The Beginning of the End

Chapter Seven: Warnings

Hermione woke up the next morning on her bed, dressed her white nightgown. She couldn't help but ask herself if last night ever happened, that it wasn't some dream. But she had to admit, it was a good dream. A very good dream.

Closing her eyes, she began to recollect the events of last night.

She and Gentleman Death had danced the night away. She didn't believe that someone could actually dance the night away, but they had done it well past one o' clock. It must've been four or five in the morning when they had finally called it quits. He had smiled at her, a soft twinkle in his changing eyes before kissing her gently.

"It's a shame that I will never find out who you are," he told her after their brief kiss.

She had agreed with him, but a deal was a deal. She certainly wasn't going to go back on it and neither was he. He had given her thirty minutes to return back to her room. She dimly remembered looking in the mirror and thinking about how different she looked from her usual self. She barely remembered changing out of her costume and into her nightgown before collapsing on her bed from pure exhaustion.

"I hope that wasn't a dream..." she trailed off. She opened her eyes again. "If only I can find his mask, I will know."

Her eyes landed on the pearl satin eye mask on the desk near her bed. Well, well, well. It wasn't a dream after all. She picked it up with her hand and examined it closely. Running her fingers over the mask, she thought that it was probably really expensive. It was so soft and cool, and delicately created. She then pulled the mask close to her, breathing in its lingering scent. It smelled of him.

She placed it back on the desk. What was she doing, smelling objects? She was acting like a girl in love--which she definitely was not. After all, she had only met him last night! Love requires time. It must take more than a night to develop. But what about Romeo and Juliet? They had only met one night and they were smitten with each other. She shook her head. She could blame it on their age. Fourteen and sixteen were when hormones were at their worst. And how is seventeen any different from sixteen? She shrugged. A year makes a big difference.

She propped herself up on her elbows. She was extremely thankful that it was a Saturday, a day where she could relax. It was even better that tomorrow would be a Sunday, which meant another day of leisure.

"Whoever invented weekends...I must send you a greeting card," she mumbled. "It is a really good idea."

Then she heard a knock on her door.

"Granger... your stupid friends keep trying to visit," Malfoy said grumpily. "They keep knocking on the door."

She sighed. She was always telling Harry and Ron to wake up earlier, but why did they have to do it on the day she wanted to sleep in?

"Tell them I'll be right there," she called out as she put on her black robe.

"I'm not your bloody messenger," he said. A few seconds later, she heard him slam his door.

Grabbing her brush, she quickly brushed her hair and walked out of her room. She heard their persistent knocking and she opened the door.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron ran inside.

"Why didn't you meet up with us after?" Ron asked.

"You guys never told me about meeting up -after-," Hermione defended herself.

"Yes we did--" Harry stopped talking and he looked at Ginny. "You told her, right?"

"I passed the message on to Lavender," she said.

Ron stared at his sister. "Lavender wouldn't be able to find Hermione at that masquerade! She barely remembered what I was supposed to be when I came back with her drinks."

"You should've told me sooner," Ginny said, putting her hand on her hips. "How was I supposed to know that?"

Hermione waved tiredly. "It was all just a mix up. Can you guys leave now, please? I'm just really, really tired..."

Ron looked at her face and noticed the bags under her eyes. "What time did you actually get back?"

"Around four or five..." She yawned. "I need more sleep."

"You can say that again," Harry agreed. "Guess we'll see you at lunch, then." He turned to the other two Weasleys. "Breakfast, anyone?"

The three walked out and Hermione smiled. Good friends, bad timing. She closed the door and walked back to her room.

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Lucius Malfoy stared up at the Ministry department with derision in his heart. He couldn't believe the assignment given to him last night.

"Of all the things," he muttered. "In broad daylight, too!"

At least he was going to have some fun today. All work and no play made Lucius a dull man. He smirked as he caught his reflection on a window. Age was not yet against him and he looked as though he was still twenty-eight years old. Not bad at all. Although his face didn't retain his exact features from years ago, he was still considered handsome with his long silver-blond hair tied back.

Lights, camera, and action!

As soon as Lucius stepped into the building, a witch came up to him, asking if he had an appointment there.

"Yes... I do," he said flashing the witch a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"With whom?" She ran down the list with her quill. "I don't see you on anyone's schedule, Mr. Malfoy."

"Really?" he feigned mock-surprise. "But I made that appointment weeks ago. Surely, -I- don't have to wait four more weeks for another appointment with the Minister of Magic."

She shook her head, gulping slightly. "Yes, I understand, Sir. I'm sorry we've lost the appointment." She glanced at her list again. "But, yes, yes, the minister is free right now. He's on the ninth floor."

Lucius smiled. It was always amusing to see how much people would bend to his will whenever he said something. It gave him a pleasant feeling of power. What could he say? Power was highly addicting. He apparated to the fourth floor.

"Hello," he said charmingly to the secretary.

She smiled at him. "I believe that the minister is in his office right now. You can go ahead and enter."

Nodding, Lucius entered the office.

"Lucius," the minister said, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Arthur," Lucius said, glaring at the red-headed man. "I, unfortunately, have some things to discuss with you."

"We have nothing to discuss. Now, please, leave." He pointed at the door.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," he responded. "Not until my business is done."

"The minister wants you to leave," a man spoke up in a chair.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. He hadn't expected anyone to be there. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"Who are you?"

A dark-haired man stood up, looking at Lucius with extreme dislike. "I am Antoine Valentine. And you are?"

"You don't know who -I- am? Where have -you- been the past six years?" Lucius was beginning to like this man less and less. How could he -not- know who he was? He was Lucius Malfoy, generous donator to charities! He was rich, powerful, and pureblooded. Surely everyone knew about him.

"I've been in the States," responded Antoine.

"I am Lucius Malfoy..."

"What do you want then, Lucius?" Arthur spoke up. He reached into his robe for his wand. Something was fishy here... Lucius had stopped visiting the Ministry when Arthur became the Minister of Magic. And all of a sudden, he suddenly decided to come? There was something very, very wrong with this picture.

"First of all, I want you to stop reaching for your wand. Look, I'm not going to do anything to you." He placed his wand on the desk. "I'm disarmed. Your turn. And -you-," he added as an after thought as he watched Antoine with trained suspicion in his eyes.

Arthur and Antoine set their wands on the desk as well.

"Now, we can discuss this like normal wizards."

Antoine eyed Lucius scrupulously. He didn't trust this blond haired man. Even if someone had offered him a million sickles, he wouldn't trust Lucius Malfoy for all the world.

"Normal wizards usually don't disarm themselves for discussions," he said.

"True," Lucius agreed. "Now, I have a proposal for you, Arthur."

"Which is?"

In a smooth motion, Lucius pulled out another wand from his robe. "To die and leave everything in chaos."

Arthur growled. "That doesn't sound like a very good proposal." He reached out for his wand.

"Tut, tut, tut." Lucius pointed his wand at the two men, grinning madly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Arthur and Antoine shared a look, trying to communicate to each other mentally.

Lucius continued with his proposal. "Unless you want to do this the hard way..."

"As soon as we get out of this situation, I'm going to send the Aurors on you," Arthur said. He nodded at Antoine and continued, "Before you know it, you'll be in Azkaban with the rest of them."

Lucius smirked. "Such ugly words you say." He stared at Antoine. "I suggest you don't try anything funny. I see you moving. I see you reaching out for the wands on the table. Don't even think about it."

Antoine put his hands down to his side. "Guess you caught me..."

"Of course I did. Now, which one of you two should I kill first?" He pointed his wand at Arthur. "You?" Then he moved it towards Antoine. "Or you? Ah, such decisions I have to make."

Antoine shrugged. "Yes, what a decision. But does it matter in the end?"

"No. I guess I'll do away with you first." Pointing the wand lazily at the dark-haired man, he said, "Ava--"

"ACCIO WAND!"

Lucius felt his wand slip away and he stepped back in shock. "Who did that?"

Antoine smirked as he held up five wands. "Well, Mr. Malfoy..."

"I see. You had another wand in your robe." Lucius took another step back as Arthur rushed forward to him, an angry look on his face.

"You are officially declared an enemy of the Ministry!" He shouted. Taking a wand from Antoine, he pointed it at Lucius and muttered a few words under his breaths. Shackles appeared on Lucius' wrists and legs. "Have fun at Azkaban."

"Not unless I can help it!" Lucius' eyes moved quickly around the room. There were windows everywhere. ... Hm.. Windows? he thought. "I'll be seeing you soon." He smirked and jumped backwards out of the window.

"Should I go get him?" Antoine asked, looking at the broken glass.

"No bother. He's dead. There is no possible way to survive that drop," Arthur said.

"You seem unworried about a man who just threatened to kill you," said Antoine. He looked down from the window and saw Lucius' pale body on ground surrounded by a pool of growing blood. He made a face. Something wasn't right about this.

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"I see that you've failed," said Voldemort. "I am very disappointed in you, Lucius. I thought this was a simple assignment that even Wormtail here couldn't mess up."

"I'm sorry, my lord," he said as another Death Eater removed his shackles. "I didn't expect that someone else would be in the office was him."

"Expect the unexpected," Voldemort said. His odd eyes examined Lucius closely.

"Yes, my lord. But I have a card up my sleeve."

"Oh? Enlighten me." Voldemort sat back in his seat, stroking Nagini slowly.

"They believe me to be dead. When the others caught me before I fell, Macnair left behind a body that resembles my build and features on the ground." He looked at the Dark Lord apprehensively.

"Good, good," Voldemort said, smiling diabolically. Lucius shivered internally. The Dark Lord's smile always gave him a cold chill, but especially -this- smile. This grim upwards turning of his lips.... It was horrible to behold.

"But this time, I will not tolerate failure." He stopped stroking Nagini and looked at Lucius straight in the eye. "I know you are of great use to me, but lately, you've been bringing me disappointment."

Although he wanted to point out that his failures weren't his fault, Lucius held his tongue.

"Bring me good news, and you shall be my right-hand man. However," warned Voldemort, "if you bring me yet another failure, I shall have to do away with you."

"I understand, my lord." Lucius bowed and he exited the room.