"My, my, will wonders never cease."
She stiffened at the silky drawl, the honeyed voice of her tormentor.
"Mr. Malfoy," she said tightly.
"Miss Granger. What lovely yet unexpected attire from you," he said, walking a half-circle around her, looking her up and down with a perusal that made her skin crawl.
Her ballgown for the Ministry's Yule Ball that following year had drawn more than a few raised eyebrows. It was heavy satin in an emerald green that was an almost exact match to the green in the Slytherin tie her nemesis had worn years ago in school. The bodice and hem were heavily embroidered with beading in jet black and hints of silver, in a swirling pattern vaguely reminiscent of snakes. The full skirt left ample room for hidden pockets, making it both beautiful and practical.
"Acting shocked that a muggleborn such as myself can properly dress herself for a Ministry gala runs counter to your supposedly 'reformed' image."
"Oh, I am not shocked that you can dress yourself. More that you're here decked out like an heiress of Slytherin."
"You approve then?"
He looked her up and down again, and she resisted the urge to curse him.
"I do, although I admit that your gown would look much better hiked up around your waist as it was last year. Care for a repeat performance?"
She stepped back from him with a fierce glare on her face. "Go to hell."
"I've already been there, my dear. The devil spat me back out," he said with a smirk. "Enjoy your evening Miss Granger. Should you change your mind, you know where to find me."
He strolled away then, as if he had not a care in this world, and Hermione had to draw in a deep breath and fight to control the surge of magic that wanted to erupt from her.
Calm yourself. It's almost time. He'll never know what hit him, she reminded herself silently.
She watched him across the room as he approached his wife, who was talking to several other society witches.
There were other opportunities, other times she could have manoeuvered the chess pieces across the board to bring him into checkmate, but there was something poetic about doing it here, in the same place he'd violated her a year ago.
She squared her narrow shoulders, drew in another deep breath, and palmed the potion-filled phial hidden in one of the pockets of her skirts.
"Was that slimy snake bothering you?"
She turned and smiled brightly at Harry and Ginny as they approached, having watched her exchange with Lucius Malfoy from afar.
"No. Not anymore," she said with a genuine smile.
"I have to ask," Ginny said slowly. "You look gorgeous, but what's with all the Slytherin green and the snake-y stuff?"
Her smile widened. "Well, green IS a Christmas colour, after all. It felt festive. And technically the beading pattern isn't snakes, although you aren't the only one to mistake it as such."
"Oi! 'Mione! Happy Christmas! What's with the snake dress?" Ron asked a moment later as he came up behind his sister and brother-in-law, accompanied by his wife Lavender, who elbowed him in the ribs. Harry suppressed a snicker at his brother-in-law.
Hermione laughed. "Let's just say that it's symbolic."
"Of what?" he asked.
"I know I said ages ago that being in the Wizengamot would be a learning experience. I've learned quite a bit about Slytherin cunning and ambition in the last year," she said cryptically.
It was clear her friends did not know what to make of her response, but her smile put them at ease, and she followed them to a table, eager to hear the latest about their families and their lives. She ate, she drank (after discreetly casting diagnostic charms on her glass and its contents), she talked and laughed and danced and carefully watched Lucius Malfoy all evening.
The pieces moved into place.
She made her move.
She left before midnight with an empty phial tucked safely into her dress.
~oOo~
Checkmate officially arrived two days later, in the middle of a Wizengamot session when Lucius Malfoy collapsed during an elderly wizard's rather dull speech on taxes. Malfoy was rushed to St. Mungo's, of course, and by the time he arrived, he was in a magical coma of sorts.
The papers carried the story, headlines blaring about the possibility of foul play, along with a looping image of the head of the house of Malfoy being levitated out of the Wizengamot chambers. She watched the image on a repeat for a very long time.
The healers were stumped. It was as if Malfoy had been dosed with draught of living death, for his condition was very similar to the death-like sleep brought on by the potion, but he did not respond to the Wiggenweld potion, a known antidote. A bezoar was equally ineffective. He was alive, but completely unresponsive.
Narcissa Malfoy insisted it was attempted murder, that someone had tried to kill her husband. There was an investigation, of course, and everything around his desk in the Wizengamot chambers was checked for contamination. Everyone present at the time of Malfoy's collapse in the Wizengamot was searched. The Aurors found nothing.
Hermione herself graciously submitted to a search and in full view of Rita Skeeter and her infamous Quick-Quotes Quill, proclaimed that a threat against one member of their esteemed body was a threat against all. She demanded - and easily won - a series of new security measures designed to protect members of the Wizengamot.
The Aurors checked into Malfoy's whereabouts for days leading up to the collapse and learned that in addition to the Minister for Magic's Yule Ball, Malfoy had spent time in Diagon Alley and had visited wizarding Berlin as well as Durmstrang. The number of people with whom he'd come into contact was easily in the thousands, making it difficult to determine how he could have been cursed or poisoned.
Harry confided in her some weeks into the investigation that Malfoy had so many enemies they did not know where to start even narrowing the list of possible suspects, a job made even harder because they could not figure out what had caused his condition.
New Year's passed, and then Valentine's. Malfoy remained in a mysterious state of suspended animation. He was moved from the hospital to Malfoy Manor, under the care of private healers. The rumour at the Ministry was that even the country's top medical experts couldn't figure out what had caused his condition or how to fix it. Most speculated that dark magic was to blame.
This theory was furthered by the raid on Malfoy Manor. Prior to his collapse, Lucius had managed to keep the Aurors from conducting regular raids on his home through a series of well-placed bribes and/or blackmail, but with him incapacitated and Narcissa demanding answers to her husband's condition, there was no way to keep investigators out. The ancient manor home was combed from top to bottom. Hermione had not been present at the raid for it was well beyond the scope of her job, but she'd learned through a few discreet inquiries of her own that enough dark artifacts had been seized from the house that Malfoy was likely looking at substantial fines or even jail time when he eventually regained consciousness.
Some speculated that perhaps he'd been cursed by some dark object in his home, and many seemed to think it was a fitting punishment for all the dark magic he'd reportedly dabbled in over the years. Curse breakers from across Europe were brought in to examine Malfoy, but his condition remained unchanged.
With each passing week, the coil of hatred in Hermione slowly loosened. Every meeting she attended without seeing his face, she could breathe a little bit easier. Every day she avoided the hiss of his voice in her ear, she felt a little bit safer.
She would have preferred to destroy all copies of the awful Yule Ball images and letter outright, thereby removing all blackmail material he had on her, but since they were too well hidden, she'd had to resort to other - more creative - means. Given his 'insurance policy' of having the photos delivered to law enforcement and the press upon his untimely death, she'd not even had the option of killing him.
But this… suspended animation, a modified draught of living death, combined with a stasis potion and a spell tied to her own magic created a most effective means of neutralising him whilst still protecting herself and her reputation. He was not dead, but he could no longer hurt her or threaten her, and only she could revive him. It was not a perfect solution, but it was the best one she'd been able to create under the circumstances.
Six months to the day after Lucius Malfoy drank a glass of spiked eggnog, the Wizengamot finally passed Hermione's anti-discrimination legislation. It passed by the narrowest of margins, and it would never have happened if Malfoy had been present to block it.
Eighteen months prior, she'd sworn to Lucius that she would pour of glass of champagne to celebrate the legal destruction of blood supremacy when her legislation passed. Surely no glass of champagne had ever tasted better than the one she savoured the day of the vote. Her life's ambition, finally realised. A legacy of equality that would outlive her, that would make their world the safe and welcoming place it should have been for her, for the Creevey brothers, and for countless other muggleborns.
After celebrating with her colleagues and her friends, Hermione returned home and removed Lucius's incriminating photos and letter from their warded hiding place in a loose brick in the chimney. For the first time in months, her stomach did not roil in protest and her magic did not flare at the sight of graphic images.
She placed each one carefully in the fireplace and one by one, set them all on fire.
Her only regret was that Lucius Malfoy never knew what hit him. He had collapsed and lost consciousness not knowing who to blame.
She would have loved to see a look of revelation on his sneering face. She would have loved to tell him that she'd spiked his eggnog days earlier, just as he'd spiked hers the year before. She would have loved to see him realise that he'd been outplayed by a Gryffindor, a mudblood, someone he considered beneath him. She would have loved to whisper to him, in his last moments of consciousness until old age would eventually take him, that this was her revenge for all the ways he had violated and wronged her and others like her.
As she watched the flames burn the letter and each photo into small piles of ash, Hermione was at peace.
~Fin~
~oOo~
A/N: If you are a fan of stories about Lucius and Hermione and have not yet read my story, "An Innocent Obsession," be sure to check it out. Also, for a more humourous look at the HP series from Lucius's POV, please check out my story, "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked."
Thank you so much for reading my Twist-mas piece. I look forward to hearing what you thought about this twisted holiday tale!
Cheers,
Elle