Chapter Three

Give me back my Cane!

(A/N ---a HUGE thanks go out to Heidi191976, starrcudee, ginnyginny, latinachikita, elh4587, and schwertlilie81 for reviewing! As far as the question that was asked about how the Deatheaters even got into Hogwarts, to be honest I did think about putting it in the 2nd chapter but I got sidetracked and I forgot, I'll be sure to mention it at some point in this chapter, so thanks for asking! Anyways, without further ado… oh wait, I need a beta, does anyone want to help me with my horrible grammar and sentence structure? LET ME KNOW! Okay, now ON WITH THE STORY!


Lucius snorted unpleasantly at the mudblood in question as she turned her gaze from him and went over to her cot to sift through her new belongings. He saw her pick up her copy of Hogwarts a History and settled down in her cot looking distressed at its hard form. She was trying her hardest to ignore the fact that he was anywhere near her and she kept her eyes firmly to the book in her hand, though her eyes seemed glazed over.

He turned his body and reached for his cane that sat at his bedside, and picked it up gracefully. He examined its sleek form as he turned it repeatedly in his large hands. It was made of sweet mahogany that had been roughly sandpapered down to perfection and then painted over in black. It was covered at the bottom with a silver bit, but the top was what concerned him the most. It was capped with a silver serpent that was artfully created by Borgin of Borgin and Burkes himself, and was tailored exactly to suit his needs. Inside its scabbard he usually kept his wand so that he had easy access whenever he so decided to use it; but of course the warden had confiscated it and examined it to the fullest extent. It had been a week before he was given it back.

There was absolutely no reason for him to have it here at all, as it contained no magical properties with his wand impounded. In a truly un-Malfoy manner he wanted it for comfort; insisting that it be placed in his cell, though he did not give the warden a reason why. He scoffed quietly at the thought of any Malfoy needing anything to comfort him or her. The more he thought of it, however, the angrier he became. He felt weak having such a thing in his cell when it neither held purpose nor entertained him in any way. In a moment of rash anger, he threw his cane across the cell and watched as it clattered to the ground. The marks on the far wall indicated that this was not a first occurrence.

Hermione's head looked up sharply at the commotion, only to see Malfoy's eyes looking wild and his cane lying out of reach near the bars that connected them. Hermione got up quietly, paying close attention to where Malfoy sat, and walked the short four feet to the other side of her cell. She placed her book down beside her, reached through the bars and before Lucius could even register what had happened, she had snatched his cane from his own cell and dragged it through the bars into her own. Momentarily shocked at her actions, he said nothing for a short moment before…

"What in Merlin's green Earth do you think you're doing with my cane, you filthy little Mudblood?" he seethed, standing up.

In truth, Hermione didn'tknow what she was doing with his cane. It seemed as if her feet had moved of their own accord and her hands had snatched it up without her permission to be doing so. However, she thought carefully and used his obvious display of anger to prod him for information.

"Why was there a raid in Hogwarts? I know you know, because I know you. You must have Disguised Death eaters still coming to give you information of your master and his plans. Tell me why I have been put here, for I know you know." She babbled incessantly but she couldn't keep the loud thudding in her chest at bay, nor her sweaty, nervous hands from moving. She was nervous that she had provoked such an angry, evil man, but she would not back down and did the best she could at producing a calm and authoritative demeanor.

"That, mudblood, is none of your business," he scoffed. "Now, give me back my cane before you force me to get the warden."

"You really are a petty old fool aren't you? Calling the warden over here because some silly little girl has your precious cane… Does this even do anything? I remember in the Department of Mysteries, you had your wand in here…" She pulled at the serpents head and uncorked it to reveal nothing at all. "I thought as much. What was it you have; fourteen inches, Rosewood, and dragon heartstring?"

"Elm, actually," he muttered. He could not believe he was fighting with this asinine girl. He surely would not be had he not been in here for over a year now. Dawson had not been so much of a talker, though of that he was pleased. The man rambled to himself of course, but not to him and rambling was not his forte. The cell on the other side of him was blissfully empty, however, that did restrict his list of people he could talk to, to that of only the mudblood.

It was true that he was petty, of that he knew, but to be called out on it was embarrassing, especially if it was a mudblood doing the calling out. He could of course just let her keep it until she surely got bored of goading him on with it, or he could actually get the warden who would duly punish her for taking another prisoner's belonging without their permission. Both were temping for different reasons of course. The former would show that he did not care about his cane, and prove that he was not as petty as she thought. As for the latter, that would cause him immediate satisfaction of both the return of his beloved cane, and the pleasure of seeing her punished for her foolhardy actions. He pondered quietly.

"You know I'll give you back your cane if you just tell me why I'm in this bloody place," she said slowly, fondling his cane, trying her hardest to exude confidence. She waited as patiently as she could, resisting the urge to scream her demand in his face.

The truth of the matter was, he did know. He knew exactly how they got into the building, and why they were there. Surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson had been the one to tell him, as she was on more than friendly terms with his son, who was on decent terms with Crabbe Sr., who was certainly in the inner circle of the Dark Lord. Pansy had come to him in the dead of night, when the fewest guards were available to overhear them. She told him of the Dark Lords plans to infiltrate Hogwarts in an attempt at retrieving Hermione Granger, who at the time, did not know she would be in Snape's office at the time of the attack. Their plans were altered due to the fact that Snape had given her a detention in front of the entire class, which contained both Draco and Pansy the day that the attack was to take place. The Deatheater's plans had changed from that of searching the castle stealthily until she was discovered, most likely in the head's dormitory, to that of locating her easily in the dungeons.

Pansy had merely told her of the Deatheater's plan to infiltrate Hogwarts, and retrieve the Mudblood in the attempt at using her as live bait for Potter. She told him that Draco had somehow managed to gain access into Dumbledore's office when he was immediately called to the ministry. This meeting had of course been staged by a Deatheater that had been able to use the Imperius curse on Kingsley Shaklebolt right in the middle of the ministry, without anyone being the wiser. Meanwhile, with Dumbledore gone, Draco quickly cast a disillusionment charm on himself to avoid the watchful glare of the portraits, swiftly entered his office, and retrieved a memory in his prized penseive. He quickly left the school undetected and apparated, albeit illegally as he had not yet received his apparition license.

She was quick to explain that she did not know what the memory contained, but only that it would give them a chance at entering Hogwarts undetected by means of the restricted section in the school library, which by 8 pm, was closed. Their plan had unfolded easier than they had previously thought possible, and it was only a matter of time before they entered and executed their plan. Pansy had left quickly, unable to say anymore, as she did not know any more to begin with.

Lucius had been able to discern what had happened when they did enter Hogwarts, as he had been listening very carefully to what scar-head and company had said, as he pretended to be asleep beneath his sheet. He had quickly ignored the thought in his head of her bravery towards those of an obviously better skill that herself and instead focused on how brash and unprofessional Bellatrix could be in the field. She was no doubt great with her wand, but her many years in Azkaban had deluded her ability to control herself when overexcited. He pondered the witch in front of him, glancing repeatedly at his cane in her hands.

"I do not think so, mudblood. Your Gryffindor bravery has failed you yet again, and I believe that I have something of more value to you than you have to me. By all means, keep that silly stick, as it serves me no purpose here. A note to you as well mudblood, do not reveal to thy enemy what you want the most, and he or she will surely use it against you, as I unquestionably will." He felt a pang when he easily dismissed his beautiful cane and turned his back on her.

She was left with her mouth hanging open, quite taken aback that he had not just told her. Granted, she did not really think through her plan at retrieving knowledge she wanted from him. However, she had gained some small bit of information from his pale, pointed face when she had asked him if he knew how the Deatheaters had gotten into Hogwarts in the first place. The look in his cold grey eyes had betrayed him for only a moment, but that was the moment she knew that he really did have the information she craved. She was determined to find out by other means, if this plan had not worked. He may have won the battle, but he would not win the war, she vowed.

She sputtered a bit, thinking of anything that she could say that would provoke him into just giving her the information she wanted, but she came out empty. She grumbled angrily, grabbing her book and cane, and carrying both back to her small cot. She leaned his cane against the wall by her bedside, laid down, opened her book, and began to read. She would not let him get to her. She would merely have to wait a little longer for the information that she wanted to present itself.

Lucius watched her open her book and begin to read, taking his beloved cane away from him and placing it within her grubby reach. His lip curled in distaste as he thought about her filthy paws on his handmade, personal possession. When he finally got out of here, he would be sure to cast so many cleansing charms on it that it would be cleaner than it was when it was made. He thought about how angry she looked when he refused her foolish ploy to get information out of him. He thought it amusing how she could wear her emotions on her sleeve and be so stubborn. No matter, he would get his cane back; all he had to do was wait for her to make a mistake or he would merely have to come with some kind of alternative plan. He would get that stupid little mudblood at her own game.


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