A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black
I really meant for Draco to go and find Snape. Unfortunately, Malfoy Sr had other plans, and I've learnt when to push and when to give in (always).
Also, spoiler A/N at the bottom.
For much of history, people were deeply concerned with making sure their wives and daughters weren't stolen by rivals. Heiress abduction was a serious problem as late as the 1600s. It was unusual for people to actually do what the characters are talking about below in order to thwart a potential abductor. See below.
Draco Malfoy was troubled. Krum was having him on, clearly, and so, once the bloke had laid down for a nap, he rose silently and went downstairs. His cousin, too, seemed to be sleeping, or something, because he poked his head in as saw that she was lying against her pillows, cheeks pink, eyes closed.
'Must be a really good dream' he mused, and then went to find his father. Father was in a parlour with that creepy Scabior and a few of the others. Draco's feelings for them could be described as fearful contempt-he was afraid of them almost as often as he reminded himself that they were scum, not fit for a Malfoy (or Lestrange, which was as fine as name) to wipe his shoes on, but there was something about them which made the primal parts of his brain tingle with warning.
Father smiled as Draco came in and sat down. 'Something the matter, l-Draco?'
Draco smiled back. 'No, sir, I just wondered whether you have a moment.'
'I do. Thank you, Scabior.' The men nodded and vanished like smoke, and Draco found he could breath again.
'Those fellows are dreadfully...'
Lucius smiled. 'A place for everyone, Draco, from high to low, and that includes your uncle's mad dogs and freaks.'
Draco didn't quite follow, but reminding himself he was a big boy who didn't need to be cuddled all the time, he settled next to his father and rested his head on his shoulder, wishing he wasn't too old to sit on his lap.
Lucius's hand crept up to rub the place between his shoulder blades. 'I take it you didn't come to ask me about the kennel?'
Draco snorted. 'That'd be werewolves, Father, wouldn't it?'
'Quite, and very clever of you, Draco. Even people-and beasts-like that have their functions.'
'Like what?'
'Have you seen how they dress? It encourages people to fear them.'
'They look silly, though.' Draco considered himself quite well dressed, and when he was old, as old as Father, he'd look very smart all the time, and have women whisper how handsome he was.
'Do they? To us, perhaps, but imagine they showed up at your door and accused you of a crime. They'd look very distinctive and threatening, would they not?'
'Like those snakes with red scales?'
'Precisely so. And it adds to their mythos-your uncle has a reputation for...forcefulness, shall we say? And the appearance of his men is part of it.'
'So they dress like that because everyone will know who and what they are?'
'Just so. Is everything else all right?'
Draco snuggled closer. 'I think so. Father, how does a man ruin a woman?'
'Sorry?'
'I was just talking to Krum, and he said he'd never compromise Hermione.'
'Do you have some reason to doubt his honour in that?'
'No. No, except that then I asked him how one does that.'
'I see.'
'So he explained it.' Draco was gnawing his lip between words. He looked down. 'Do you suppose he's the sort that would put someone on?'
'What did he tell you?'
'He said...well...he said that when people are married, they share a bed.'
'You knew that, Draco.'
'Yes, I did. But then he said sometimes they touch one another, and it can ruin the woman if the wrong parts touch before they're married. Is that true?'
Lucius inhaled. 'It depends on the parts of the body involved and whether they're both clothed, Draco.'
'Married people have to sleep naked?' Draco's cheeks were crimson at the very idea, and Lucius sternly forbade himself from laughing. The boy was being honest, was all, and he owed it to him to keep his trust and not belittle him.
'Not have to, love.'
'Well, if they have to be naked, Father, why do we worry about Krum and Hermione, then? It's not like we wouldn't notice them undressed.'
Lucius did laugh then, because the logic was impeccable, if not quite right. 'Because...it's very complicated, Draco. Did he say anything else?'
'We used a translation charm, so it wasn't very easy to follow, but he said a man can't touch a woman below the shoulders until they're married or he's not a gentlemen anymore.'
'He's correct. Have you reason to believe he has violate that?'
'No. He wouldn't, I don't think.'
'Is something else worrying you?'
Draco looked down. 'Not really. I just wanted to check.'
'Krum didn't tell you anything else.'
'He said that if another man says you've touched a woman, you're obliged to duel them to defend her virtue and your honour. Is that true?'
'More on the Continent than here, Draco, but traditionally it is.'
'If they're not in bed, is it all right?'
'No.'
'But if they aren't in bed, how would they get ruined? They aren't touching naked.'
'It's not just in bed, Draco, or naked. It's touching in private places.'
Draco's eyes lit up with comprehension. 'Wait, you mean...'
'Yes.'
If anything, he looked more worried than ever. 'But that's...'
'Where babies come from.'
' But you said before that babies come from love between two people.'
'That's true as well.'
Draco looked appalled. 'Father, I can't imagine what touching there has got to do to love.'
Lucius dug his nails into his palms to keep from laughing out loud.
'There's many kinds of love, Draco. When a person loves someone else enough, they want to share everything with them, even that part of themselves.'
'And that's why we have to watch them together? Krum and Hermione?'
'Yes, it is.'
Draco looked round the dusty little room, littered with knick knacks and the faint, persistent smell of dust and wet. 'So they love one another?'
'I don't know, Draco. And sometimes people do it for less elevated reasons. But it can be easy to forget oneself, so we watch, not because of any failing in Krum. Or your cousin, for that matter.'
'He really likes her.'
'I'm glad.'
'I am, too. Wetherell McNair is a plonker.'
'I shan't disagree with you on that.'
Draco stood and hugged his father. 'Thank you, Father.'
'When you're older, Draco, we'll discuss the specifics of...these matters. Be a good boy, now, and don't say anything to Mother.'
'No, Father.' He wandered up the stairs and peeked in on Hermione. She was awake and smiling, still rosy. 'Hello, Draco.'
'Hello.' Draco perched on the edge of the bed and took his cousin's hand in his. 'Hermione, you know we care about you.'
Hermione blinked, a cool feeling crawling down her spine. 'Has something bad happened, Draco?'
'No, no. Only, make me a promise?'
'All right.'
'If a man should ever try to touch you below the neck-except the hands must be fine, because men take ladies' hands all the time-let me know so I can duel them.'
Hermione nodded slowly. 'Did something make you think of this?'
Draco looked serious, so serious Hermione sort of wanted to giggle. 'Nothing for you to worry about. Just be careful, all right?'
'I will.' And because Viktor had no touched her below the neck, and she had touched his hand and not vice versa, she said nothing. Draco leant over and pecked her forehead. 'Are you going to take your potions soon?'
Hermione made a face. 'Honestly, the lot of you.'
'We worry.' The elf brought the phials and Hermione swallowed and laid back. His duty done, Draco gravely tiptoed out, and decided he'd read something that had absolutely nothing to do with body parts touching.
Rita Skeeter was not insensible of the great good luck she'd had in being invited to come and interview the three child heroes of the attack on the Lestrange house. She'd dressed well and doused herself in perfume, and didn't even complain when she had to give up her wand and purse in to the Snatchers who waited in the atrium likes ghosts of themselves. More accurately, like the ghosts of other people, as she recognised several of them from their trials. Her heart started to beat faster as Phidippides Limpkin, the London Fog Killer, began to go through her purse, and on her other side, Lemuel Scabior politely asked her to step from her shoes so he could check them.
After they'd approved, Scabior handed back her shoes, and Limpkin (whose trial she had covered in salacious detail), her purse. 'There y'are, ma'am. Limpkin n I'll takes you to Miss Lestrange. Er intended and aunt are there too, an the other ladies.'
The corridors were quiet, with other flamboyantly dressed, silent men stationed every few feet, like statues. Outside the door, Rodolphus Lestrange himself was smiling gently.
'So nice to see you again, Miss Skeeter. How have you been?' He took her hand and held it a beat. His hands were big and smooth. Rita recalled every rumour she had ever heard and had to fight not to pull away, shivering.
'My daughter is very enthused at this opportunity, but please remember how fragile Hermione is. We wouldn't want her overexcited or upset.' Rita did shiver then, and forced herself to smile and nod.
'Of course, Mr. Lestrange.'
'And you'll be able to speak to some of the others, as well. Mr. Krum and the younger Mr. Malfoy are there, as are his mother and my wife.' If the stories about Rodolphus and his chamber in the bottom of the Ministry were the stuff of terrible rumours, Bellatrix and her games were the stuff of nightmares.
'Of course.'
Rodolphus opened the door. 'Sweetheart, Miss Skeeter is here.'
The girl, Rita had to admit, was pretty, with her big, soft doe eyes and a cloud of dark curls. She was propped on a pile of pure white pillows, dressed in a little bed jacket. The cynical reporter part of Rita had to admit, these people put on an excellent show.
Beside her, Bellatrix Lestrange was perched like a bird of prey. She watched suspiciously, wand surely close, one hand in her daughter's. The Krum boy was next to her on a chair, face blank, and next to him, Malfoy's son, looking at her as though he thought she'd try to attack them.
'Miss Skeeter, how good of you to come. Please, sit down.' The Krum boy rose, bowing a bit, and offered her the chair. Rita sat down, knees together, and looked up at the boy, who moved back, not looking at her.
'How are you, Miss Lestrange?'
'Well. My feet hurt a little, though.' She smiled, looking down self deprecatingly. 'And yourself?'
'Sorry to hear about your misfortunes. Is it true you rushed back into the house to get Madam Lestrange and Mr. Crouch from the flames?'
The girl actually blushed. 'Well, not precisely. Mr. Krum and young Mr. Malfoy and I didn't see them and we wanted to be sure they were safe. Where we were wasn't on fire.'
Oh, this was too good. Rita bit back a giggle. Witches' Weekly would love this. She was mentally picking out new furniture for her flat as she wrote the response. The Malfoy boy raised an eyebrow at his cousin, who actually blushed a bit.
'She's being modest, Miss Skeeter.'
'Yes' agreed the Krum boy 'Herm-on-nee-ee very brave.'
'Where was Mr. Crouch?'
There was a slight pause, a kind of verbal comma which said everything. 'Mr. Crouch was in the west tower. His rooms are near there.'
'And your aunt?'
'Aunt Cunegarde was in her rooms also. But Draco-young Mr. Malfoy-would know better than I about that.'
Rita turned and looked at the Malfoy boy, who was visibly sitting up straighter. 'Madam Lestrange wanted the elves to be sure we were out of the house first. It was difficult to convince her not to sacrifice herself for the rest of us.'
Rita nodded and made an admiring noise as she recorded the answer. She wondered what had really happened. Had Crouch, who was obviously mad, kidnapped the old woman?
'And Mr. Crouch?'
'Mr. Crouch insisted Mr. Krum and I leave before he would. Mr. Krum used his Quidditch skills to help him.' The girl looked at the Krum boy, who went red but nodded.
'Miss Lestrange did. Mr. Crouch go vith her, not me. Mr. Crouch muchly luffs.'
'No doubt.' Rita took the whole thing down. The accent was actually sort of charming, shame she couldn't use it.
'And then?'
From the edge of the bed, the Lestrange woman spoke in her dry voice. 'We'd repelled the invaders and came to find them.'
'My goodness. Were you very afraid?'
'They're our children.' The woman's eyes were fathomless, and her lips were painted a red so dark it was almost purple. Rita nodded, disturbed by what she perceived in the woman's demeanour, and turned her attention to Narcissa.
'Madam Malfoy, have you got anything to add?'
'I don't, but thank you. The children are the heroes of the hour.'
'Of course.' Rita wondered what else they wanted her to do. She had more than enough for a story that would send the readers into a screaming frenzy, and given how hard the Ministry had been pushing the Bulgarian alliance, this would be the icing on Lucius Malfoy's cake.
'Well, thank you for speaking with me. Is there anything else you might like to add?'
Hermione shook her head. 'I don't think so. Viktor?'
'No.'
'Draco?'
'No, thank you.' Rita rose and nodded to the assembled. 'Are you badly injured?'
The girl shook her head. 'No, not much. Healer Gibbon's said we'll all be all right in a day or so.'
'All?'
'Nearly all of us got minor cuts and bruises.'
'How terrible. But you were hurt the worst?'
'I didn't think to wear slippers. Silly of me.' She smiled again, and Rita saw the shadow of her mother as she'd been, all good skin and hair and intelligence. Bellatrix hadn't moved from the girl's side, and her eyes followed the Skeeter woman without cease.
'Madam Lestrange, have you any comments for people concerned with their safety in the face of this foreign horde?'
Bellatrix stared at some point above Rita's head. 'Talk to my brother in law about that. He's all the best information.'
'Would it be all right for us to talk about Miss Lestrange's experiences more generally? The girls of Wizarding Britain are dying to know.'
The former Black sister exchanged a look. 'If Hermione is up to it.'
'I'd be willing, Mother. But we don't want to hold up supper for anyone.'
'I'll have Kreacher serve the men downstairs, love.' Narcissa Malfoy rose smoothly and walked out to speak to the elf, turning back at the last moment. 'Join us, Miss Skeeter?'
'I'd be honoured.' Now Rita was seeing the new clothes she'd buy to go with the new furniture. Perhaps even a fur. She'd always wanted a mink caplet, and now she suspected she'd get one. Perhaps with a matching alligator handbag? She smiled and settled down to ask the questions that would pay for it.
As the ladies chatted in the bedroom(the boys having decamped when the talking about hairstyles began), the world was moving about them. In the Ministry, Snape, who had left just after lunch, silently approved the offer Penko Krum had sent. He stood and went to the Minister's office, where the Dark Lord was waiting.
'My lord, the final offer has come from the Bulgarians.'
'Excellent.' The Dark Lord signed it with a flourish and handed it back. 'Send it at once, I want this started immediately.'
Snape's sallow face lost a shade. 'My lord, the girl is twelve.'
'It's not as though they'll marry tomorrow, Severus. But we must show the Bulgarians we mean to take this alliance seriously.'
'My lord, I do not feel-'
The Dark Lord rose. 'I feel. And bring me Gibbon, I'll borrow him.'
As it happened, Draco was the first to see Penko,who had the offer in his hands. He was wandering about the downstairs, hoping someone interesting would come in, when the door opened. He drew his wand, looking as fierce as he could, only to discover it was only Penko.
'Hello, Uncle Penko.' Draco had been ordered to address Hermione's in-laws that way as a courtesy, and he rather liked Penko, anyway.
'Hello, Draco.' The man took off his cloak and handed him a parchment and velvet bag. 'Taking this to Uncle with compliments?'
Draco was glad to have something to do. Wondering why Penko didn't come in, he obediently trotted off, looking for Rodolphus. He found him, along with the men, discussing something grave in the parlour.
'Pardon me, gentlemen. Uncle, this is from Uncle Penko, with his compliments.'
His uncle took the scroll and bag, face subtly different, and opened them.
The room was quiet. 'Draco, do you bring these of your own free will?' Uncle's voice sounded sort of strange to Draco, but he had no time to parse it.
Draco felt eyes on him. 'I do, Uncle.' He'd been well taught, and he knew he had somehow become part of this. His uncle came closer and spoke clearly enough for everyone else to hear.
'And you swear under pain of death this is the letter you were given by Penko Krum in regards to this matter?'
'I do, Uncle.'
Rodolphus nodded and gave his nephew a small smile. 'I accept with pleasure. Invite our guest in, and be welcome.'
Draco did, and when he returned, there were two glasses of wine on the table, and the scroll between them. He looked at his father, eyebrow cocked. Father nodded encouragingly, but didn't smile, which was strange.
'We'll need to wait for His Lordship, of course.' So they did, on the cusp of a major change.
Upstairs, the women were still talking. Rita had to admit, the girl talked a good game. Either she was sincerely as cute as she seemed or was a damned good actress. An elf appeared and whispered something to Malfoy's wife, who stood up, eyes wide, face whitening.
'Miss Skeeter, an event of some import has happened. If you'd excuse us, the elf will show you downstairs to the parlour.'
Beside Hermione, Bellatrix had gone rigid. Hermione turned. 'Mother?' Mother's face was deathly white except for two spots of colour, very high on her cheeks.
'Girl, shhh. Elf, dress my daughter and be quick about it.' Rinky pulled clean robes from the wardrobe and helped Hermione into them, combed her hair and then turned to Bellatrix.
'Madam is taking Miss how?'
'She'll have to walk.'
Hermione smiled. 'It's not bad, Rinky, really. But Mother, what's...'
'Shh, I said.' Hermione sat up straight and waited, more and more confused. Below them, all sound had ceased. The door shut and opened, and the air seemed to grow, assuming an electricity which made her skin tingle.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and Severus Snape bowed himself into the room. 'Ladies, will you accompany me?' He, too, had a pinched look. Hermione raised an eyebrow but he ignored it, and took her arm for her to lean on him.
'We will' said Bellatrix, who looked, to Snape, ready to faint. Narcissa came back in, face a mask, and helped get her niece to her feet, saying nothing.
Her feet hardly hurt, thought Hermione as she walked down the corridor and into a parlour. The men were gathered there, silent and strangely serious. Father came and took her hand in his.
'Is this the girl?' Uncle Lucius was using a loud, resonant voice which seemed a little flat, like he was acting. Father nodded. 'It is she.' Something felt off here. Hermione fought the urge to run up the stairs and back to her room, burnt feet be damned.
'And she is free of stain?'
'She is.'
'And she comes of her own free will?'
'She does.'
'And she understands her obligations to her house and that of her intended, Viktor Krum, and will fulfil them?'
'She will.'
'Then let her come and say these things for all men to hear.'
Father gently nudged her forward and Hermione found herself in the midst of this ritual she didn't understand and hadn't been prepared for. On one side, her cousin was winking at her to give her courage. That, at least, was normal.
'Hermione Bellatrix Lestrange, your father has sworn that you are virtuous. Do you swear it in the sight of the assembled and the ancestors?'
'I do.' Her legs were shaking, and she only understood a little what she was saying, but the air was heavy, and the very walls seemed to bend under the weight of this momentous and ill understood thing.
'And you wish to unite yourself in marriage to Viktor Krum?'
'Oh! I mean, I do.' The group laughed at her sudden comprehension, and Uncle paused a beat before he went on, giving her a friendly little smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
'And you understand the obligations this entails?'
'I do.'
'Come and sign.' Hermione came and carefully put her name on the parchment. After that, her brain whirling, she didn't hear much else, and Viktor's part was a blur. She stood between Mother and Aunt Narcissa, fighting the urge to hold both their hands, listening to Viktor answer in English and Bulgarian.
Healer Gibbon stepped forward and bent to sign. Hermione realised it was the Dark Lord as soon as he moved; like a snake or something, she thought with a shiver.
The Bulgarians signed as well, and then it was done. Father hugged Hermione hard, hard enough it almost hurt. Uncle did too, without his usual joke or playful ribbing. Hermione held onto both men for longer than usual, knowing better than to ask for an explanation right now.
Viktor, too, had picked up on the strange atmosphere. He shook hands with everyone who came to him, and hugged Mother when she hugged him, but his mind was spinning a million miles an hour. He knew the customs, but they were Bulgarian customs, not English. What happened now?
Zhivka and Martin felt it too. Penko looked nervous, almost guilty, and Martin had to resist the urge to go and start questioning him. What in hell had he been thinking? The children were twelve and fourteen years old; was the girl even bleeding yet?
Zhivka's lips were a line of white. She made herself speak pleasantly to whomever approached her, but if Martin was unhappy, she was livid. The girl crept to her side, looking nearly as scared as Zhivka was angry, and timidly held out a hand.
'Mother Krum?'
Zhivka pulled the child into an embrace. 'There there, darling one. No one will take you from your parents.'
Hermione relaxed a little. The woman was squashy and soft. Hermione liked it; it reminded her of her kindergarten teacher. But she thought she sense a very real anger from Mother Krum, and she liked that, too. She wasn't sure how she felt, but maybe she was a bit angry, too.
Narcissa came up and gently tapped Hermione's shoulder. 'Darling, let's get you back into bed, shall we?' Her stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She'd had no idea this was going to happen, and she felt as though an earthquake had hit.
Hermione nodded went to follow, feeling strangely numb. Rodolphus excused himself long enough to carry his daughter up the stairs, holding her tightly. Any sacrifice, he told himself sternly, was worth it for the Dark Lord. But he would have waited, were it up to him.
Settled in the bed, Hermione looked at her mother and aunt with a trust they both found painful. Bellatrix sat down, swallowing hard, and crawled up beside her daughter.
'Mother? May I talk now?'
'Yes, of course.' Narcissa surprised everyone, even herself, by crawling in the other side. Hermione felt a little bit better, nestled between them, visibly surrounded by the people who loved her and kept her safe.
None of them could quite figure out how to start. Hermione took a hand in each of hers. 'Why did Mother Krum tell me that they wouldn't take me away?'
Bellatrix's jaw was clenched so tightly that Narcissa was afraid she'd break teeth. 'Darling, this was...a surprise to all of us.'
'Because it wasn't supposed to happen yet?'
'Well, it was a bit early, but precious, you needn't worry.'
Bellatrix still hadn't said anything. She finally rolled, and to Narcissa's shock, there were tears in her eyes. Bellatrix was crying.
'Mother?' Hermione sounded panicked. She was panicked. Mother was always brave. If Mother was afraid, obviously, there was a good cause. Bellatrix forced herself to breath deeply and blinked the tears away. 'It's fine, girl.'
'So what happens now?'
'Nothing' said Bellatrix with all the enormous force she was capable of. 'Nothing for now. You're much too young.'
'Under British law, Hermione, you won't marry until you're of age.'
Hermione nodded. 'So this doesn't change anything?'
There was a knock on the door. Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room and swished a silencing spell. 'Ladies, may I come in?'
'Please' said Narcissa, more brittlely than he'd heard in a very long time, as though she was trying not to cry. The sound made Lucius's heart ache. He came closer slowly, sensing there was some female thing going on here.
'Hermione, are you all right?'
The girl smiled up at him, which just drove the knife deeper. 'I am, Uncle. You?'
Lucius leant over to kiss her cheek. 'Darling, are you surprised at what happened?'
Hermione nodded cautiously. 'A bit, Uncle.'
'Well, there's some more things we need to do tonight.'
Bellatrix sat up. 'Get out.'
'Bellatrix, it's the custom, you know that.'
'No.'
'Nothing will happen. Draco will be here. The elf will be here.'
'No, I said.'
'We've not got a choice.' Bellatrix looked beyond furious, beyond anything but animal rage. Beside her, the girl was white as snowdrops, cuddling against Narcissa. Lucius wished he could calm her with a joke or some gentle teasing, but he had to do this, however little he liked it.
'I understand it's a shock, Bellatrix, but needs must is needs must. And you know as well as I that it's just for show.'
'No no no.'
'Darling' he said to Hermione, ignoring Bellatrix 'in a little while, we'll eat. And then you'll come up here and get ready for bed, all right? And Viktor will join you, isn't that interesting?'
The girl looked as though she expected to be killed. 'I don't understand.'
'It's customary to solemnise the engagement by...well, making it clear to everyone you're engaged. It's a very old custom, darling.'
'Viktor is going to sleep in here tonight?'
'Viktor and Draco, yes. It will be like a camp out.'
Hermione's big eyes were clouded with confusion. 'We'll all sleep here?'
'Draco will sleep on the divan there. And nothing is going to happen between yourself and Viktor, darling. You'll just share a bed for the night.'
'Why will Draco sleep here? Not that I don't want him to.' She didn't wish to be rude, after all. And it would be fun with both of them, but she and Viktor could hardly kiss if Draco was there.
'To make sure that nothing untoward happens. We'll explain later. Right now, all you need to know is that Viktor shan't touch you or make you afraid. You'll just lie in the bed and sleep.'
'Why?'
Lucius looked at his wife, who nodded, resigned. He tried to telegraph his abject apologies with his body language; he felt like he'd hit a kitten. He even felt sorry for Trixie, who looked absolutely violated.
Narcissa bent and whispered in Hermione's ear. The girl's eyes widened. 'Oh.' She said it in a tiny little voice that hurt his heart. Poor little thing, and she was so brave about it. Lucius decided to get all three ladies something special to lift their moods.
'Malfoy' said Bellatrix suddenly 'has Our Lord commanded this?'
Lucius actually wished he didn't have to do this. 'Yes, Trixie, he did, this afternoon.' Like the others, he'd thought Hermione would be at least sixteen before all this was formalised.
Bellatrix stood and walked for the door. 'Then I'll just go and talk to Him.'
The door closed and Lucius looked at his wife above Hermione's head. He had the feeling this would end poorly.
Hermione was chewing her lip. 'And all we do is sleep?'
'That's right, precious. And your elf will be here, and we'll have cocoa and games sent up, doesn't that sound nice?'
Hermione looked ninety rather than twelve. 'Yes, Uncle.'
'Are you sure?'
'We must all make sacrifices, Uncle.' She'd got that from Bellatrix, Lucius knew in his bones. Did she still believe that, he wondered, and praised his niece for being such a good little girl.
Spoiler A/N: To be absolutely, unambiguously clear with this: They are in no way expected to do anything but sleep. Steps will be taken to prevent that from happening.
In circumstances when the bride and groom were this young, provisions were always made for the couple to be supervised until they were of age, which is not for several years. Repeat, nothing but sleep is expected, encouraged or allowed.
