day of his life...the birth of his son...the Dark Lord had disappeared, vanquished, somehow, by an infant.

He'd be lying if he said that, despite all the glory that came with his position as a Death Eater, he wasn't relieved. Being a father had changed everything. There was nothing but Draco. Nothing.

So he hadn't really put his best efforts into discovering what had happened to his Lord, nor had he attempted to bring him back. It had taken the paltry talents of Pettigrew to do that, and there wasn't a day that passed that Lucius didn't regret not killing the little varmint years before.

It had been relatively easy to recover from the disgrace of being the Dark Lord's servant the first time. The second time hadn't been quite so simple. People seemed to have longer memories now, and less capacity for forgiveness.

But for some reason, clemency had come in the most unexpected form.

And while not a man prone to self-flagellation, Lucius couldn't help but feel he didn't quite deserve the life he found himself in.

When he'd first made the connection about the triad, he'd been eager for the power. Power had always drawn him in; the same could be said for any Death Eater, really. So faced with the possibility of wandless magic and an increased lifespan, Lucius would have been a fool to deny he desired it.

The thing that surprised Lucius the most, however, wasn't his feelings for Hermione Granger, though those were shocking in their own way. Hermione was beautiful, intelligent, an amazing and eager lover, and she would make a wonderful mother one day. But more than that, Lucius was surprised by his growing and changing relationship with his son.

He and Draco had always been close. Despite the mistakes Abraxas Malfoy had made, Lucius had raised his own son in a similar manner, teaching him that as the father and head of the household, his decisions were infallible. But Draco hadn't been pulled in the same way Lucius had. He had more strength, better morals. And yet despite that, Draco had forgiven him. He'd ruined his son's life, nearly gotten him killed, and yet Draco had easily absolved him. Though the guilt was still there, it wasn't because of anything his son said or did.

It was the horrible feeling of failure that only a parent can have when they know they didn't do the right thing by their child. And it wasn't something that would ever go away.

Nor would he want it to. Because it kept him from making the same mistakes again. If there was anyone who needed him to be selfless just this once, it was his son.

After the triad's return from the beach house, things at the Manor fell into an easy routine. Draco and Hermione toiled together for at least eight hours of the day, working on Outreach.

Right now, they were swamped with the red tape surrounding the purchase of the Shrieking Shack. Hermione and Draco had bought it with the intention of tearing it down and building a werewolf compound, but the Ministry was fighting them because of the proximity of Hogwarts, even though Headmistress McGonagall herself had given the idea her blessing. With the werewolves on Wolfsbane, there was no reason to think it wouldn't be perfectly safe.

But Hermione and Draco were facing what Lucius had known for years: the Ministry of Magic was highly averse to change. Anything different or unusual frightened them, and the memory of the werewolves on the side of the Dark Lord was all too fresh in their minds.

It was an ongoing struggle, but his son and lover were working together beautifully, something he'd never have believed unless he'd seen it firsthand.

And he did.

They would sit at the dining room table, surrounded by mounds of paperwork, completely undaunted by the enormity of their task. Sometimes they worked in solitude, speaking only to convey ideas or impossibilities. Most of the time, however, they were raucously loud, arguing, laughing... sometimes even making small noises of pleasure.

The sensual sounds almost always came right after the arguments.

They would beg for him to bring his work into the dining room so they could sit together. Sometimes he did. But mostly he couldn't work for watching them.

They were beautiful together, two people seemingly at odds and yet so perfect when placed side by side. Maybe they had not always been so...during their school years, the animosity was not a front but honest and real. And while Lucius had seen Draco change and grow firsthand, he also knew that Hermione was a different person now, as well. She was calmer, more likely to pick her battles...House-Elf Liberation fund notwithstanding.

"Lucius," Hermione said now, coming into his office with a determined look on her face. "Won't you come work at the table with us?"

Lucius looked down at his papers as if to think, though his mind was already made up. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'll be able to get this done out there. You two can be quite... vocal, you realise."

Hermione laughed softly and came to perch on the edge of his desk. "That's better than being silent, isn't it?"

"Not when I'm working."

"What if we promise..."

"Hermione," Lucius interjected. "I appreciate the offer, but I must finish this. It's all well and good that you've your charity, but it runs on your schedule. The rest of the world has to conform to someone else's."

After Hermione left, eyes narrowed but distressingly shiny, Lucius wasn't surprised to be interrupted yet again, by his son this time.

He wearily put his quill down and rubbed his temples. "What is it, Draco?"

"You've been a real bastard lately, you know that?" Draco sat heavily in the chair before Lucius' desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Draco cried, throwing his hands up. "You're distant, short with us, disagreeable, and all around a right git!"

Aloud, Lucius denied these accusations, but inside, of course, he knew them to be true.

"What's really going on, Father?" Draco braced his forearms on the desk and leaned forward.

"I simply want to get my work done in peace. I don't see why that is becoming such a problem. I don't pester the two of you when your heads are together, working!" Lucius took a deep breath. He almost never yelled at his son. "Draco, I apologise. Let me finish today's work and I shall join you in the dining room."

Draco stood, his eyes searching. Finally, he turned and left.

When Lucius eventually did leave his office, it was with a heavy heart that he walked toward the dining room. He knew, of course, that he was pulling away from Hermione and Draco.

Seeing Thello and Michael so happy together and with their magic made Lucius think that there might be another way. Hermione and Draco were perfect together, that was clear to anyone who cared to look. He was older, set in his ways... and the more intimate the triad became sexually, the more Lucius realised that he and Draco were becoming close in a way he'd promised his son wouldn't happen.

He stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching Hermione and Draco kiss. She was sitting on the table, her legs parted to fit him between them. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, her arms around his neck, his around her waist. Their kiss was slow and sensual, so intimate that Lucius immediately felt intrusive. He'd always felt welcome in the triad, sexually; he did have the most experience to offer, after all, and sex was something he did very well. But this tender and loving exploration was something he'd never shared with Hermione. There was no frantic meeting of mouths, no tawdry groping, no eager movements. It was poetry.

Draco pulled back from the kiss and looked into Hermione's eyes. They remained like that for a long minute, just looking, hands moving slowly, learning. Neither seemed anxious to move the intimacy to the next level. They were perfectly content with just touching one another.

Then Draco cupped Hermione's face softly and kissed her again. There was an entire world inside that kiss, and it wasn't Lucius'.

Abhorring the vulnerability he was feeling, Lucius turned to leave, but Draco's soft voice stopped him.

"I want to see you full with my child," he said, putting his hand over her flat stomach and smiling softly.

"I want that, too, Draco," she whispered, her voice carrying along the walls. "When?"

Draco kissed her again. "I'm ready," he said.

Lucius' wanted desperately to feel excited about this conversation. He wanted so badly to see Hermione pregnant, to have more children of his own, to see Draco as a father. But for the first time since they had formed the triad, he felt like it was wrong.

He shouldn't want the woman his son loved. He shouldn't be... forcing himself in this way on two such young people. He had practically bribed them with promises of power and happiness, thinking that he, too, would be happy. And he had been. Painfully so.

"I love you," Hermione whispered, her eyes soft and adoring.

"I love you, too." And the kiss began anew.

Lucius couldn't watch any more.

There wasn't much he wanted to bring, so Lucius was packed in short order.

Inside, he was screaming.

Outside, he was perfectly calm, the picture of coolness.

The letters were the hardest he'd ever written. He was not a man to give up any chance of happiness. He was not the type to walk away from something that gave him pleasure.

Except for him. For Draco. Draco, who deserved to know the unshared love of a woman, the absolute adoration of a child, the unrivalled joy of a family. For him, Lucius would give it all away.

He only hoped they wouldn't be so angry that they wouldn't let him see whatever grandchildren he might have in the future.

In the letters, he said what he'd been too weak to say in person. He didn't try to explain...they wouldn't understand. He barely did, himself.

All he knew was that they were beautiful together, beautiful without him. And it was time he did the right thing for Draco. Years and years...a lifetime, really...too late, but maybe it would be enough.

His Disapparition tore his heart anew.

"I love you, too," Draco said softly. The feeling of ennui that had haunted him all day suddenly ripped through him like a storm, and he felt his eyes prickle. He had no idea why he felt so lost and scared when half of him was ecstatic to have Hermione in his arms, so eager, beautiful, perfect.

Hermione laughed a little sadly. "I feel like I'm going to cry," she said, dropping her head onto his chest.

"Are you all right?" He kissed her cheek with the same reserved tenderness he'd felt toward her all day.

"I don't know." She clenched her eyes closed. "I feel so empty. What's wrong with me?"

Draco gathered her into his arms. "Whatever it is, it's wrong with us. I feel it, too."

"Draco," Hermione said, lifting her head quickly. "What if this is what's been bothering Lucius? What if... if it's a spell or something?"

"A spell to make people sad?" Draco said sceptically, shaking his head. "No, I know my father. He's dead scared and won't admit it. He'll come around, love."

"I don't want him to just come around. I want him to want this, want us! What's changed?"

Draco sighed. He had no idea why his father was pushing them away. He thought about all the things he might have done wrong, but he couldn't come up with anything concrete. And he didn't want to admit that Lucius just might be unhappy with the triad. The very thought shook him to the core.

When they'd begun the triad, it had been with the knowledge that the triad would never split up, and if it did, no relationship within could be maintained. Now that they knew that wasn't true, Draco couldn't help but feel a little scared. Lucius might not be a hero, he might not be a martyr, but he'd do anything for his son.

Draco loved Hermione and his father. Surely Lucius wouldn't force him to choose?

"I don't know what to say. I know he wants to be with us! That's why this makes no sense. Anyway, he said he'd come to see us when he was finished."

Hermione slid off the table. "I don't want to wait. We have to talk, get this all out in the open. And... and I have to tell him."

"That you love him?" Draco guessed, taking her hand and leading the way to his father's office.

"I just couldn't say it there, where he honeymooned with your mother. It seemed wrong... but I'm ready now."

Draco laughed. "Who would've thought I'd be the first to say it?"

"Not me," she said quietly, smiling at him. He squeezed her hand. Nothing made him happier than knowing he'd taken the chance and told her how he felt.

"He's not here," Hermione said, glaring at the empty room.

Draco reached out to feel the wards, but he couldn't sense Lucius. "His bedroom, maybe? He might have gone to... get some... files or something..." As Draco spoke, he knew he was wrong. "Come here!" he said, grabbing Hermione and Apparating them both outside Lucius' bedroom.

He opened the door quickly, but Lucius wasn't there.

"He's gone," Hermione whispered, her hand painfully tight on his.

"No, he's just..."

"Draco, he's gone. " Hermione was breathing heavily. "He's gone. He left us."

"Hermione, don't," Draco pleaded, falling to his knees as he stared at the empty bedroom.

"You can feel it, can't you? He's not here. He's not close. He doesn't want us anymore."

"No, no, no," Draco denied, shaking his head back and forth.

Hermione's pained scream ripped a sob from his own throat.

"Lucius!"

It was almost an hour later when Hermione's cries slowed down enough for Draco to think she'd be able to talk. Though she'd cried enough for both of them, he'd added his own tears to the stream.

His father had abandoned him.

He stood shakily and checked his father's closet. His luggage was all still there except for a conspicuously absent midsized piece.

Draco watched Hermione try to gather herself together, but whenever she seemed close, her face would crumble and she'd fall apart again. Her sorrow tore at his soul, but he didn't know what to do. He wasn't ready to be alone like this.

He loved Hermione more than he'd ever thought possible, but he'd always loved her knowing that Lucius did, too. Without Lucius, something so massive was missing that he felt off balance, stumbling sideways because the weight on his other side was absent.

How could he love Hermione enough for him and his father, both? How could he ever be enough when she was used to two?

The answer was simple. He'd never be enough. He would never even try.

They had to find his father.

Draco's eyes fell on Lucius' writing desk. There were two envelopes there. As he crossed the floor to grab them up, he told himself the answer was here...Lucius had an emergency meeting, he would be back that evening, the next day, in a week.

But that didn't explain the heart-wrenching agony he felt at that moment.

He sat down beside Hermione on the floor, showing her. "He left letters, Hermione," he whispered, handing her the one with her initials.

She took it with shaking fingers, but she didn't open it. She pressed it to her cheek and looked at Draco with almost accusing eyes.

Breathing deeply, he opened his letter.

Sadness made way for fury.

Draco,

Draco's teeth were clenched so tightly he wouldn't be surprised if they cracked. He hoped they did. Anything would be better than the searing numbness.

Only Hermione's sniffles brought him back from the brink. He felt angry enough to obliterate the Manor without even raising his wand.

Hermione wordlessly handed him her note and took his. He almost didn't want to give it to her, but she tugged softly and his fingers opened. Insensate, Draco read her letter.

More of the same.

Fucking bastard.

Now, he decided to be self-sacrificing? Now, he decided to do the right thing? Now, when Draco was finally happy?

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Draco snarled, throwing both the letters away.

"No," Hermione said, standing. She held out her hand for him. "We're going to find him."

He took her hand.

It did not take Lucius long to figure out his magic wasn't working.

After his Apparition had taken him to a freezing cold wasteland instead of a sunny Spanish town, he'd been suspicious.

When his warming charm had lit his robes on fire, he'd sensed a pattern.

But after a waterproofing spell turned his boots into water, there was no longer any need for uncertainty. He'd broken the triad...he'd lost his magic.

Lucius walked as briskly as possible, his feet stinging from the snow and aching with cold. After a while they became completely numb, and he knew that wasn't a very good sign.

It was a good thing that he wasn't all that far from a town. He hastily purchased boots from a general store, ignoring the strange look he got from the clerk as he put them on right away.

"What is this place?" Lucius demanded after his feet were safely ensconced in his rapidly warming footwear.

"Ilsa," the man responded loudly as though Lucius was quite slow.

"Ilsa, what?"

The man laughed jovially. "Ilsa, Canada, friend."

"Canada," Lucius spat disbelievingly. His magic was clearly punishing him.

"Was it you who Apparated into the Jeffersons' field?" the man asked, leaning over the counter.

Lucius froze in his huff. "You're a wizard?"

"'Course," he said, standing proudly, apparently not caring that his enormous gut was being bisected by the counter. "This here's an exclusive wizarding town. The only one in Canada, eh?"

Well, that was lucky.

"I'll need lodgings," Lucius said imperially. He wasn't going to risk Apparating again and ending up in the middle of the Atlantic. "With a Floo."

"A Floo?" the man said, tilting his head to one side. Really, Canadians were so simple. The cold must addle their brains. "Oh, you mean that fireplace travel you Brits do. I've heard about that. We don't do that...never jumped on that bandwagon."

"How do you get from place to place?" Lucius asked incredulously.

"We walk. Or drive. In the summer, we ride bicycles."

"No dogsleds?" Lucius said, rolling his eyes and remembering something he'd heard about Canada when he'd been a child.

"Not 'round here, but further up north, yeah."

"So you drive... automobiles?"

The man laughed, his belly shaking, and Lucius narrowed his eyes. He'd just been dealt a great shock, losing his magic, not to mention he'd left his family. He didn't have time or energy for this madness.

"Yes, we do. If you'll give me a few minutes, I can close up and take you to the hotel. They're sure to have vacancies, though you'll get what you pay for in that place."

"This... town... does not have a more amenable location?"

"One hotel, friend. Just one."

"Very well, then," Lucius said, a headache digging into his eyes.

The burly man locked his cash register and walked to the door of his shop, opening it. Lucius swept through, taken aback by the cold, even though he'd just spent half an hour walking through it.

Parked in front was a red lorry, looking ancient and abused. "This is a Muggle vehicle," Lucius hissed, recognising it from the rare times he'd been in Muggle London.

"Well, they don't make wizarding vehicles, do they?" the man asked congenially, unlocking and opening Lucius' door. "It's not far, and I'm a decent driver. Promise."

Lucius got in, his boots moving food wrappers and refuse to the side. If Draco could see him now...

Lucius sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth. The man entered on the other side and held out his hand.

"Name's Kent," he said.

"Lucius Malfoy," he responded, taking the man's meaty hand.

Kent nodded slowly as if he recognised the name, but he didn't say anything, only turned the key and chuckling as the lorry roared to life.

Lucius gripped the seat tightly, thankful that the vehicle didn't seem capable of any excessive speed.

Only a minute passed before they pulled in front of a very unimpressive hotel. Lucius must have made a moue of disgust, for Kent chuckled.

"Not much, but we do all right."

"Thank you for the lift, Kent," Lucius said graciously, struggling with the door handle. Kent leaned across him to open it for him, and Lucius gracefully slid from the cab.

"If you need anything, just send an owl. The hotel'll have some for guest use."

Lucius nodded and walked toward the hotel. It wasn't exactly ramshackle, but it certainly wasn't the type of place he'd ever imagined himself voluntarily staying.

Once he was settled in his room, Lucius sat on the edge of his bed. Though his decision had been brewing for weeks, he hadn't truly believed he'd go through with it until he'd heard those words exchanged between Hermione and Draco.

Perhaps the saddest part of all was that Lucius did love Hermione. Unequivocally, undoubtedly, unstoppably. But she didn't feel the same way about him. He didn't want to pathetically cling to the hope that one day she'd return his feelings. He didn't want to be the Celeste coming between two true lovers.

He had absolutely no idea how he was going to get out of Ilsa. Without the Floo network, and with his Apparition being uncontrollable, the only other option would be to purchase a broom, and Lucius hadn't travelled that way since his school days, and certainly never so far. Without any means of Muggle identification, he'd never be able to get back to Britain non-magically.

He was completely stuck and it was all his fault. He could only hope that Hermione and Draco still had their magic. Even if it wasn't the same, even if they didn't have the wandless ability, he was sure they would be happier without it if it meant they were together.

As Lucius pulled back the covers, wishing he could risk a Scourgify, and got into bed, he told himself he had done the right thing.

Only he didn't quite believe it.