Part 4

Lucius turned the page to show Severus the next design.

"Can you believe Muggles do these ice sculptures by hand?" He shook his head. "Such a waste of effort when a house-elf can manage in much less time."

Severus sat, ignoring his tea, with his head in his hands as Lucius spread more of the wedding designs across the garden table. Ice sculptures, champagne fountains, centrepieces, cake plateaus. Pages and pages of designs – most of which looked hand drawn (something about Lucius he had no intention of putting any thought towards).

Who knew there were books on wedding planning? Or that Lucius would have an entire floor-to-ceiling case full of them?

"The griffon is a tad gauche, but you're daft enough to marry a Gryffindor that you may well disagree."

He had tried, when the books, diagrams and photographs first appeared, to appeal to Lucius' sense of decorum and refuse such frippery outright. But Lucius had sulked, and somehow Severus found himself quite unable to snarl at the man to get a hold of himself.

He really was losing his edge.

And the plans kept coming.

"It would be so nice to have the wedding out here," Lucius said wistfully.

"No."

"I know you have an aversion to natural light, but an indoor wedding is so dour."

"No."

"Severus, truculence may be in your nature, but do make an effort to think of your fiancée. You do remember she will be the other half in the ceremony, yes?"

"Hermione would agree with me." She would. She had to. Severus had no intention of plodding through dew-covered grass, amidst Lucius' atrocious rose garden, in order to stand under some canopy surrounded by a ridiculous number of floral arrangements. No matter how many times the world 'tasteful' was used in conjunction with 'enchanted doves' there was no force great enough to convince Severus to agree.

"Simply because the girl has all the Quidditch prowess of a half-lame, hobbled sparrow does not mean she wishes to abide by your cloistered, sepulchral vision of the happiest day of her life."

"I rather thought that day would have been when Voldemort was defeated and she kicked in your teeth."

Severus did what he could to hide his smug grin as Lucius winced and did a cursory check with his tongue to ensure that his mouth was in order.

"Yes, well, I still think we should put the question to her."

"I'll be sure to do that when I get home."

The smile Lucius gave him was predatory.

"No need for that, old man. She's here. After all, we wouldn't want you to forget the salient details."

"Here?"

Hermione? Here? At Malfoy Manor? Why would she be here? There was no reason for his Hermione to be anywhere near Lucius. Besides, she loathed him, and those whom she loathed rarely escaped meeting her without exhibiting visible signs of struggle.

"Indeed. She arrived shortly before you did."

A befuddled Severus let himself be lead back inside and to one of the drawing rooms. He ought to have known this before hand. If not from Lucius, then Hermione, herself.

"Voluntarily?" He had to ask.

Lucius affected a look of casual disdain.

"I'll have you know I am a reformed and law-abiding member of wizarding society." To prove the point, Lucius refrained from knocking a house-elf out of the way with his cane. "I haven't kidnapped anyone in… oh… what? Two, three years now?"

Severus came to a dead stop at seeing Narcissa and Hermione chatting amiably over tea.

"Lucius?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Why is your wife talking to my fiancée?"

"It would seem Miss Granger wanted the advice of a pureblood witch in regards to your nuptials."

"But…" Severus stammered, "the last time we left them in a room together they hexed each other to the point that they had to spend three weeks in St. Mungo's."

Lucius nodded slowly. "What was that? Four months ago?"

"They were unconscious for a week."

"It took the healers that long to figure out the counterspells to a number of the curses your Muggleborn intended used." Lucius peered sideways at Severus. "Yours, I presume?"

"I admit nothing," except an overwhelming sense of pride in the capabilities of his then-girlfriend. That had nothing to do with the current scene being played out before him.

The sight of his Hermione tittering over her hostess in a distinctly un-Hermione-like manner was… unnerving.

Merlin's balls. "Are they looking at dishes?"

"They're place settings, Severus, really," Lucius corrected in the manner of one addressing a particularly slow first year. "I needed an answer on the design before I could order the flower arrangements."

Severus stared at the man as though he had sprouted a second, red-eyed head. What possible correlation could florists have with china? Did he…? No. He was mostly sure he was not going to ask because he did not want to be able to answer such a question in the future.

But Lucius, being Lucius, noted the vacant stare of the perplexed.

"The entire palette of the wedding depends on the place settings. Without it, my hands are truly tied and I cannot plan a single thing," Lucius said, exasperated. The sulk was making a comeback.

No planning without the dishes? This sounded appealing. If Hermione were distracted from the task, Severus would not have to return to making decisions with Lucius in the garden. Very, very appealing. So much so, in fact, he was willing to brave the tempest and interrupt his fiancée's frightening tête-à-tête with Narcissa, no matter how oddly she was behaving.

Relying on the time-honoured element of surprise, Severus swept into the drawing room in full flutter.

"Severus!" The ladies chorused. Sweet Merlin on a broomstick, they managed to use the same earsplitting pitch.

"Narcissa. Hermione," he greeted. Severus leaned down to kiss Hermione in welcome. He reasoned that kissing in public would be allowed in this situation because, really, it was the only way he would find out if this person were an imposter impersonating Hermione. It was definitely not a ploy, in any way, to settle his nerves and get a bit of female reassurance.

Definitely not.

Mmmm.

Well, maybe a little.

"I was hoping Lucius would let you in some time. I simply cannot decide which of these I prefer. Narcissa tells me it's tacky to have gold leaf in the setting, but I'm rather fond of it. What do you think?"

"Er."

"Oh Severus, you simply must convince her. The silver filigree is so much more tasteful. If you pick the gold, Lucius will be furious at me for limiting his colour choices."

"Er."

"What would you like, Severus?" Hermione's hand had snaked out and come to rest on his hip, and was now rubbing delicate circles against the fabric. He knew he was being cajoled – he really liked the robes she was wearing, especially from this height – but he was being asked his opinion for once, and so he felt compelled to contribute.

"Er. Can't we have something… plain and," make a concession, quickly, "white?"

See? He was flexible. The dishes could be white.

The three other people in the room (and one scampering house-elf) frowned in dismay. He felt the comforting hand of Hermione drop away with a sigh. Severus had clearly failed some sort of husband-to-be test.

"I suppose you're right, Narcissa. We'll take the filigree."

"Excellent," Lucius said, pausing momentarily before going for the kill. "Severus also has a few details he would like your opinion on."

Damn.

Severus gritted his teeth. "Lucius would like the ceremony to be held out in the garden."

Much to his consternation, the eyes of the females in the room became misty. What could possibly bring tears to their eyes about having a wedding on the bleeding grass? Except for allergies, of course, but Severus didn't think pollen could have such an effect while still indoors.

"Oh Lucius, that would be lovely."

Hermione put a hand to her heart and smiled at him. Oh dear, he was going to give in because he was wont to say anything to give her cause to stop gazing at him adoringly.

Shit.

"I also suggested we put up a canopy –"

"With the Acromantula silk?"

Lucius smiled at his wife. "Exactly what I was going to suggest, my dear."

The Malfoys shared a moment of haute couture cum matrimonial bliss. Severus bit back a snarl that it was his wedding, not theirs, and there would be no… oh. His train of thought was derailed as Hermione threaded her fingers through his and stood up. Her free hand came up and settled on his chest.

"I know you have an aversion to roses, but we could charm them a different colour. One not as unappealing as pink or apricot." Hermione smiled.

Before he could acknowledge the horror of anything pink residing in his proximity, Severus noticed he was nodding and smiling in a decidedly pleased fashion. He was definitely unwell. Perhaps he ought to check himself into St. Mungo's for an extended convalescence.

"Tomorrow is Tuesday. Narcissa agreed to share the secret of her seamstress and to help me look at dresses while you are busy."

Busy Tuesday? Oh right. Tea party. An evening free of decisions beyond: 'Which bottle of Lucius' alcohol was he going to swim his way through?' If he could not see a healer to fix whatever damage had been done to his mind that had convinced him to agree to any of this ridiculousness, then he would take a hefty dose of medicinal libations.

Hermione glanced back at their hosts who were now caught in an amorous embrace. "I think it's our best chance to escape. I don't care to find out what the mention of serving trays will do to them."

Grateful for the reemergence of the witch he recognised, Snape quickly gathered Hermione up and Apparated back to the safety of Hogwarts. Severus (and his heart) had been much younger when they had been capable of dealing with the shock of finding Lucius and Narcissa in compromising situations. Few would believe it, but no one was more pleased than Severus was when Draco came into the world. The Malfoys comported themselves with a fair degree of dignity once blessed with a child underfoot, and aside from what Severus saw in the bog of the pub at their twentieth wedding anniversary, had spared him the humiliation of rediscovering just how flexible his friends could be, given the right provocation.

Third year Ravenclaws heading back from Hogsmeade, however, were obliged to compensate. The two girls stopped when they saw Severus with his arms still around Hermione and began to giggle behind their hands. Even the twin glares both professors leveled on them resulted in Miss Ashford and Miss Weatherby sighing at the romance of it all and scurrying away with their heads bowed together. The news of the display of affection on the part of the two most feared faculty members would quickly spread through the rest of the school.

Gossip tripled when the next day saw the deduction of only fifteen points from Ravenclaw.