Hi there everyone, thanks so much for your beautiful reviews, FANART (holy forking shirtballs) , and of course, your patience.
Firstly *fanfare* I wanted to give credit to Mimi for guessing Hera's species! She is a beautiful Ural owl! If you haven't seen them before, I strongly recommend you go onto google right now and change your entire life for the better. My editor came up with the idea (I was totally set on giving Lucius a peregrine falcon) but the second I saw the Ural owl photos she sent me I really had no choice... what absolutely beautiful, incredible creatures!
Tereyaglikedi, thank you so so much for your beautiful fanart of Hera, Atlas and Phoebus! If I can figure out how and if you're okay with it, I'd love to show everyone your lovely artwork. And if anyone else knows of any other fanart for the fic, let me know and I'll see if I can include it somehow!
I also want to give special credit to my editor for this chapter. Jessari, you are always amazing BUT holy gods you really knocked it out of the park this time. This chapter was an absolute pigsty and you got in there and worked an eight hour all-nighter transforming it into something really beautiful. I honestly couldn't believe my eyes when I opened the fic the next morning. Thank you so much. You're an angel. So readers, if you like this chapter, please let Jessari know about it in the comments.
Now that I've given credit where it's due, I want to give a warning for mild sexual content during this chapter. Due to the fact that it is quite mild, I'm not going to split the chapter into three parts to 'hide' it, BUT if you're reading this and you don't want to read even mild sexual content, please stop reading right now and flick me a review and we can work something out. I'll link you to a special Google Doc or something so you don't have to read anything you don't want to. I want the fic to be accessible for all.
Without further ado, read on and enjoy! :)
"It's not going to work." Hermione said in a singsong voice.
Lucius and Hermione were in her office. They were both looking up; Lucius with hope, and Hermione with consternation.
Lucius had stripped off his usual dark robes and wore a crisp white dress shirt. Upon his right shoulder was a thick, leather contraption secured by finely worked steel buckles and leather straps. His right hand was protected by a glove of similar design that stretched halfway up his forearm. In his left hand, he held an owl treat.
Atlas was perched on the topmost point of the great bird-stand Hermione had built for him. The great bird's amber-eyed gaze was fixed solely on Lucius. He did not look impressed.
"Come now, boy." Lucius crooned to the owl. He waved the owl treat in his hand from side to side. "Let the two of us be friends, hm?"
Atlas clicked his beak in derision, and turned his head away. Lucius sighed.
"He'll get used to you." Hermione said comfortingly. "At least he's not hovering over me. It means he trusts you."
"Trusting me is one thing. I would prefer that he likes me. I have an idea- dearest, would you pass me my wand?"
His cane rested, as it so often did, against the side of her desk. She drew his wand from it, admiring the silver worked snake's head for the briefest moment before she gave it to him. His wand was the sort that couldn't help but catch the eye.
Trust indeed.
"Thank you. Now, Atlas, watch. Wingardium Leviosa. "
And with delicate motions, Lucius hovered the treat right up to where Atlas glowered. All the bird had to do was shuffle to the side just a little bit, and he could have the treat. The bird didn't move.
"Ah… not close enough?" Lucius' wand drifted ever so slightly and the owl treat rose with it; directly in front of the bird's face.
Incredibly, Atlas opened his beak and swallowed the treat in one bite.
Hermione gasped. "Atlas, that's shameless!"
"Now now, Hermione. Progress is progress. Now, Atlas, look here." Lucius took a treat and very slowly laid it upon his shoulder pad. "Come down here to me, and you can have another."
"I don't know, Lucius." Hermione said. "I don't think that's a very good idea-"
Just as Atlas gaze' turned down to the Owl Treat, there was a knock at the door. Atlas hooted once and winged out the open window. Probably to go to the Owlery and sulk.
"Don't worry, he'll be back." Hermione reassured Lucius., She opened the door with a swish of her wand.
In the doorway, the Minister for Magic stood waiting.
Kingsley Shacklebolt. For a moment, seeing him here, at Hogwarts, was so disorientating that Hermione froze in her chair. It was as if the image of the Minister for Magic had been superimposed on the world around him. Powerfully built and in his customary purple, a calm, confident expression on his handsome, dark face.
It was probably a pretty stupid way to feel, since Kingsley had been one of the fighters who'd helped them win back the castle in the first place, but she felt it all the same.
Quick as lightning, Hermione jumped out of her seat and waved him into a chair. The second he sat down, he started, and Hermione saw that Crookshanks had jumped into his lap.
"Oh sorry, Kingsley- Crookshanks, leave the Minister alone-!"
The orange cat turned around in a perfect circle before settling down in Kingsley's lap. Hermione cringed with embarrassment. The sound of purrs filled the air, deep and even. The cat had no intentions of moving any time soon.
Shacklebolt waved off her worry. "It's fine, Hermione. Is this the cat who sniffed out Peter Pettigrew?"
Hermione felt pride straighten her back. "Actually, yes he is."
Kingsley started cooing and gave the old ginger cat a thorough scratch behind the ear. "What I wouldn't give to have a few Kneazles on the Auror squad." He said, as Crookshanks' purrs reached new heights. "If we could just train them properly…"
Hermione smiled fondly. Kingsley was a fantastic Minister for Magic. He'd also been an Auror for a very long time, and old habits died hard. She couldn't exactly blame him.
"Kinglsey." Lucius said. His tone was familiar enough that Hermione knew the two of them were at least on good terms. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Kingsley looked up distractedly. "Hm? Oh. I thought I would let you know in person that it's officially been a month since our last dementor sighting."
"That's amazing news." Hermione said, but she knew something wasn't quite right. Kingsley Shacklebolt wouldn't come to Hogwarts purely to let them know something that they could have found out in the papers. He was just too busy, and too important.
"It is. That being the case, I thought this might be a good time to start organising your official induction into the Order of Merlin." His smile grew wide, and he gave Hermione a cheeky wink. "First Class, as discussed. For the both of you, also as discussed."
Lucius and Hermione looked at one another. She knew her surprise was showing on her face. She had been thrilled at Kingsley's offer, especially once he'd granted it to Lucius as well, but with so much going on… She had sort of forgotten about it. Lucius looked terribly proud though, and was lifting up his nose in a way he didn't usually do these days.
Kingsley was watching their silent exchange with an air of confusion. "I hope you haven't changed your mind, Hermione. You really do deserve it."
"No, no. It's just been a busy few weeks, that's all."
Kingsley beamed. "Excellent. I thought we'd make an event out of it. The public love these sorts of things; life goes on."
The public. Such a casual phrase, but it really showed her the difference between them. Hermione would have said 'people'. Not Kingsley. He was a politician.
Slightly panicked, Hermione thought, that's going to have to be me, one day. Sooner than I had planned for, if I really want to be Deputy Headmistress by next year.
"How many people exactly?" Hermione said, trying to sound calm.
He gave her a knowing look. "Don't worry, Hermione, I'm not inviting the whole Ministry. Just a few key people and their families, and some international guests, and the press, of course. Two hundred people, perhaps."
Oh, no.
"Um. When were you thinking of doing it?" Hermione asked, surprised by how normal her voice sounded. How casual.
Kingley waved a hand. "Oh, these things take time, Hermione. Maybe next Saturday?"
Hermione's world came to a screeching halt.
Beside her, Lucius said. "Not next Saturday, Kingsley. I have business. Perhaps the following Saturday?"
Hermione sighed in relief. Kingsley didn't seem to notice, but she saw Lucius give her a queer look and knew that he had.
They all chatted for a while. Kingsley asked her if Lucius was getting her into trouble. Hermione smiled and told him that it was the other way around. After a good, long petting session, Crookshanks finally stood up. After a luxurious stretch, he bounded down to the floor and went off in search of Atlas. Kingsley was free to leave.
As she shut the door behind him, the little bit of confidence she'd built up withered away.
Hermione turned to Lucius. "Do you think… do you think we'll have to give speeches?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll have the opportunity- ah. So that is what's the matter. Yes, we will have to give acceptance speeches. It will be expected of us. An Order of Merlin is a very great honour."
"Well, yes, obviously, but can't we just sort of-?" She waved her hands helplessly. "I don't know, just-"
Lucius waited expectantly. Eventually, he realised further explanation was not forthcoming. Wryly, he finished her train of thought. "Can't we just have the highest honour in all of Wizardry bestowed upon us, say 'thank you very much, Kingsley,' and come straight back to Hogwarts? Is that what you were going to suggest?"
Hermione protested, "Technically, I don't think it's against any rules-"
A particular expression was brewing on Lucius' face. Hermione had seen it many times before. Usually at long staff meetings. Sometimes it would appear when he and Tiberius got into particularly heated discussions about fashion.
And now, it seemed, when his girlfriend made political mistakes.
Gently, he said, "No, I suppose not. Regardless, I think you see that that will not work."
Hermione groaned and buried her face in her arms.
It wasn't as if she didn't like people. She did. Very much. She'd had a lovely time at the Halloween Ball, and the Yule Ball too, for that matter. But there was a difference between socialising with people that she liked and being under the scrutiny of people she barely knew and normally wouldn't associate with. While on camera.
She supposed she could smile and look confident in front of strangers. Pretend that she was the perfect, wonderful person that everyone seemed to think she was... Even if the press were there. If it would really help people feel better after the terror of the dementors, she thought she could at least try. But what was she supposed to say? She was an inventor and a teacher. Making speeches was Kingsley's job. Minerva's job. Not hers.
Lucius consoled her, leaning forward in earnest. "Dearest, you will do well. Think of it like an essay. Only shorter. Much shorter. Remember, half of the people in the room will be thinking of their drinks the entire time. Trust me. I have experience in these matters. It will be over before you know it, and then I shall perform my own speech. If you like, we can leave early."
"Early?" Hermione asked quickly. "How early, would you say?"
"Oh, perhaps two or three hours after my speech is done. No sense in drawing things out, I suppose."
Hermione groaned louder and this time, let her forehead thunk softly against the table. As she stared at the wood, she felt something warm settle on her head. Lucius' hand. He stroked her hair in smooth, tender motions and she felt a little of her stress dissolve. If not for the anxiety building up inside her, she probably could have gone to sleep.
An idea came to her. A brilliant, wonderful idea.
"Lucius." Hermione said, lifting up her face hopefully. "Would you like to write my acceptance speech too?"
Lucius took her hand in hers and kissed her knuckles. Fervent, firm. "Oh, Hermione." His beautiful sea glass eyes shone. "You do spoil me."
It didn't take him long.
Two days after Kinglsey had broken the news of the function to them, Lucius appeared in the doorway of her classroom.
She didn't notice him straight away. She was busy trying to teach two dozen sixteen year olds how to send fire through a series of hoops, with the added challenge of not setting the castle on fire in the process. Almost an hour later, she was covered in scorch marks and her robes were much the worse for wear, but at least no-one had gotten seriously hurt. Hermione had given everyone dragonhide gloves and aprons and had them cast flame-freeze charms on one another, just in case.
"Miss Edgecumbe, be careful! If you don't keep a firm grip, the fire may go-"
Out of control.
With resignation Hermione watched a fireball fly far past the hoop, and head right toward the door. It was then that she noticed Lucius. With a casual wave of his wand he dispelled the fireball, unaffected by the potential danger.
To her repeated apologies and Miss Edgecumbe's mortified squeal, Lucius only drawled, "Don't mind me, Professor. It is not urgent."
He stood taller than usual, somehow, and a self-satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She knew exactly what it meant. Good news.
Excited, she let the children out early. They were too grateful to care; it was a beautiful day and she'd pushed them hard.
Lucius walked up to her with a spring in his step, his black robes sweeping behind him. Hermione wasn't the slightest bit surprised when he drew a piece of parchment from within his robes and offered it to her.
Feeling nervous and excited all at once, she took it. In his flowing, elegant hand was her acceptance speech. The margins were filled with neat little notes on how and where to put emphasis on her words.
She resolved to practice it right away, and said as much to Lucius. If possible, his smile became wider.
"Wait, darling." He lifted a hand to his mouth and briefly dragged his thumb across his inner lower lip. He then rubbed away a smudge mark on her cheekbone.
"Thank you." She blushed a little, glowing under his attention. Yet, she was too excited by the speech to let herself be distracted for long.
She returned to her podium and arranged the parchment for a moment, not knowing what to do with herself. Feeling a little silly, she took off her apron and gloves.
Lucius took a pew with a nostalgic air. Seeing him where her students normally sat was amusing to her, but it was time to focus.
"Whenever you're ready." He said with a gesture.
Hermione read the speech aloud. Even read by a total amateur like her, it was pretty good. He'd obviously written it with her in mind. It sounded exactly like the sort of thing she might say. If, of course, she was confident, eloquent and used to appearing at Ministry events.
She finished. Lucius gave her a little clap for effect, the sound echoing through the classroom. "Marvelous. Now, once more, from the beginning."
She frowned. "What did I do wrong?"
"You did nothing wrong. This time, don't worry about reading it in any particular voice, dearest. Just read it aloud as if it were a very dull textbook."
As she skimmed through the speech again to prepare herself, she absently said, "Lucius, there are no dull textbooks."
"Of course. Forgive me." He said dryly.
Due to her intense focus on the task at hand, she completely missed his sarcasm. A handful of seconds later, she huffed impatiently, thinking about his advice. "What's the point in doing something badly on purpose?"
Lucius gave her a fond look. "It's not a matter of doing it badly, dearest. For today, our goal is to have you bored. Are you excited or nervous when you perform a Leviosa? No. Of course not. You have done it too many times. You are simply practiced and efficient. Set your sights on that for now. Read the speech aloud until it comes naturally. We will address proper emphasis, eloquence and pauses later."
Hermione hummed. What he said made perfect sense. Yet, irrationally, her worry still wouldn't budge. Lucius could tell. He smoothly crossed one leg over the other before saying, "Enlighten me. Exactly what is it that frightens you?"
Hermione, momentarily distracted by the unintentionally alluring picture that Lucius painted, had to think about it. Being afraid was one thing, but understanding that fear was another.
"That I'll say something stupid." Hermione said at last. "That I'll look like an idiot."
His smile was warm. "That is easy. If you say something that is not quite right, simply laugh as if you have told a joke. If any think to question you outright, which I very much doubt, simply pretend that they are stupid, and that they have misheard you. Besides, Hermione, no-one will expect you to act the perfect politician. You are honest, genuine, and moral. That is part of your charm."
"What if no-one likes it?" She asked, and was astonished at how small her voice sounded.
"They will."
"But what if they don't?"
Lucius Malfoy laughed. It was quite a cold sound. "Then I suppose a few hexes will be in order, won't they?"
Hermione laughed too, as if he'd been joking.
She knew he wasn't.
After much practicing, her speech was about as good as it was going to get. Lucius had made adjustments here and there. The changes seemed minor to her, but he assured her they would improve her tone.
Before they knew it, the gala was upon them. Less than a day away, and Hermione's nervousness was climbing by the hour. This was made worse by Lucius' warning that they still had something very important to decide. Something that had taken Lucius had put a great deal of time and energy into and needed only her seal of approval.
They had to figure out what she was going to wear.
"I'm not sure how I feel about these outfits." Hermione said, grimacing at herself in her bedroom mirror. "I look.. Silly."
Silly was a diplomatic way of putting it. Robes had always suited her, or so she'd thought. Wearing them felt natural. This didn't.
She wore a scarlet dress with skirts slitted at intervals that made it flow, tabardlike, between her legs. A black half-cape hung from her shoulders. Her wand was sheathed in an elaborate onyx contraption at her side that made her wish for the coat Lucius had given her. The wand-sheath was beautiful, but it was more artistic than functional.
Compared to the heavy robes she was used to wearing these days, the entire ensemble felt… weightless.
It was strange. She felt more in disguise than when she wore one of her illusions. The outfit wasn't ugly, not by any means, and the cut was flattering for her petite frame, it just wasn't something she would ever normally wear.
It wasn't all bad. She liked the colour very much; Gryffindor red had always looked fantastic on her, and the black of the sheath and the cape added maturity where gold would have made her look too much the schoolgirl.
And then there were the boots. Black, of course. Soft and supple, they went up to mid calf. The heel was wide and made no difference to her walking at all, except she now stood a few inches taller.
Hermione liked the boots. She did an experimental little twirl, watching herself in her mirror.
In the mirror, Lucius' lips quirked in a little smile as he watched her. He looked… proud. Admiring, even.
Hermione grinned at herself, and at him. Her boyfriend thought she was pretty.
"You are radiant as a Queen." Tiberius announced from where he stood to one side. "The cape is particularly fine."
Tiberius had come at Lucius' invitation. Her boyfriend had explained that since Tiberius had such an eccentric view on fashion, hearing his thoughts could prove very useful. Or so he'd said at the time. She was starting to think that Lucius had just wanted to talk about fashion with his best friend.
"The shoes are comfortable, I have heard." Tiberius said as he took in her outfit with an expert eye. "The comfort of the lady should always be the first consideration of any tailor."
She nodded absently. Still studying her reflection, Hermione shifted from one foot to another. Biting her lip, she said, "I'm just not sure."
"You may wear whatever you like." Lucius assured her. "The gala is in your honour. Whatever you wear tonight, others will wear for the next fortnight. But as I recall, you did ask that we help you to look as fashionable as possible. This ensemble is the height of fashion."
"Not quite, old boy." Tiberius said with a little laugh. "You are forgetting the rings. No society witch would appear without them this season. We mustn't leave the Professor open to ridicule."
Hermione wasn't particularly concerned by this. If the worst thing that happened tomorrow night was that a few witches noticed that she wasn't wearing any rings, she'd call the whole thing a roaring success.
She was about to say as much when Lucius gave a little cough and said, "Don't concern yourself with that, Tiberius. Hermione already has rings."
Hermione sent Lucius a curious look. She did? That meant that he did. No jewellery she had would be remotely appropriate for an event like this.
Fortunately, Tiberius didn't question it.
"Will you be coming, Tiberius?"
The Ravenclaw winced. "Ah, don't be offended- but Ministry gatherings are not something I particularly enjoy. I find them terribly dull, I'm afraid."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. "Don't worry Tiberius. I completely understand."
Later that evening, Lucius came to her office with a slender case in his hands. Hermione was so consumed by paperwork that she didn't immediately realise what it was.
Gently, he laid it down on the table and explained, "The final touches, Hermione."
She threw down her quill and stood up, leaning over in excitement. Wordlessly, he opened the case.
A dozen rings were ensconced in a bed of soft velvet. Her fingers reached out to trace them. Each one was unique and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Some carved into fantastical shapes, others more orthodox. She'd expected silver for the ring bands and emerald for the centre stones. Instead, the bands were gold. Some of the stones she recognised; onyx, orange topaz, opals and rubies. Some she couldn't have named at all.
Watching her very carefully, Lucius said, "Now, I feel I must add… I am aware of muggle customs with rings. These are specifically for the purpose of the gala."
She stifled a laugh. "Don't worry, Lucius. I completely understand. Are these heirlooms?" She asked, knowing he would be proud to tell her about them.
"Actually, they are not."
Hermione looked up in surprise. "Really-?"
Hermione snapped her mouth shut. She didn't want to come across as arrogant. It was just that... she knew how much value Lucius placed on old things. She also knew he cared about her. The second she'd realised Lucius was planning on giving her a ring for the night, she'd immediately jumped to the conclusion that the ring would be centuries old.
He wasn't offended. "You are right to be surprised. I would usually not presume to give a witch I cared about a ring with no history behind it. In this case, I thought you would prefer those bought purely for you."
Something clicked. "Lucius, I thought after the auction you'd decided to save money."
Lucius tried to change the subject by picking up a particular ring to show her. It was glorious, but not quite enough to distract her. She waved it away. "Lucius, answer my question."
He held up a conciliatory hand. "Don't scold me, please. They were a necessity."
Hermione narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Really."
"As a matter of fact, yes. The Malfoy rings are well known, Hermione. Particularly those worn by the Malfoy witches. There isn't a society witch or wizard who wouldn't know what it meant if they saw one upon your fingers. You still want us to keep our relationship a secret, don't you?"
Hermione felt her face grow warm. He'd said a lot of important things, but as it sometimes happened, her mind focussed on only one of them.
Quietly, she asked, "Is that what I am? A Malfoy witch?"
The idea was… not something she ever would have thought would appeal to her. Hearing him say the words now, she was surprised at how she felt. Flattered. Proud. The Malfoy name, in and of itself, didn't hold much appeal to her aside from historical interest. But as a connection to him…
Lucius Malfoy looked down at her. He smiled tentatively. She thought she could see hope in it. And nervousness. "Well, I suppose you are. If you want to be."
"I'd like that."
At this, an expression of such absolute joy came over his face that Hermione nearly had to turn her face away. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it.
"I've just had a thought." Hermione said. "If I'm a Malfoy witch, doesn't that mean you're a Granger wizard? I suppose you'd be the first one."
Lucius blinked in surprise, then he tipped his head back in a laugh.
"I would be honoured. I have never been the first of anything."
"Does that bother you? You're Lucius the…" Hermione took a guess. "Second?"
Lucius' eyes crinkled at the edges, and she knew she'd guessed right. "Indeed I am."
Hermione's mind turned back to the matter at hand. "These rings… do you want to keep them after the gala? You should. You bought them, after all."
He almost looked offended. "For safekeeping, if you wish. However, any who see them will know they are yours in the future. Those that pay attention, that is."
"Ah." The gravity of the gala was beginning to fully set in, but she found a measure of pride and confidence in knowing that no matter what, her appearance would be well received. They had done all they could. She was as prepared as she would ever be.
"I'm ready." She said. With a spur of spontaneity, she chose her rings. The one with the raw chunk of fire opal. A ruby that glinted as if lit from within. An onyx on a red-gold band that she couldn't quite take her eyes off of. And last but not least, a beautiful black opal that Hermione suspected had cost entirely too much.
At Lucius's instruction, she slid them all onto the fingers of her left hand and held it up to the light.
The effect was absolutely incredible.
"Of course you are." Lucius replied with surety.
Hermione had wanted to arrive at the Ministry at least an hour before the speeches were due to start. However, Lucius had strongly suggested that they should only leave after Kingsley sent them an owl to see if they were still coming. They'd compromised and arrived only fashionably late, about half an hour after the doors had been opened.
They came by the private entrance used only with Kingsley's invitation, and so avoided the humiliation and chaos of the official and guest entrances. Giving the labyrinthine archival wing a wide berth, they meandered through the black-tiled corridors to join an ever growing throng of people heading for the Ministry reception room.
The reception room had been designed with this sort of thing in mind, so there was plenty of space. Regardless, Hermione thought a few space-manipulation Charms had been worked into the room. It was immense. Three Great Hall's could have nestled comfortably within its sprawling expanse and still had room to spare. They were one with the throng, at least for the moment, so Hermione had time to scrutinise the room without being scrutinised herself.
The gala was everything she assumed it would be.
Chandeliers hung at regular intervals, bathing the room in crystalline light. Fountains trickling liquid that a passing Ministry elf assured them was edible gold. Platters with flutes of champagne floating here and there. A gold and black stage was set up on the far side, with a tall, ebony table set in the middle. The air itself was heavy with the scents of a half dozen varieties of rare, incredible flowers that had been grafted onto the walls, making it look like they were in some sort of vast subterranean paradise. The effect was extremely convincing and very beautiful. Periodically, sneezes could be heard around the room.
It was mind numbingly dull. All this magic at their disposal, and still, every ministry function was the same as the one before. The same food. The same people, or at the very least, the same kinds of people. Aristocrats. Government workers. A few celebrities, like her, to spice things up. The outfits changed, but that was about it.
So much wealth, so many displays of power, and yet, the event had no heart. A hundred people talking about nothing except how highly they thought of themselves and each other.
Hermione hated the Ministry.
"Isn't it marvelous?" Lucius murmured.
She glanced over at her boyfriend. His face was radiant with joy, and she reminded herself to be happy for him. This was his element, much the same as a library or a charmwork room would be for her.
"It's really nice." She managed. "The charmwork on the fountains is pretty interesting."
If he'd noticed her own reticence, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "Ah, see over there-! Miss Ollivander. I have not seen her in… well, in many years. She is quite the recluse. And there, the gentleman with the… interesting shoes. Lord Shafiq. A distant relative brought in to continue the family name. I think you'd like him."
Hermione listened, nodding every now and then as he pointed out everyone worth noticing. Hermione found putting names to faces comforting and more than a little interesting. Suddenly the whole thing seemed a little less overwhelming. They were people, just like her.
More than that, she enjoyed listening to Lucius. Doing so gave her plenty of opportunities to admire the handsome figure he cut in his outfit. The boots were much the same as her own, but that was where the similarity ended. He wore wizard robes, though they were thin and many-layered, and clearly designed for fashion rather than to keep him warm. A jewel-studded dragonhide sash hung over one shoulder. Even in a room filled with beautifully dressed people, her boyfriend was stunning.
Despite Kingsley's reassurances, Hermione thought that there were closer to three hundred people already arriving than two hundred. The press wriggled their way through the crowd, taking photos of anyone who would let them, and of more than one person who clearly wasn't interested. Then there were the lords and ladies, who Lucius knew well enough to tell her funny stories about, and a few independently wealthy people he knew almost as well.
Lucius pointed out a few foreign dignitaries to her. She wondered if they'd really come all this way just to see her and Lucius Malfoy get an Order of Merlin, or if they were just bored and looking for a party to spice things up.
Fortunately, there were people she knew and liked. Across the room, Headmistress McGonagall was chatting to a witch she didn't recognise. Hermione made a beeline straight for them.
Minerva saw them and raised her hand in welcome. "Oh, there they are! The witch and wizard of the hour."
Minerva introduced her to Madame Avery. The tawny haired witch was a Chief Ward Witch at Saint Mungos. She shook Hermione's hand, looking a bit star-struck. Hermione tried to ignore the amazement on the woman's face.
Lucius needed no introductions. Apparently, he and the witch knew one another.
Madame Avery gave Lucius a tight smile of welcome. "Lord Malfoy. Allow me to thank you, once again, for your work at Saint Mungo's last year. It couldn't have come at a better time."
"Not at all." Lucius demurred. "I was happy to have helped."
"Our patients are happy to be helped. You should make time for a visit one of these days. See how I'm spending your money."
Lucius laughed, and Hermione felt a rush of relief. She knew how important this was to him. She'd worried that there wouldn't be anyone, except Kingsley and Minerva, who would be willing to be nice to him.
She'd taken for granted how much the staff at Hogwarts had gotten to know him and see how he'd changed.
But he must be making progress. No-one's actually glaring.
Eventually, Minerva and Madame Avery said their goodbyes and with a final good-luck, made for the buffet.
Beside her, Lucius was scanning the room. He did it without craning his neck, or even moving his head very much at all, but he was doing it all the same. He was tense in a way she didn't like. It boded trouble.
Who was he expecting? Surely not any old Ministry friends (or enemies) of his?
Hermione didn't have to wonder for long. The answer became obvious.
A blond man walked into the room. Lucius stiffened, and then deflated when he caught sight of the newcomer's face. Hermione understood. Draco. He was waiting for Draco.
"Did he say what time he'd get here?" She asked.
Lucius glanced at her quickly, then gave a little shake of his head. "No. He may not come at all. Astoria is unwell."
Saying that Astoria was unwell was like saying the sky was blue. Her family lay under a blood curse, which meant Astoria had been dealing with sickness her whole life. Hermione winced in very real sympathy. Poor Astoria. Hermione hadn't had a lot to do with her, their circles had always been too separate, but what she had seen of the French witch, she'd liked.
"I hope she feels better." She said kindly. "I'm sure Draco will come if he can."
And funnily enough, she was sure. Not because Draco would be proud of his father and want to see his moment of glory, but because of what an Order of Merlin would mean for their family. What this amount of positive press would mean for them.
Hermione wasn't an aristocrat, and even she saw that. Surely Draco would, too. Right?
Lucius managed a smile. "Thank you."
And then Hermione saw someone she'd very much been hoping could make it. Harry. They spotted one another at the exact same time.
"I'll be back in a moment." She said to Lucius.
Harry and Hermione rushed towards each other. They collided and embraced with broad grins. Around them, people laughed nervously to see two high-name celebrities' exuberant affection. Hermione didn't care.
She pulled back to take a proper look at him. She could see that he'd made a real effort, because he'd tamed his messy black hair into something a little more appropriate. His robes were the plain, serviceable kind. She thought that was probably for the best.
They had a few minutes of friendly, normal conversation. Hermione drank it in with real delight. She told Harry about the Singing Tree, about the Duel Club, and everything that had gone on since they'd last seen one another.
"Oh, wait- hang on, Ginny said I had to give you this."
He rummaged around, first in one cloak pocket, then another. Finally, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
"Er- don't mind that. See? It's from Amelia."
The fact that the drawing was from her god-daughter probably didn't need to be pointed out. On it was a crayon rendition of a very bushy-haired Hermione killing about five hundred Dementors. The creatures lay in piles and floundered at the edges of the page with their eyes crossed out.
"Jesus." Hermione said at last.
"Yeah, I know." Harry said sheepishly. He was a father, though, so his eyes brimmed with pride behind his glasses. "She's getting pretty at shading, though."
Hermione took the drawing, smoothing out the wrinkles as best she could. "I'll put it next to all the rest." She said. Wild inaccuracies aside, it was still something that Amelia had put a lot of effort into. She would treasure it.
They caught up for a while longer. Harry caught her up on all the inter-departmental gossip, which was as strange and hilarious as always. Cho was doing very well, he told her, and would be promoted before long. It was the sort of discussion that would usually have her riveted, in that it involved people she cared about doing things that mattered to them. As it was, it barely dulled the edge of her rising anxiety.
But it dulled it all the same.
About fifteen minutes before the speeches were due to start, there was a little commotion at the door.
A beautiful witch in a sky-blue, glittering dress with cream leggings beneath. Her heels were as tall as Hermione's hand was long. A silver cape hung from her shoulders. It took a moment for Hermione to recognise her. Narcissa Black.
Narcissa Black. Lucius' ex-wife. The mother of his child.
She looked magnificent.
The witch had charmed her hair, usually ice-blonde, to a deep, lustrous black. The effect brought out the magnetic charm of her eyes. Sapphires gleamed on her fingers and around her throat. She held herself with perfect poise and a strange unassuming air of command that was pure aristocrat. I will be obeyed, because of course I will. You will pay attention when I speak, because of course you will.
People clustered around her straight away. Laughing giddily as the witch said something Hermione couldn't make out.
"Not to worry, dearest." Lucius said beneath his breath. "You are Hermione Granger. She cannot hope to upstage you."
"She's more than welcome to." Hermione said without thinking. "She can have all the attention she likes, and keep their attention away from me."
Lucius laughed. The deep, rich sound carried and all around them people stared. He didn't notice.
Narcissa met Hermione's eyes, held them, and gave her a nod. Without thinking, Hermione returned it. She wasn't sure if Narcissa caught the gesture; the witch had already swept away, retinue in tow.
A note rang softly through the air. Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
It was time. They made their way to the stage. Hermione felt the attention of the room strike her like a lightning bolt. She wished for her flash-cards with a longing that was near physical.
Kingsley rested a hand on either side of the table with a welcoming grin. He looked totally at ease as he took in the crowd. Welcoming.
He introduced them, as if they needed introducing. He made a little speech about Hermione and all her achievements. Her academic contributions. Her charity work. Her work on the controversial (and ultimately unsuccessful) bill to get Goblins their wands back.
That surprised her. She wouldn't have thought he would bring up what was widely considered the biggest failure of his career. She hoped this meant that Kingsley was thinking of trying again.
What surprised her even more was the introduction he gave Lucius. He highlighted Lucius' achievements in the field of potion making, some of which Hermione hadn't known about. He also spoke of his work at Hogwarts in the difficult years after the War.
Hermione was strictly monogamous and was perfectly happy that way, but in that moment, she could have kissed Kingsley Shacklebolt.
He wrapped the whole thing up with the summary of their 'heroism' at Hogsmeade in the defence of Miss Parkinson. He included Lucius' destruction of the Dementor swarm. And last but certainly not least, the perfection of the Joy Stone.
"It is my very great honour as Minister for Magic to induct you both into the Order of Merlin, First Class."
With great ceremony, Kingsley unravelled the yellowing parchment and laid it gently across the ebony table. Hermione peered around him to look at it.
The Order of Merlin was hundreds of years old. Across it were written the names of everyone who'd ever been brought into the Order. The names in indigo were Third Class. The emerald green were Second. Gold for First. The ink shone as if it was still fresh.
Kingsley accepted an inkpot and quill from a minor official and laid it down on the podium. He tapped the inkpot with his wand and the ink within started to simmer, lightening from black to a gleaming gold.
"It is my great honour to induct you, Hermione Granger, and you, Lucius Malfoy, into the Order of Merlin. First class."
Hermione took in the list of some of the world's most celebrated witches and wizards. Some were strange to her, and she wondered just how long ago they'd lived. Most of them she knew.
Albus Dumbledore. For his defeat of the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald.
And right there, at the furthermost point… Remus Lupin. For valour in the Battle of Hogwarts and distinguished service in the Order of the Phoenix.
Her eyes stung.
At that moment, it wasn't grief for her friends and mentors that threatened to overwhelm her. It was gratitude. Gratitude that she'd been lucky enough to know such wonderful people. Gratitude that the things they'd fought for were coming to pass; a world where a mudblood and a werewolf could be honoured for their accomplishments.
She cleared her throat. She was not going to cry in front of all these people.
Beside her, Lucius signed his name with a flourish. He looked about as moved as she felt.
The noise fell away. Hermione had never heard silence like it in all her life.
They had agreed that she should go first. Lucius had given her half a dozen good reasons as to why, chief among them that it would be better for her nerves to simply get it over with.
Hermione took a deep breath. She needed this. She wasn't going to stop a little thing like fear from being the best version of herself that she could be.
She stepped up to the table. Cameras started flashing. She wrote her name with the quill, in golden script that history would never forget. She was proud when her hand remained steady.
That done, it was time for her speech.
It was hard to see anyone in all the lights. Perhaps that was for the best.
Lucius was a rock of complete calm beside her.
Hermione began.
It didn't go too badly.
It wasn't her best performance, but it was far from her worst. She didn't make too many mistakes that a normal person could have noticed. She didn't stammer or stutter, or freeze up. Her smiles had been a bit awkward, and she hadn't done the ending as well as she had liked, but overall she was happy with it.
Strangely, the lights of the cameras flashing had actually helped. It obscured the crowd from view. What helped the most, however, was Lucius at her side.
His speech had been fantastic. Surprisingly understated. The modest tones of a man who just wanted to help society in some way. He'd even made a self-deprecating joke or two, and the crowd had actually laughed.
Most eerily of all, he'd moderated his accent. Dialled down that silky smooth, aristocratic drawl to something more… ordinary. Posh, certainly, but less him .
"Don't do that again." Hermione said under her breath as they took champagne from a floating platter.
"Do what, Hermione?" Lucius asked.
"Change your voice like that."
He gave her a quizzical look, but nodded. She thought he would have asked her why, but they soon had other things to be worrying about.
People started crowding her. They were excited by her speech and were either desperate to hear more or simply wanted an autograph.
They didn't mean anything by it, exactly. That didn't make what they were doing less harmful. The relentless, selfish assault on her space. The way they didn't give her time to breathe. They considered one another far more than they considered her. They would wait for each other to finish speaking before they asked her a question. They didn't wait for her to finish taking a mouthful of her drink, or for her to start talking to them. They approached her on any pretence.
Lucius ran interference as best as he could. He deflected half of the people who came to her before they made it within ten feet of her, and levelled such withering glares at anyone with a camera that they abandoned the attempt altogether.
Even so, she was bombarded. If she had to say, 'Thanks, I'm happy to be here.' one more time, she thought she really might scream.
Hermione found herself growing increasingly hot. She knew the room was charmed to stay moderately cool despite the crowds of people. It didn't make her feel any better.
Lucius assessed her pale, clammy skin and nervous smile with a practiced eye. He put his arm around her and said quietly in her ear, "Come. Let us get some fresh air."
She resisted, brow furrowing in a way that he understood meant trouble.
"Hermione, trust me. Come with me."
She sighed, frazzled, but obeyed.
They slowly left the room, moving past groups of people and politely waving away caterers. Hermione was afraid that they might be waylaid, but there was so much going on that they quickly were simply part of the crowd. In a strange way, their celebrity gave them a certain anonymity. People took note when they saw them, but weren't surprised to see her go the other way. They correctly assumed that she was simply too important to take any notice of them, and had other places to be.
Before long, they made it out of the room. Lucius led her through a part of the Ministry that she hadn't seen before. It didn't take much time for him to open a door to a room that nearly took her breath away.
The room was luxurious, even by the standards of someone who had become as desensitised to grandeur as she had. Though spotlessly clean, it had the still feeling of a room that hadn't been used in a long time. The furniture was in a baroque style that was out of fashion even in the wizarding world.
"This is where I used to come when I wanted to be alone." Lucius said. "We won't be disturbed here."
"We shouldn't have just left." Hermione argued, concerned. The last thing that she wanted was to appear… weak. Cowardly.
"We are not running away." He said in a soothing tone. "We are retreating. It is a much-beloved Slytherin tactic."
She couldn't disagree with that.
With the imminent concern resolved, her stress toward the whole event began to overwhelm her. She sat down on the golden, tastefully patterned loveseat by the door.
She had done a very brave thing. Intellectually, she knew that. But it was too recent to feel the pride of it. This easing of tension, though, and the knowledge that for now the ordeal was over… it was enough for her to be honest with herself in a way that her stubbornness and her pride hadn't allowed before this moment.
"I hate that I can't do this." She whispered. "I hate that this is so hard for me. I practiced and everything. The way they look at me, the things I can hear them saying... " She trailed off. She couldn't lift her eyes up from her lap, where her hands were crumpling her dress. "You must think that's stupid."
Lucius took her hand and squeezed it once, comfortingly. "Not at all, darling. It is natural for most people to enjoy spending time with those they are personally connected with. It is more unnatural to enjoy spending time with people you either don't care for or actually dislike, especially when they are constantly trying to manipulate one another."
She frowned and pulled her watery eyes up from her lap to look up at him. "If you think that, why do you enjoy it so much?"
He cocked his head, as if surprised she'd asked. "It is my nature. I suppose I was raised to love it."
"Maybe you should teach me." Hermione said, voice wavering. "When we go public, and when I'm Headmistress, I'll have to go to things like this. I want to be able to do things for the school. More funding, more support..." She trailed off, and tears raced down her cheeks without her permission. Lucius's eyes softened, and he handed her a handkerchief from a pocket.
"Very well." He said, in a businesslike way. "I suppose the first thing we should set our sights on is introducing you to Ms Harrington. She's the Head of Education."
Oh. Hermione remembered that name. She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief before saying, "Red hair? Really tall?"
He gave a pleased nod. "Yes. You have already met, I take it?"
Suddenly, Hermione was transported to that afternoon in the Ministry baths, all those months ago.
"Please. He probably bribed his way into that position as well. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. He is a Malfoy, after all. Granger did all the work, he gets credit. Tale as old as time."
"Yes, actually. She's absolutely awful, Lucius. I might have yelled at her a little bit."
Lucius looked pensive. "Hm. I suppose that is not such a bad thing. After tonight, she will be anxious to earn your forgiveness and your approval. Particularly if we can have you and Kingsley spend a little more time together. Publicly, of course."
Perfect. This is what she needed. His insight. His cunning. And, yes, his moral flexibility. Hermione knew all too well what sort of underhanded deals went on in government. She didn't want to do anything too questionable, obviously, but if Lucius could help her, give her some sort of edge… well, there was no point in squandering such an opportunity.
"I wish this came as naturally to me as it does to you."
Lucius sighed. "Hermione, I don't deserve such praise. I haven't been to events like this for… well, for many years. I'm not exactly a skilled politician myself."
She looked at him in disbelief. "Of course you are, Lucius. You had Fudge in your pocket!"
Lucius shook his head. "That is nothing to crow about. Anyone with a few thousand Galleons to spare could have had Fudge in their pocket, dearest. That's what I liked about him. He was nothing if not consistent."
Hermione couldn't exactly argue with that.
Lucius went on. "I had the Malfoy name to call upon, Hermione. I had money, and prestige. I was born into a position that most witches and wizards would have to spend their entire lives cultivating. The fact of my success doesn't imply I had real talent."
Hermione frowned. "That isn't true at all, Lucius."
"We shall agree to disagree, then." He paused, taking in her teary countenance."I'm surprised you agreed to Kingsley's proposal at all, if this is how you truly feel about it."
"I thought it was important."
Lucius inclined his head in agreement. "Hermione, take my advice. If you don't want to attend things like this, don't. Have officials come to you instead. You can always hold private meetings. They will fight for the chance to be the next person to have afternoon tea with you. In fact, that might not be such a bad idea. Your presence is currency, Hermione. Make them work for it. That way, when you do attend functions such as these, it will be all the more talked about."
That was… genius. Manipulative and hopelessly corrupt, but genius anyway.
"Maybe you ought to take care of all this for me." Hermione suggested. "The political side of things."
He didn't even pretend not to be interested. She adored him for that. "If you would like. Though I have no experience in cultivating the sort of image I expect you would be interested in."
She dabbed at her eyes again with the handkerchief, and he looked troubled. He began to pace back and forth, clearly pondering something difficult. "Why are you pacing?" Hermione asked after a minute or so. "I'm the nervous one, not you."
"I am trying to think." Lucius replied, tapping his cane on the floor. It had a certain rhythm to it that reassured her, somehow. It was so distinctly him. "Of some way to soothe you."
"Lucius, I don't think it's quite as effective if you announce it like that."
"Whyever not?" He asked with a smile. "But this was complacent of me. I apologise. I should have brought some books with me or, failing that, Crookshanks."
Crookshanks?
"Lucius, don't be silly. How could we bring a cat to a Ministry function with us?"
"Quite right. He would shed everywhere. No, we could not bring Crookshanks. Atlas, I think, would do far better. There is a certain precedent for it; bringing an owl to high society events was all the rage when I was a young man. Witches would come in with them perched up on their shoulders."
"What-? That doesn't make sense." A bird's talons would rip your skin to shreds, robes or not. "Unless you all wore shoulder pads?"
"Quite right. They wore them up on their heads. It was an interesting time."
Hermione stared at him in shock. Then she saw his lips purse together, just a little. She realised he was only joking, and had to restrain the urge to smack his arm playfully.
He was trying to distract her by being silly. It was working. That knot of tension that had been pushing its way higher and higher up in her throat loosened.
"I am a poor substitute, I know, but I am here."
He sat down beside her and laid back, swinging his long legs up and over the armrest. His head rested on her lap. He took her hand and laid it on the crown of his head, then folded his hands on his stomach. All done with perfect grace and simplicity of movement.
"There you are." He said. As if of its own volition, her hand started stroking his hair.
They sat quietly together for a moment. His hair was silky soft beneath her fingers. For the first time in days, Hermione could breathe.
Really meaning it, she said, "Thank you, Lucius."
"It is nothing." He said quietly.
His eyes drifted closed. A little half-smile curved his lips. Her other hand floated down to trace his cheek and he made a soft little noise of contentment. He didn't stir.
High cheekbones. A roman nose. A powerful jaw. These things she had always known. Some things she was just starting to appreciate, though. The mouth that somehow managed to be so full, yet masculine. The gentle wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The ears he was always so desperate to hide behind the platinum swathe of his hair. She loved them. She loved… everything about him, actually. Even down to the smallest freckles on his hands, where they lay clasped over his middle.
Why do you have to be so beautiful?
He opened his eyes and stared up at her in surprise, and Hermione realised that she had spoken aloud.
He sat up, raising up his long legs slightly. He twisted his upper body so he could face her, and his gaze wandered over her features. "I could ask you the same question, Hermione Granger."
Her breath hitched in her chest. His hand cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes in bliss. Without thinking, she nuzzled into the palm of his hand. She heard him make a little noise. Approval? Was that what it was? She didn't really care. In this moment, this was what she needed.
She inadvertently breathed in his exhaled breath, sweet from champagne, and found it absolutely intoxicating. She felt him shift to sit properly on the loveseat.
She was barely even aware of moving. She knew that she wanted to sit on his lap, and her body did the rest. Her legs were on either side of his. Her mind was empty and somehow full at the same time. His hands slipped around her waist. She drew closer, hoping for a kiss, but he hardly seemed to notice.
He was staring, she realised. Puzzled, Hermione followed his eyes and looked down at herself.
In her haste, her gown had slipped from one of her shoulders. Not completely. Just enough to expose her collarbone, a bit of cleavage... And the lacey detailing of her bra.
Lucius' gaze was totally fixed on it. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes clouded over. She didn't blame him.
Tonight had been an intimidating prospect for her, so she'd worn her favourite lingerie. Not because she'd thought anyone would see it, or because she'd planned for Lucius to see it, but for herself. For her own confidence. This morning she'd woken up, gone over her speech in the mirror, and slipped it on like a warrior donning armour.
She was glad that she had.
The bra was a very pale pink, only a few shades darker than her own skin. The fabric was perilously sheer. It didn't really conceal her breasts so much as it provided them with a beautiful, lacy adornment.
She should probably pull her gown back up.
She wasn't going to.
"Hermione…" Lucius murmured. His fingers reached out and traced the fabric, following the strap down to cup her. She shivered in delight. His hand on her breast felt so perfectly right . "You are exquisite."
Then his thumb dipped to graze a hard nipple, driving every rational thought right out of her mind.
Things happened quickly after that.
Lucius gave her nipple a slow, long squeeze and Hermione saw stars. A moan trembled in the back of her throat.
Lucius nodded as if in deep thought. His fingers relaxed and suddenly she could breathe again. Her head was swimming. Then another deliberate pinch and her lungs stopped working. The pleasure mounted and mounted with each torturous moment. The pressure eased and she sucked in a frantic breath, and he pulled on her, just a fraction. Then again and again until all she could do was shiver and bite back moans as best as she could. So simple. Devastatingly effective.
Hermione had never been so fully, completely aware of every inch of her body. Her flaming cheeks. The burn in her chest. The insistent, pounding pulse between her legs. One nipple oscillating between pleasure and a need so desperate it was practically pain. The other crying out for attention. Some sort of friction. Anything .
His lips met hers in a sultry kiss and at that exact moment, his fingers quickened their pace. Sharp little tugs that sent bolts of pleasure down to her core. She kissed him back with all the heat she had in her. Expressing her desire in a way that mere words never could.
He rolled a nipple under his fingers and her legs spasmed. She whimpered into his open mouth. He drew back from her. His cheeks were flushed but his face was set. Determined.
"Come here…" He murmured.
Lucius bent his head to her breast and Hermione tried to steel herself. She was a grown woman. She wasn't going to fall apart. She wasn't going to-
A warm, wet heat enveloped her. Lucius groaned and so did she. The feeling was indescribable. Satisfaction and longing all rolled into one.
She couldn't help it. Her back arched, her body desperate to give him more of her.
His hands left her and she cried out in despair. It was only for a moment. He pulled down her gown, then her bra, leaving her bare to the waist. The cool air didn't bother her for long. His mouth returned to her, his fingers starting up their glorious dance again, this time on her other breast. She sighed and her eyes rolled heavenward. His mouth was working, sparking a storm within her with every suck. Every swipe of his tongue.
Merlin. Nothing compared to this. Merciless, sweet torture.
Her skin was scalding and knew she must look an absolute mess. She was also completely drenched. There was no way he didn't know just how close she was to coming undone. She tore her gaze from the ceiling to look at him. His face was a picture of perfect bliss, almost innocent in its beauty. Then suddenly he switched, kissing his way to her other breast while his hand crossed to caress the wet flesh of her nipple.
Her hips started to move in a rhythm against him, driven by an instinct older than memory. God, she could feel him pressing into her center, the only thing separating them being layers of cloth. It was a hardness perfectly designed to drive her insane. She needed him more than she'd ever needed anything, or anyone, in her entire life.
Speaking was very, very difficult, but she managed it. "Lucius," she panted, "Can we…?" Her hands flew down to his waistband and fluttered there.
Lucius nodded.
It was all the permission she needed. Her hands flew in a flurry, driven by the frantic need of her body.
Oh thank Christ. Thank fucking Christ. I'm going to fuck him.
Hermione hadn't ever hated wizarding robes as much as she did in the moment. Just when she thought her nimble hands had uncovered the last layer, there was another one right underneath it.
It didn't help that every time she thought she was getting somewhere, there'd be another pinch or caress and she would completely lose her train of thought. She hadn't realised she'd hissed in frustration until he gave a breathy laugh at her predicament.
This rude, inconsiderate behaviour cleared the fog in her brain just enough for her to say, "Shut up, Lucius. You won't be laughing if I use a diffindo on those robes."
Unfortunately, her threat didn't have the effect she was looking for. He smirked. His free hand fell from her lower back and slid up her leg. Between the slits of her dress, up the smooth skin of her thigh. Tarrying to paint little patterns on her skin with his fingertips. Slipping a finger under the lace at her hips and holding there.
She couldn't wait any longer. "Lucius, please-"
Suddenly, a voice from outside the room cut through Hermione's entreaty like a hot knife through butter.
"... don't be foolish. You have a headache, I can see it in your face."
She had barely ever heard that voice before, but it took her only a second to recognize it.
Narcissa Black.
Hermione and Lucius went completely still. Her hands froze in the act of drawing him out of his robes. His hands, which had been tormenting her so beautifully, went slack. He drew his mouth away from her and she cried out and slapped a hand over her mouth in the very same instant.
They had cast a muffling charm on the door... Hadn't they?
A deep, sonorous voice replied, "Narcissa, if I ever pass up on an opportunity to dance with you because of a headache, hex me."
Hermione's jaw dropped. Kingsley. That was Kingsley Shacklebolt out there. With Narcissa.
Totally ignorant of her unwitting audience, Narcissa went on. "It's that meeting on Monday, isn't it? Let me go over the proposal for you, dear. I'll see if I can tighten it up for you. I know how you hate Selwyn's little amendments."
The Minister's reply was immediate and warm. "Thank you, Cissa. Now, what about our dance?"
"If you insist."
Out in the corridor, heels clicked on the tiles. The sound moved further away until it faded out of earshot.
She and Lucius were silent for a second. The mood of the room had shifted, and it was clear that the moment had passed. Hermione pulled up her bra, then the sleeves of her gown. She straightened her dress and sat upright on the loveseat, trying to ignore the fact that her knickers were ruined.
"Wow." Hermione said inadequately. It was pretty clear who Narcissa's new partner was. How long had that been going on for?
She cast a worried look at Lucius. His cheeks were pink, though not so much as hers, and he seemed supremely unbothered by the overheard conversation; so much so that she knew he had already known.
"How long have you known that the two of them were together?"
"I knew nothing for certain, but I suspected the moment she told me she'd found someone. The two of them have been in love for years now."
For years? That could mean anything. Before the War, or after.
Lucius had moved on as well, so he really had no right to be upset with Narcissa for doing the same. Still, if she'd been in love with Kingsley before the divorce, he might still be hurt. This could be painful for him.
Looking closely at his face, she asked, "Are you alright?"
"Perfectly." Lucius said serenely. It was obvious that he meant it, and Hermione was glad.
"Are you sure? You're not… upset at all?"
"Not at all. I wish them every success."
From anyone else, such a comment would have seemed insincere. But Hermione knew Lucius was being honest. His gaze shifted to the door with a soft expression before turning back to her.
It warmed Hermione's heart. It was the sort of expression you might give to a family member when you heard that they were doing well; proud, happy, but not covetous.
"We should be getting back," Lucius said. "No doubt the other guests will have noticed our absence by now."
Hermione looked at him, her stomach clenching. "Does that bother you?"
"That we left together?"
"Yes."
"No, darling." He kissed her sweetly. His hand strayed to her hair, combing out the tangles gently. "Never. You are incredible."
She blushed. "You too."
It wasn't saying enough, but what was she supposed to say? Lucius had been mind-blowing. Incredible. She hadn't had anywhere near enough of him.
She wasn't afraid of the gala anymore, but she desperately wanted to leave. She had to find time, and privacy, for she and Lucius to finish their 'conversation'. The sooner, the better.
By the time they rejoined the party, Hermione found herself feeling far more relaxed in dealing with them than she had before her and Lucius's 'break.' Not to say that she was comfortable; no, she was far from comfortable. But the constant scrutiny and stilted politeness was at least bearable.
About an hour passed when suddenly the crowd began to part, making way for a woman in a long dress.
The dark-skinned woman approached them both with the inevitability of a woman used to going wherever she wanted. The people who had been bombarding Hermione fled. They did so with bows and obsequious smiles, but it was fleeing nonetheless.
Hermione huffed. How did she manage that? Hermione thought. Could Lucius help her work it out?
Beside her, she felt Lucius' alertness. His face showed nothing but polite friendliness, but Hermione knew him well enough to notice the slight straightening of his back and tenseness in his body. She immediately knew that this woman was more important than the rest had been. As the woman got closer, Hermione finally realized who she was looking at.
Ismene Shacklebolt was a vision in layers of indigo and black. The colors contrasted beautifully with the powder-white of her hair. Unlike what most of the women wore, she had opted for something of a far more archaic style. The gown had a telltale, unreal quality Hermione had come to associate with Fairy-made things. Her garments were accentuated by a hoop skirt that Hermione had only ever seen ghosts wear. A feathered fan hovered at her waist. The image it invoked was less demure than it was powerful. Like a soldier holding up a shield as he advanced on enemy territory.
The matriarch wasn't young anymore and made no effort to pretend that she was. Though lined with wrinkles, the lady had a proud, handsome face that reminded Hermione of her son. Hermione could only stare in awe at the noblewoman in front of her.
She came to stand before them, resplendent and elegant, her very being exuding power. Hermione could feel the expectation hanging in the air as they all waited.
This was the moment when Hermione was supposed to bow. During their preparations for tonight, Lucius had told her to expect it from traditional Purebloods. House Elves bowed to witches and wizards. Muggleborns and Halfbloods bowed to Purebloods, then the Purebloods would bow to one another. The one of the lower status went first to show deference. When in doubt, gentlemen bowed to ladies.
Hermione stood perfectly still.
Lady Shacklebolt turned her head the smallest fraction to look at her. She seemed to take note of Hermione's refusal to follow convention, but gave no sign that it bothered her one way or the other.
Lady Shacklebolt bowed with a grace that looked strange on someone her age. Lucius bowed a mere moment after her. Hermione remained still.
"Lord Malfoy. Professor Granger." The lady said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her voice was vibrant, almost closer to singing than speech.
Hermione waited for Lucius to answer before she did. She wanted to see how Lucius would handle her.
"Lady Shacklebolt." Lucius said. "It is a pleasure to see you here. May I assist you in some way?"
Hermione thought that was pretty clever of him. Elegant, but a riposte all the same. It communicated the fact that they wanted to be left alone, but with faultless manners.
Lady Shacklebolt didn't look particularly impressed. "You can assist me, Lord Malfoy, by leaving Professor Granger and I in peace. You have hardly left her side all night. We have much to discuss."
And without waiting for a reply, Lady Shacklebolt slipped an arm through Hermione's and pulled her away. Hermione had to physically restrain the urge to pull herself free; the old woman's grip was like steel. Not painful, but certainly immovable.
The other guests gave them a wide berth. Hermione could hear the gossip already. They hadn't even said a word to each other, and already the rumour mill was starting.
Hermione tried very hard to remind herself that she didn't give a damn about the aristocracy. She liked Lucius in spite of his class, not because of it. Therefore, there was no reason to be enamoured with Lady Shacklebolt, or to be intimidated by her.
And yet, there was a certain appeal to it. The deference that was entirely different to the sort that people usually showed her. It was interesting to watch.
"How do you do that?" Hermione blurted out after a minute or so.
"Do what, Professor?" Lady Shacklebolt asked serenely as they glided through the throngs of people. Where they went, the crowd parted like the red sea. None would stand in their way; whether it was out of respect, fear, or both, Hermione didn't know.
"Get everyone to leave you alone."
They finally reached a spot by the floral wall. Others stepped away, eager to give them their space. Ismene Shacklebolt was not a woman to be trifled with, after all. The older woman took a moment to admire a particular flower. She smiled gently at it, then examined her nails before answering Hermione's question.
"Respect is earned. In my case, I earned it by charming my dresses to hex anyone that steps on them."
Oh. "And it works?"
"Of course. I recommend it to all young society witches. A word of advice, Professor Granger; if you increase the charms range once or twice a season, you'll notice that people remember how to treat you."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Ismene brought out her wand from the folds of her dress (Hermione hadn't a clue how she managed to hide it there) and drew a pentacle in the air, muttering something the young witch couldn't quite make out.
Suddenly, the noise of the gala was cut off entirely. Hermione let out a little sigh of relief. A very, very advanced silencing charm. If it was the one she thought it was, it was NEWT level and completely soundproof. They could hear no one, and no one could hear them.
The second the charm was up, the older witch fixed the full strength of her gaze on her and said, "I have a great deal of sympathy for your position, Professor Granger."
You do? Why? "What position would that be, Lady Shacklebolt?"
"What else could I be talking about, girl?" The witch made a dismissive gesture with her fan in Lucius' general direction. "I am referring to that . Invention is by no means an inexpensive undertaking. I assume your business partnership alleviates your expenses but I assure you, I would offer something far more lucrative."
Hermione tried to break in, "I think there's been a misunderstanding-" The fan snapped, and Hermione fell silent.
"Professor, please let's not be coy with one another. You must speak freely to me if we are to get anywhere. Whatever arrangement you have made with him, I assure you that he has not dealt fairly. You would not need to work as a Professor if you were my inventress. My London house would suit the purpose. The Charmsroom there is quite well equipped." She seemed to notice that Hermione wasn't looking very convinced, and said archly, "If you would prefer a little more room, I have a compound in Russia that makes that old house of his look like a shoebox."
Hermione realised, after a stunned moment, that 'that old house of his' was probably Malfoy Manor.
"Lady Shacklebolt, I'm not… Lucius Malfoy isn't funding my inventions. I do it all myself. And I'm teaching at Hogwarts because I love it."
But no matter how Hermione tried, Lady Shacklebolt simply couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she had been able to make a successful career without the backing of an aristocrat. More importantly, she couldn't understand that Hermione wasn't going to jump at the opportunity to work for her.
Lady Shacklebolt seemed annoyed, at first, but then her ire dissolved, replaced by a cool amusement. "I understand. Appearances must be maintained, I suppose. It is a terrible situation you have found yourself in." Lady Shacklebolt smiled that same lupine smile Hermione had seen from here before. "But you are a clever young woman. Is it fair to assume you have not signed anything? There is no formal understanding, legally speaking? If so, the situation is not hopeless. Send a Howler to Shacklebolt Castle, should you reconsider."
The aristocrat drew her into a brief conversation about Hermione's inventions, but soon it was clear that Ismene had grown tired of the conversation. Or rather, she'd grown tired of not hearing the answer she'd expected to hear. She cancelled the silencing charm, and the noise that came rushing in was jarring to Hermione's ears. It was almost a tangible thing after being in relative silence for so long.
Ismene then led Hermione back to Lucius. Hermione had a feeling that the small kindness was done only in the hopes of gaining favor. Her head was spinning with new information and not a small amount of surprise at the offer she had been given. A full time inventress? Oh, what an offer. Still, as tempting as it may have been, she knew that she had already found where she belonged. Her heart belonged to teaching; and just as importantly, to Lucius. She was bound to both him and Hogwarts, and couldn't be parted from either. As the pair approached, Lucius was visibly relieved to see her. He bowed slightly to Lady Shacklebolt, who nodded to him once and glided away.
Once she was out of earshot, Lucius said, "Hermione, perhaps it would be best not to be alone with her. She is a very dangerous woman."
"You have no idea." Hermione said. "She thinks you're funding my work. She wants to be my patron instead."
Lucius' eyes gleamed with interest. "Indeed? And what did you say?"
"The truth. That you aren't my patron, and my inventions aren't for sale."
Lucius deflated a little. "Ah. I see. Well, that's a shame. You might have made a lot of money from her assumptions."
"Do you think I should have… lied?"
Lucius laughed. "I think you should do whatever you like. By all means, be truthful. Regardless, I think it best that we leave."
"What, really?"
Lucius shook his head, a rueful smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "We've been here for hours. And besides, I doubt Lady Shacklebolt will give up so easily. Best we leave now, before she makes another attempt at you."
Hermione couldn't help but agree.
Okay so THOUGHTS. This is the first time I have ever written a scene like that, let alone uploaded it, so please be gentle and all BUT criticism/feedback will help me improve. Next chapter will feature an explicit scene so if you have suggestions on ways to make the writing more immersive, now is the time.
I will post a warning at the beginning of next chapter so no one can stumble upon it by accident. It's going to be pure smut. This being the case, it may take me longer than a fortnight to write as I really want to get it right. Also :O Because these last few chapters have been so damn long, chapter 20 will be a while coming. There may be a month or two's break between chapter 19 and the rest of the story. We'll see how we go!
Anyway, thank you very very much for reading and have an absolutely beautiful day! Stay safe, everyone!