A/N: A special shout out to LadyAnatar-she is entirely responsible for the idea that spawned Domitia Prewett. Love to my Falcons for just being them and listening to me whine. (The whining has been quieter lately, but only due to my lack of internet.) As always, all praise and glory unto Auntie_L who does her very best to reign in my commas.
Waking up the next morning was a struggle. The bed was so lovely, and Hermione hadn't been able to go to sleep until after everyone in Marcus' parlour had been paired off. Hopefully by now they were all safely married.
Everyone had left, and Hermione was given to understand that they were off to the Ministry where an official had been bribed with a ridiculous amount of money to wait for them. She wasn't quite certain as to what had happened with Neville and Nott, but she sincerely hoped that they were married. She sighed and stared at the top of her bed's canopy for a moment. There was no hope for it. She had to get up.
"Pebble can hear Mistress breathing," the House Elf informed her tartly. "There is being no point in pretending to sleep."
"Good morning Pebble," Hermione sighed. She sat up and stared at the Flint House Elf. "What can I do for you today?"
"Mistress can be getting out of bed and be getting dressed," Pebble said and nodded for emphasis.
"What are you going to make me wear today?" Hermione asked.
The House Elf snapped her fingers and another set of silk robes appeared on the bench at the foot of the bed. This set was a dark, burnished gold that flattered her skin tone. Where did the clothing come from? It fit Hermione like a glove—almost as though it had been tailored just for her. Hermione was afraid to bring her own things from her flat and put them in the closet for fear that Pebble would just get rid of them. She wouldn't put it past Pebble to do so.
"Master Marcus be saying that Mistress be eating lunch on Diagon Alley this afternoon," Pebble said.
"So I need to play my part." Hermione slipped out of her bed and went to stand next to Pebble. "Where do the robes come from?"
"Pebble is kenning what Mistress needs," Pebble said. She tapped her chest with one small hand. "When Mistress be marrying Pebble's Master Marcus."
"Really?" Curiosity flared through Hermione. "How does that… can I… can I ken you as well?"
"Mistress not be needing to ken Pebble," the House Elf retorted with a snort and a roll of her eyes.
"But… what if–," Hermione began only to be cut off by the House Elf's fierce scowl.
"Is Mistress trying to dawdle?" Pebble demanded in a scandalized voice that made Hermione's cheeks heat.
"No, of course not," Hermione protested.
"Master Marcus and Master Adrian be waiting for Mistress in the morning room," Pebble informed her with a sniff.
With a sigh, Hermione headed to the bathroom. Once she was washed and dressed to Pebble's exacting standard, Hermione made her way to the morning room only to find Adrian and Marcus staring at their plates with identically blank faces. As a wife of only two days, Hermione wasn't that familiar with either Marcus or Adrian, but she suspected that their look boded ill.
"What's happened?" Hermione asked.
Both wizards jumped to their feet. Marcus held out a chair at the end of the table, and Adrian handed her the newspaper. The front page headlines smugly announced that the Wizengamot had passed a new amendment, the amendment that they had all worried about, to the War Reparations Act. Hermione scanned the article carefully, looking for the clause that named the Death Eaters wards of the state. She sucked in a breath and her fingers tightened on the newspaper—it crinkled loudly in the silence of the room.
There it was in newsprint:
To ensure the safety of the wizarding populace, all wizards bearing the "Dark Mark", also known as "Death Eaters," shall be monitored by someone who is not or was not a Death Eater themselves. A spouse may promise surety on behalf of a Death Eater, but if there is no spouse to do so, then the Ministry itself will take on this task in order to protect wizarding Britain.
A wave of nausea rose in Hermione's throat and she swallowed as she tried to calm her nerves.
"Did we… did we get everyone?" Hermione asked and looked up at Adrian and Marcus.
"Check the society pages," Marcus replied.
"I think our three are taken care of, but… I'm not sure if we missed anyone," Adrian muttered. He was shredding a piece of toast into a pile of crumbs on his plate.
Quickly, Hermione turned to the society pages.
"Neville and Nott, Padma and Montague, Susan and Goyle," Hermione recited. Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at Adrian and Marcus. "Who in Merlin's name is Domitia Prewett?"
"She's a harridan," Marcus muttered. Adrian glared at him and turned to Hermione.
"She's Marcus' mother's great-aunt. Why?" Adrian asked.
"Because apparently she married Terrence Higgs," Hermione explained.
"The idiot," Adrian cursed under his breath. "He said he had it taken care of!"
"He did," Marcus said and shrugged.
"Domitia Prewett is 150 if she's a day," Adrian protested.
"Higgs' choice," Marcus countered. "Not our call."
"So he's trapped in a marriage with a woman that's 125 years older than he is for the rest of his life," Adrian scoffed. "That's just brilliant."
"For the rest of her life," Marcus corrected Adrian with a smirk.
"I suppose that's true," Adrian agreed. He wiped his fingers off on his napkin. "I suppose it won't be long before he's a widower."
"So this is okay?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"Ultimately, it was Higgs' choice," Adrian said. "Marcus may hate his Aunt Domitia, but the old bat is very well connected."
"She knows everyone," Marcus observed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Given the circumstances, and the time constraints, it was a smart choice."
Breakfast was a subdued affair. Hermione managed to choke down some tea and eat a slice of toast, but the tension in the air and her roiling stomach made her appetite vanish. She stood up and both husbands stood up with her. She paused and looked from Marcus to Adrian.
"I should probably get to work," she said and gave them a faint smile. "Perhaps I'll talk to Luna."
"Just remember that we're coming to pick you up for lunch," Marcus reminded her.
"I'll remember," Hermione promised.
The department was an absolute madhouse when Hermione arrived. A wounded centaur had stumbled into Essex, causing panic and mayhem, which ended up involving a team of Obliviators and a rescue team from the DCRMC to relocate the centaur. A high-risk, priority report was delivered to DCRMC which involved a doxy infestation in a caravan. They had apparently gotten out of the caravan and were wreaking havoc in a car park in Bristol.
There was a brief moment of peace where Hermione and Luna were able to steal away to the break room for a cuppa. The rest of the morning was just as hectic and Hermione barely had a moment to rest. Just before lunch, Ron marched into the department with a glint in his eye and the Prophet clutched in his fist.
"Hermione," he ground out—his face thunderous and red.
"Ronald?" Hermione sat back in her chair and assumed an expression of innocence.
It had been years since Hermione and Ron had been anything more than friends, and since the Pansy Parkinson debacle, they had all vowed to stay out of one another's love lives. The fact that Ron had somehow forgotten that crucial bit of information meant that he was most likely going to say something that would make her hex him. She scowled at him at the thought.
"What in the bloody hell is this dragonshite?" He demanded waving the paper in her face.
"It appears to be the Daily Prophet, Ronald," Luna offered helpfully. She peered at it for a moment. "From a couple of days ago, I believe."
"I know it's the Prophet!" Ron bellowed.
Luna frowned thoughtfully at Ron. "Then why did you ask?"
"I mean, why does it say that you are married to Blaise Zabini? And why does it say that Hermione is married to Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey?" Ron demanded.
"I imagine for the same reason that it reported your marriage to Sue Li six years ago," Luna replied in a slightly dreamy voice.
"Right," Ron ground out. "So what you're telling me is that you're madly in love with Blaise Zabini?"
"I don't know if I would say madly in love," Luna protested. Ron made an articulate sound of triumph and Luna smirked at him. "However, I would say the mind-blowing sex did have something to do with it."
"Luna!" Ron growled and covered his ears. He glared at her and then switched his glare to Hermione. "Mind-blowing sex all around then?"
"No!" Hermione blurted out before she could help herself and then bit back a groan of defeat.
"Then true love," Ron continued doggedly.
"Why, exactly, is my marriage of such interest to you, Ronald?" Hermione snapped.
"They've probably potioned you, or blackmailed you, or something even worse," Ron declared with a self-righteous expression that made Hermione want to smack him.
"So you're here to save me from my own stupidity, is that it?" Hermione growled.
"No," Ron protested. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
"But I'd have to be stupid, wouldn't I Ronald, to marry Slytherin wizards?" Hermione demanded.
"That's not what I said," Ron grumbled.
"I'm sure that Ginny and Daphne Greengrass will be pleased to hear that," Hermione retorted. Ron blanched.
"Look, Hermione, it's… it's not that I think that you're stupid," he sputtered helplessly.
"Well that's a load off of my mind, certainly," Hermione sneered.
"They're Slytherin!" Ron waved his hands in the air for added emphasis.
"Are they really?" Hermione widened her eyes and looked at Luna in surprise. "Are you sure? I had thought they were both Hufflepuffs. Slytherin? I mean, I went to school with them for years, but I had no clue what their house affiliation was. You would think that they would make us wear ties or something so that we would know—"
"Hermione!" Ron whinged loudly.
"Ronald, stop it," Hermione growled at him. She slapped her hands on her desk and stood up so that she could poke him in the chest. "Your ridiculous prejudices against Slytherin have got to stop. Harry's married to a Slytherin and has been for three years. Ginny and Daphne have been together for two, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. We graduated from Hogwarts seven years ago. Move on!"
"It's not the same," Ron muttered darkly.
"How is it not the same?" Hermione demanded, completely and utterly exasperated.
"They're… you know," Ron leaned in and whispered. He made some confusing hand gestures that had Hermione looking to Luna for a translation.
"I think Ronald is worried because our husbands were Death Eaters," Luna decided after squinting at Ron for a moment.
"YES!" Ron waved his arms in Luna's direction. "Thank you!"
"Which is why they insisted on the pace nuptias," Hermione told him with an exasperated sigh. "Really, Ron."
"The pace nuptias," Ron repeated with a frown. "What's that?"
"It means they can't hurt me," Hermione huffed. She glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. "Now, are we done yelling at each other in public?"
"What?" Ron blinked and looked from Luna to Hermione.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "As much fun as it is for me to have these intimate little tête-a-têtes in my department, in front of everyone I work with, I have a lunch date."
"What?" Ron repeated. He looked around the department and noticed that quite a few people were watching them with open interest. He flushed a bright red and turned back to Luna and Hermione. His shoulders slumped and a sheepish expression flitted across his face. "Sorry, it's just… you weren't at home, and I didn't know where you... you know."
"Flint manor, for the moment," Hermione said with a sigh.
"Oh." Ron seemed to deflate slightly.
In the years after the war, Ron had been forced to deal with Slytherins far more than he ever thought he would. Pansy Parkinson had gotten completely plastered at some sort of Victory celebration two years after the war, and had Apparated to Grimmauld Place with a plant to apologize to Harry for trying to hand him over to Voldemort. Instead, she'd thrown up on his shoes, and Harry had dragged her into the house and he and Kreacher had sobered her up.
The next morning, Ron had Flooed over to Grimmauld Place to check on Harry, only to find a bedraggled Pansy sipping weak tea and nibbling at dry toast. The ensuing fight had been loud and impassioned and had ended with Harry bellowing at Ron that he could shag whoever he pleased, and he didn't need, or want, Ron's approval. The fact that Pansy and Harry weren't even dating hadn't even entered in to it.
When Pansy and Harry had actually started seeing each other a few months later, it was almost anticlimactic for Ron—even if everyone else struggled with the whole situation. Then Daphne had tagged along with Pansy when they'd gone to support Ginny at one of her games, and Ron had ended up with another Slytherin in his life. Now, Hermione had added two more. She almost felt sorry for him.
The sight of Adrian opening the door to her department and Marcus' large frame following on his heels filled her with a sense of relief. Hermione felt her shoulders loosen and she relaxed as they made their way to her desk.
"Ready for lunch, darling?" Adrian asked in a casual, breezy tone. He made sure to slowly reach out to put one careful hand on her waist and he leaned forward and kissed her temple with the merest brush of his lips against her skin.
"I am, thank you," Hermione replied with a grateful smile.
"Hermione," Ronald protested.
"Not now, Ronald," Hermione bit out between clenched teeth.
"Luna," Marcus greeted her with a nod of his head.
"Hullo, Marcus," Luna replied.
"How is the lovely Mrs. Zabini this afternoon?" Adrian asked her with a bright, charming smile.
Luna gave a long, slow blink and then smirked. "Quite well, thank you."
"Oh, that's just… that's not on at all," Ron groaned. "I do not want to hear about you and Zabini." He turned to glare at Hermione. "Or you and… and them."
"So you don't want to know whether Hermione is—," Adrian began with a wicked smirk, only to have Hermione clap her hand over his mouth and glare at him.
"Let's go to lunch," Hermione said and looked firmly at Marcus.
"Let's go," he agreed with a shrug.
"Good-bye, Ronald," Hermione said over her shoulder. "It was lovely to see you again. You'll have to bring Su over for dinner sometime soon."
Marcus snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like hopefully not too soon, but Hermione determinedly ignored him.
"Where are we going to lunch?" She asked Adrian.
"It's a nice little place," Adrian told her as he guided her out into the hall. "I think you'll love it."
