Chapter 9

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. Huge thank you to my betas...Glorioux and AmyLouise.

Chapter 9

Friday, July 29

"Lucius..."

Lucius' eyes jerked open. The sun's harsh rays struck him cruelly. It was inexplicably difficult and painful to breathe, as if someone had hit him mercilessly beneath the ribs. Lucius sat up and realization hit him: it was his heart...his heart ached. The dream had been frighteningly vivid. He could almost smell the blood and see ghostly-opaque eyes in front of him. One thought flashed in his mind, Hermione! He needed to call the whole thing off!

Lucius sprang up.

An hour later, however, washed, groomed, and considerably calmed, Lucius was no longer so sure. If he called the whole thing off, he would probably never have his revenge...now or ever. Lucius was not ready for that; it was much easier to dismiss the dream.

It was just an idiotic, scary dream; my mind just played a joke on me. That is all. No need for hysterics or drama. Hermione is more than capable of fighting, and I'll be right beside her all the time. Everything will play out perfectly. The witch is at fault for this nightmare; I dreamed this because of her crying yesterday, argued Lucius with himself.

During breakfast, he managed to convince himself that the dream was nothing more than a complete nonsense. He even chuckled about it.

"And I hoped for a nice, erotic dream, filled with sex and, preferably, a nude Hermione."

Ministry of Magic

By the time Lucius arrived at the Ministry, he had gotten rid of his concern and doubt. He was his usual self...cold and composed, ready to proceed with his plan. Only an almost imperceptible ache in his heart reminded him about his morning horror. Lucius dismissed it as a residual effect of stress.

He was walking through the Ministry's corridors towards Hermione's office when he saw her. She was wearing her usual light beige robes. Lucius surprised himself with a sigh of relief...there was nothing light blue or silky in sight. Hermione looked quite well and rather busy. Satisfied, the wizard turned on his heel and left to mingle with a crowd of Ministry officials.

The day rapidly wore on, and Lucius decided to stay out of Hermione's way; they didn't interact at all. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, Lucius was afraid to lose his composure and show his concern. That was not supposed to happen. Malfoys never lost their composure... well, almost never.

Around six o'clock in the evening, Hermione went home and Lucius Apparated to the Manor to change and prepare for the cemetery. His heart thudded in violent anticipation. He was ready for the strike, and he wanted it to happen today.

Cemetery

At precisely five minutes to seven, Lucius, under the Disillusionment and Supersensory Charms, stepped out of the Malfoy family tomb and stalked towards Ronald Weasley's grave with vigour and determination. He was almost at the grave when the scene in front of him forced him to halt his movements. Lucius froze on the spot, and cold sweat dampened his forehead and back. He refused to believe his eyes.

Hermione was already there. She sat near the grave, and (horror of horrors!) a whispery light-blue silk dress draped softly around her small frame. It was a shock.

Immediately the images from his nightmare invaded his mind: Hermione's pale face, her slowly fading eyes, and blood...viscous, crimson blood, seeping through the light-blue silk.

For the second time that day, it became painful to draw a breath. Panic grasped Lucius' heart and squeezed it with its ice-cold steel claws. His brain was working feverishly. We need to leave. Immediately! I'll take her and Apparate us to the Manor. Nothing will happen. It's not too late.

The wizard's body was frozen with panic, but he forced it to move. The next second he yelled.

"Hermione!"

She heard his call and turned with a startled expression. Only she couldn't see him; the Disillusionment Charm was working perfectly.

At that moment, four black silhouettes appeared and ominously surrounded Hermione. Lucius couldn't see her any more; they completely blocked her from his view. He drew his wand and shouted at their backs.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" And then, "Expelliarmus!"

Colourful sparks lit the air of the cemetery. Different voices shouted their spells, but Lucius' mind didn't register anything except Hermione's clear voice, which echoed his.

"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

In a matter of minutes, the four figures in black were scattered and immobilized. Completely unharmed, Hermione stood in the epicentre, smiling triumphantly. Her light-blue dress was unstained...no red, no crimson, nothing. Lucius drew a deep breath and whispered, "Finite Incantatem."

She saw him then, and immediately turned her triumphant smile on him.

"Lucius, we did it!" she exhaled.

"Indeed, we've accomplished it H...," Lucius stammered slightly, but eventually managed, "Hermione."

She quickly walked to his side and looked at him with a soft, open smile.

"Why did you call me, right before they appeared? You startled me."

She looked beautifully untamed, with her curls tousled and face flashed with pink, the silk of her dress clinging to her every curve. Lucius sighed.

"It was momentary confusion... I think you may proceed and send a Patronus to Potter. I need a few minutes with those scoundrels." Lucius gently traced her jaw line. "Hermione."

Then, Lucius turned his attention to four figures on the ground. Hermione had put all four of them under the full body-bind. Thorough little witch, he thought.

One by one, Lucius took all four masks from the bandits, but he could not identify any of them. He felt confusion and vile, dark waves of uneasiness clashing into his chest. He knew that something was terribly wrong. His clammy fingers began to shake. In dreadful apprehension, he sensed the long forgotten, evil presence of dark magic. His temples began to hurt and his throat went dry.

Lucius made a vain attempt to draw a calming breath. Suddenly, a vaguely familiar voice menacingly hissed in his ear. "Are you looking for me, Lucius?" and the tip of a foreign wand slid under his chin.

A second later, Lucius received a brutal blow to the pit of his stomach. His vision blurred, and blood filled his mouth. He folded from the force of the impact; his wand slipped from his fingers.

"Ahhh, I have been waiting seven years for that," and maniacal laughter filled the air. Lucius didn't have even a moment to recover before he heard two voices shouting again,

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione and the Death Eater simultaneously bawled the spell. Ignoring the pain, Lucius spun around only to see two wands fly from the hands of their owners. All of them were wandless now...

In a haze, Lucius saw Hermione struggling in Antonin Dolohov's hands. Her curls covered her face; he couldn't see her eyes. She was shrieking and growling, hitting the bastard forcefully with her little fists and feet.

Lucius desperately scanned the area for his wand...it was on the ground a few feet in front of him...when he heard Dolohov's maniacal laughter again.

"I'll take that, Lucius. Hope you don't mind sharing your little Mudblood, old friend."

At this, Lucius leaped forward, grabbed his wand and bellowed, "Stupefy!"

Too late. Dolohov disappeared with the struggling Hermione. Only a small piece of light-blue silk on the ground and the faint scent of jasmine in the air remained behind her.

Lucius fell to his knees and let out a wild roar. Gloomy, hopeless darkness surrounded him. He felt forlorn, bereft. Guilt and despair rudely forced themselves into his poor soul, ready to tear it to smithereens. The colourless lips from his dream rustled, 'Lucius' in his head, again and again.

Seconds later, multiple Apparation pops announced the arrival of Potter and his Aurors.