Chapter 14
Theme: Poison
Optional Prompt: Only I have the Antidote
He should have known. He should have known the moment his aunt brandished the blade. Should have known when Hermione began leaving work, opting to finish at home. Should have known when her sun kissed skin began to dull and grey. But he didn’t and now he feared he was too late.
It was poison. His demented Aunt’s final parting blow, the ability to destroy their happiness even from the grave.
As he stared down at his now unconscious wife, the sterile smell of the hospital room invaded his senses as he raked his mind for any possible cure.
A knock on the door interrupted his spiral and was shocked to see Lucius standing in the door frame. He hadn’t seen his father since he had burnt him off the family tree for his relationship with Hermione. His parting words being that he no longer had a son.
“Get out,” Draco spat, his grey eyes ice as he grabbed his father by the robes and slammed him against the door frame. “I will not have you anywhere near her.”
Lucius' eyes were soft as he took in his son’s demeanor. He could see the fear and rage radiating from his face, he was no longer the boy he had known, rather a man. A man possessed with love for his wife, something Lucius was acutely familiar with.
“Son, it’s poison isn’t it? From that day in the manor…” The spark in Draco’s eyes were all the confirmation Lucius needed.
“It’s an old Malfoy spell that Bellatrix must have found. She won’t receive the care she needs here, Draco. I can heal her. Only I have the antidote.”
Draco dropped his father and stumbled backwards.
“If this is a trick…” Draco began, choking on the sobs threatening to spill out.
“No tricks my boy,” Lucius murmured, his tone soft. “Let me finally do one thing right for you. Let me save my daughter.”
Theme: Domesticity
Optional Prompt: Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a terrible cook.
It was the smell that awoke her. She scrunched her nose as the scorched smell filled the small room. Hermione swayed as she got to her feet, still not totally recovered from the poisoning, but at least her legs could support her for short distances. Shrugging on a robe, she made her way into their flat’s kitchen, following the sound of clanking pans and cursing coming from that direction. She smiled to herself as she thought of her husband maneuvering around their muggle kitchen, he always had the worst time. As she pushed open the door, she thought that perhaps her fever had returned and she was having some sort of strange fever dream.
Huddled over the sink, stood none other than Lucius Malfoy scraping what appeared to be an attempt at scrambled eggs out of the frying pan. His hair was frizzed and barely contained by a small tie and his robes were covered in scorch marks and pieces of spattered food. Draco was at the stove attempting to clean the mess left behind and muttering every curse in the English language under his breath. Hermione was so stunned by the scene and as she debated whether or not to just go back to bed, Draco turned and saw her. Running to grab her hand, he led her to the table as Lucius prepared a plate.
“Granger, you were supposed to be in bed. We were just finishing your breakfast to bring to you.” Draco began examining her face apparently verifying the short walk did not in fact cause massive distress.
“Draco - please, I am fine to walk into my own kitchen,” Hermione paused staring at Lucius’ back. “And - err- what may I ask is going on here? I see we have company?” She stopped again, watching Draco’s face.
Draco swallowed and looked over at his father with a resigned sigh. “My father - err - Lucius - well he wanted - I mean he said-”
Lucius turned around and his gaze met Hermione’s. Gone was the haughty expression she had memorized over the years, gone was the rigid posture and cold eyes. As Hermione held his gaze, she was surprised to see a softening to his face, a lightness behind his eyes and a humaneness she had never seen before.
“Hermione,” Lucius began, walking over and placing the plate of eggs in front of her, “I’ve been a terrible man for most of my life. It’s cost me more than I care to think about at the moment, but I was hoping that maybe we could try to start fresh?”
Hopefulness hung in the air as the once proud Lucius sat beside Hermione and took her petite hand within his own. Hermione glanced at Draco to find his own eyes trained on her, ready to take his cue from her behavior. It was impossible to miss the longing in his own eyes, the hurt barely contained below the surface. With a smile, Hermione squeezed Lucius’ hand and reached out to take a bit of her eggs as a sign of good faith. With what she hoped was a dainty cough, she struggled to swallow the abomination before she spoke.
“Thank you so much for the breakfast, I appreciate you accepting us as your family. How about we have breakfast again tomorrow at our flat?”
Lucius’ eyes creased as a smile spread across his whole face. It was remarkable how young and like Draco he looked when he allowed his emotions to be on display.
“Oh, but Lucius?” Hermione began, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a terrible cook. Maybe you could bring some tea with you and I’ll take care of the food, yes?”