Veela Love

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Visit

            It was easier for Hermione to go to Azkaban in secret than she expected as Draco was still avoiding her, and with him out from under her feet, she only had to avoid Ginny and Blaise. Luckily, they were too wrapped up in each other to notice her slipping away after breakfast on Saturday. Glancing over at Draco, she briefly met his cold blue eyes before he lowered his gaze. A pang of despair shot through her from him, and she shuddered.

This time Hermione didn't hesitate at the doorway to the visitation room. She swept into it like she owned the place, sitting down across from Lucius with as much dignity as she could muster. "Lucius."

"Ms. Granger."

Hermione couldn't think of a reply, so she said nothing. The silence stretched out between them. Finally, Lucius cleared his throat. "I'm sure you're wondering why I requested your presence, Ms. Granger."

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. "I have to admit I'm a bit curious."

He steepled his long fingers, and Hermione couldn't help but notice they looked just like Draco's. Lucius studied her intently. "I'm going to tell you a story, Ms. Granger." Before she could open her mouth, he gave her a pointed glare, effectively shutting her up.

"Once, there was a young man who was wildly in love with a young woman. They went to school together, and the young man had loved her almost all his life."

A pit opened in Hermione's stomach. "And they lived happily ever after?"

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. There's no such thing as a happy ending, not for a Malfoy. We do what we must and put our happiness aside. No, this young man found out he was part Veela and that he had a mate. He wished that his love would be his mate with all his heart, but it wasn't so. His mate was a pretty enough girl a year or two his junior. She came from a well-respected family and was everything his family required. They were quickly engaged."

Hermione thought of Cissa's sad recollection of her affection for Lucius when they were younger. She realized she was hearing the other side of the story, and much to her disgust, she felt... almost sorry for him. "And he never grew to love her?"

"No. His Veela loved her very much, but his human side... did not. I must admit he was cruel to her on more than one occasion."

"I'm sure he was," she said dryly.

"I have not been a good man, nor a good husband," he continued. "But above all, I love my son, and I know him better than he thinks I do. If my son did not care for you, if his human side did not want to be with you, he would be as indifferent to you as he has been cruel."

Hermione shook her head gently, denying his words. "You're wrong, Lucius. He might not hate me, but he doesn't care about me, not the way I need him to."

Lucius didn't reply, only leaning back in his chair and observing Hermione. She shifted uncomfortably.

"For someone so bright, you are incredibly dumb, girl. Have you never wondered why one attack changed so much for you but for no one else?"

Hermione paused in her indignation long enough for him to continue.

"They attacked you and took your memories to shove them back in your face. But have you never wondered what else they did while they were in there?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione whispered. Sudden goosebumps erupted all over her body. "What do you know?"

Lucius's gaze softened slightly. "I would never condone what they did to you, even to a mudblood like you. Maybe you should go ask them."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. Something in his words that struck true and the familiar sense of a puzzle left undone was starting to drive her insane. "Where are they?"

"In their cells. Ask a guard, and they'll show you."

Hermione rose, trying to decide whether she wanted to see Ron or Pansy. She was at the door before she remembered to ask, "Why do you care how I feel about your son?"

Lucius stared at Hermione as if he was memorizing her every feature. "Because above all else, I love my son."

Hermione nodded once and left. She turned to the guard standing next to the door, "Where is Ronald Weasley being kept?"

"Block C."

"Can you take me there?" Hermione asked.

Her heart started fluttering when he nodded and only got worse with every step she took. Finally, they were standing before a cell with a man hanging off the too-small bed.

"Ron?"

The man jerked up from the bed, his eyes wild. "Hermione?" he croaked, his eyes finally finding her.

"Yes."

"Why are you here?"

Hermione didn't answer. She was taking in Ron's appearance. He seemed washed out, empty. No light shone out from his eyes, and Hermione's heart stuttered. He was clearly miserable.

"Well?"

There was no hatred left in him, that much she could tell. That alone gave her enough courage to ask what had to be asked. "What did you do to me?"

Ron started. "What?"

"What did you do to me?"

He stared at her for a long moment before he sighed.

"I took your memories, Hermione. I threw the bad ones back at you, and well... the good ones I just... slipped away. Not all of them, but a good portion."

Hermione stared at him in horror. "Why?"

"Because I hate him, and I thought I hated you."

"Do you?"

Ron looked at her sadly. "No, Hermione, I don't."

They stared at each other, each of them taking in the person that had once meant more to them than anyone else. Silently Hermione turned and walked away.