Chapter 2

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. As always, this little piece of fanfiction is here only because my faithful beta and friend, Glorioux, sacrificed her precious time and edited it. And for that, I am ever so grateful.

Chapter 2

The next week went by in a blur. Hermione stayed at Harry's house...it was easier there than returning to her own home. Two-year-old James never failed to distract her from the dreadful apathy into which she was steadily slipping. He was the only person who could make her smile.

Ron was buried that Thursday morning, right beside Fred. Narcissa Malfoy was buried on Friday in the Malfoy family tomb.

On Saturday morning, Hermione decided that she was ready to go home. Harry, of course, tried to convince her to stay longer. But, eventually, he gave up, but not before she promised that she would owl them if she needed anything and would let him or Ginny check on her now and then.

This first weekend at home was extremely difficult for Hermione to endure. Everything reminded her of Ron, taunting her with their unfulfilled dreams and the future that was not destined to be. Yet, by Sunday night, she had gotten a hold of herself. She was Hermione Granger after all...a Gryffindor, a fighter, brave and strong.

On Monday morning, she was ready for work, focused and composed. Heartache and emptiness were hidden deeply within. While she was hurrying to her office through the Ministry corridors, she bumped into an agitated looking Harry.

"Hermione, I can't believe it...that stinking scum!"

"Harry, what?"

"Last night, Jugson managed to kill himself in Azkaban. Remember, the wounded attacker we've taken into custody? Malfoy recognized him. Ron had wounded him quite badly, and he was too weak for interrogation. He gained consciousness only two days ago, and I was going to interrogate him today. We needed this information so badly. Malfoy will kill me. Or, even better, I'll just gnaw myself alive!"

Hermione could see how the dark aura of guilt was poisoning her friend. This setback saddened her as well, but sensing Harry's great need of reassurance, she said, "Don't worry, we will get them. All of them. I have faith in you, Harry."

Harry let out a heavy sigh, gave Hermione a hug, and left.

Somewhere after lunch that day, in the same corridor, she had an encounter with Lucius Malfoy. The blond wizard was impeccably dressed and groomed. Not at all the dishevelled, wild man, trying to strangle Harry in his blind rage after the attack, Hermione could so vividly remember. Lucius held himself with his customary proud arrogance and greeted her in a habitual cold tone, "Mrs. Weasley," followed by a slight nod. Still, something odd in his appearance had caught Hermione's attention. His eyes had betrayed him. For once, they reflected his true feelings rather than his usual controlled indifference. The extent of boisterous, raw fury that raged in his pavement-grey eyes startled the young witch.

Later, when she was thinking about their encounter at home, surprisingly, she felt a slight degree of compassion towards him. Somehow, they were together in this. Both were victims of fate's cruel joke.

The evenings at home were lonely. Still, Hermione preferred being home rather than at the Potters or the Burrow. With Molly and Arthur's grieving, it was hard to bear the atmosphere in the Burrow. Plus, with Ginny pregnant again, Hermione intuitively stirred from Harry's house, as well. Hence, she decided that the time had come to take look into the original manuscript of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard". This task filled her evenings and her mind, providing a needed outlet.

In the course of the following few days, Harry visited Hermione's office every evening. He gave her a painstakingly thorough report of the investigation's progress, if any. By the end of the week, it was obvious that the investigation was utterly stuck, and without further evidence, it would not move forward at all. It was indeed very disappointing. By the end of the week, Hermione's fury had begun to resemble the fury she had seen earlier in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy rather closely.

On Thursday morning, Hermione walked in her office and was extremely surprised to find Lucius Malfoy, leisurely sitting on a chair in front of her desk. Evidently, he was waiting for her.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" In her surprise, Hermione didn't think about proprieties.

Malfoy looked at her silently, as if awaiting an appropriate greeting. There was something deeply disconcerting in his presence in her office. The arrogant way he was looking at her without saying a word angered her. "Oh, sod it!" muttered Hermione.

"Is there something you need from me, Mr. Malfoy? Or did you just come round to resemble an immovable, odd-looking monument?"

Lucius arched a single, blond brow and drawled, "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley. Hasty today, are we not?"

Hermione huffed with annoyance. Troubled with the strangeness of her reactions, she decided to start over. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you today?" Hermione flashed a fake smile, looking straight into his eyes.

Lucius straightened himself, locked his eyes with Hermione's, and with an identical, artificial smile answered, "I have a proposition for you, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione was genuinely intrigued. What could Lucius Malfoy possibly propose to her? "Since when do you make propositions to my sort, Mr. Malfoy?"

Immediately, his demeanour changed. His smile disappeared; trained coldness replaced it. "Since that infamous Friday, Mrs. Weasley. Or, in more precise terms, since your dear friend and beloved husband failed their duty," hissed Malfoy with menace in his voice.

Hermione sprang up. Her hand automatically reached for the wand. Lucius was on his feet at the same moment, his face still wearing the same cold, menacing mask. They looked at each other for a few long moments, contemplating the next move.

However, after a deep (calming?) sigh, Malfoy smirked.

"There, there. We 'don't need any more drama. We have quite enough of it already, and it has indeed been a very trying a couple of weeks for us all. Please, Mrs. Weasley, sit down and hear me out. I am sure you will find my proposition quite interesting."

Moody prick, thought Hermione and sat down. She was still full of anger, and yet, once again, intrigued. "All right, I am listening. You have three minutes, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy made himself comfortable once more in the chair and began. "I think you are as aware as I am that the investigation...which has been so brilliantly lead by our famous Harry Potter...has come to a hopelessly dead end. Quite frankly, this situation does not please me. I assume that you have found yourself in the same predicament. Is that correct?"

He waited patiently for Hermione's response. When she didn't react in any way, he decided to continue.

"I know how the minds of those villains work: right now they are looking for the next victim. You see, they are not strong enough to achieve anything substantially impressive. Hence, they are searching for someone vulnerable and symbolic. Do you understand?"

This time Hermione nodded.

"Who do you think might be next?" Lucius looked straight in Hermione's eyes.

"Draco," breathed out Hermione.

"Well, not exactly, but close. Draco could not be considered a vulnerable target. In addition, they lost too many members already. Astoria, however, is a perfect target, especially now, when she is expecting."

The familiar fiery rage came back into Lucius's eyes.

"That would be the end of Malfoys. Can you imagine? That is precisely why I have sent them both to a secure location. They will stay there until this rampage is over."

"So, what do you want from me?" asked Hermione.

"Patience and you will find out soon enough, Mrs. Weasley. Now, with my son and his wife out of the picture, who do you think could be their number one?"

Horrible suspicion momentarily knocked all the air out of Hermione's lungs and rasped, "Ginny."

"Exactly. Bravo, Mrs. Weasley! Of course, Mr. Potter's wife is not easy to get, but it is possible. With patience and persuasion, they will eventually find her vulnerable moments and strike. Coincidently, Mrs. Potter is also expecting, if I am properly informed, isn't she?"

Hermione nodded again.

"A-ha! Finally, we arrived at the core of my proposition. Mrs. Weasley, did I assume correctly that you do not want anything even remotely dangerous lurking around Mrs. Potter?"

"Of course," said Hermione.

"I've thought so. Tell me, would you like to have the murderer of your husband at the point of your wand?"

She gave him a glare full of fire. A minute later, understanding dawned on her.

"You want to use me as bait!"

Lucius grinned and muttered, "Clever girl." Then, he stood up.

"Thank you for your time and attention, Mrs. Weasley. I'll now leave you to your matters at hand. Please, give my proposition a good thinking over and inform me of your decision. Goodbye." He turned on his heel, ready to leave.

Hermione understood damn well that he had manipulated her and had, perhaps, seriously misrepresented the facts. She was certain that he didn't give a shit about Ginny's, Harry's, or her well being. It was obvious that his only concern was his revenge. Still, instantly, she knew that she was in.

"I'll do it," said Hermione. Malfoy turned back to look at her. Something had flickered in his eyes for a moment.

"Very well, Mrs. Weasley. Please come to the Manor on Sunday at noon. We have many details to discuss. I'll keep the Floo open for you."

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