The Illustrated Death of Lucius Malfoy

THREE

"I'd like the key to the Muggle section, please," Draco asked the librarian.

She looked at him as if he had asked to invite an elephant to tea. "And why do you want that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Research for a paper I'm publishing," he replied.

"On what sort of topic?" She pushed up her glasses with one finger.

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a folded note. "Muggle family structure and common traditions. I have a note here." He slid the paper across the desk.

The librarian picked up the note, unfolded, and read it. "Ah. Well, I wager that I cannot argue with a note from a House Head." An eyebrow raised, she handed Draco a large key upon a chain. "Do not tarry too long."

Smirking, Draco went to a locked door that stood next to the gates of the Restricted Section. He inserted the key in the keyhole, unlocked the door, let himself in, and closed the door behind him.

The room lit up. He found himself at the top of a stone staircase that led into a very dry underground chamber with a dirt floor. The books upon the stone bookshelves were garishly coloured, some with flimsy covers.

He paused at the bottom of the staircase, noting the silence in the room. No growls, no invitations - these books do nothing. How boring, he thought.

Suddenly, Draco saw movement out of the corner of one eye. He turned, and saw a dwarf filing books upon a shelf.

"Don't mind me," the dwarf said. "Just putting away some books."

"Who are you?" Draco inquired.     Â

"Maccius Flitwick. My brother is a professor here."Â Â Â Â

Draco said, "Yes. I know your brother." He scanned over the books before looking back to the small man. Â Â Â Â "Can you help me?"Â Â Â Â Â Â

"Depends on what you're looking for." Maccius turned to look at him, holding a thin orange book in both hands. "We don't get very many students looking for Muggle books - not even the Muggleborn students. Of course, these are more of research interest than reading for pleasure. What can I help you find?"

"I need to discover information on a Muggle that's still living. Someone that may not be in a book. Information on her family and birth and such." Draco perused the titles as he spoke, and found that he was looking at a section of cookbooks.Â

"Well, you won't find it there, that's for sure. How much money do you have, son?" Maccius inquired.

Draco turned to face the older man. "What?"

"How much money do you have? Answer the question." Maccius slid his book into one of the shelves.

"A lot," Draco replied. "Is that what it takes?"

"Perhaps." Maccius stroked his white beard, appearing in great thought. "What are you looking for?"

Draco stepped forward. "There's a Muggleborn student at this school that - you could say that she's gone too far. I need information on her - her history - her parents."

"Ah." Maccius leaned against a bookshelf. "I see. It's revenge you want, is it?"

"Call it fighting fire with fire," Draco answered.

Maccius nodded slowly. "Fire with fire." He stared at Draco silently for a long moment before speaking. "I should tell you that such use of research was improper. But as you can see, my entire life is this room, below ground, in the dark, reading the babblings of the magically incapacitated -" He waved a hand around the room. "Hideously boring. I was a researcher, once. Now, a librarian. Your little project would be rather diverting."

"You'd help me?" Draco's eyes widened.

"Of course."

Draco continued, "And not tell your - ah - brother? Or anyone else?"

Maccius smiled. "For a price."

"Oh. Of course." Draco reached into his pockets. "I've never heard of a staff member asking for money to aid a student."

"And I've never heard of a student being so frank with a staff member about breaking school rules, let alone a few laws." The little man's smile deepened into a smirk.

"Fair enough. How much for the information I requested?" Draco pulled out a handful of change, which he kept tucked into his palm.Â

"Ten galleons for the job. Ten more for my silence."

Draco returned the money to his pocket. "How quickly can I have it?"

"Ten more - you can have it by tomorrow. All I need is the Muggleborn's name and that of her parents," Maccius stated, glancing down at his fingernails.

"I have a galleon." Draco retrieved the largest of the coins from his pocket. "I can get you fifteen more immediately. The balance when I receive the goods."

"I want all up front. I know who you are. You have a father worth fifty million galleons upstairs. He probably carries the entire lot in his pockets." Maccius pointed toward the ceiling.

"How am I to trust that you won't take the lot to Dumbledore and alert him to this?" Draco snapped, beginning to feel impatient.

"You have to take that risk." Maccius shrugged. "I do not deny that your father could easily acquire the same information, but it will take far longer than I am capable of working. By that time, the opposing fire may have consumed you. Are you willing to risk failure?"

Not like his brother at all, Draco thought. More like a Slytherin than a Ravenclaw... "Of course not." Draco flipped the galleon to the older wizard, and he caught it. "I will return with the rest."Â

"Wait, young Malfoy," Maccius said as the young wizard started up the stairs. "You will meet me in the antechamber leading outside of the castle tonight at midnight. Come a minute after midnight, and you will find me gone. I will deliver the documents to you personally."

"How?" Draco asked as he continued to back up the stairs.

"Bring the money. We will discuss the how later."

Draco finished recounting the story of what had transpired between he and Maccius to his father. Breathlessly, he added, "This wizard...he could be of great use."   Â

Lucius merely stared in silence, face very blank. Then he said, slowly, "You do realize that he could go straight to Dumbledore. Or his brother. Or the Ministry of Magic."Â Â Â Â Â Â

"Yes, but -"

"You will not pay this man any money. You will not meet him." Lucius rose from his desk as he spoke. "No -" He stopped short. "I've changed my mind. You will go and pay him. You will not use real money however. That is, not all of it will be real."

Draco's eyes lit up. "Brilliant!"

"I will place a charm upon one of the coins. If he betrays you, I will simply activate it." Lucius snatched up his walking stick. "I have nothing that could create such a charm here, however. I will walk to Hogsmeade and then apparate back to the manor. Do you wish me to bring you anything from home?"

"No, thanks." Draco replied.

"I will meet you after dinner. The charm should not take long once I find the correct one in my books." Lucius gestured toward his son, and Draco went through the door and out into the hall. Lucius closed and locked the door to his quarters, and they parted ways in silence.

This could be trouble, Lucius mused. I do not recall the Muggle section having its own librarian. Then again, I never had any reason to be in the Muggle section. The thought never even crossed my mind. Perhaps this Maccius has been here all along? Not all of the staff at Hogwarts comes to meals. Few of them come to every one. He turned a sharp corner and entered another hallway, and hit something very hard.

In a flurry of robes, Lucius staggered backwards, and discovered that he had run directly into a small Gryffindor girl. "Watch where you're going!" He snapped, then watched as she lost her balance and grabbed hold of him. "OW! Mind the hair!"

"I'm sorry, Professor - er - Mr. Malfoy." She gulped, her face whitening as she backed up slowly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your carelessness. I do not want to see running in the halls." Lucius growled. "I have a mind to take more for your mauling of my person."

"I'm very sorry." Her lower lip quivered. "I won't do it again."

"You'd better not," Lucius said in a low voice. "Your name?"

"Lucilla Waters, sir." Her eyes filled with tears.

Nice name, he mused. That's enough. If this child falls apart, I won't know what to do. "Run along, Miss Waters," he said gruffly, then passed her, heading toward the main corridor.

Draco glanced at his watch as he turned down a wide hallway that led to one of the second floor  staircases. Just enough time to return to my room for a bit of a nap. He yawned, found the stair, and started down it.Â

He looked down, and upon the landing, heading in his direction, was Hermione Granger. She paused, her hands closing around the strap of her bookbag. Their eyes met.

A flurry of robes pushed past him. "Hermione! Hermione!" A small girl piped up. "I've been looking all over for you."

Hermione shook her head, as if she had awaken from a daydream. "Hallo, Lucilla. We'll chat later, all right? I have a meeting with Professor Flitwick, and I'm already late."

Draco continued down the staircase. Sleep. Must have some sleep...even thirty minutes...

"But what about - you were supposed to tutor me in potions." The girl named Lucilla grabbed Hermione's hand. "You promised."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes rounded. "Thank you for reminding me. Can we reschedule for after dinner?" She withdrew her hand and put it immediately into the pocket of her robes. "I promise I won't forget." She glanced at Draco as he passed. "I'll get your head stuffed with so much information, that when we get a new potions professor, his socks will be blown off."

Draco began to trot down the stairs to the second floor, now no longer feeling sleepy. Oh yes. They're up to something. Lucilla. Looks like a first-year. Yes. I will remember her name well.

He snickered to himself as he passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the way to a set of stairs that in the late afternoons led directly into the dungeons. Hermione Granger, what a terrible actress you are, he thought.

   Â

When Draco returned from Defense Against the Dark Arts class the very next day, he discovered a small box sitting upon his bed.

He lifted the lid very carefully. Inside was ten galleon coins, as well as a sealed letter. Sliding a finger beneath the wax seal, Draco opened the envelope, pulled out the small card within, and read it.

Found a rather nasty bit of information, but thought you would prefer the entire story. Will take longer. Returned ten galleons in good faith. Will contact you when prepared.

The letter was unsigned. Draco placed the ten galleons in his pocket, then took his wand, tapping the letter. "Inflamare," he whispered, and the card burst into flames. He waited until it burned down to his fingertips, then one single puff of breath caused it to extinguish.

Longer, he thought, leaning back on his bed. Any longer and I will be gone for Christmas holidays.

He sighed, adjusting the pillow beneath his head. December twentieth. On that day, I will become a man. Dad won't be able to treat me like a child any longer. Shivering, he shifted under the covers, pulling them up around his neck. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, and Draco sighed, nestling into the pillow. Closing his eyes, Draco immediately began to drift off.

"Mr. Malfoy?" A squeaky voice caused his eyes to pop open. Just above the level of his mattress, two yellow eyes blinked at him.

Draco snapped, "What is it?"

"Message for you, sir." The house elf shoved a sealed envelope onto the bed, then scampered away.Â

"Hm." Draco sat up, taking the envelope into his hands. It, like the one he had found in the wooden box, was rather plain; it looked like any one of a million sets of stationary that he had seen. Unsealing it quickly, Draco slid a small piece of paper out and perused it quickly.

Come to the Astronomy Tower tonight at one AM. Come alone.

Like the last letter, it was also unsigned. Draco grinned and took wand into hand once again, burning it as he had his last.

"I see that you were quick, Maccius," he said to himself. Blowing out the embers, he tossed them into a wastebasket, and happily laid back upon the bed.

Under the moonlight, Draco crept up the ladder that led to the Astronomy tower. Upon reaching the  upmost floor, he crawled onto it, stood up, then closed the trap door.

The large telescope, thicker than Draco himself and as long as a Norwegian Ridgeback, stood in the center of the room, tilted at a forty-five degree angle. Through the glass ceiling, stars and a full moon cast cold light into the room, creating long shadows of the furniture and telescope upon the stone floor.

In one of the shadows, Draco saw movement. He began to grin widely, but soon realized that the figure approaching him was not Maccius Flitwick at all.

Instead, Hermione Granger walked silently toward Draco. She held something in a hand, a file folder of some sort that she clasped to her breast as if were a shield.

"You?" Draco's face fell. "What do you want?"

"To make a bargain with you." Her face was cold, still, unreadable, and as the blue light caressed it, she appeared almost like a corpse.

Draco scoffed, "A bargain? What could you possibly have that I could want?"

"Information," she replied.

Dear Merlin. She has the information I requested. Dad will have Maccius killed for this - Draco stepped backwards. "What sort of information? I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione lowered the file slowly, holding it in both hands. "I'd like to state my terms before I tell you."

"I'd like to know what you have there." Up her ante, Draco thought. If she has the information I requested from Flitwick's brother, then I can bargain for it.

"I have concrete proof of your father's Death Eater activities." Brown eyes showed no emotion.

Draco knew that his face had begun to betray him, that the things of which she spoke were of his worst fears. "What, did you and Potter dig up some mad old witch who claimed to know my father? Or has Sirus Black  been hurling around accusations again?"   Â

"I have scientific proof."Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â

"Scientific, my arse. Whatever you have, the Ministry of Magic will never believe it," Draco snapped. "What can an eighteen year old witch produce that is any sort of evidence?"

Her pale hand lowered, as did the file, toward the level of her waist. It was an almost mechanical gesture. "Biological evidence that your father participated in the ritualistic rapes. A paternity test that proves that he fathered a child with a Muggle woman."

Draco heard his heartbeat rise in his ears. "He would - never -"

"He did," Hermione replied. "I know this, because your father is mine."Â

Dead silence fell upon the tower with such profundity that Draco could hear his own breathing change to desperate gasps. "No. It can't be," he heard himself say, as if controlled by another. "No."

"It is." Hermione stepped once again toward him, then stopped. "As I said, I have proof."

"But they - they - no - you're lying!" Draco gasped. "Dad would never -" Was this what happened? He wondered. A desire for such superiority that we sully ourselves with their bodies? A wave of nausea hit him.

"I will state my demands," Hermione continued. "I wish to form an alliance with you. You and me. You do not need to answer to Harry or Ron. Only I to you, and you to me." Still, her face betrayed no emotion.

"Give me that file." Draco fought back the tears.

Hermione held it out. "No tricks," she said in a low voice. "There is another copy of the results of the test. I believe you remember how to read blood matches on sanguine paper?"

Draco opened the file, and two fragments of red paper fell into his hand. He held both up to the light, matching the blue lines upon each. Tears filled his ears as he realized how much they matched. "Where - where -" he sputtered.

"I used a sample of Lucius's hair. I have wizarding blood in me," Hermione continued. "That's not all. I have signs of genetic defects that are common when bloodlines are recrossed. In other words, with your - our family's inbreeding - we are actually more defective than we realize."

Lowering both hands, Draco gazed at the bushy-haired young woman who stood across from him. He saw the paleness of her skin, the upsweep of the nose, the hard-formed jaw - Yet the rest looked foreign to him. Imperfect. We are imperfect in our perfection, he thought, blinking back tears.

"What will you do if I refuse your alliance?" Draco asked, voice soft, almost musical. "Give the papers to the Ministry, will you?"

"No." Hermione's lips turned up in a small sneer. "I have a far worse sort of thing in mind. I will seek out another Muggleborn wizard - one whose power is great - and I will give this file to him."

"You'd give it to Voldemort," Draco stated. "Voldemort would kill you after he killed my - our - father -"Â

"Perhaps." A small laugh escaped Hermione's lips. "But I don't mind, really. My parents' marriage ended because of my birth. The father that I knew couldn't give my mother any children. Then she was kidnapped in the middle of the night. She was not raped over and over as some Death Eaters did to their Muggle captives. She was kept for Voldemort's captain alone as a reward for his dedication and loyalty." She laughed again, and one single tear fell down her cheek. "I know the whole story. After my Mum told me that I was born of rape, I drugged her with truth serum. Wait - it gets better, Draco."

"You're mad," Draco whispered. He backed up, stumbling into a chair.

Hermione laughed even louder, tears now covering her face. "She never saw his face. He wore his mask the entire time, but she saw his body. She saw his hair - longer than any other man's that she had known before. She told the police that she had been kidnapped by a cult - but they could find no such cult - because none existed, did it?" She began to sob. "She knows, Draco. I began to suspect it that day in Diagon Alley - do you recall it? You were there. When your father met my parents - how my mother looked at your father. After Cedric Diggory was killed by the Death Eaters, Mum started to suspect that one of them had been my father - she told me to be vigilant - to never go near a Slytherin boy - but she never told me why -"

"No." Draco found himself crying. "No." He looked up suddenly. "What are you playing at? Why do you want to do this? He - you - "

Hermione shook her head. "The man that raised me is gone. My father could no longer take the pain, knowing that I was a reminder of what had happened to his wife when they were first married - he left her and me - he left us -" Hermione dropped the empty file, wrapping her arms around herself. "Your father - Lucius Malfoy - he did this - to us - to all of us -"Â Â

"He's a good man -" Draco said through his tears, pointing at the quivering figure. "He did nothing to me - You have nothing to do with me -"Â Â Â Â

"I can take our father away from the world." Hermione quieted, staring at the Slytherin prefect. "I have  nothing left to lose. I was never supposed to be born. You've spent all of your days reminding me of that, haven't  you?"

He bolted up from the chair, hand to his face. He said nothing, yet his head was whirling. All I have known is dust and ash. No. All that I believed in is illusion. Smoke. I have nothing left to believe. He went to the window, his back to Hermione.

"Draco, what is your choice?" Hermione whispered.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, slowing his breathing. "Can I think about it?" He answered.

"No," the Gryffindor prefect replied. "Christmas is coming. I have suicide notes written. I must know whether I will be spending Christmas with Harry Potter or with Tom Riddle."

"I will not become friends with Potter and Weasley," Draco spat.

He heard Hermione's robes rustle, and realized that she approached him. "No. All I ask is that you be my brother. Because you are."

"You're Muggleborn." Draco's voice was barely above a whisper.

"And I'm family." She placed a hand upon his back, and he flinched, but did not make a move to remove it. She began to stroke his back with wide movements, and instead of being disgusted, he felt suddenly calm. "Your big sister, Draco."

"I want to do another test." Draco turned to face her, and her hand dropped. "As soon as possible. My blood against yours."

"Fair enough." The smile weakened somewhat. "Is that a yes, Draco?"

He dropped his gaze and nodded. His head felt heavier than normal, as if a great weight stood upon his shoulders. I have saved Dad from the fire, he thought, and now cast him into the frying pan.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "I would like you and I to talk before Christmas. You and I. Tomorrow?"

"About what?" Draco could not raise his head.Â

"I want to learn about our family. I want the chance to know you, Draco."

He only was aware of the floor beneath him. "How?"

"How?" Hermione inquired. "We'll talk - and you'll tell me -"

Draco shook his head, finally raising it. "That's not what I meant. I have been nothing but cruel to you. Not once in six years have I put a kind word in your direction. In fact, I'd effectively say that I hated you, Hermione. Why would you want anything to do with me?"

"You said that you hated me. Past tense. That is why." She patted his arm, then pulled her hand away. "I Â can see that you are a man that is capable of change."

"That's not it at all. How do you know that I don't still hate you?" Draco asked, his eyes gracing her tearstained face. "Why do you still care about me?"

"Perhaps it is the Gryffindor in me." She stared at Draco for a moment before crossing to the trapdoor. Tugging on the handle, the door opened, and she lay it upon the ground.

"And giving your biological proof to Voldemort? What is that?" The young man shot back with little venom, his voice weak, nearly dead.

"How many generations of Malfoys have been in Slytherin?" Hermione slipped into the hole, leaving her upper body above it.

"Since we were the Morods. When Hogwarts was established. Hadrian Morod was the first Potions professor here." Draco recited the facts that he had been taught as a child.

"There's your answer, then." Her eyes shone in the near darkness. "The Slytherin in me. Goodnight, Draco. I'll see you after dinner in my lab." She vanished through the hole and into the night.