Chapter 36

Chapter 36

'So far, so good.'

Severus had made no comment about the contents of the room, only raising an eyebrow at him when they reached the Pensieve in the centre of Lucius's... sanctuary, for lack of a better word.

Of course, the real danger would be when they left the room, as the incriminating shelf was right next to the door. Perhaps he could change the names on the shelf while Severus investigated the memory? No, that would be too suspicious. Severus would expect him to want to see the contents of the vial he upended into the Pensieve. With that in mind, Lucius reached out to touch the swirling silver inside the marble basin at the same time as Severus.

After the disorientating whirl of entry into the memory, Lucius found himself with Severus at his side in a vast library, reminiscent of both his own and that at Hogwarts.

Beyond them, Hermione was reaching for a book, only to have it slapped out of her grip by...

Impossible.

Narcissa.

How? Was it so that she and Hermione could say goodbye to their respective beloveds? If so, they really should leave the memory for later. Severus would want to stay at Hermione's side until the end, and Lucius himself should be there to support him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. Odd that Severus showed no signs of leaving either...

Or perhaps not so odd. Narcissa only spoke to Hermione. Oh. How disappointing. She was there for Hermione, to stop her from crossing the threshold to death before her time. He could hardly begrudge her keeping Hermione alive. If she had no words for him, then he would instead immerse himself in the bittersweet sting of being in her presence.

Of seeing her again, caressing her familiar, slender, beautiful body with his eyes. He pulled back his hand before his fingers could follow the same path, before stark reality could interfere. As a memory she would be more intangible than a ghost; at least there was an unpleasant chill when flesh moved through ectoplasm. Here there would be nothing.

He sighed, focusing instead on her voice. Would she be there, waiting for him when he died? Her voice, whispering sweet nothings to him rather than talking urgently to Hermione about...

Wait.

What?

Not a plague? What, then? What had taken his Narcissa from him?

He glanced guiltily at where Severus stood, fists clenched and white-knuckled, his dark eyes only on Hermione.

Whatever it was, it would also take Hermione from Severus.

"What killed me and countless other witches – what is about to kill you – is a curse, the Dark Lord's last revenge against the living."

Lucius exchanged a perplexed look with Severus, both frowning, before they returned their gazes to their witches. A curse? Impossible. Even the Dark Lord was incapable of something of this magnitude. Wasn't he?

"If this is Voldemort's...oh, get over it, as you say, you're dead, and so is he!" Hermione's voice rose in irritation as Narcissa flinched at the name of the Dark Lord. "As I was saying, if this curse was Voldemort's handiwork, why didn't he do it in life and kill off all Muggle-borns?"

"This is no ordinary curse, but one last malevolent act with all of the Dark Lord's will and power behind it. A death curse, I suppose you could say."

Lucius's frown deepened. Impossible...

"I've read about those. They only cause bad luck, they don't kill."

"When inflicted by your average Dark wizard, yes. But the Dark Lord was never ordinary, least of all by the end. He was something inhuman, warped by his shattered, fragmented soul. His vengeance was something..." Narcissa grimaced, wrestling a book back onto a shelf. "...special."

"You said Harry had a near death experience like this. Why don't others who nearly died know about this? I know the cure stops plague – well, curse – patients from remembering it, but what about other causes? I was poisoned and nearly died. Why don't I remember being here then?"

'Good question.' Why had this message of Narcissa's not been passed on before now?

"I told you, the curse's victims can only converse with those dying of the curse. We cannot share our knowledge with the other dead or living."

Lucius glanced at Hermione. She looked just as baffled as he did. "But... How do you know all this, then? If you can't converse with the other dead, how do you know..."

"We do not have time for this!" Narcissa pushed two books away with an impatient wave of her arms. They were coming faster, and now more than one at a time. All too soon she would not be able to keep Hermione from touching one. And then... Lucius flinched away from the thought.

"To understand, you would have to die first. I do not recommend it. Some knowledge comes at too high a price."

'I wish you could have stayed with me, too, my love.'

"Nor does death bring omniscience. I do not know precisely what the Dark Lord intended with this curse, only the cause and effect. Perhaps he aimed for Potter's beloved to die, but instead the curse was warped like its creator and affected all witches; I do not know." Narcissa looked away, lost in thought.

"Narcissa!" Hermione's panicked cry drew Narcissa's – and Lucius's – attention. An open book was in Hermione's hands, who strained to keep her head turned away and her eyes shut. Some unseen force was pulling her face back, and would doubtless open her eyes when she could no longer move her head.

Narcissa swore under her breath and snapped the book closed, disregarding Hermione's yelp of pain as it caught her fingers. Severus's hands passed through the book as she did. Lucius couldn't blame him for trying to intervene, even knowing he could do nothing.

He gripped Severus's shoulder. "She was alive, she'll be fine."

"For all we know she could be dead already. I didn't realise, Lucius, I thought she would be 'safe' until she reached the end of the time she'd calculated."

After shelving the book again, Narcissa kept her eyes on Hermione from that point on, within arm's reach of her should any more books attack. "Regardless of the Dark Lord's intentions, the fact remains that somehow you must pass on that it is a death curse, not a plague, and most importantly that the Dark Lord's body must be destroyed."

"Of course!" Severus slapped his forehead. "Damn you to hell, Albus!"

Lucius blinked. "What?"

"Later," Severus muttered.

The ladies were still talking. "...how do I pass it on?"

"That is the snag. You could not manage it before, nor remember when you recovered. Now you are nearly out of time."

Lucius watched as Narcissa fended off book after book as Hermione paced, deep in thought. Much as he appreciated seeing Narcissa's lithe body in action, those books were coming far too close to Hermione for comfort.

"Severus managed to do something similar once. After Nagini bit him, he leaked some memories. But he was conscious."

"That is your only hope." Narcissa strained to keep three books away at once. "Do it quickly."

"But how?"

"I don't know!" Narcissa snapped, her hair dishevelled by her struggles. "You're supposed to be the brightest witch of your age. Prove it!"

Hermione stopped pacing in front of Narcissa, inadvertently blocking Lucius's view. She reached into her pocket and drew her wand, surely an imaginary construct. Unless her wand was still on her body? Lucius couldn't remember if she'd been changed into nightclothes or not. Even if she still had it, this was inside her head. Wasn't it?

"I've never removed a memory before. Have you?"

Narcissa must have nodded. "Hold the wand tip to your temple and think of the memory. Slowly pull the wand away and the memory will come away with it. Don't think of anything else or it will fail, and you'll get a nasty headache. Not that it can matter – that's not a real wand."

Hermione put her wand to her temple regardless. "Really? It's as real as anything else here. Are you telling me those lethal books are a figment of my imagination? Are you?"

"No, they are as real as you are, but you cannot be physically holding that..."

The memory ended, depositing Lucius and Severus back into his sanctum in a disorientating whirl. Real wand or not, Hermione must have managed to extract the memory at that point. Impressive.

By the time Lucius started moving, Severus was halfway to the doorway of the not-so-secret room and at the threshold when a nagging question occurred to Lucius. "What did you mean? About damning Dumbledore to hell?"

Severus paused, stiffening, his head turned almost as if to look back at him when he continued out into Lucius's study, approaching the fireplace.

'Time and a place, idiot. Now is not it. The Dark Lord's mortal remains must be found and destroyed before Hermione dies.'

Even as he reached for the Floo powder, Severus raised his other arm to check a Muggle watch strapped to his wrist. "Not now. Hermione has maybe ten minutes left, provided none of those books get past Narcissa."

"But what became of the Dark Lord's body?"

"Shacklebolt should know." He threw the Floo powder into the fireplace, green flames roaring up in readiness.

Lucius glanced at his desk, and back at Severus. He lunged forward, dragging him back before Severus could step into the fireplace. "We need more time..."

Severus pushed him away. "We don't have it! Stay with Hermione."

"But..."

"I hold you to your promise. Don't leave her side, in case..." He shuddered and stepped forward again into the fireplace.

"Wait!"

"The Minister of Magic's Office!" Severus vanished in a roar of green flames.

Lucius staggered over to his desk and slumped down into his chair. "It's down to me, then," he muttered, and pulled open his warded desk drawer. He reached inside, retrieving a dose of Polyjuice, an eyelash in a labelled vial, an envelope containing a letter in his own hand, and a unique necklace, the last of its kind.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt paused, fingers still clenched around his handful of Floo powder. He frowned at his office fireplace. Was that a green glow? Shit, it was. He leapt aside, just in time, dodging both a cloud of soot and a body that shot out.

A non-verbal 'Tergeo' cleared the air and cleaned his guest, without risking a mangled incantation, coughing on a verbal attempt.

"Severus!" Kingsley dropped his handful of Floo powder. Calling his French counterpart could wait.

'Please have good news...' That hope died as soon as he met Severus's wild eyes. 'Oh, no...' More than ever, he wanted to forget his duties as Minister and be with Rolanda, like Gawain. But it was far worse for Severus. Hermione must be nearly out of...

Severus grabbed him by the collar, hauling him close until they were nose to nose.

"Where is Voldemort's body?"

Kingsley blinked. "In the Department of Mysteries. I think. Why?"

"Take me there." Severus released him.

Kingsley rocked back on his heels, unbalanced. "Wha..."

"Now," Severus snarled. He looked unhinged, the stubble on his normally clean-shaven jaw somehow making him look even more deranged.

"Follow me." He led the way to the lift, ordered the occupants off it, and used his Ministerial override to make it take them directly to Level Nine and the Department of Mysteries.

"It must be completely destroyed," Severus said as the lift started going down.

"What?"

"Voldemort's body. Because it's not a plague."

Kingsley gave Severus a strange look. "Of course it's not a...Oh. Not the body, you mean the plague." The disease that would kill all witches within the week. Including his Rolanda... Wait. Not a plague. "What in the name of Merlin is it, then?"

"It's a curse that mimics a disease." Severus started pacing like a caged Kneazle. "That's why nobody became immune. That's why no witch escaped it. A death curse, active as long as his body still exists."

"But... but that's impossible." Kingsley staggered and supported himself with a hand against the vibrating wall of the lift. "I did the spell to check for a curse signature myself. ...Wait, did you say death curse? They're a myth! Blamed for any of the victor's bad luck if their adversary dies."

"No, they exist. And as something far more serious than mere bad luck when that adversary was as twisted and inhuman as Voldemort."

Kingsley swallowed hard. Death curses, real... and serious. Lethal. Not a plague, but acting like one. Carried in the blood of witches. The only reason they hadn't died immediately must be that it took a while to build up to those lethal levels.

'Of course.' Why hadn't they seen it before? A curse. A pure creation of the Dark Arts. Like them, it was akin to a hydra. Unfixed. Mutating. Kingsley's breath caught as he remembered the last of those characteristics from his training as an Auror: Indestructible.

'No...' Severus must know what he was talking about. Just as most curses could be countered – save for the Killing Curse – destroying the caster would stop this curse. The alternative was unthinkable.

"Damn Dumbledore!" Severus stopped pacing and pounded his fists against the door. Or would have, if the door hadn't opened. He staggered outside into the corridor beyond, closely followed by Kingsley. "It must be why he made sure Voldemort's body was gone the first time around. Why didn't he warn anyone?"

"His portrait is a heavy sleeper... or perhaps it was a secret that died with Dumbledore? Portraits don't know everything their counterpart did." Kingsley opened the door to the Department of Mysteries and stepped inside. Ordinarily he'd let Severus go first, but the Unspeakables sometimes objected to his Ministerial access. Who knew what they'd make of a former Death Eater?

Inside, an Unspeakable stopped and glared at them. No, not at them, at him. "Minister? Haven't you disrupted us enough today already?" A woman's voice, dripping with contempt.

'Huh.' Scratch sometimes: Unspeakables always objected to his presence. 'Hang on...' "What? I haven't set foot in here for weeks!"

The Unspeakable snorted. "Try that excuse when you haven't made an unusual request to me not an hour ago." She pushed back her hood to reveal the lined face of an old woman. Yet her hands were youthful... some sort of time-travel experiment gone wrong? They were trying to recreate the Time-Turners, after all.

"Never mind that," Severus snapped. "We are here on urgent business. Where is Voldemort's body?"

The Unspeakable didn't flinch at the name, instead frowning. "The Minister should be able to tell you that, Snape. He's the one that insisted on taking it away. Something about disposing of it properly, saying we'd had enough time to research it and threatening cuts to our funding when I objected. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." The Unspeakable stalked off, slamming a door behind her.

Kingsley shook his head emphatically as Severus turned to look at him with accusing eyes. "I haven't left my office all morning!"

"Polyjuice," Severus stated, his voice a deadened monotone.

"Impossible!" As an Auror, he'd been careful about his nail clippings and magically removed his hair. "As a Minister, I remove all hair and dispose of it myself. My nail clippings too."

"Your eyebrows," Severus croaked. "You still have them." He leaned close. "Eyelashes too. Even if you had remembered those, it can be done with skin cells."

'Shit!' His hands shot to his eyelids. So obvious that he'd forgotten them. "We'll find it, Severus. I promise you, we will."

"Too late for Hermione." Severus raised his left arm, revealing his Muggle watch.

"We may yet be in time..."

Severus shook his head violently and jabbed a shaking finger at his watch. "Not unless we can find it in the next..."

"I know, it's nearly been two days. I'm so sorry, Severus," he said, with all of the sympathy – empathy – he could muster, as Rolanda would be on her deathbed soon if she wasn't already...

Severus said nothing, his eyes fixed on his watch. He didn't seem to be breathing.

"Severus?"

"Over two days ago," he finally whispered. "By four minutes."

"She might still be..."

"No. No, her Arithmancy... it's too late. Even if there is any leeway, by the time we find the body..." Severus tore off his watch and hurled it away, blasting it out of the air with his wand, scattering fragments of glass and gears across the floor.

Kingsley laid a tentative hand on his trembling shoulder. "Go home to her. I'll find the body and destroy it. I'm so sorry it will be too late for Hermione."

* * *

Hermione scrunched her eyes tight shut, her breathing unsteady.

"It's too late," Narcissa murmured from beside her. "I have no more influence here."

The book had passed straight through her to be caught by Hermione's unwilling hands, immediately falling open.

She had to resist the urge. She couldn't – must not – open her eyes. For her. For Severus. For Lucius, too. For both of them. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn't stop it any more than she could hold her breath indefinitely.

Her eyes opened.

* * *

Hermione...

Dead. Gone.

The walk from the entrance hall fireplace to their adjoining rooms had never been longer, that terrible knowledge echoing inside his mind, his Occlumency torn to shreds. His breath rasped in his ears, each step heavier than the last.

Her bedroom door at last loomed in front of him. Severus raised a shaking hand to the door handle, slowly turning the cold metal, cold dread a leaden weight in his heart. He couldn't hear her parents or Lucius. From outside, the room was as silent as the grave.

He opened the door and froze for a second as he took in the scene. He dashed inside, kneeling on the floor beside her parents. Helen lay sprawled partially on top of Will, his hands positioned as though he'd caught her before falling himself. Both alive, thankfully. Unconscious. No... Stunned.

Lucius... He promised. He promised he'd stay with her. How could he? How dare he?

"Severus! I know I have house-elves to clean it for me, but please don't trample soot all over my antique carpets." Lucius's voice came from behind him, outside in the corridor and getting closer. "Tergeo!" That drawling voice was right behind him now.

Even as the spell cleaned off the soot that must have been clinging to him since he'd Flooed back, Severus spun around and plucked the wand from Lucius's hands, tossing it aside.

"Sev..." He closed his hands around Lucius's throat, cutting him off.

Lucius gurgled, trying to speak, but Severus's grip was too tight. 'Good.'

"You left her to die alone," he snarled, hands tightening even more around Lucius's throat.

"Severus? Stop it! Let him...My parents! What happened to them?"

He froze at the sound of his name on Hermione's lips. Impossible. He let go of Lucius, turning back to stare at the bed. Hermione had thrown back the covers and struggled to get up, wide eyes fixed on her parents. She swayed on her feet.

Severus darted forward to catch her, almost tripping over her parents in his haste. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. Alive. She was alive, flesh and blood against him. Not a hallucination. Not a ghost.

She gently pushed him back to take his face in her hands, frowning up at him. "You look like hell. Have you slept at all since I collapsed?"

He ignored the question, cupping the back of her head as he bent down to capture her lips. She swayed even more by the time he drew away, his arms the only thing keeping her upright. Perhaps he should have tried to hold back the desperation in his kiss.

"You need a shave," she muttered, looking up at him with dazed eyes.

He winced. Was that whisker burn he'd inflicted on her delicate skin?

"Sorry," he murmured, gently settling her back in bed. "I've been... distracted."

She reached up to grip his hand. "Understandably. Now, my parents. Are they all right? And Lucius, why were you throttling him? What happened?"

"I Stunned them," Lucius admitted, his voice a little hoarse. "Allow me to revive them."

"You what?" Hermione shrieked, sitting bolt upright as though she wanted to lunge at Lucius and throttle him herself. "Where's my wand? Give me my wand and we'll see how you like being Stunned, you..."

"My apologies, but I did have my reasons." Lucius must have retrieved his wand and used non-verbal Rennervates, for Hermione's parents groaned in unison and sat up.

"You!" Helen scrambled to her feet and lunged at Lucius. Will managed to pull her back before she could do more than pull back her hand to slap him.

"You had better have a very good reason for what you did, Lucius," he said. "Or I will show you what a dentist is capable of. With no anaesthetic."

"He says he does have reasons, Dad. Mum, please calm down. We should hear him out."

"Hermione!" her parents chorused. "You're alive!" Helen raced over to her. Kissing her forehead, she beamed down at her daughter, joyful tears trickling down her cheeks.

"...awake! You managed to get rid of this curse, then, Severus!" Will clapped Severus on the shoulder.

"No, because an imposter of the Minister had stolen the body." Severus turned to look at Lucius, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I wonder who that could have been. But how?"

Lucius reached into his collar and pulled out a gold chain, until he held up the necklace on it. No, not a necklace. A Time-Turner?! Impossible.

"It all started with a letter..."

* * *

Do not give the Time-Turner to Severus. He would only work himself into the grave. Remember the risks: it would also create a paradox if he managed to create a cure for reasons I – you? – will soon know. You will know when the time has come to use the Time-Turner yourself. Or myself. Never mind the right pronouns! Remember that you cannot change what has already happened. For the past – future to you – to be changed, there can be no witnesses. Good luck.

Lucius put down the letter left by his future self, and picked up his Time-Turner. During his time as Fudge's bankroller, he'd managed to get his hands on one, unbeknownst to the Unspeakables and the Dark Lord. Perhaps he should have given it back to the Unspeakables after the Dark Lord's defeat so they could recreate more of them?

No matter. The important thing was that he had one. While he could not use the Time-Turner to take some of the cure back and give it to Narcissa – not when he knew all too well that she was dead – he could try to save Hermione, and by extension Ginny and all other witches.

He put the chain of the Time-Turner around his neck and upended the vial containing Shacklebolt's eyelash into the Polyjuice. He almost put it to his lips when he glanced again at the letter. Witnesses...

He capped the Polyjuice vial and pocketed it. Standing up, he drew his wand. He Apparated into Hermione's bedroom, where her parents immediately bombarded him with questions.

"What happened?"

"Where's Severus?"

"What was that silver stuff?"

He held up his hands. Mercifully, they fell silent, waiting for answers. "It was a memory. Hermione is currently on the threshold between life and death. There, one of the dead – my first wife, Narcissa – gave her some vital information, which Hermione let us know with that memory."

"You mean she's having an out of body experience? I hope you told her to stay away from the light."

Lucius blinked, nonplussed. "I suppose you could call it that... but it was a memory. It had already happened. We could only watch it in a magical device, not speak with her. But as we are fast running out of time," He glanced pointedly at where Hermione lay in bed, her breathing now even more laboured. "Please do not interrupt me."

"What was this message from your wife?"

"That the plague is the Dark Lord's last curse, and that his body must be destroyed to break it..."

"What?!"

'So much for not interrupting... if Hermione dies before I can go back in time, I can change nothing!'

"I know it sounds farfetched, but you must believe me when I say the Dark Lord was capable of this. Severus has gone to attempt to destroy the body and end the curse."

Her parents shook their heads as they tried to process the truth, outlandish as it seemed. Helen looked up sharply. "Attempt? You think he'll fail."

"Indeed. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Stupefy!" The Harridan fell down, to be caught by her husband. Lucius winced at Will's look of shocked betrayal before he Stunned him too. The Grangers fell to the floor.

Lucius turned away, resisting the impulse to make sure they were comfortable. They wouldn't be lying there for long.

"Dilly?" The house-elf appeared, squeaking with distress at the sight of the Grangers, sprawled on the floor. "Leave them! You and the other elves are to stay out of this room until I give you permission to return. Your Mistress's life depends on it." The elf obeyed instantly at those magic words.

Lucius turned to leave, before realising Hermione's cat-Kneazle hybrid was still awake. "The same goes for you!"

The cat eyed him balefully, but obediently jumped off the bed and trotted out through the door Lucius held open. Lucius followed him out and closed the door behind him.

He froze as a horrible thought occurred to him. 'The wards! They will alert me if she dies. I have to leave.' But he couldn't turn up at the Ministry as himself either, or before he went back in time. Too risky.

He took out his Polyjuice again and hurriedly gulped it down, grimacing at the taste: too sweet. He shuddered at the unpleasant sensation of his flesh shifting, growing slightly taller, his chest broader, arms more muscled, threatening to split the seams of his shirt under his robes. Lucius quickly Transfigured his clothes before any damage was done.

He frowned down at the deep crimson robes. Shacklebolt always dressed like this whenever he'd seen him, but what if he'd dressed in something different today? Oh well, nothing he could do but hope whoever he bumped into at the Ministry hadn't seen Shacklebolt yet.

Finally he pulled out the Time-Turner from where it had slipped beneath his robes. And paused. He needed to know when to destroy the Dark Lord's body and could not do it at a time when he knew Hermione was still affected by the plague. Curse. He pulled out his pocket watch and glared at it. 'You're not too late yet' was nowhere near specific enough. He was about to Transfigure it when he realised that when the Polyjuice wore off would serve to let him know when the right time was.

He stuffed his pocket watch back into his robes and fumbled with his Time-Turner, his fingers clumsy in their guise as Shacklebolt's larger, unfamiliar hands. His surroundings blurred until there was nothing but darkness. And then he was back in Hermione's room. He Disapparated before his past self or Hermione's parents could notice him.

* * *

At the Ministry, he did his best to swagger around like the Minister. When he got some odd looks from Shacklebolt's underlings, he toned it down a little. For a Malfoy, it was too easy to walk around as if he owned the place, which, come to think of it, was not how a man like Shacklebolt moved. After that, no one gave him a second glance. Hopefully Shacklebolt had dressed as normal, then.

He boarded an empty lift which fortunately took him directly to Level Nine with no one else attempting to get on. His voice should sound just like Shacklebolt's – same vocal cords, after all, in this Polyjuiced body – but there was no guarantee that he could speak like him. A Malfoy talked differently to other mortals. As such he should keep any talking to a minimum.

Lucius left the lift and strode into the Department of Mysteries, throwing the door open so that it banged against the wall. Shacklebolt's body was made for making an entrance.

An Unspeakable hurried out of one of the adjoining doors. "Minister, we're trying to work!"

He resisted the urge to look down his nose at the Unspeakable. 'Think Shacklebolt, not Malfoy. What would he say?'

"My apologies. Do you have the D..." 'Not Dark Lord! He wouldn't say that.' "V..." 'I can't say that!' "You-Know-Who's body?"

"Yes, Minister. Why?" The Unspeakable lowered her hood so that he could see her glower.

"I am afraid you must give it to me. It is high time it was properly disposed of."

"But Minister! You can't, we haven't finished our research..."

"I don't care!" Lucius snapped. "You've had over a year to carry out your research. If you think you have all the time in the world to do it, it's high time I cut the Department of Mysteries' funding."

The Unspeakable gasped, blanching. "Very well. Take the body, sir, but leave those funds alone."

"Bring it to me, then."

The Unspeakable did as she was told, grumbling under her breath all the while. Lucius took over the Mobilicorpus and walked the body out of the Department of Mysteries. He paused in the corridor beyond. He could hardly take it out through one of the fireplaces in the Atrium. It would be torn apart by an enraged mob, and ironically preserve the death curse as the scattered pieces would not be completely destroyed. Only Fiendfyre would be enough. Even a mob wouldn't dare use that.

A Portkey, then. The Manor would be able to fashion a suitable room for him to play with fire. He took out the empty Polyjuice vial, set it on the floor and tapped his wand to it. He steeled himself, grabbed hold of the Dark Lord's body and touched the vial.

The tugging sensation ended abruptly with a shock of cold water. He sat up, spluttering, and took in his surroundings. He'd landed in his back garden, in the shallow water of his ornamental fountain. Something brushed against him, and he looked down. Lucius yelped, shuddering in revulsion, and shoved the Dark Lord's body out of his lap.

He scrambled out of the fountain, dried himself off with jets of hot air from his wand, and waited until his trembling stopped and his breathing evened out. That was one memory that would haunt him at the worst possible moments. The Dark Lord's head, face down in his lap...

He shuddered again. Fellatio would be spoiled for life. Unless... He raised his wand to his head and tugged the strand of memory out. Now it was far less vivid in his head, at least. He let the memory evaporate in the air, unprotected from the gentle breeze.

Lucius turned back to the body and Levitated it out of the fountain. He dried it off. Bad enough that he had to take it inside, there was no need to have it dripping everywhere he dragged it.

He looked up at his home and frowned. What to do until he could destroy the body, besides have the Manor prepare the crematorium? Not his aviary just in case his owls tried to attack the body. Reducing it to owl pellets would not be enough. Fawkes might also do something unpredictable, and Lucius doubted even a phoenix could do what must be done.

The library it was, then, with a very disturbing reading companion.

* * *

It was time. He could feel his flesh bubbling as the Polyjuice wore off. Lucius Apparated himself and his guest to the newly prepared dungeon room, warded to rival Gringotts' vaults. He cut off the Mobilicorpus, the Dark Lord's body unceremoniously dropping to the floor.

He glared down at the body, unchanged from the day the Dark Lord fell, eyes open and rolled back in the skull, that horrible snakelike face vacant in death.

"For my wives," he spat, backing towards the door even as he raised his wand. "Burn in hell, my lord."

He leapt back as the room filled with white-hot flames. A slash of his wand, and the door slammed shut before the fire could do more than lick out at him. The searing heat sent him sprawling flat on his back, arm flung protectively over his face.

He frantically checked his face and hair. Still there... not even his eyebrows were singed. Lucius patted the floor affectionately. Good old Manor. The wards had held.

He got to his feet and tentatively reached out to touch the door. It felt hot but did not blister him. He stroked a finger down the door, tweaking the manor wards so that he could see through it.

The Dark Lord's body was no longer visible, engulfed by the Fiendfyre. Lucius transfigured his overlarge clothes back to normal and watched the flaming creatures dance until the wards twinged, notifying him of a wizard's arrival downstairs. Severus.

Lucius smiled. He turned away to make his way slowly on foot to Hermione's bedroom, so that Severus could find Hermione first. A pleasant surprise for him, for once, to find her alive. Maybe even awake.

That smile slipped from his face as he encountered the first of the soot stains.

"Severus!"

* * *

"Oh, Lucius!" the Harridan sobbed and flung her arms around his neck. "How can I ever thank you?" She peppered his cheeks with kisses. He grimaced, trying to wriggle free without offending his mother-in-law.

As soon as she let go, Will grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously until he thought it might drop off. "You saved my little girl. I can't thank you enough."

"I couldn't have done it without Hermione's memory. Or without Severus keeping her alive until now," Lucius muttered, eyeing Helen warily in case she pounced on him again. With any luck he could unleash her on the other two.

"Lucius," Hermione called from where she sat up in bed. "Thank you."

Will finally let go of him. Lucius massaged some feeling back into his hand and nodded at Hermione. "I only wish I could have done it sooner."

Severus let go of Hermione and stood up as her parents swarmed to her side. He strode over to Lucius and embraced him. "I know. I wish Narcissa could have been saved too." He clapped him on the back. "I'll explain things to Shacklebolt. You won't get charged for impersonating the Minister. You should get an Order of Merlin, although it's not enough for what you lost."

Lucius squeezed back, blinking back threatening tears. The dust must be irritating him. A Malfoy did not weep. "I know I can't get her back. But she'll be waiting for me, and in the meantime I have you two for company. You know what they say, all's well that ends well."

"Indeed," Severus murmured, leaning close so that his words would only be for Lucius. "Much as I am grateful for your saving Hermione's life, we are going to have a little chat about exactly why you have a shelf of memories labelled with my and Hermione's names."

'Or not so well...'

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, Septentrion and JunoMagic for betaing. Just the epilogue to go now, provided the plot bunny behaves himself.