Thank you for taking this [unnecessarily long, time-wise] journey with me.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Reign No One Wanted

"Bellatrix, please," Lucius started, his hands up in placation—though when faced with Bellatrix Black, it was definitely closer to a gesture of surrender. "Sit down, would you?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. First a visit from the brother-in-law she'd not spoke with directly in so long and now he was speaking to her in this calming tone that, frankly, made her want to do exactly the opposite of anything he suggested?

But she forced herself to be reasonable, as this was obviously quite a serious matter. "You first," she said, frowning darkly.

Exchanging a glance, Lucius and Draco nodded, both moving to take seats on the fine leather sofa. Once they were settled . . . no, no, once they had been seated long enough to get edgy about her not moving yet to follow, she deigned to cross the floor and plant herself in the armchair that faced them. Perhaps the closest thing she could have to a throne.

"Fine." She clasped her hands in her lap, her beautiful porcelain face a carefully schooled mask. "I'm sitting."

Again her nephew and his father shared a quick look. She didn't much like how it seemed they were silently conferring with each other so often in just the few minutes they'd been here.

"Bella," Lucius began, his tone less placation more curiosity now, "why do you support Voldemort?"

Those dark, glittering eyes shot wide and she darted a look toward the closed door before answering in a hissing whisper, "So you've come to drag me into some sort of treason, is that it?"

Once more with the Malfoys' silent conference before the younger of the two answered now. "Actually, we're hoping to drag you into a . . . a quiet little coup."

Lucius ground his teeth and dropped his face into his hand. This was not what they'd agreed to. Clearly Draco had gone off on his own and decided to go ahead and be more honest with his aunt than previously discussed.

"Madness," she spat the word from between clenched teeth.

Draco lifted his brows, every bit his father's child as he somehow managed to remain unruffled by his aunt's mounting irritation. Clearly he'd decided the best way to manage his aunt's temper and still succeed was by simply telling her, rather than trying to manipulate her.

"We're asking simply, would you remain at his side even if he were no one at all? If he were simply Voldemort, not the Usurper-King?"

"Yes." Immediately Bellatrix folded her lips, aware she'd answered much too quickly. But then, she didn't very much like this line of questioning.

Clearing her throat, she gave her head a shake. "What I mean to say is of course I would, what do my feelings have to do with you wanting to overthrow your king?"

"You realize that he has thoughts that wander still to, shall we call her, the one who got away?"

Bellatrix's face pinched in displeasure. "All this about your pet?"

"You must understand," Lucius interrupted, his soothing tone an automatic reaction to the sorceress' ire, "she has no desire to be his. No desire, whatsoever for power. She doesn't even like to use what magic she possesses." All right, so perhaps a little bit of fibbing was necessary for this approach to succeed, since Bellatrix was under the impression Hermione had more magic than she truly possessed.

She appeared unconvinced . . . yet wavering in her conviction to remain so.

"Well, what if we told you we've already put a plan into motion to ensure you never lose your place at his side? That those like our pet can never replace you?"

Her vexed features calmed, relaxing once more into that porcelain mask. "I'm listening."

Hermione's head fell back against his shoulder in spite of herself and any attempt to remain focused. The hand at her hips wound into the fabric of her dress, bunching it upward. Cool air from the bed chamber windows brushed the skin of her legs as he bared them slowly and she shivered in his embrace.

He let her earlobe slip from between his grazing teeth, from between his lips. The hand at the back of her head slid down, circling her neck, the other slipped beneath the gathered material to skim over her naked thigh.

"I wonder," he said, his voice a gravelly murmur in her ear, "if I could convince Bellatrix to let me keep you?"

Keep her? Hermione's eyes snapped open, the sweet lethargy induced by his touch fading enough at that prospect to let her regain her focus. "But, My King, was it not Bellatrix's wish that led you to relinquishing ownership of me in the first place?"

"It was," he agreed, sighing against her damp skin. "But I did not have to listen. My taking of the throne was still new, I wanted the kingdom secured quickly. Angering her was not going to assist my efforts. But now? Now I think she would agree that you would no longer be a potential viper in our midst, don't you?"

Her gaze fixed on the door, she shivered as his fingers dipped between her thighs. Part of her really just wanted to go along with whatever he wished, she was going to be saved anyway, wasn't she? Dame Bellatrix was going to come storming in and put Voldemort in his place, so why shouldn't she just have a little fun before that happened?

His fingertips slid beneath the soft, slick skin to rub against her and she swallowed a gasp, her eyes closing again as she argued with herself. If she lost her grip on the situation, she might let this go too far. There were things she was willing to do to have him gone, and things that would feel like betrayal of her Malfoy men if she permitted them.

The immediate sense of not wanting to betray Lucius and Draco steeled her resolve.

"My King?" she said, her voice low, trembling a little.

"Mmm?"

"I'm your pet for the day, am I not?"

"You are." A low chuckle edged his voice.

She braced herself for the act before she slid an arm between their bodies. Resting her hand over his cock through his trousers—he was hard already, and she wondered distantly if he was that eager to find out if something he'd waited months for had been worth the anticipation he'd built up, or if the man simply had a history of being this easily excited—she curled her fingers around him.

"Then, should I not be servicing you instead, My King? You do seem . . . ." She made her tone thoughtful as she stroked him. She would admit there was a certain delicious thrill to the groan he uttered. "Quite ready."

He spun her, the spontaneous movement catching her off guard so that she nearly let out a shriek. Finding herself pressed to his chest once more, this time looking up into his face closer than she'd ever seen him before, she tried hard to quell the sudden nervous fluttering in her gut.

Had he caught on? She hated that she couldn't help but notice that even this near, his face was perfect, utterly devoid of flaws in a way that upon such close inspection seemed unnatural.

This wasn't the time to ponder it, but she wondered fleetingly if Bellatrix had used magic to make him so pretty.

Voldemort tipped his head to one side, tracing over her lips with the tips of his finger. "I don't recall you being so agreeable when last we met."

She gathered her wits fast. "You can thank the Lords Malfoy for that. They made it clear it would be best if things went smoothly between you and I." Hermione made sure to let her voice remain low, shaky, something that could be mistaken for fear just as easily as it could be mistaken for arousal.

"I see." Stepping backward, his hands clasped her wrists and he started leading her toward the bed. "I suppose that works, too."

Deliberately refraining from forcing a gulp down her throat, she kept her face blank, perhaps a bit hazy. She wouldn't let on how much it disturbed her that he seemed to like fear in this way. An awareness of how that made her feel might only appeal to him more.

When they reached the bed, he relinquished his hold on her and held up his arms. "Well, then, Pet? Undress me."

His words sent a shock through her that was part nervousness, part eagerness. She admonished herself for being curious whether he was so flawless throughout, but she also knew it was a natural curiosity.

Nodding, she decided it best to put him between herself and those doors. Just in case.

"Of course, My King." Ducking around him, she climbed up to kneel on the bed. "Please don't move," she said gently when he began to turn toward her.

He let out a deep laugh, but returned to facing away from her. Nodding to herself, she drew in a steadying breath and reached around him to begin blindly unlacing his tunic.

Her lowered his head to watch her hands working. "You've very talented fingers," he noted, his tone sweet in a way that did not seem to match him at all.

"So my masters tell me." She thought it best to keep him talking as she freed him of the tunic and dropped it aside.

The doors flew open just as her hands reached the top of his trousers. They crashed back against the walls with the force of it as Bellatrix stormed into the king's bedchamber.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the sorceress wailed, her voice hard with anger.

Hermione immediately snatched her hands away, shrinking back from the volatile words.

"What are you doing in here?" Voldemort snapped back, only to realize after the words fell from his lips that it was the wrong way to respond to an already enraged magic wielder.

Her dark, glittering eyes flicked past him, meeting Hermione's gaze. "You! I said you were not to return here! Leave! Go find your traitorous masters."

Hermione felt a strange, soothing sensation ripple through her as she scrambled off the bed and ran for the doors. She recognized it only by guessing. Bellatrix's magic was reaching out, brushing against her own, some strange magical communication conveying that she knew what was really happening.

The assurance that the terrifyingly powerful woman had her wrath focused solely on the Usurper was such a relief that it was a wonder Hermione's legs carried her all the way to the doors before her knees buckled. She tumbled forward just outside the threshold, only to be caught by a pair of very familiar arms.

Looking up, she smiled, another flood of relief washing through her so that she was all but collapsed against him. "Master Lucius," she whispered as he scooped her up.

Draco hurried to close the doors. "Before the guards come, let's be somewhere we're 'permitted' and let these two . . . sort their issues."

They ended up in the Great Hall, where Winky had been only too happy to bring her old friend Hermione tea and biscuits to help settle the clearly rattled young woman's nerves. The Malfoys were not so lucky, receiving unhappy looks from the diminutive creature—they could guess that was on account of their role in the Potters being overthrown in the first place.

Hermione did not want to speak about what had happened before Bellatrix had arrived, and Lucius and Draco seemed content not to ask. Despite their mutual reticence, Hermione thought they were as relieved that she'd managed to not let things get too far to fast as she was.

There was a commotion outside in the main floor corridor and the three of them shot to their feet. They anxiously eyed the doors of the Great Hall, expecting another of Bellatrix's melodramatic entrances—had Voldemort managed to manipulate her into rethinking her betrayal of him?

The doors opened slow, pushed by palace guards, rather than a swift, angry motion created by a wave of magic. More guards filed in . . . and then parted. Bellatrix, looking quite regal as she strode between the line of armored men, had her hands folded calmly before her.

And in her shadow, Voldemort followed, eyes cast downward, board shoulders hunched.

Yes, Hermione decided, as she took in the scene, this was a good look on him.

"You were right of course, my dear Draco. I never did care for a throne." Bellatrix glanced back over her shoulder at her tagalong. "We will take our leave, the Potters are being brought up from the dungeons. I think it probably best if we are already out of the palace by the time they're here."

Draco shook his head. He wasn't sure he expected his aunt to vanish. "But you could stay, couldn't you?"

"Oh, my sweet nephew, I think not. I am touched that you wish it were so simple. No. In all this madness Voldemort has neglected the other kingdoms held under his unwanted reign." Bellatrix touched a finger to her chin. "I think those people deserve repeats of what's happened here today, don't you? Yes, power restored to its rightful owners by Bellatrix Black. I do like the sound of that. As for his home kingdom, well . . . ." She arched a brow, a small smile curving her lips. "I may not want a throne, necessarily, but I do believe I'd make a fantastic queen, don't you?"

Hermione frowned, adoring the empowerment the sorceress was experiencing, but confused. "You're so very powerful. Why did you let him do all this?"

For a split second, Bellatrix looked as though she might snap at the young woman, but just as fast her features smoothed. "Honestly? I don't know. I think, for all the power I had, I felt powerless. I think I made his happiness the only thing that mattered to me. There's a lesson in this, child."

Bellatrix stepped directly up to Hermione. Catching Hermione's chin on a crooked finger, she held the girl's face, preventing her from looking away. "No matter how powerful we might be, sometimes it takes another to open our eyes to what we're capable of."

Hermione understood completely. As much as would-be Queen Bellatrix Black might not like her, she would always respect Hermione's part in opening her eyes. It made her think immediately of the Malfoys. They were that for her. She loved them not for all they'd given her, but for reminding her she was more than a thing to be owned. Though they still used the titles, she knew. She supposed she had known for some time now, they were not her masters or her owners.

They were the loves of her life.

She fought to keep from tearing up at the realization and nodded.

With that, and a reassurance to Draco that he'd seen his aunt again, the soon-to-be foreign queen, Bellatrix Black, turned and started for the palace doors. "Come along, Pet," she said to Voldemort as she drifted past him.

Yes, the lovesick look in the once powerful man's eyes as he swung around to follow was somehow utterly satisfying.

"You want what?" James Potter, having bathed for the first time in months and clothed in kingly robes once more, asked in disbelief as they were all convened in the royal audience chamber sometime later.

Neville was being shown about the stables and the servants' quarters by Winky, leaving Hermione and the Malfoys to meet with the re-crowned king and queen.

Hermione sighed. "Your Highness, you asked what I wish in payment for helping restore the kingdom. I wish the Malfoys pardoned from any charges they might face regarding Voldemort's coup."

James and Lily shared a long look—a quite loaded silent conference which put the Malfoys' muted exchanges to shame—before they turned back to face their son's former pet. "Hermione, dear," Her Highness answered for both of them, "I'm afraid it's not that simple. If we were not to level some form of punishment for Lord Malfoy's transgression, and his sons complicity in his actions, that would set a dangerous precedent for the future."

"Master . . . ." Hermione broke off, shaking her head. "Lucius and Draco had a hand in that terrible, business, yes, but they also risked a great deal to set it right. Does that not count for something?"

Draco's brows shot up at hearing her refer to them without the titles they'd grown so accustomed to. Glancing at his father, he saw Lucius' brows were also high on his forehead. After a moment, however, his features settled and he nodded. I suppose we're okay with that, then, Draco thought with a quick, pensive frown.

"I believe there could be some form of reduced punishment." James' tone was grudging, but Hermione couldn't hold that against him—it was a lot to grapple with, a lot to forgive and here she was, in essence asking they not take the matter so seriously. "Do you have something in mind?"

"A fine, perhaps?"

James and Lily evidently believed such a thing too lenient. Until they spied the aggrieved look that flitted across Lucius' face.

Another glance was shared between the rightful king and queen of Godric's Hollow before they turned to the Malfoys and Hermione with an answer.

"A third of my holdings?!" Lucius was still bellyaching as they climbed out of the carriage in front of Malfoy Manor. "They might as well have asked for a limb!"

Hermione sighed, but Draco chuckled, immediately falling silent and wincing as the mirthful sound earned him a baleful look from his father.

"Lucius, please," Hermione said in a soothing tone, quite liking how it felt to say just his name. "You're still the richest family in the country."

In possibly the closest thing Lord Lucius Malfoy had ever come to a whine, he said, "But I was a third richer an hour ago."

Hermione's shoulders slumped and she decided to give up.

"Don't worry." Draco shrugged, giving a sigh of his own. "In a few days, I'm sure he'll be okay."

"There you all are!"

Harry came rushing down the Manor steps. Ignoring the Malfoys, he hugged Hermione. "I take it from your return that the plan worked?"

Lucius turned that glare on the prince. "A third!" he nearly bellowed.

Harry looked from Hermione to Draco, and back, in search of an explanation. "It's a long story," they replied in the same breath.

"Everything worked out," she continued alone, gently covering Harry's hands on her arms with her own. "Your parents are waiting for you. Mr. Goyle will take you back home, now."

Harry glanced at the Malfoys, who both suddenly and conspicuously found the familiar architecture of their manor home quite fascinating. He returned his attention to Hermione. "You're not coming with me, are you?"

The look in his eyes saddened her. Hurt, loneliness . . . and a reluctant understanding. She hoped he'd find the person who could take that loneliness away for him, but it wasn't her.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, a cold awareness settling in the pit of her stomach. Harry was the Crown Prince, again. He could take her back if he really wanted to.

He smiled sadly, trailing his fingers across her cheek. It broke his heart a little that she even needed to ask. "There's no choice to be made," he said, letting his hand fall to his side. "This is clearly where you want to be."

She hugged him once more, cognizant that it would be some time before they saw each other again. "Goodbye, Harry," she whispered, aware that no matter when they met in the future, this would be the last time she could address him without formality.

He kissed her forehead. "Goodbye, Hermione. I'm glad you're happy."

After what seemed too long in Draco's not-quite-humble opinion, Crown Prince Harry Potter climbed into the carriage and was headed to the palace.

Hermione turned back toward her Malfoys. "Do you think Dobby will make that lovely salmon tonight?" she asked, determined to put today's entire mess behind her. The kingdom was restored, Voldemort would never again have power, and she had the freedom to be happy.

She never imagined all those months ago that she'd had the power to make all that happen.

"Perhaps," Lucius answered, seeming to come around from his wallowing when Dobby's cooking was mentioned. He crooked his elbow, waiting until she hooked her arm through his before he continued. "He'll be so relieved to see us back, we'll have to stop him from making that chocolate cake that nearly killed us."

"I liked that cake," Draco groused, taking her other arm as they started up they steps together.

"So did we." Hermione shook her head. "Until the energy from the chocolate wore off and we all ended up sleeping for three days."

Draco laughed. "You know, in all the confusion, I don't remember . . . who's night is it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Lucius cut her off. "Rather certain it's mine."

"Now wait, we can't be entirely sure," Draco argued, "I think it's probably mine."

She couldn't help but laugh when a quiet argument broke out between her Malfoys as the three of them continued up the steps to disappear behind the doors of the first place Hermione could finally call home.

THE END