Blindfold Lifted (Part 1/2) - a gift for redheadfaerie
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Title: Blindfold Lifted (Part 1/2)
Author: curia_regis
Gift for: redheadfaerie
Pairing: Lucius/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/somebody else
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity
Word Count: ~ 11, 000
Summary: Hermione discovers Ron cheating on her.
A/N: Thank you to H for the awesomely fast beta! <3
Blindfold Lifted, Part I
Humming happily to herself, Hermione took her keys out of her purse and opened the front door. Six months earlier, she had taken the plunge with Ron and bought the apartment. It had taken them years of saving but it was worth it. She loved the light airy feeling of the new apartment. Their furniture was new - much to the dismay of Molly Weasley - and they had thrown out the hand-me-downs they’d had before.
Over the past few years, Ron had surprised himself by his aptitude as an Auror and she was reasonably pleased with her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Sure, he earned more than her, but Hermione comforted herself with the thought that she was making a real difference in the lives of house elves and other disenfranchised magical creatures. Her lips quirked into a slight smile as she realised that she was doing almost exactly the same thing she had done back at Hogwarts.
A slight frown passed over Hermione’s face as she noticed the lights were off in the apartment. Obviously, Ron wasn’t home yet. He had been having increasingly late nights at the Ministry lately. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that their marriage was suffering but it certainly didn’t feel like the happy early days of their relationship. To be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time they had sex. It could have been last month. Or possibly the month before. It seemed nowadays either Ron was home too late or she was too tired from going in front of the Wizengamot.
Suddenly, Hermione heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. It seemed that Ron was home after all. An involuntary smile spread over her face. She wasn’t tired at all today and Ron was obviously home early. Perhaps, they could rekindle some of their spark.
She remembered the early days of their marriage. How they had shagged in almost every room of their tiny apartment. How a smile had spread over her face every time she looked at Ron.
Hermione hurried towards the bedroom.
Later, Hermione wasn’t sure what it was that had made her stop at the bedroom door. She supposed that it was providence but something made her pause at the door instead of just walking right in.
She could hear whispered voices from inside the room. She stopped dead in her tracks, her stomach turning over unpleasantly. She couldn’t think of a single good reason why there would be somebody else in their bedroom.
Hermione leaned forward and pressed her ear against the door. She went over the past few minutes in her mind. She was always quiet whenever she entered the apartment and she didn’t think she had made any noise that would have permeated into the bedroom.
"I love you, Ron."
Hermione felt somewhat nauseated as she heard the female voice whisper the endearment. A part of her mind still couldn’t believe it. Ron couldn’t be cheating on her. Sure they had their problems, but didn’t all married couples? Harry and Ginny had separated for a few weeks last year but they were now back together and stronger than ever.
"Why don’t you just leave her?" the female voice said.
Hermione concentrated harder at the door. They were talking about her! How dare they! How dare Ron do this to her!
"You know I can’t right now," Ron said back, in a low voice that Hermione could barely catch. "It would break her. Next year, sweetheart. I promise."
She was furious. Not only was he cheating on her, but he was also planning on leaving her! How dare Ron decide what would break her? She wasn’t some delicate flower that he needed to be scared of crushing.
Fuming, Hermione crept stealthily back towards the front door. She wasn’t going to give Ron the satisfaction of seeing her like this. When she got to the door, Hermione leaned against the wall. Looking down, she realised her hands were shaking badly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t face Ron like this. She would just have to leave and not come back tonight. She could claim that she was working late at the Ministry.
With her mind made up, Hermione turned to leave. Her sleeve caught against a vase they kept on the hall table - a vase that was a wedding present to both of them. Hermione watched as the vase wobbled slightly, teetered and then smashed onto the hallway floor. Good, she thought grimly. It was quite reminiscent of their relationship. Ruined.
Hermione thought she could hear flurried sounds coming from the bedroom. Ron stuck his head out of the bedroom door, his hair ruffled. "Honey!" he said. "You’re back early. I was just about to hop into the shower."
Hermione frowned. He sounded perfectly normal. She supposed that his paramour was now Apparating or flooing away from their bedroom. She was suddenly filled with a renewed surge of fury. She expected him to sound panicked or something, but here he was, acting like it was any other day and that she hadn’t just been within an inch of catching him cheating on her. With a sinking feeling, Hermione wondered how many other times she had come close to discovering him. She felt like she had been blindfolded for most of their marriage and was only now seeing through the thin gauzy fabric.
"Hi," she said, proud to notice her voice didn’t break or catch. "I just came in to get a coat." She strode purposefully towards their bedroom and right past Ron.
Hermione couldn’t help sniffing as she entered the bedroom but she couldn’t detect any smell out of the ordinary. She wondered how many times this had happened in their bedroom.
"Working late?" Ron said, sounding sympathetic. His arms wrapped around her from behind and he kissed the nape of her neck.
Hermione stiffened.
"Are you alright, honey?" he asked.
"Fine," she forced out, making herself sound cheerful. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago that she was standing out on their doormat thinking about how good their marriage was. She had the feeling that she should confront him about his cheating, but she just couldn’t bring herself to. It was too painful. Too fresh. She knew she couldn’t be calm and Hermione prided herself on being able to remain calm in the most stressful of situations. "I need to visit one of my clients. I won’t be back till late tonight."
"Oh, that’s too bad," Ron said.
She frowned. Was that a note of relief in his voice? She supposed it was. Doubtless he wanted to get back to that girl. She wondered who it was. Did she know the girl? Was it one of their classmates back at Hogwarts?
Hermione realised she needed to get out of there quickly or she would snap and punch Ron. "I need to go," she said abruptly, reaching into the closet for her coat. She pushed pass Ron and strode to the door of the apartment. "I’ll see you later."
"Bye, sweetheart."
Hermione wanted to strangle him. He was still using endearments now? The rational part of her mind realised that he didn’t know that she knew about the affair, but she was still so angry.
Standing outside their apartment, she leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. For the first time in years, Hermione didn’t know what to do or where to go.
-
"I’ll have a -" Hermione scanned the row of bottles behind the bartender, "… uh… just give me something and make it a double shot."
The bartender gave her a sympathetic look. "Man troubles?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. She didn’t want to tell a stranger that her marriage was falling apart. Especially since she was in a Muggle pub. One of her co-workers had suggested this place, at one stage, as a nice place to go after work but Hermione had been too busy. She had wanted to get home to cook dinner for Ron. Her stomach soured at that thought now. "Something like that," she said.
"Here you go," the bartender handed her an amber liquid. "Double scotch."
She slid him a twenty and stared at her drink. She barely noticed when he handed her the change. Normally, she didn’t drink hard liquor. In fact, she barely drank at all. Perhaps, a glass of mulled wine at Christmas with the Weasleys and a glass of wine at celebrations, but that was all.
Oh well, Hermione thought as she picked up the glass. She sniffed it cautiously. It didn’t smell terribly bad to her, but she suspected it would taste worse. She was going to sip it slowly but she was struck again by the image of Ron’s arms around another woman.
Hermione lifted up her glass and downed the entire contents. She wrinkled her nose. The damn stuff burned as it went down her throat. The aftertaste wasn’t bad though. Perhaps she could get used to liquor.
She waved at the bartender. "I’ll have another." She could feel a flush on her cheeks. Whenever she drank, she ended up turning beet red.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you’re sure." She gave him the money and he slid another shot over to her.
Hermione studied her second scotch and was about to down the contents when somebody made a surprised noise behind her. She turned around and almost fell off her chair.
"Easy, Granger," the person said. An arm steadied her.
Hermione pulled herself back up onto the chair. She was slightly ashamed. She had only had one drink - well two drinks, her mind told herself. Looking up, she focused on the person who had grabbed her arm. "Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed.
He gave her a wry smile. "The one and only."
Hermione studied him. He had gotten handsomer over the past few years and the nasty look in his eyes had gone. Even his face had become less pointed. She suspected that if she were single - which, a nasty voice in her head reminded her, was likely to happen soon - and she didn’t know him, she would be rather attracted to that f ace.
Suddenly, she noticed that a woman was standing beside him. That must be Astoria Malfoy, she thought. Harry had told her about Draco’s wife. Harry had always said that Draco seemed somewhat nicer than he was at Hogwarts, but she had never believed him. Or rather, Ron had never believed him. Hermione was always ready to give people the benefit of the doubt, but her husband maintained that Draco Malfoy would never change.
"I’m Astoria Malfoy," the woman said, confirming Hermione’s thoughts, as she extended out one perfectly manicured hand for Hermione to shake.
"Hermione … Weasley," Hermione said and smiled back. She suspected from the look in Astoria’s eyes that the smile came out slightly twisted. "I knew Draco back at Hogwarts."
"Oh yes," Astoria said as she sat down on the barstool next to Hermione. "He’s mentioned you. You were friends with Harry Potter, were you not?"
Hermione nodded.
Draco seemed to be studying her intently. "This might be irretrievably rude of me, but what are you doing here?"
Hermione seethed inwardly. She knew that it wasn’t such a ridiculous question. After all, it wasn’t exactly the nicest Muggle pub out there and she was drinking alone. "What are you doing here?" she retorted. She winced slightly at how that came out.
"We were walking past. Draco was taking me to one of our favourite Muggle restaurants and then he thought he recognised you in here. I thought we should come in and say hello since our reservation wasn’t for another half hour," Astoria explained with an easy smile.
Hermione wondered wryly whether Astoria was always so nice. It explained Draco’s miraculous turn-about after Hogwarts, anyway. "I’m drinking," she said flatly. Even though Astoria Malfoy was being surprisingly nice and even Draco Malfoy was being less of a jerk than she remembered, she still didn’t want to tell them anything.
Draco looked like he was trying to make up his mind about whether to say something or not. "Are you having problems with Weasley?" he finally asked.
Astoria poked her husband in the ribs. "It’s none of our business," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
"That’s right," Hermione said firmly. "It is none of your business. I hope you have a wonderful dinner. Please leave me alone."
Still Draco didn’t leave. Even after Astoria kept a firm hold on his arm and tried to drag him away, he stayed. "Astoria," he said quietly. "Can you leave us for a minute?"
Astoria raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I suppose," she said. "I need to use the ladies room anyway. I’ll be right back." She turned and walked away but not before shooting Hermione a quizzical look.
Hermione frowned.
"I need to tell you something," Draco said. "Alone. I didn’t want Astoria to know."
Hermione stared. Was he going to tell her that he had been in love with her ever since Hogwarts or something? She didn’t think so, but given her recent revelation about Ron nothing would surprise her.
"I know about Weasley’s affair," he said.
Hermione brought her scotch glass down on the bar with a crash. Other patrons glared at her. "What?" she said, just a touch louder than she meant.
"It was…" Draco hesitated. "I was working on a case with Harry. We saw Ron outside talking to… someone. It was apparent that they were … intimate. Harry told me not to say anything."
Hermione had to take several deep breaths before she could speak properly and calmly. "Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" she spat out.
Draco looked sincerely apologetic. "I’m sorry, but I barely knew you at Hogwarts and what I did know of you… well… I spent my time insulting you and your friends. I didn’t think you’d listen."
Hermione had to admit that he was right. If Draco Malfoy had come to her before tonight, she wouldn’t have believed him. Hell, even if he had evidence, physical evidence, she still probably wouldn’t have believed him. After all, Draco had obviously hated her at school. He had called her Mudblood countless times. She would have just thought that he was trying to destroy her happy marriage. "Why are you telling me now?" she said, her voice trembling just slightly. Her stomach was feeling queasy and suddenly Hermione had the urge to throw up.
"I thought it was the right thing," Draco said, looking like he was now regretting saying anything. "I’m sorry." He hesitated. "Look, if you ever need anything… If you ever need help or anything, come to me or Astoria. She’ll help. She doesn’t know anything, but she’s the sweetest person."
Hermione didn’t know what to say. This was Draco Malfoy. Her nemesis from school, and he was offering help? It was as though the world had been turned upside down. It was ridiculous. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Why didn’t Harry tell me?"
Draco opened his mouth but at that moment Astoria came back from the bathroom.
"We’d better go," she said apologetically and smiled at Hermione. "Or we’ll miss our reservation. Hopefully we’ll see you again." She turned to her husband. "We’ll have to invite Hermione over for dinner sometime."
"Sounds good," Draco said blandly.
Hermione watched silently as they left.
-
"You’re a bastard," Hermione snapped. It was the next morning and she had decided to talk to Harry. She sat back on her heels and glared into her fireplace. She knew that he usually got up early. Briefly, she wondered whether Ginny knew of Ron’s affair but decided she didn’t really care. The bastard was going to pay. Not just because of the affair. Of course, she was furious about that. The image of Ron sleeping with another woman had haunted her the entire night. But that wasn’t the bit that rankled the most. It was the attitude he had displayed when she was eavesdropping on him.
Harry looked quizzically at her, his hair obviously rumpled from sleep. "Are you okay?"
"I know about Ron," Hermione said coldly.
She watched as puzzlement, shock, fear and then finally sadness went over Harry’s features. He was never very good at keeping his emotions to himself, she thought grimly. Then she rethought. Obviously he had managed to hide Ron’s affair from her. Perhaps Harry was better at lying than she thought.
"I’m sorry I didn’t tell you," Harry began.
She interrupted him. "I don’t want to hear your excuses. Is Ginny there? Does she know?"
Harry looked at her in surprise. "No she’s not. She had to go to work early. And she doesn’t know. I’m sorry. Ron made me promise…"
She laughed, the sound sounding harsh even to her own years. "Do you realise how ridiculous you sound, Harry?" she snapped. "I was your friend, Harry. What the fuck do you think friendship means? You tell your friends these things. I would have told you if Ginny was sleeping around. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t tell her. Least my marriage wasn’t pillow talk for you."
He just stared at her, blinking silently. She resisted the urge to Floo over and punch him in the face. She grabbed her wand and waved it over her fire, watching as Harry’s head disappeared.
Hermione sat down heavily on the floor. She knew she was being slightly harsh towards Harry. Sure he should have told her, but knowing Harry he was too scared of hurting her feelings. He must have thought that it was just a one-off thing or something like that. It didn’t make the fact he didn’t tell her any more right, but it was at least understandable. Besides, it was Ron who had done this to her. Not Harry. As far as she knew, Harry’s marriage was perfect.
Her lip trembled. Before last night, her marriage was perfect too. She stared around the bedroom her and Ron shared. Her side of the bed was neat as a pin while his side was rumpled. She had gotten home late the night before and slipped silently into bed beside him. She had ignored his attempts to reach for her under the blanket and had pretended to be asleep. This morning when she had woken up, Ron was gone.
He had left her an apologetic note about having to work on the weekend. The note promised to make it up to her later.
Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. No doubt he was fucking the other woman right now.
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her nightgown. She hadn’t a clue what to do today. And she was beginning to feel a slight hangover. A part of her wanted to just go and down the red wine in their pantry. They had been saving it for a special occasion.
Well, this is special enough, Hermione thought grimly. She wondered whether Harry would tell Ron about their conversation. With thought, she decided that he probably wouldn’t. Harry wasn’t like that. He thought people would be better off working out their problems by themselves.
She thought back to the previous night. She now regretted not trying to get to know Draco and Astoria better in the previous few years. Obviously she still had the image of Draco as a spoiled brat. He had been during all their years at Hogwarts, after all. But last night had brought it across very strongly that Draco had changed.
Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t want to just go over to Malfoy Manor unannounced though, despite what he said.
She frowned and went over to her filing cabinet she kept in their bedroom. Ron had always hated the fact that she brought her work to bed with her. Rifling through it, Hermione found the file she wanted. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was due for parole in a few weeks, but there were certain factions in the Wizengamot who wanted him to serve out his full ten year sentence in Azkaban.
Even before last night, Hermione had had reservations about that. To her, it seemed as though Lucius Malfoy was just going to stay in Azkaban, without a proper hearing. As much as she detested the man, she felt like he deserved proper justice just like everybody else. Over the past few years, in her work, she was beginning to suspect that the Coventry Trials of the prisoners of the Second Voldemort War were a huge farce. None of the Death Eaters had adequate representation and all were sentenced to more than ten years in Azkaban.
Hermione had to admit that Azkaban was nicer now. Well as nice as a prison could be. Least it didn’t have Dementors any more.
And they were all Death Eaters. Proven Death Eaters from the Dark Marks on their left forearms. But the Coventry Trials still left a sour taste in her mouth.
She bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Over the past few years, she had more than adequate experience in defending people against the injustices in the wizarding world. She had heard people call her a crusader for justice and some not-so-nice names.
"I’ll do it," she said suddenly, her voice sounding funny in the empty bedroom.
She knew that Lucius Malfoy didn’t have representation for his parole hearing. I am campaigning for rights for everybody, she thought grimly. Everybody includes ex-Death Eaters. Besides, she wanted to do something different for once.
With a wry smile, Hermione realised that this had started off as being a ploy to go over and talk to Draco Malfoy. She didn’t feel like she could go to anybody else. For one thing, everybody else knew Ron and would probably tell him that she knew about his affair. She just wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.
As much as she still wanted to talk to Draco, Hermione realised - with surprise - that she wanted to act as Lucius Malfoy’s counsel as well. It was the right thing to do; she knew it.
-
Draco Malfoy looked nowhere near as friendly as he had done the night before. In fact, when Hermione had brought up defending his father, he had looked downright hostile. "Why?" he had asked bluntly.
Hermione frowned. Why indeed? "Because it’s the right thing to do," she said slowly. She was aware that she had to tread carefully and that one wrong word would land her in Draco’s bad graces forever. She cursed inwardly for not treading more carefully. She should have known that the man would have been protective of his father. The Malfoys were always an insular family.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure this isn’t a way to get back at your husband?"
Hermione bit her lip. What could she say to that? Finally, she settled on the truth. "That is part of it."
Draco scraped back his chair and stood up. "I’ve heard enough," he said coldly. "You’re getting nowhere near any member of my family. And I retract what I said last night. It was obviously out of misplaced sympathy."
Hermione gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to punch him in the nose. "You didn’t let me finish," she said. "It would give me utmost pleasure to represent your father to spite Ron, but once I thought about it more, I realised that your father needs representation. I seem to be the only person offering it. You know my work. You know I can do this, and do it fairly. I’m not asking you to trust me, just to believe me!"
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her through lidded grey eyes. "The final decision lies with my father."
Hermione gave an inward cry of exultation.
A faint smile appeared on Draco’s face. "Don’t judge me harshly for loving my father, Hermione."
Hermione decided not to give a litany of reasons why Lucius Malfoy was not a lovable person. Undoubtedly, Draco had heard them all before. "I suppose," she said slowly, "that we do not choose our family."
-
Hermione wasn’t sure why, but she dressed very carefully for her visit to Azkaban. She had spent a long time staring at her meagre wardrobe and had finally decided on Muggle business attire. It wouldn’t hurt the case of Lucius - she had decided that if she was going to represent him, she might as well call him by his given name - if his defendant was dressed in Muggle clothing. Obviously, for the trial itself she had to wear robes, but first impressions mattered.
There was no Apparation onto the island, so Hermione walked over from the nearest Apparation Point, which was a good half a kilometre away. They certainly don’t encourage people to visit, Hermione thought grumpily as she walked. She could feel a blister forming on her heel.
Finally, as she walked up a hill, she saw the first view of the island. It wasn’t as breathtaking as the view of Hogwarts from the train. In fact, it wasn’t even memorable. Over a short stretch of water, upon which dubious looking Muggle-style boats were bobbing, she could see several long, low buildings with bars on the windows.
The place strummed with magic. Hermione could feel it from here. Obviously, after the escape of Sirius Black, they had upped the security. Now, not only were there spells on prisoners from stepping a foot off the island, but there were also spells on the cells themselves and on the prison buildings. They were taking no chances, especially since the Dementors were no longer here.
Personally, Hermione was glad the Dementors weren’t here any more. Like everybody else, she was terrified of the creatures. She could perform a reasonably good Expecto Patronum but she didn’t want to have to.
Now, Azkaban - like the other wizarding prisons - was staffed by witches and wizards - mostly wizards. There was somebody waiting for her by the dock; a tall, brown, lean, weather-beaten man. He looked her up and down, from her fussy collared shirt, to her low heels and raised an eyebrow.
"My name is Hermione Granger," she said crisply, ignoring his look and extending her hand. It was half a second before she realised that she had given him her maiden name.
After a moment’s hesitation, he took it. "The name’s Joshua," he said, his voice a slow drawl. "Now, miss, are you here to visit a prisoner?"
"I am here to speak to my client," Hermione fibbed. She crossed her fingers behind her back. Hopefully after this session, it would be the truth. If it wasn’t, then she had no more reason to come back here anyway.
He smiled at her and she could tell that he found her attractive. Almost unconsciously, she moved her left hand so that her wedding ring flashed in the sunlight. Immediately, Joshua’s expression became businesslike. "So who is this client of yours?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
She almost enjoyed the shocked expression on his face.
-
Lucius Malfoy looked almost normal except for his bright orange prison scrubs. Hermione couldn’t help but observing that orange was definitely not his colour. The uniforms of the prisoners had been changed along with other drastic changes to the running of Azkaban. It was apparent that with the lack of Dementors, Azkaban had become a far more humane place. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see other prisoners. All of them had a slightly gaunt look, but none of them looked as haunted as Sirius did.
"You don’t look surprised," Hermione observed.
"My son warned me that you might visit," Lucius said. His voice was dry and raspy. Hermione guessed that he didn’t have much of a chance to use it. Azkaban still kept all of their prisoners in solitary confinement.
"Then he would have told you that I wish to represent you at your appeal," she said, slightly flummoxed by the intense look in his eyes. It wasn’t just directed to her. Whenever somebody walked past, Lucius would stare at them intensely. She wondered whether it was some sort of side effect of being in solitary.
"He did, indeed," Lucius said.
Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to respond. When she finally realised that he wouldn’t, she prompted him. "Well? Do you want my representation?" She had decided to be blunt. "I’m the best chance you have. Without representation, you are no doubt going to spend the rest of your prison sentence here and that’s another ten long years."
He tilted his head to one side and looked at her through his eyelashes. Hermione had wondered where Draco had gotten that mannerism from and here was her answer. "And what prompted this altruism?"
"I believe that everybody should get the best possible representation," she said.
A harsh sound erupted out of his mouth. Lucius coughed a few times and she suddenly realised that he was laughing. "If you truly believed that, girl, you would have been in here long ago representing every other lost soul, every other Death Eater."
Hermione gave herself a mental kick. She knew that Lucius Malfoy was smart. Why hadn’t she come up with a better lie? "It’s part of the reason."
"No doubt," he said. A slow smile curved his lips. "No doubt you’re doing this as revenge against somebody. Revenge against somebody who has hurt you. You have a deep sense of fairness and that is why you’ve chosen to represent somebody. You’ve chosen to represent me because that will hurt somebody."
Hermione felt cold all over. "Well," she said icily, "I’m glad Draco has informed you."
Lucius shook his head. "My son has told me nothing. You… you’re one of those Mu… Muggleborns who have their inner feelings written all over their face."
"Why don’t you just say Mudblood?" she snapped. "It doesn’t bother me." Actually, Hermione reflected, that was the truth. The expletive annoyed her, but it didn’t hurt her. Ron had always reacted so angrily and instinctively towards the word that Hermione had always felt indignant. But it was more on his behalf. She supposed it was a result of not having grown up with the term. It was like trying to swear in another language. A thousand ‘Merdes’ didn’t have the same feeling as a ‘shit’ to her.
"I am led to believe that it is not politically expedient to say that word," Lucius said mildly, so mildly that for the second time in so many days, Hermione felt the urge to punch somebody.
"So?" she snapped. "Do you wish for me to represent you?"
He laughed again. "Be kinder to your client, Hermione, or you might give the impression that you’re working for the opposition."
It took Hermione half a second to realise that, in his own way, Lucius had just let her know that she was now representing him.
Click here to read the next chapter.
Title: Blindfold Lifted (Part 1/2)
Author: curia_regis
Gift for: redheadfaerie
Pairing: Lucius/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/somebody else
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Infidelity
Word Count: ~ 11, 000
Summary: Hermione discovers Ron cheating on her.
A/N: Thank you to H for the awesomely fast beta! <3
Blindfold Lifted, Part I
Humming happily to herself, Hermione took her keys out of her purse and opened the front door. Six months earlier, she had taken the plunge with Ron and bought the apartment. It had taken them years of saving but it was worth it. She loved the light airy feeling of the new apartment. Their furniture was new - much to the dismay of Molly Weasley - and they had thrown out the hand-me-downs they’d had before.
Over the past few years, Ron had surprised himself by his aptitude as an Auror and she was reasonably pleased with her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Sure, he earned more than her, but Hermione comforted herself with the thought that she was making a real difference in the lives of house elves and other disenfranchised magical creatures. Her lips quirked into a slight smile as she realised that she was doing almost exactly the same thing she had done back at Hogwarts.
A slight frown passed over Hermione’s face as she noticed the lights were off in the apartment. Obviously, Ron wasn’t home yet. He had been having increasingly late nights at the Ministry lately. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that their marriage was suffering but it certainly didn’t feel like the happy early days of their relationship. To be honest, she couldn’t remember the last time they had sex. It could have been last month. Or possibly the month before. It seemed nowadays either Ron was home too late or she was too tired from going in front of the Wizengamot.
Suddenly, Hermione heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. It seemed that Ron was home after all. An involuntary smile spread over her face. She wasn’t tired at all today and Ron was obviously home early. Perhaps, they could rekindle some of their spark.
She remembered the early days of their marriage. How they had shagged in almost every room of their tiny apartment. How a smile had spread over her face every time she looked at Ron.
Hermione hurried towards the bedroom.
Later, Hermione wasn’t sure what it was that had made her stop at the bedroom door. She supposed that it was providence but something made her pause at the door instead of just walking right in.
She could hear whispered voices from inside the room. She stopped dead in her tracks, her stomach turning over unpleasantly. She couldn’t think of a single good reason why there would be somebody else in their bedroom.
Hermione leaned forward and pressed her ear against the door. She went over the past few minutes in her mind. She was always quiet whenever she entered the apartment and she didn’t think she had made any noise that would have permeated into the bedroom.
"I love you, Ron."
Hermione felt somewhat nauseated as she heard the female voice whisper the endearment. A part of her mind still couldn’t believe it. Ron couldn’t be cheating on her. Sure they had their problems, but didn’t all married couples? Harry and Ginny had separated for a few weeks last year but they were now back together and stronger than ever.
"Why don’t you just leave her?" the female voice said.
Hermione concentrated harder at the door. They were talking about her! How dare they! How dare Ron do this to her!
"You know I can’t right now," Ron said back, in a low voice that Hermione could barely catch. "It would break her. Next year, sweetheart. I promise."
She was furious. Not only was he cheating on her, but he was also planning on leaving her! How dare Ron decide what would break her? She wasn’t some delicate flower that he needed to be scared of crushing.
Fuming, Hermione crept stealthily back towards the front door. She wasn’t going to give Ron the satisfaction of seeing her like this. When she got to the door, Hermione leaned against the wall. Looking down, she realised her hands were shaking badly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t face Ron like this. She would just have to leave and not come back tonight. She could claim that she was working late at the Ministry.
With her mind made up, Hermione turned to leave. Her sleeve caught against a vase they kept on the hall table - a vase that was a wedding present to both of them. Hermione watched as the vase wobbled slightly, teetered and then smashed onto the hallway floor. Good, she thought grimly. It was quite reminiscent of their relationship. Ruined.
Hermione thought she could hear flurried sounds coming from the bedroom. Ron stuck his head out of the bedroom door, his hair ruffled. "Honey!" he said. "You’re back early. I was just about to hop into the shower."
Hermione frowned. He sounded perfectly normal. She supposed that his paramour was now Apparating or flooing away from their bedroom. She was suddenly filled with a renewed surge of fury. She expected him to sound panicked or something, but here he was, acting like it was any other day and that she hadn’t just been within an inch of catching him cheating on her. With a sinking feeling, Hermione wondered how many other times she had come close to discovering him. She felt like she had been blindfolded for most of their marriage and was only now seeing through the thin gauzy fabric.
"Hi," she said, proud to notice her voice didn’t break or catch. "I just came in to get a coat." She strode purposefully towards their bedroom and right past Ron.
Hermione couldn’t help sniffing as she entered the bedroom but she couldn’t detect any smell out of the ordinary. She wondered how many times this had happened in their bedroom.
"Working late?" Ron said, sounding sympathetic. His arms wrapped around her from behind and he kissed the nape of her neck.
Hermione stiffened.
"Are you alright, honey?" he asked.
"Fine," she forced out, making herself sound cheerful. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago that she was standing out on their doormat thinking about how good their marriage was. She had the feeling that she should confront him about his cheating, but she just couldn’t bring herself to. It was too painful. Too fresh. She knew she couldn’t be calm and Hermione prided herself on being able to remain calm in the most stressful of situations. "I need to visit one of my clients. I won’t be back till late tonight."
"Oh, that’s too bad," Ron said.
She frowned. Was that a note of relief in his voice? She supposed it was. Doubtless he wanted to get back to that girl. She wondered who it was. Did she know the girl? Was it one of their classmates back at Hogwarts?
Hermione realised she needed to get out of there quickly or she would snap and punch Ron. "I need to go," she said abruptly, reaching into the closet for her coat. She pushed pass Ron and strode to the door of the apartment. "I’ll see you later."
"Bye, sweetheart."
Hermione wanted to strangle him. He was still using endearments now? The rational part of her mind realised that he didn’t know that she knew about the affair, but she was still so angry.
Standing outside their apartment, she leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. For the first time in years, Hermione didn’t know what to do or where to go.
-
"I’ll have a -" Hermione scanned the row of bottles behind the bartender, "… uh… just give me something and make it a double shot."
The bartender gave her a sympathetic look. "Man troubles?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. She didn’t want to tell a stranger that her marriage was falling apart. Especially since she was in a Muggle pub. One of her co-workers had suggested this place, at one stage, as a nice place to go after work but Hermione had been too busy. She had wanted to get home to cook dinner for Ron. Her stomach soured at that thought now. "Something like that," she said.
"Here you go," the bartender handed her an amber liquid. "Double scotch."
She slid him a twenty and stared at her drink. She barely noticed when he handed her the change. Normally, she didn’t drink hard liquor. In fact, she barely drank at all. Perhaps, a glass of mulled wine at Christmas with the Weasleys and a glass of wine at celebrations, but that was all.
Oh well, Hermione thought as she picked up the glass. She sniffed it cautiously. It didn’t smell terribly bad to her, but she suspected it would taste worse. She was going to sip it slowly but she was struck again by the image of Ron’s arms around another woman.
Hermione lifted up her glass and downed the entire contents. She wrinkled her nose. The damn stuff burned as it went down her throat. The aftertaste wasn’t bad though. Perhaps she could get used to liquor.
She waved at the bartender. "I’ll have another." She could feel a flush on her cheeks. Whenever she drank, she ended up turning beet red.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you’re sure." She gave him the money and he slid another shot over to her.
Hermione studied her second scotch and was about to down the contents when somebody made a surprised noise behind her. She turned around and almost fell off her chair.
"Easy, Granger," the person said. An arm steadied her.
Hermione pulled herself back up onto the chair. She was slightly ashamed. She had only had one drink - well two drinks, her mind told herself. Looking up, she focused on the person who had grabbed her arm. "Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed.
He gave her a wry smile. "The one and only."
Hermione studied him. He had gotten handsomer over the past few years and the nasty look in his eyes had gone. Even his face had become less pointed. She suspected that if she were single - which, a nasty voice in her head reminded her, was likely to happen soon - and she didn’t know him, she would be rather attracted to that f ace.
Suddenly, she noticed that a woman was standing beside him. That must be Astoria Malfoy, she thought. Harry had told her about Draco’s wife. Harry had always said that Draco seemed somewhat nicer than he was at Hogwarts, but she had never believed him. Or rather, Ron had never believed him. Hermione was always ready to give people the benefit of the doubt, but her husband maintained that Draco Malfoy would never change.
"I’m Astoria Malfoy," the woman said, confirming Hermione’s thoughts, as she extended out one perfectly manicured hand for Hermione to shake.
"Hermione … Weasley," Hermione said and smiled back. She suspected from the look in Astoria’s eyes that the smile came out slightly twisted. "I knew Draco back at Hogwarts."
"Oh yes," Astoria said as she sat down on the barstool next to Hermione. "He’s mentioned you. You were friends with Harry Potter, were you not?"
Hermione nodded.
Draco seemed to be studying her intently. "This might be irretrievably rude of me, but what are you doing here?"
Hermione seethed inwardly. She knew that it wasn’t such a ridiculous question. After all, it wasn’t exactly the nicest Muggle pub out there and she was drinking alone. "What are you doing here?" she retorted. She winced slightly at how that came out.
"We were walking past. Draco was taking me to one of our favourite Muggle restaurants and then he thought he recognised you in here. I thought we should come in and say hello since our reservation wasn’t for another half hour," Astoria explained with an easy smile.
Hermione wondered wryly whether Astoria was always so nice. It explained Draco’s miraculous turn-about after Hogwarts, anyway. "I’m drinking," she said flatly. Even though Astoria Malfoy was being surprisingly nice and even Draco Malfoy was being less of a jerk than she remembered, she still didn’t want to tell them anything.
Draco looked like he was trying to make up his mind about whether to say something or not. "Are you having problems with Weasley?" he finally asked.
Astoria poked her husband in the ribs. "It’s none of our business," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
"That’s right," Hermione said firmly. "It is none of your business. I hope you have a wonderful dinner. Please leave me alone."
Still Draco didn’t leave. Even after Astoria kept a firm hold on his arm and tried to drag him away, he stayed. "Astoria," he said quietly. "Can you leave us for a minute?"
Astoria raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I suppose," she said. "I need to use the ladies room anyway. I’ll be right back." She turned and walked away but not before shooting Hermione a quizzical look.
Hermione frowned.
"I need to tell you something," Draco said. "Alone. I didn’t want Astoria to know."
Hermione stared. Was he going to tell her that he had been in love with her ever since Hogwarts or something? She didn’t think so, but given her recent revelation about Ron nothing would surprise her.
"I know about Weasley’s affair," he said.
Hermione brought her scotch glass down on the bar with a crash. Other patrons glared at her. "What?" she said, just a touch louder than she meant.
"It was…" Draco hesitated. "I was working on a case with Harry. We saw Ron outside talking to… someone. It was apparent that they were … intimate. Harry told me not to say anything."
Hermione had to take several deep breaths before she could speak properly and calmly. "Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?" she spat out.
Draco looked sincerely apologetic. "I’m sorry, but I barely knew you at Hogwarts and what I did know of you… well… I spent my time insulting you and your friends. I didn’t think you’d listen."
Hermione had to admit that he was right. If Draco Malfoy had come to her before tonight, she wouldn’t have believed him. Hell, even if he had evidence, physical evidence, she still probably wouldn’t have believed him. After all, Draco had obviously hated her at school. He had called her Mudblood countless times. She would have just thought that he was trying to destroy her happy marriage. "Why are you telling me now?" she said, her voice trembling just slightly. Her stomach was feeling queasy and suddenly Hermione had the urge to throw up.
"I thought it was the right thing," Draco said, looking like he was now regretting saying anything. "I’m sorry." He hesitated. "Look, if you ever need anything… If you ever need help or anything, come to me or Astoria. She’ll help. She doesn’t know anything, but she’s the sweetest person."
Hermione didn’t know what to say. This was Draco Malfoy. Her nemesis from school, and he was offering help? It was as though the world had been turned upside down. It was ridiculous. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Why didn’t Harry tell me?"
Draco opened his mouth but at that moment Astoria came back from the bathroom.
"We’d better go," she said apologetically and smiled at Hermione. "Or we’ll miss our reservation. Hopefully we’ll see you again." She turned to her husband. "We’ll have to invite Hermione over for dinner sometime."
"Sounds good," Draco said blandly.
Hermione watched silently as they left.
-
"You’re a bastard," Hermione snapped. It was the next morning and she had decided to talk to Harry. She sat back on her heels and glared into her fireplace. She knew that he usually got up early. Briefly, she wondered whether Ginny knew of Ron’s affair but decided she didn’t really care. The bastard was going to pay. Not just because of the affair. Of course, she was furious about that. The image of Ron sleeping with another woman had haunted her the entire night. But that wasn’t the bit that rankled the most. It was the attitude he had displayed when she was eavesdropping on him.
Harry looked quizzically at her, his hair obviously rumpled from sleep. "Are you okay?"
"I know about Ron," Hermione said coldly.
She watched as puzzlement, shock, fear and then finally sadness went over Harry’s features. He was never very good at keeping his emotions to himself, she thought grimly. Then she rethought. Obviously he had managed to hide Ron’s affair from her. Perhaps Harry was better at lying than she thought.
"I’m sorry I didn’t tell you," Harry began.
She interrupted him. "I don’t want to hear your excuses. Is Ginny there? Does she know?"
Harry looked at her in surprise. "No she’s not. She had to go to work early. And she doesn’t know. I’m sorry. Ron made me promise…"
She laughed, the sound sounding harsh even to her own years. "Do you realise how ridiculous you sound, Harry?" she snapped. "I was your friend, Harry. What the fuck do you think friendship means? You tell your friends these things. I would have told you if Ginny was sleeping around. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t tell her. Least my marriage wasn’t pillow talk for you."
He just stared at her, blinking silently. She resisted the urge to Floo over and punch him in the face. She grabbed her wand and waved it over her fire, watching as Harry’s head disappeared.
Hermione sat down heavily on the floor. She knew she was being slightly harsh towards Harry. Sure he should have told her, but knowing Harry he was too scared of hurting her feelings. He must have thought that it was just a one-off thing or something like that. It didn’t make the fact he didn’t tell her any more right, but it was at least understandable. Besides, it was Ron who had done this to her. Not Harry. As far as she knew, Harry’s marriage was perfect.
Her lip trembled. Before last night, her marriage was perfect too. She stared around the bedroom her and Ron shared. Her side of the bed was neat as a pin while his side was rumpled. She had gotten home late the night before and slipped silently into bed beside him. She had ignored his attempts to reach for her under the blanket and had pretended to be asleep. This morning when she had woken up, Ron was gone.
He had left her an apologetic note about having to work on the weekend. The note promised to make it up to her later.
Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. No doubt he was fucking the other woman right now.
Hermione fiddled with the hem of her nightgown. She hadn’t a clue what to do today. And she was beginning to feel a slight hangover. A part of her wanted to just go and down the red wine in their pantry. They had been saving it for a special occasion.
Well, this is special enough, Hermione thought grimly. She wondered whether Harry would tell Ron about their conversation. With thought, she decided that he probably wouldn’t. Harry wasn’t like that. He thought people would be better off working out their problems by themselves.
She thought back to the previous night. She now regretted not trying to get to know Draco and Astoria better in the previous few years. Obviously she still had the image of Draco as a spoiled brat. He had been during all their years at Hogwarts, after all. But last night had brought it across very strongly that Draco had changed.
Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t want to just go over to Malfoy Manor unannounced though, despite what he said.
She frowned and went over to her filing cabinet she kept in their bedroom. Ron had always hated the fact that she brought her work to bed with her. Rifling through it, Hermione found the file she wanted. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was due for parole in a few weeks, but there were certain factions in the Wizengamot who wanted him to serve out his full ten year sentence in Azkaban.
Even before last night, Hermione had had reservations about that. To her, it seemed as though Lucius Malfoy was just going to stay in Azkaban, without a proper hearing. As much as she detested the man, she felt like he deserved proper justice just like everybody else. Over the past few years, in her work, she was beginning to suspect that the Coventry Trials of the prisoners of the Second Voldemort War were a huge farce. None of the Death Eaters had adequate representation and all were sentenced to more than ten years in Azkaban.
Hermione had to admit that Azkaban was nicer now. Well as nice as a prison could be. Least it didn’t have Dementors any more.
And they were all Death Eaters. Proven Death Eaters from the Dark Marks on their left forearms. But the Coventry Trials still left a sour taste in her mouth.
She bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Over the past few years, she had more than adequate experience in defending people against the injustices in the wizarding world. She had heard people call her a crusader for justice and some not-so-nice names.
"I’ll do it," she said suddenly, her voice sounding funny in the empty bedroom.
She knew that Lucius Malfoy didn’t have representation for his parole hearing. I am campaigning for rights for everybody, she thought grimly. Everybody includes ex-Death Eaters. Besides, she wanted to do something different for once.
With a wry smile, Hermione realised that this had started off as being a ploy to go over and talk to Draco Malfoy. She didn’t feel like she could go to anybody else. For one thing, everybody else knew Ron and would probably tell him that she knew about his affair. She just wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.
As much as she still wanted to talk to Draco, Hermione realised - with surprise - that she wanted to act as Lucius Malfoy’s counsel as well. It was the right thing to do; she knew it.
-
Draco Malfoy looked nowhere near as friendly as he had done the night before. In fact, when Hermione had brought up defending his father, he had looked downright hostile. "Why?" he had asked bluntly.
Hermione frowned. Why indeed? "Because it’s the right thing to do," she said slowly. She was aware that she had to tread carefully and that one wrong word would land her in Draco’s bad graces forever. She cursed inwardly for not treading more carefully. She should have known that the man would have been protective of his father. The Malfoys were always an insular family.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure this isn’t a way to get back at your husband?"
Hermione bit her lip. What could she say to that? Finally, she settled on the truth. "That is part of it."
Draco scraped back his chair and stood up. "I’ve heard enough," he said coldly. "You’re getting nowhere near any member of my family. And I retract what I said last night. It was obviously out of misplaced sympathy."
Hermione gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to punch him in the nose. "You didn’t let me finish," she said. "It would give me utmost pleasure to represent your father to spite Ron, but once I thought about it more, I realised that your father needs representation. I seem to be the only person offering it. You know my work. You know I can do this, and do it fairly. I’m not asking you to trust me, just to believe me!"
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her through lidded grey eyes. "The final decision lies with my father."
Hermione gave an inward cry of exultation.
A faint smile appeared on Draco’s face. "Don’t judge me harshly for loving my father, Hermione."
Hermione decided not to give a litany of reasons why Lucius Malfoy was not a lovable person. Undoubtedly, Draco had heard them all before. "I suppose," she said slowly, "that we do not choose our family."
-
Hermione wasn’t sure why, but she dressed very carefully for her visit to Azkaban. She had spent a long time staring at her meagre wardrobe and had finally decided on Muggle business attire. It wouldn’t hurt the case of Lucius - she had decided that if she was going to represent him, she might as well call him by his given name - if his defendant was dressed in Muggle clothing. Obviously, for the trial itself she had to wear robes, but first impressions mattered.
There was no Apparation onto the island, so Hermione walked over from the nearest Apparation Point, which was a good half a kilometre away. They certainly don’t encourage people to visit, Hermione thought grumpily as she walked. She could feel a blister forming on her heel.
Finally, as she walked up a hill, she saw the first view of the island. It wasn’t as breathtaking as the view of Hogwarts from the train. In fact, it wasn’t even memorable. Over a short stretch of water, upon which dubious looking Muggle-style boats were bobbing, she could see several long, low buildings with bars on the windows.
The place strummed with magic. Hermione could feel it from here. Obviously, after the escape of Sirius Black, they had upped the security. Now, not only were there spells on prisoners from stepping a foot off the island, but there were also spells on the cells themselves and on the prison buildings. They were taking no chances, especially since the Dementors were no longer here.
Personally, Hermione was glad the Dementors weren’t here any more. Like everybody else, she was terrified of the creatures. She could perform a reasonably good Expecto Patronum but she didn’t want to have to.
Now, Azkaban - like the other wizarding prisons - was staffed by witches and wizards - mostly wizards. There was somebody waiting for her by the dock; a tall, brown, lean, weather-beaten man. He looked her up and down, from her fussy collared shirt, to her low heels and raised an eyebrow.
"My name is Hermione Granger," she said crisply, ignoring his look and extending her hand. It was half a second before she realised that she had given him her maiden name.
After a moment’s hesitation, he took it. "The name’s Joshua," he said, his voice a slow drawl. "Now, miss, are you here to visit a prisoner?"
"I am here to speak to my client," Hermione fibbed. She crossed her fingers behind her back. Hopefully after this session, it would be the truth. If it wasn’t, then she had no more reason to come back here anyway.
He smiled at her and she could tell that he found her attractive. Almost unconsciously, she moved her left hand so that her wedding ring flashed in the sunlight. Immediately, Joshua’s expression became businesslike. "So who is this client of yours?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
She almost enjoyed the shocked expression on his face.
-
Lucius Malfoy looked almost normal except for his bright orange prison scrubs. Hermione couldn’t help but observing that orange was definitely not his colour. The uniforms of the prisoners had been changed along with other drastic changes to the running of Azkaban. It was apparent that with the lack of Dementors, Azkaban had become a far more humane place. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see other prisoners. All of them had a slightly gaunt look, but none of them looked as haunted as Sirius did.
"You don’t look surprised," Hermione observed.
"My son warned me that you might visit," Lucius said. His voice was dry and raspy. Hermione guessed that he didn’t have much of a chance to use it. Azkaban still kept all of their prisoners in solitary confinement.
"Then he would have told you that I wish to represent you at your appeal," she said, slightly flummoxed by the intense look in his eyes. It wasn’t just directed to her. Whenever somebody walked past, Lucius would stare at them intensely. She wondered whether it was some sort of side effect of being in solitary.
"He did, indeed," Lucius said.
Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to respond. When she finally realised that he wouldn’t, she prompted him. "Well? Do you want my representation?" She had decided to be blunt. "I’m the best chance you have. Without representation, you are no doubt going to spend the rest of your prison sentence here and that’s another ten long years."
He tilted his head to one side and looked at her through his eyelashes. Hermione had wondered where Draco had gotten that mannerism from and here was her answer. "And what prompted this altruism?"
"I believe that everybody should get the best possible representation," she said.
A harsh sound erupted out of his mouth. Lucius coughed a few times and she suddenly realised that he was laughing. "If you truly believed that, girl, you would have been in here long ago representing every other lost soul, every other Death Eater."
Hermione gave herself a mental kick. She knew that Lucius Malfoy was smart. Why hadn’t she come up with a better lie? "It’s part of the reason."
"No doubt," he said. A slow smile curved his lips. "No doubt you’re doing this as revenge against somebody. Revenge against somebody who has hurt you. You have a deep sense of fairness and that is why you’ve chosen to represent somebody. You’ve chosen to represent me because that will hurt somebody."
Hermione felt cold all over. "Well," she said icily, "I’m glad Draco has informed you."
Lucius shook his head. "My son has told me nothing. You… you’re one of those Mu… Muggleborns who have their inner feelings written all over their face."
"Why don’t you just say Mudblood?" she snapped. "It doesn’t bother me." Actually, Hermione reflected, that was the truth. The expletive annoyed her, but it didn’t hurt her. Ron had always reacted so angrily and instinctively towards the word that Hermione had always felt indignant. But it was more on his behalf. She supposed it was a result of not having grown up with the term. It was like trying to swear in another language. A thousand ‘Merdes’ didn’t have the same feeling as a ‘shit’ to her.
"I am led to believe that it is not politically expedient to say that word," Lucius said mildly, so mildly that for the second time in so many days, Hermione felt the urge to punch somebody.
"So?" she snapped. "Do you wish for me to represent you?"
He laughed again. "Be kinder to your client, Hermione, or you might give the impression that you’re working for the opposition."
It took Hermione half a second to realise that, in his own way, Lucius had just let her know that she was now representing him.
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