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Author Notes:

BYOT. Also bring pitchforks. Though I suggest using them on characters rather than on authors, as pitchforked authors have trouble writing. Thank you.

Evanie Pettigrew's final blast of red dye from her potion piece hit the paper target, with its outline of a human figure in robes, dead center. Her audience, a pair of nearly-grown elflets named Brekky and Levvy, applauded with excitement.

"Miss Evanie gets better every day!" Brekky said admiringly, bouncing in place on the bed until his sister got firm hold of one of his ears. "Ow, ow, OW—"

"It's all right, Levvy," Evanie said, smiling as she disarmed her piece and set it down on the table. "Let him be excited."

"I is begging your pardon, Miss Evanie, but it is not being all right anywhere but here." Levvy released her brother, but gave him a stern look, causing him to cross his arms and pout. "We is being eighteen in another month, and our papa's master is expecting one of us to be coming to his home and learning our duties there. And he is not expecting his new house-elf to be bouncy, and noisy, and, and…"

"A person?" Evanie sighed, sitting down heavily and beginning to disassemble her piece for cleaning. "And let me guess, you won't see each other again after that? Or only for a few minutes, if one of you can finish your chores early and slip away, and if your masters haven't given you outright orders to stay home?"

The elflets shrugged in unison. "House-elves are being used to it, Miss Evanie," said Levvy. "House-elves are there to make their masters' lives easier."

"That shouldn't mean that house-elves have to lose everything they want or care about," Evanie began, but froze at the rattle of the door, her hand going out automatically to one of the potion cartridges she'd removed from her piece in favor of dye for target practice. Brekky and Levvy tumbled off the bed, darting into the shadows. One of Levvy's long fingers made a whisking gesture in Evanie's direction, and she managed not to jump or gasp in shock as the curve of her belly visibly flattened.

I can still feel my baby, she's perfectly safe, but if someone's coming in here who shouldn't be, there's no reason to give them more ideas than we have to…

Then she heard the tuneless whistle of the person undoing the spells on the door, and relaxed. "It's all right," she whispered to the elflets, standing up with a small grunt of effort. "It's Peter. You two had better get back to the kitchens with your mother—what he doesn't know can't hurt you."

Levvy muffled a giggle in her hands and Disapparated with a muffled crack. Brekky took a moment to undo his sister's cloaking magic, and to grin at Evanie. "Brekky will find a way to see his sister," he said with great assurance. "Brekky is a clever elf. And someday…" He glanced to one side, then to the other. "Someday, Brekky and Levvy will be free elves too."

"I hope so." Evanie smiled. "Maybe one of you could come to live with us, then."

Brekky nodded hard, then vanished. Evanie stepped back a pace or two, out of the direct line of sight of the door, scooping up the yellow potion cartridge along the way. Just because her husband was letting himself in, it didn't necessarily follow that he was alone.

Though if someone was forcing him to do that, I doubt I'd be able to fight them all off…

But her precautions were unnecessary this time, as Peter opened the door and stepped inside under his own power, shutting it quickly behind himself and circling his wand twice at it to reset the protective spells. Evanie exhaled a small sigh of relief and set the cartridge on the table as she came over to kiss him and hang up his cloak. "How are things?" she asked, noting the odd expression on his face, a mixture of uncertainty and amusement. "What's happening?"

"No one's quite sure. Which I have to believe is good news for us." Peter flexed the fingers of his fleshly hand, wincing as his knuckles cracked. "The team from Hogwarts reported back. Everything went very smoothly placing the Portkey targets, right up until one of the pairs realized they were being followed by a teacher and a student, and decided the smartest thing to do, of course, was to shoot off a random spell in their direction." He rolled his eyes. "Because everyone knows Hogwarts teachers are chosen for their incompetence and slowness to react."

"Was anyone hurt?" Evanie sat down in her place again, her hands taking up the comforting routine of cleaning her potion piece without intervention from her mind. "Or don't you know?"

"Judging by the frantic nature of the bragging, I'm going to say no." Peter went to the tea tray and tapped his wand twice against it. "Midnight snack for two, please, with tea," he said clearly to it, and leaned against the shelf on which it rested, watching Evanie. "Though some of what they're claiming could be true—I'm certainly in no position to judge. What I do know is who didn't come back with the rest of the team." His smile turned wicked, until Evanie had no trouble imagining him as Wormtail the Marauder. "And that would be the Malfoys, father and son. Lucius apparently told the others to take the Portkey back without him, that something had happened to Draco which he needed to handle…"

Evanie giggled, thinking of her own experiences with the most likely candidates for the 'something' which had befallen the younger Malfoy. "They took him back, didn't they?" she said, shaking the last few drops of water from her empty dye cartridge and setting it aside to dry while she reloaded her piece with the potion cartridges. "The Pack, I mean. They broke whatever spells Lucius put on Draco, and took him as their own again."

"I certainly hope so." Peter nodded in satisfaction as the snack he'd requested materialized on the tray. "And if they were also able to use him to arrange for mischief to Lucius…well, more power to them. Though what they've already done has its own form of appeal." Setting the tray down on the table as Evanie re-holstered her piece, he took his own seat, smiling reminiscently. "Lucius Malfoy, two-timing Phoebe and Diana …"

"Doing what?" Evanie poured a bit of tea into Peter's cup, approved of the color, and continued filling it. "I hadn't thought he had even one girlfriend, let alone two—"

"You mean I've never told you this story?" Peter accepted his cup and grinned at Evanie's headshake. "You'll like it. I know I've told you how James Potter used to come up with all sorts of silly ways to talk about what happened to Remus on the full moons. His 'furry little problem' and things like that. Well, Sirius used to counter that with bits and pieces of ancient myths he'd had to learn growing up as a pureblood, the names of moon goddesses, Artemis and Phoebe and Diana and Selene, and claim they were all Remus's girlfriends, that whenever he wasn't around, he was sneaking out to go and visit one or another of them …"

"I do like that." Evanie set down the teapot from filling her own cup and opened the covered basket. "Mm, muffins." She held it out so that Peter could take one, then chose another for herself. "Selene," she said thoughtfully, breaking the muffin in half. "Annette Selene." She looked over at Peter, who was watching her closely. "To take something painful from each of our pasts, and make it good again."

"I only hope we can." Peter set his muffin on his saucer and reached across to take Evanie's hand. "Not all stories end happily, you know."

"This one's happy now." Evanie squeezed his fingers gently. "And for tonight, that's enough."


Danger opened the swinging doors and stepped into the hospital wing, eyes and nose both reporting that she was the first member of the Pack to arrive.

Not counting the one who's already here, of course…

Poppy Pomfrey stepped out from behind the screened-off bed in the corner, coming to meet her. "It happened quietly," she reported in an undertone, "just a few moments ago, now—but you'd know that already."

"I do, but not much else." Danger glanced at the screen. "It doesn't seem possible, does it? And I know thinking that way will only slow us down from what has to be done now, that we need to be looking to the future, but…"

"But we're only human, after all." Poppy pressed Danger's hand gently. "Is everything else all right out there? I'd heard shouting, and some of the paintings were reporting people dueling in the hallways—"

"We had Death Eaters in the castle." Danger raised her free hand to calm Poppy's shock. "But, we knew at all times where they were, where they were going, and what they wanted. And they must have had orders not to engage us too much, even if they were seen. You'll have a few scrapes and bruises to treat, a wrenched knee and a case of reversed joints, but on the whole it looks as though they'd finished what they came here to do before they saw any of the people who'd been following them."

"At which point they'd rather run than fight," Poppy finished. "Which is all the better for us. What in Merlin's name did they want here, though? Were they trying to kidnap students?"

"Not exactly," Danger temporized. "It's complicated. We've stopped them, though."

Except for the one who's still here, her traitorous mind whispered. The one who's facing your little Fox, somewhere in this castle, and who might already have killed him for all you know—since Fox, of any of the cubs, would be the one to remember to tell his pendants not to report his death, and bring us running to get hurt or killed ourselves…

Firmly she removed her thoughts from this path. It would do her no good to circle around a dead-end scent. There was work for her, both as simply herself and as alpha female of the Pack, here and now.

First, secure this den—which is to say, the castle. Make sure all enemies are gone, that the boundaries are strong, and that the alpha of our allied pack is firmly in command. Then, move to the next den—Headquarters—and the next pack—the Order—and do it all over again…

The doors swung wide, revealing a thin-lipped Minerva, Remus and Sirius flanking her, Harry behind them in tail-guard position.

And here we go.

Aletha emerged from behind the screen, nodding to Poppy as they passed and meeting Minerva's eyes levelly. "I'm sorry not to have called you earlier," she said. "A great deal happened very quickly, and I thought it was more important to keep my attention here, rather than split it by trying to send messages."

"Of course." Minerva waved this away. "Aletha, what happened? I hadn't thought things would progress nearly so quickly—was it something about tonight?"

"It…" Aletha hesitated, her eyes half-shut as she sorted through her thoughts. "It was, and it wasn't," she said finally. "He'd taxed himself a great deal by doing complicated wandless magic, as well as a prolonged bout of Legilimency, also wandlessly. But I could have helped him recover, drawn enough strength from the castle to sustain him." Now she looked up again. "If he'd allowed it."

Minerva nodded slowly. "He always does think of the larger picture," she said, then winced. "Did. He did think. And what he thought in this case was that we would all be better off with that amount of power devoted to the defense of his students and his school, rather than propping up the failing faculties of one foolish old wizard." Unexpectedly, she smiled. "How close have I come?"

"Almost word for word." Aletha looked past Minerva, at Harry, who couldn't seem to decide whether he was angry or horrified. "He also said to tell everyone that he'd made his own choices about tonight, and they weren't to blame themselves," she said with delicate emphasis. "Not for anything."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, then colored. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean." Aletha sent a quick scent-kiss in Harry's direction before turning back to Minerva, all business. "At your service, Headmistress."

"Good, because we will certainly need a Potions professor for next year." Minerva seated herself on the end of one of the beds, the rest of the Pack-adults finding places around the room. "As for the rest of you…" She glanced back. "Harry," she said, bringing that young man's head up. "I know Albus had you and your Pride working on something quite specific. Can you tell me anything about it?"

"We're making progress, Headmistress," Harry said immediately. "There's one more thing we need to find, but we have a list of places to look already."

"Excellent." Minerva drew her wand to conjure ink, quill, and parchment. "I will instruct your teachers to overlook reasonable absences in service of that necessity, so long as you don't abuse the privilege."

Harry's eyes widened. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Thank me by not getting yourselves killed when you should have been in school," Minerva returned tartly, making a notation on her scroll, and looked back at the Pack-adults. "As for the rest of you—would you accept positions on the faculty, if they were offered?"

Remus raised a tentative finger. Minerva waved a hand at him. "We will find some way to circumvent that absurd dictate from the Ministry, or simply lie to them outright if we must," she said. "You are one of the very few people I trust without reservation, and I know that you will teach these students to defend themselves as well and as fully as lies within your power. As Albus would have wished." She took a single, shuddering breath. "As I now wish, in his stead."

"Then, yes." Remus bowed to her. "I would be honored, and very happy, to return here as a teacher. Perhaps…" He glanced back at Sirius.

"There we go." Sirius tossed and caught his wand once. "Have my name on the slot, and I'll take any classes where there'd be kids who'd blab to their parents or some such, but you do the rest, Moony." He paused. "Just to check, we are talking about Defense, here, right?"

No, we're talking about Herbology, Remus said sardonically. Pomona was nibbled to death by bowtruckles and you haven't heard about it yet.

Damn you, Remus! Danger fought to keep her face straight. Sirius is looking at me, you know! And isn't it just a little morbid to be making that sort of joke right now?

Love, if I don't laugh, I'll cry. And we none of us have time for tears tonight.

Too true. Danger sighed. Far, far too true.

"And you, Danger," said Minerva, turning to look at her. "I assume you would feel most comfortable in your old place as Charity's adjunct?"

"Yes, if she'll have me back. Which I think she will, since we suited well enough a few years ago." Danger wrapped a bit of her robe's hem around her fingers. "Not that I expect a high sign-up rate for Muggle Studies, with the way the war is going now."

"All the better." Minerva smiled. "You will have an unquestionable reason for being here, and an equally unquestionable amount of free time with which to circulate among the students."

"And keep an eye on them, as only a mother can do." Danger nodded. "Fair enough."

Harry's stillness finally registered with her as profoundly unnatural, of the variety she tagged after a moment as confused. She fluttered her fingers at him, catching his eye. What's wrong, cub of mine? she signed to him.

What happened to Snape? Harry signed back, or so Danger assumed his hand slicked across his hair and his down-the-nose look of distaste was meant to signal. He came to Letha's office and said goodbye, but I didn't think—

He came to the rescue of some of the Death Eaters who weren't doing so well against Hestia Jones. Danger winked. Spread the word through the DA that we're not best pleased with him, if you would.

Glad to. Harry's expression cleared. So he left with them?

He did. I fully expect we'll be hearing from him within the week, through one conduit or another. And that, Danger added with an emphatic glare, is not for sharing.

Harry's small, weary sigh conveyed as much annoyance as a full-on eyeroll could have done. Yes, Mummy.

Danger conjured a small, hot burst of flame under one of Harry's ears, startling him almost off the bed. Behave yourself. As much as that's possible.

Remus turned around to glance at his Pack-son just in time to avert Harry's first response to this. We should check in on Fox, he signed instead, glancing downwards as though he could see through the floor. I know we weren't supposed to interfere, but there's been time for whatever was going to happen by now…

Someone's already on their way, Remus broke in, motioning Harry to settle. We'll have news shortly. Now, ears open, hands still. He bestowed his most quelling look on the younger wizard. And if you give me a "Yes, Daddy" or anything like it, you cheeky little brat…

Harry snapped to seated attention.

Good. Remus turned back around. "So sorry, Minerva," he said smoothly, just in time to forestall the Headmistress's question. "You were saying?"

Behind Remus's back, Harry's hands swiftly shaped two signs before darting back into his lap.

Yes, Daddy.

Danger kept her mouth shut, her face straight, and her end of the bond placid.

Remus wasn't the only member of the Pack who laughed so he wouldn't cry.


Elsewhere, in a suite of rooms which strongly resembled the ones traditionally used by the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, an auburn-haired wizard seated himself in a comfortable chair and smiled at his companion, who was perched on the windowsill.

"And now," he said quietly, "we wait."

One hand smoothed a section of the air, revealing two images of darkened, stone-walled corridors. Along one, a young witch and wizard walked hand in hand, talking in quiet, worried tones; along the other, a witch crept cautiously, alone, her wand at the ready.

The watcher smiled fondly and sat back. Much remained to happen still tonight, and he intended to see it all.


"You're sure about this?" Neville said one more time as he and Meghan stopped outside Professor Black's office.

Meghan sighed theatrically. "I told you, Mama Letha and Madam Pomfrey were already talking about using a drop or two of Calming Potion in everyone's pumpkin juice tomorrow as a possibility. And we're not the ones who're going to decide whether or not it should be used. I just want them to have it ready, if they do decide to use it, or if the Headmistress…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "That feels so wrong to say. And will she still teach Transfiguration as well? Professor Dumbledore never taught anything, he was too busy being Headmaster…"

"I don't know where we'd find another teacher at this point in the year, though." Neville shrugged. "Perhaps they'll just let those classes go, since O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are already over and regular finals are about to start, if we still have them. I feel terrible for Ginny and Luna, having to take their O.W.L.s while all of this was going on around them."

"Ginny said it helped, though," Meghan pointed out. "Because she could get herself to concentrate on studying and forget everything else that was happening around her, all the worst parts of the war, and Draco being gone, and finding the real-world places that match the ones we got on the map, from…" She placed her fingers in the sign for Horcrux. "And searching them carefully enough that we're sure each one isn't right before we move on."

"And Luna…" Neville smiled a little. "Luna is Luna, and I don't even try to think like she does. Mum's been helping her dad with his security, you know, just in case the Death Eaters tried anything against him, because of Draco."

"I don't think they're that smart." Meghan scowled. "I wish they weren't smart enough to do anything right. Then maybe Professor Dumbledore would still be alive and we wouldn't be waiting to hear what Hermione says about what's down in the corridors where she and Harry left Fox—and I wish they hadn't done that!" She pounded a little fist against the office door. "His fight or not, they shouldn't have left him alone—"

Her second pound made the door creak slightly on its hinges.

Neville snatched her back with one hand and pulled his potion piece with the other. "It's not latched," he whispered.

Meghan's eyes went very wide. "But she always—and I saw her—"

Without further words, she drew her own piece, taking her place on the other side of the door. Neville placed his free hand on one of the panels, mouthing clearly, Three, two, one—

He shoved the door open wide, and they both aimed their pieces' muzzles at the office beyond.

An instant later, they were recoiling, coughing. Neville pulled a bit of his robes over his mouth, but the fumes still beat at his eyes, until Meghan laid her hand on his arm and the tears subsided. Quickly, he swapped piece for wand and cast a Bubble-Head Charm, first on himself, then on her.

"Shields," he said loudly, motioning to the corridor. Meghan nodded, and they hurried three paces out from the office door and cast the strongest Air-Tight Shield Charms they could, anchoring them in the stone all around, imprisoning the cloud of potion fumes which was now billowing outward in thick coils.

Neville thought it would be a safe bet, even with his notoriously bad luck at games of chance, that someone had broken into Professor Black's office while she was away.

But there's something strange about the door…

He stepped closer, peering at it, then ran a quick diagnostic spell his father had taught him. His ears registered Meghan's urgent chatter into her Zippo, no doubt reporting the burglary to her parents, but his attention was all on the results the spell was giving him.

"They're on their way," Meghan said, raising her voice enough to be heard through their two bubbles of clean air, as she snapped her Zippo shut. "Dadfoot says not to touch anything, we could mess it up, and I know you know that already, but he said to tell you anyway, it's just procedure."

"I haven't, touched anything, I mean. But come look at this." Neville performed the spell again, running his wand along the edges of the doorframe. "Do you see what I see?"

"I…don't see anything," Meghan said hesitantly. "Just the usual magic, that's on all the Hogwarts doors. Magic to stop anyone from coming in who doesn't have the password, or can't answer the question, or whatever the door is set for—"

"Yes, exactly," Neville broke in. "The magic's still there. Still strong. There aren't any ragged bits, no rough edges, no places where it's missing. Which means—"

"Which means, whoever came in didn't do it by breaking the magic on the door." Meghan ran her fingers along the reminder-sentence her mother had scribed on the wall. "There's plenty of things broken, all her samples and her ingredients and everything, but that isn't one of them. So either they're so good at tickling locking spells that they got in without leaving any traces, or they're so smart that they could completely reset the spell as they were leaving, or—"

"Or whoever was in Professor Black's office," Neville finished, "either knew or guessed her password."

They looked at each other in silence, neither wanting to say the name that filled both minds.


Breathing shallowly through her mouth, Hermione slipped from shadow to shadow, not knowing what she expected to find, but sure that she could no more go back without looking than she could fly without her broom. She'd done her duty, helped Harry and Ginny and Ron deliver the sobering knowledge to the DA—Dumbledore's Army, we were once, and will be still, in his memory—but this was for her. This, she had to do alone.

He said there might be another way. She clung to that, remembering Fox's calm as he'd held her close, as he'd met her eyes and smiled at her for what she refused to believe was the last time. Another interpretation, another possibility. The grave could be a ruse, "Lucius" could be him, everything could still come out all right from tonight—

She had just time to register an acrid tang at the back of her mouth before her limbs stiffened.

The Body-Bind—but I didn't hear a spell, or feel one—

Hands caught her shoulders just before what would have been a painful impact. She strained her eyes, trying to see who was lowering her to the floor, though her nose was already reporting the scents of musk, of blood, of triumph—

"Can't you recognize my face?" asked a soft, gloating tenor, the most refined of pureblood accents casting an imperfect veneer of smoothness over an underlying rasp. "Is it hard to see? You did choose rather a dark hallway for your approach. Let me shed some light on the situation."

A tall, slender form in tailored robes moved limpingly to the end of the hallway, plucked a candelabra from the wall with one long-fingered hand, and turned back to face her.

"There," said Lucius Malfoy, smirking as Hermione's breath choked off audibly. "Isn't that better? Calm yourself, girl," he added impatiently. "I don't mean to hurt you. Not this time." He extended one hand and regarded it. "Your dear little twin has put paid to my ability to do any such thing, for the present." He laughed deep in his throat. "Not that I haven't returned the favor in full. But let me start from the beginning, and give you the fullest story possible, for you to take back to your dear Pack…"


"A break-in that's not a break-in." Sirius swept his wand around the office, but he already knew what he would find. Neville's first analysis had been the correct one—whoever had ransacked Aletha's office, overturned her furniture, and smashed the vast majority of her samples and ingredients onto the carpet, had done so without disrupting the charms which kept the doors of office and supply cupboard locked. "Sure is a mess, though."

"My money's gone." Aletha looked up from one of her desk drawers. "Two hundred pounds, Muggle, and fifty Galleons, magical. Sirius, what would…anyone," she finished lamely, avoiding a certain name as Sirius had been doing himself, "want with Muggle money around here? I only kept it because when I was Mare, I wasn't ever sure I was staying through the end of the day, and then afterwards, when my memories joined back up, because you never know what might happen…"

"Suppose somebody else feels that way tonight." Sirius grumbled under his breath. "…better hope I never catch up with him," he finished a bit louder. "There won't even be enough left to bury…"


"I suppose I should apologize for not leaving you much to bury," Lucius said, setting down the candles beside Hermione and seating himself on the floor with a wince. "But that would require me to be sorry for what passed between us, and given what your loving brother had intended to happen tonight…" He reached very carefully into his pocket and extracted, between two fingers, a silver dagger, its hilt muffled in several layers of knit fabric. "I hardly need to tell you, little Kitten, what would become of a werewolf stabbed by such as this." A careless flick of his hand, and the dagger clattered to the stones between them. "You know it all too well, from experience."

Part of Hermione screamed in rage, another part sobbed in grief, while Neenie the cat keened for the loss of her littermate. The rest of her swept all those parts aside ruthlessly and concentrated on listening. Lucius Malfoy in a talkative, expansive mood was not an informational boon to be regarded lightly.

Even if we have paid far, far too high a price for it.

"So, from the beginning." Lucius leaned back against the wall. "You were with him, I believe, very close to the end, and muddled my footsteps until you were finished with whatever you had been doing. Until he was alone, and prepared for me. Quite nasty preparations, I might add. Burning a man's wand out of his hand, tearing his magic from him, then, when he is entirely helpless, stabbing him with a substance known to be horribly fatal to those of his persuasion?" He clicked his tongue. "Hardly characteristic of the image your little Pack likes to portray of itself. Though, of course, I've known the truth for years." His eyes hardened. "Ever since your dear Danger decided to take her revenge on me."

With a wrench, Hermione regained the use of her voice. "She didn't know," she croaked, and cheered inwardly as Lucius jumped to hear her speak. "None of us knew—"

"Yes, yes, I know the story you tell the world." Lucius waved a hand grandly. "She had no idea she could transmit lycanthropy via her bite, none at all—she bit me only so her dear mate would not need to bear the guilt, and they discovered with horror, a month too late to change it, that they had done what they intended not to do. Tell me the Heir of Slytherin lies buried in Godric's Hollow and I might believe you, girl, but that?" He shook his head, his curtain of silver hair swaying. "Never. Now, to return to my tale."

Though she growled under her breath at this maligning of her parents, Hermione kept listening. She had to know.

I have to know everything.

"We came upon one another in an open stretch of corridor," Lucius said meditatively. "Not unlike this one, in fact. Picture it, if you can. The father at one end, his wand ready to cast; the son at the other, fire igniting in his hand…" He passed a fingertip through one of the candle flames. "Quite a poetic image, I'm sure, if one were not a part of it. Perhaps I can find someone with artistic talent who might be interested in rendering it for me…"

Hermione snarled aloud, her body tensing for an attack.

"Merlin's wand, what a wildcat." Lucius reached into his pocket and uncorked a small vial, setting it in front of Hermione's face. "And I do see why your little DA has never placed this potion into more prevalent use. 'Short-lasting effects', indeed. Thankfully the antidote lasts longer. Though I suppose your emotions could be playing a role in how quickly you shook off your initial dosing. Now." He wagged a finger at her chidingly. "Lie quietly and listen to your father, little girl. You may learn something."

The bitter fumes of the potion flooded Hermione's nose and throat, making her want to cough, but her limbs had stiffened again, returning to the fully-locked position. For an instant she considered trying to break free, using Harry's method, but in the next breath decided against it. Lucius was watching her too closely, and would surely notice before she could complete the sequence.

"I was able to contain Draco's little fireball, which rendered him momentarily weaponless," Lucius said softly, leaning forward to lock his eyes with hers. "He thrust it into his pocket and leaped at me before I could cast another spell, and I felt his mind, his soul, making violent inroads upon my own, endeavoring to tear my magic from me. Naturally I defended myself, which placed us in constant mental and spiritual contact for…" He sighed. "I daresay it was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. And in that eternity, such things I saw, such wonderful, horrible things…"

Hermione's heart faltered in her chest. Fox had his memories back before we left him, he knew everything we've done, all about the Horcruxes—but he would have died before he'd let Lucius see that, this can't mean—

"No need to smell so stricken, my dear." Lucius chuckled. "I use the terms as I would use them, not as you would. By 'wonderful' I mean how bizarrely attractive my son found your perverted, unnatural lifestyle, and by 'horrible' I mean that lifestyle itself, what glimpses I caught of it within his memories." He shuddered once. "Living in one another's laps, always joking and playing pranks, never a moment of privacy or dignity to be found. Charming fireplaces to howl like dogs or blenders to explode, being chased onto bookcases for imagined slights, tumbling over one another in pursuit of bits of raw meat, cheering on fools who sculpt ice with Muggle bludgeons…"

He paused, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Though I must admit that touching Draco's mind has given me one piece of insight I never had before," he said slowly. "I believe that I now understand what attraction he found in his music. Perhaps I will even take up one of the instruments he so loved, in memory of him." He shook off his mood. "Though of course, I will have little time for practice until this war is finished. And I am being shockingly rude to you, my dear, leaving you in such an uncomfortable position while I maunder on. My apologies." His hand pressed against his heart as he inclined his head and shoulders forward.

You can take your apologies and— Hermione choked off the words before she could complete the sentence. Even mentally swearing at the man she was now sure had killed her brother didn't trump finding out what, exactly, had happened.

"As I have said already, we battled, Draco and I. He to take my magic from me, I to stop him doing so." Lucius's brows drew in. Clearly he had no liking for this part of the story. "And, as you may have guessed from my use of this unsatisfactory little stopgap…" He tapped his finger against the vial of potion. "Draco was victorious in his aim. I am, at the moment…" His lips worked, as though the word tasted as awful as the potion smelled. "A Squib."

But then… Hermione stared at Lucius, trying to understand. If he beat you, if he took your magic, then how…

"If only he had not been so foolish, or so careless." Lucius turned his eyes upon the candles once more. "If only he had thrown his weapon aside, rather than trying to save it for later use." He shook his head, slowly, sadly. "My own containing magic upon the fire superseded whatever had been keeping it from harming him to that point, you see. But when Draco snatched my magic from me, all active spells which had come from my wand were broken in that moment." He gazed for a moment into the flames, as though seeing it all again. "I can give you and yours this consolation," he said quietly. "It was quick. He had time to scream only once."

I'll show you quick, if we ever meet on the battlefield. Hermione felt the words forming within her mind like the imprints of a solemn vow. Your ghost will have to linger long enough to find out who killed you, for I will give you no chance to see me coming while you are alive…

"And so, pretty Kitten, I take my leave for tonight." Lucius stroked her hair once, corked and pocketed the vial of potion, and got to his feet, smiling down at her. "Do be careful, through these next few months, not to get yourself killed. You are, after all, my only heir, and I may have need of you when this war is over. Though I shall surely choose a bloodline far superior to that of Weasley for your husband." He shuddered delicately. "Ginger Malfoys. The mind boggles."

He took two steps in the direction from which Hermione had come, then paused. "When the potion wears off," he said, looking back at her. "Take the second turning on your right and walk to the end of the corridor. You will find what you are looking for there." A smirk twisted his features. "Do take the candles with you, though. I would hate for you to soil your shoes with ashes."

With a slight, mocking bow, Lucius Malfoy disappeared around the corner, the hem of his black robes and the ends of his white hair the last thing Hermione saw of him.

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Author Notes:

Yeah…not a lot I can say here. Read carefully, review politely, and I'll see you soon!