Chapter 2

AN: This was originally written and posted at the 2011 Lucius Big Bang fest on LJ (I post on LJ as madeleone). Many thanks to my betas: Softobsidian, who beta'd it for the fest, and Clairvoyant, who is polishing up the rough edges.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money here.

It had been seven weeks, and Hermione could not believe she had actually hired Lucius Malfoy. And even more surprising was the fact that he'd turned out to be a gem.

He worked diligently and actually seemed to know what he was doing, unlike all of the previous applicants who had not lasted this long before either quitting or being fired. Thus far, he'd proved to be full of good ideas, such as reorganizing, redecorating, and brightening up the foyer to make it more appealing to patrons. He'd suggested they work on organizing and shelving the newer books first and save the older books, first editions, parchments and scrolls for later, as they would require more care and possibly restoration. At least they would start filling their shelves with information available to the wizarding public.

Most surprising of all, he was a very hard worker. Hermione imagined that he had led a pampered life and thus would not be inclined to do any real work. However, he didn't hesitate to pitch in, even when physical labor was involved, such as moving and sorting the boxes that contained some very old specimens, fragile with age, that they dared not use magic on. She definitely had no complaints about his work, other than he seemed to drift off at odd times for no apparent reason. She would be talking to him and look up to see him gazing at her with a half smile and a dreamy look on his face, as if he were miles away. Woolgathering, he called it. She merely put it off as a quirk from his years spent in confinement and overlooked it whenever it happened.

In the seven weeks he'd been there they had made tremendous progress, and she had to admit it was mostly due to Lucius' efforts. While Hermione loved her job, she tended to get distracted being surrounded by so many books. She would be sorting and would discover an interesting passage in a book, and before she knew it, several hours had passed. Working with Lucius kept her on track; if he noticed her involved in a fascinating piece of work, he would gently remove it from her hands and set it on her desk for later.

He was nearly always there before she arrived in the morning, and often was still sorting and shelving books when she left at night. One night she returned late to pick up some files she'd forgotten and found him comfortably ensconced before the fireplace in the one of the reading rooms, book in hand and a pot of Darjeeling at his side. She said jokingly, "Lucius, I am beginning to think you have secretly moved in and are living in one of the empty rooms upstairs."

"Now, that is not such a preposterous idea," he replied. "This is so much more enjoyable than the flat the Ministry keeps me in. I might actually try to get that negotiated into my terms once my two months are up." Although he looked away quickly, Hermione recognized his look of longing at the idea.

"If you dislike it so much there, why not move?" she asked, puzzled why he would stay in a place he so clearly disliked.

"I had only the stipend they provided, and they deducted rent for the flat from it. That left me little enough to live on, much less save enough up to pay for something else," he explained quietly. "Since my contract with the library is on a two month trial basis, the Ministry has required me to remain in my current location until I have some assurance of permanent employment."

Hermione felt ashamed that she had not considered his situation before. He was a proud man, raised in a wealthy pureblood society, and having to live now on the dole from the Ministry and under its scrutiny must have been extremely demeaning for him. "I'm sorry I didn't realize, Lucius. I could have easily confirmed your employment in advance of the two month period, or at the very least offered you an advance on your wages," she said softly.

He waved her suggestion aside. "Unnecessary. I have been spending most of my time here of late and enjoying it immensely. I really only return there to sleep, so that makes it bearable.

"Oh, I forgot to mention I will have to take a couple of hours off tomorrow morning. My monthly meeting with my MAF is tomorrow."

"MAF?"

"Oh, sorry, my own little term of endearment for my parole monitor. MAF...Ministry-Appointed-Flunky."

Hermione laughed. "Come in whenever you get done, Lucius. I know how things run down there; sometimes I think they make people wait just because they can. It gives the MAFs a sense of power over all of the rest of us peons."

~*~

When Lucius arrived to work the next day, he was quite late and clearly in a bad mood. Hermione pressed to find out what was wrong, and he snapped at her, bluntly telling her to mind her own business. She went off in a huff to work on her monthly budget reports. Lucius spent several hours in the attic, going through piles of discarded furniture to sort out what was usable for downstairs. Hermione went up to check on him once and found him alternating between blasting some of it to pieces, only to cast a Reparo on them so he could blast them again. She quietly shut the door before he could see her and left him to his own devices.

They pointedly ignored each other for most of the afternoon. Then they were forced to deal with one another to work on a collection of privately donated material. They argued intensely about the best way to archive it. Hermione favored filing everything strictly chronologically, but Lucius wanted to divide the documents into topics alphabetically first, then cross-reference chronologically. Each method had its own merits but neither wanted to give an inch.

She at first tried to discuss it with him rationally. No matter what she said, he found fault with her reasoning. He just kept picking away, nipping and snapping at her until they eventually ended up in a shouting match, which somehow then spiraled into name calling.

"I don't understand how you got this job when clearly you are nothing more than a silly little girl who thinks she's oh so clever but probably doesn't know the difference between truly valuable historical information and a copy of Hogwarts: A History," he sneered.

"Well, I'd rather be a silly little girl than a pompous, overbearing, pretentious prig. Just because you can trace your family tree back to the days of the founders, you think that you're somehow better than everyone else...but in actuality, it only makes you a pompous, overbearing, pretentious prig."

"Better a pompous prig than a filthy little M..." Lucius stopped himself, nearly choking on the hateful words. He looked up to see Hermione's eyes go wide with hurt before they filled with tears that she fought to contain. "Oh, bloody hell... Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." he reached out for her, but she jerked back.

"No! Don't touch me," she cried, turning away from him.

She saw from the corner of her eye Lucius' hand reach out for her. It hovered there as if he wanted to touch her, comfort her, but then he snatched it back, spun on his heel and left the room. Seconds later, she heard the front door slam loudly. She collapsed into a chair and buried her face in her hands as the tears she'd tried so hard to withhold burst forth.

After she'd had a good cry, Hermione had time to reflect. It wasn't because he'd used that word--well, in reality he hadn't--he'd stopped himself. But he'd almost said it, in anger, in the heat of the moment, and they both knew it. Yet he'd stopped himself, so that had to count for something. The hated invective that a few years ago would have spewed from his mouth with no compunction whatsoever had stuck in his throat and nearly choked him. But it wasn't the word itself that had upset her; she'd been called that and worse, and it hadn't brought her to tears, it only made her angry. It was the fact that it was him, it was Lucius, nearly saying it that had hurt so much. And she realized in that moment that, in the short time they had been working together, she had come to care for the man. She'd somehow come to respect him for the changes he'd made in himself, admire him for his intelligence and his pride, and appreciate his bloody stubbornness.

Dear Merlin! She was falling in love with the man. A Slytherin! Again! How could this be happening? First Severus and now Lucius. Why couldn't she be attracted to a nice, steady, down-to-earth Hufflepuff? Maybe there was some kind of curse, a link, a secret attraction, between members of the two volatile houses. As unlikely as the pairings were, so many of her Gryffindor friends had ended up with Slytherins. Ron with Pansy, Neville with Millie, Ginny with Blaise, and Harry...dear, sweet Harry--was paired off with the ultimate Slytherin.

Hermione knew that whatever had set Lucius off, it wasn't whether to archive the Bagshot documents alphabetically or chronologically, but it was something that had happened at the Ministry earlier today. She knew she needed to get him to talk to her. But after the way he had stormed out earlier, she wasn't so sure he would even come back to work tomorrow. He might believe he had committed an unforgivable offense against her and decide not to return at all.

She decided she needed to find him...now...tonight. She gathered her things: her wand, her beaded bag that, even after all these years, she never went anywhere without, and her cloak. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Sweet Circe, she had no idea where Lucius lived. All she knew was that it was in a flat provided by the Ministry, somewhere he hated to be. Thinking for a moment, she considered Floo-calling Harry; as Lucius' sponsor he would most likely know his address. But then she would have to explain why she was so desperate to find him after working hours. Then in a palm-to-forehead moment, she rushed back to her desk and pulled out his employment papers. There it was: 310 Belladonna St. #4-C, Knockturn Alley.

Knockturn Alley? She hadn't even realized there were flats for rent there, much less something suitable for the Ministry's purposes. Copying the address down on a scrap of paper, she rushed off, hoping that Lucius had gone home to his flat and wasn't out somewhere drowning his sorrows. She didn't fancy hanging around in that neighborhood waiting for him to come home. She briefly considered asking Harry to go with her, but quickly rejected the idea, as it would require to her to explain why she was bothering to look for Lucius at this time of night. No, she would have to go alone.

She Apparated to Diagon Alley and discreetly checked the Leaky as well as a couple of the small pubs that had popped up in the Alley in recent years. But there was no sign of Lucius in any of them. With a sigh, she transfigured her deep russet robes to black and pulled the hood up over her head as she headed for Knockturn Alley.

She paused at the entrance; it was a scary place to enter even during the daytime, but at night it was terrifying. Gathering her Gryffindor courage about her and pulling the hood even further forward to hide her face, she ventured forth.

About halfway down the first block, she saw a man standing in the street leaning against a lamppost. Approaching him, she asked in a raspy voice, "Where's Belladonna Street?"

Eying her closely, trying to see her face within the depths of her hood, he sneered, "Who's wantin' to know, deary? Information around here ain't free, and it don't come cheap neither."

In a flash her wand was at his throat. "It's none of your concern who wants to know, now is it, deary? Is your life a high enough reward? It's a simple question; answer me and I'll let you live." She'd learned from Severus never to show fear, never let 'em see you sweat. When under the gun, stay cool, calm, and collected.

The slimy little bastard trembled beneath her wand. "Sorry. Sorry, mum..." The little worm was singing a different tune now. "Belladonna's clear at the back of the Alley. Go down to the end and turn right down Nightshade, and go almost to the end. Belladonna only goes to the left."

Hermione patted the thug's shoulder and replied, "Now, that's a good boy, I knew you could be polite and helpful with the proper motivation. Here, sonny..." she handed him a coin. "Here's a sickle for your trouble. Remember, you didn't see me here tonight."

"No, mum, no. I din't see nothin', I din't. Nothin' a'tall," he mumbled.

"Good boy," she whispered as she pressed another sickle into his palm before he stumbled away into the darkness.

"Oh, fuck," whispered Hermione to herself. "Of course, it simply has to be in the deepest, darkest, skankiest corner of Knockturn Alley. No wonder Lucius hates living there; I really do despise the Ministry."

Hermione carefully made her way, keeping to the shadows, avoiding contact with anyone loitering around. Once she turned down Nightshade, the atmosphere became even more dark and oppressive. She got the creepy-crawlies; it felt as if eyes were watching her from every corner, as if there were hands just waiting to grab her and do Merlin knew what to her. It was all she could manage not to bolt and run screaming back the way she had come. When she started down Belladonna Street, she felt a cold bead of sweat slipping down the center of her spine and she suppressed a shudder.

"Almost there...almost there, just a few more minutes. Oh, sweet Circe, Lucius better be there, or I am truly screwed, blued, and tattooed," she muttered under her breath. She had no idea what the phrase meant at all, but her Grampa Granger used to say it a lot when when he was in deep shit with Grams. It seemed to fit the occasion.

Using her a wand to cast a very dim Lumos, as she didn't want to draw attention to herself, she checked the numbers. Address number 310 turned out to be a little more than a dosshouse; the sign out front said, 'rooms to rent, cheap: by the hour, day, week or month.' It was situated between what appeared to be a bordello on one side, if the ladies lolling about in the doorway and leaning against the building were any indication, and a pawn shop on the other side; the proprietor, sitting out front and having a fag, looked to be part troll and not someone to be messed with. That explained how he managed to stay in business in such a rough part of town.

Happy to get off the street, Hermione entered and looked around the lobby of the boarding house. It was horrid, absolutely horrid. To think of Lucius...proud, refined, cultured, pureblooded Lucius...her Lucius...in this dismal place made her want to choke someone. And it might be him. Why hadn't he said anything to her or to Harry? If Harry had known, he never would have allowed him to live in this pigsty for as long as he had.

She stepped up to the counter and rang a tinny sounding bell sitting there. There were rustlings behind a doorway covered by a curtain, and finally, a scrawny pimple-faced young man, who reminded her a bit of Stan Shunpike, stepped through. He was buttoning up his trousers, and he slapped a faded and well-worn copy of Play Wizard on the counter. It was opened to the centerfold of a busty blonde witch, and that left nothing to the imagination as to exactly what he'd been doing in the back room.

"Yea, whaddaya want?" he snarled.

Keeping her hood up, Hermione grimaced and using the tip of her wand, she shoved the magazine over the back of the counter onto the floor. "Malfoy's room. Where is it?" she asked in the same raspy voice she'd used earlier.

"I ain't allowed to give that out withouts his say so."

Hermione's wand angled subtly until it was pointing directly at the clerk's crotch. She said nothing, but her toe began to tap impatiently.

"Errrr... But I suppose fer a lovely lady such as yerself... Up the stairs, third floor, number four. It's in the back, on the right."

She walked back toward the bottom of the stairs. Her wand never wavered, and she kept staring at him until he bent and picked up his 'reading' material and ducked back behind the curtain. Heaving a sigh, Hermione moved quickly up the stairs. Luckily, she encountered no one on her way, although she did hear some very odd noises behind several of the doors. Not wanting to know, she just hurried to the third floor.

Reaching her goal, she paused to catch her breath, clutching her hand to her chest, as if that alone would quiet the pounding of her heart. Finally, assured that she could breath without gasping, she proceeded down the hallway until she came to number four. She tapped lightly on the door, not wanting to call attention to herself from any of the other rooms. No one answered, so she tested the doorknob. It was locked, of course, and she could sense Lucius' wards in place. She laid her forehead against the cool wood and suppressed a little sob.

"Lucius, please be in there, please answer the door. Please, Lucius, please," she whispered desperately. Taking a chance, she knocked a little harder.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" crooned a slick voice behind her, from the doorway across the hall. She detected a bit of accent...Irish maybe. "What a juicy little peach you are, Tidbit. What's a sweet little thing like you doing in a place like this, and what might yer business with his lordship be?"

Hermione's heart sank, but she squared her shoulders, and with Severus' mantra 'never show fear' ringing in her ears, she turned to face her adversary. There stood a great bull of a man, salt and pepper hair hanging lankly to just above his collar. He had a sneer on his lips and a patch over one eye covering a scar that bisected his face from above his left eyebrow clear through the patch to mid cheek on the right side.

She replied coldly, "My business here is no concern of yours, sir. I suggest you return to your room, close the door, and forget you ever saw me."

He stared at her through the gloom of the hallway, as if he were trying to get a glimpse of her, but her hood was still in place, pulled well forward to hide her features. He responded with a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, you are a feisty one, sweet thing. But I do like my girlies feisty, I do. By the time I'm done with 'em, though, there's hardly ever any fight left to 'em."

He made a menacing move toward her and Hermione's wand instantly appeared in her hand, pointed directly at his heart. "I said return to your room. If you value your life, you will leave me alone."

"Is that supposed to scare me, little girl? I gobble up sweet, juicy little peaches like you for breakfast."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you should be afraid, very afraid. You see, I have battled monsters far, far worse than you and won. I grind up putrid little pukes like you and toss them in the gutter where they belong. Now get the fuck away from me, and I'll forget that you bothered me; otherwise, I will make you very sorry you ever thought to look my way."

His eyes shifted down the hallway, but suspecting a trick, Hermione kept her wand aimed directly at him. She heard the distinctive click of dragonhide boots coming towards her, and hoping beyond hope that it was who she thought, she dared a quick glance and was relieved to see Lucius approaching. He stepped between her and the hulk in the opposite doorway. Hermione still didn't lower her wand, but instead, she stepped slightly to the side and kept it trained on him, making sure he knew he was still in her sights.

"Mordecai, are you harassing my guest?" asked Lucius smoothly.

"Harassing, Lucius? No, of course not. Admiring is more like it, and a lovely little tidbit she is," responded the man.

"Indeed," was Lucius' only response.

"Whatever you paid for her, I'll gladly double it," he offered genially.

Hermione huffed in indignation.

"The lady is a friend and definitely not for sale, Mordecai. Not at any price"

The brute looked disappointed and looked for moment as if he might argue the point.

"You'd best take her at her word, Mordy. She's a very powerful witch, and she truly has battled monsters far worse than either of us... and won."

The man looked from her to Lucius and back and finally gave a slight nod and retreated into his room. He paused before closing the door to add, "If you ever change yer mind, Lucius, I'll give you three times whatever you think she's worth. She is a lovely little peach."

"She is indeed, old friend. You may be sure I'll keep the offer in mind," replied Lucius.

As the door clicked shut, he rounded on Hermione. "What the fuck were you thinking! Coming down to this godforsaken place in the middle of the night is sheer madness," he snarled in a gruff whisper.

"I..."

"Shut up! Don't say anything until we get inside; it's not safe to stand around out here and chit-chat. Keep your eyes open while I dismantle the wards, and especially keep an eye on Mordecai's flat. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

TBC