A/N: This is a fun chapter I think. Enter Lady Pansy and with her comes some mischief. A few have asked about Harry and his role and more of that is addressed here. Thank you so much for the feedback C: Happy reading Xx
Beta love to NikkiB and Kreeblim Sabs
Shout out to followers, favorite-ers, and reviewers: Hermione Lyra Malfoy-Riddle, mangoandpassionfruit, SereniteRose, Fizzybaby8, N love K, AnnaOxford, 2711Kyree, mega700201, leonix2009, Calindy, Sasha404, Hagu, and the guests!
~oOo*oOo~
Lady Pansy was proving to be a rather gracious host. Hermione had been expecting a vicious witch to walk through the doors of Salazar Castle based on her husband's claim that she wasn't nice and based on Hermione's own experience at King Lucius' Court. Lady Pansy turned out to be the same woman that had been cozy with the prince and had eyed Hermione shrewdly, yet perhaps Hermione had only imagined the malice she'd registered in her gaze.
"You poor dear," Pansy had crooned once Thomas left the room. "Everything you have been through...why—it's simply appalling!"
Hermione blinked and ducked her eyes. "It's all right, truly."
"But you must be so surprised," Pansy pressed on earnestly. "To have come from Ballycastle to Wiltshire alone must be such a culture shock. I've never been, but I have heard. Boys do like tourneys, and they do like to talk. They have spoken of the simple living conditions."
Hermione's eyes rose. "Simple, Lady Pansy?"
"Mundane. I'd just die of boredom in a place like that. A life with no magic is no life at all. You'll soon see."
Among all the concerns that weighed heavily on Hermione's chest, she desperately wanted to learn about the exciting new kingdom she found herself in. This time when Pansy led her back into the village and Hermione became swept up in the excitement once more, she did not cower in fear but assessed her surroundings with bright budding hunger. She was curious about the odd inhabitants of the magical kingdom and all the different wares sold at market.
Her eyes roved over brightly colored vials displayed in an Apothecary store window. "What are these, Lady Pansy?"
"Those?" Pansy's eyes wandered to where Hermione gestured. "Oh, those are just potions, dear."
"Potions." Hermione turned the word over in her mind. "What purpose do they serve?"
"Well they have a wide range of uses." Pansy's voice took on an instructive edge to it as they continued down the cobblestone street. "Some potions are used for healing while others are used for poison. There are potions to stave off the effects of lycanthropy - werewolfism - that can make you breathe underwater, make someone become your best friend, or even force a person fall in love with you." Pansy wagged her eyebrows suggestively at this.
Hermione blanched at the explanation. There appeared to be so many dangers to look out for in this world. She wanted to know how ill intent through the use of potions was avoided and what laws there were against using them, but she didn't wish to bother her host with a barrage of questions. Instead she remained quiet and studied her surroundings curiously as they passed an Owlrey on their way to the dress shoppe.
Upon arriving to Madam Milkan's Boutique, Pansy swept through the doors like a queen expecting the attendant to drop her current clients immediately and tend to them.
"The Duchess and I are really pressed on time," she said whilst examining her nails. "I do hope you have something new here with which to dazzle us. We don't care to look at material from last season."
Hermione allowed Pansy to speak for her, hoping that the girl knew best as everything looked perfectly fine to Hermione. She eyed the magical measurement stick with trepidation as it flitted through the air around her, while being poked and prodded by the attendant. Occasionally, Pansy would ask her opinion on color or which lace style she preferred, but otherwise Pansy made all the decisions. Hermione was far too caught up in a whirlwind of wonder to voice any complaints.
After spending several hours being fitted for dresses, the girls finally took their leave and headed to a pub for lunch.
"We can Floo back to your castle from here," Pansy offered, gesturing to the busy Floo.
Dejection briefly flitted across Hermione's face. She did so enjoy being out in the kingdom where she could watch the peculiar people so different from any she had come across before. Gone were her reservations about being gobbled up by some monster. Magic coursed in her veins just like it did theirs, and like Thomas had told her before—she belonged.
"Don't be sad, dear." Pansy's sharp eyes missed nothing. "The Duke does want his lovely Duchess back in a timely manner, I'm sure. He would be positively livid with me if I kept you out longer than necessary." She smiled widely but Hermione noted that it did not reach her eyes. "But don't worry, we can have a spot of fun before our time is up." Pansy's resultant wink was rife with mischief.
Feeling famished from not eating very much since her arrival, Hermione ordered the soup of the day along with a crust of bread and cheese. She was about to ask for milk, but Pansy shushed her and instead requested two tankards of ale. Hermione blushed at the scandalous request, but said nothing, believing that her highbred host knew best.
Soon the food and the drink had arrived and Hermione was content to listen and indulge in her hearty meal as Pansy went on and on about the politics of Court. The witch seemed to think it was her duty to get Hermione caught up to speed on all she had missed.
"So you see, the Court is simply in an absolute frenzy over the new arrivals. Ginevra of the Burrow is said to be arriving with two of her brothers as escorts, and there is no love lost between her brothers and the prince. Prince Draco will have to be on his best behavior if he has any hope of Mage Arthur agreeing to King Lucius' marriage proposal." Pansy leaned forward conspiratorially. "It's very difficult though, you know, because the Malfoys are a proud family with very old magical blood. To be dependent on a house that has outright spurned them over the years is causing much difficulty for everyone. Poor, sweet Draco."
Hermione couldn't help but arch a brow at this description of the prince she had come to know.
"He deserves a wife who will dote on him. I hear the Mage's daughter is quite feisty and has been known to speak out against the prince. She called him a spoilt, rotten brat, I believe it was. It was during an envoy the Malfoy royals took to the Burrow - out of favor - but instead of appreciating their attempt at peace, the Weasley family were quite unwelcoming." Pansy took a deep breath and sighed. "It really is a tragic happenstance. This was not the way of things in the days of old. The prince would have no problem finding a spouse worthy of binding herself with him. But what with the infertility issues Wiltshire is facing, there is no other option but to look elsewhere. Even to Muggles, if we must." Pansy wrinkled her nose, as if the thought alone was a threat to peace everywhere.
"You seem very comfortable with the prince, Lady Pansy," Hermione said quietly. "Could not a marriage arrangement be made with the two of you?"
Pansy's eyes softened imperceptibly before hardening to their usual shrewdness once more. "We are cousins, unfortunately. The chances of producing an heir between us are slim based on our relation. It seems everyone in the kingdom is a cousin of some sort. My father has even spoken of aligning with a well-to-do Muggle family, but I really hope it doesn't come to that."
"How tragic."
"Yes, it's all very unusual. So you see, the Duke of Salazar was very clever to have discovered and wedded you like he did. He no longer faces the threat of a childless union or a babe born a squib. These are dark times for the kingdom."
Hermione hoped Pansy was correct in this assessment. Knowing her luck, she would find herself barren all the same. The notion of failing the Duke after he so cleverly discovered her in a kingdom of Muggles was enough to make her sick with worry.
After Pansy encouraged Hermione to finish her ale, she then ordered firewhisky.
Bile crept up Hermione's throats as she recalled the taste of the copper-colored liquid. "I don't think I shall have any, Lady Pansy."
"Don't be a prude, dear," Pansy chided. "And you can hardly leave me here drinking by myself. It wouldn't be proper."
Hermione gulped down her worry and when the drink came, she accepted it.
"Of course there will be many parties and balls this season, what with the new arrivals." Pansy's lips twisted in a half smirk. "Everyone who matters will be in attendance. You will get a chance to meet all of the nobility of Wiltshire, not just family whom you saw at Court before."
"So that man arguing with the prince - the one with the black hair - he was related to the king?"
Pansy grimaced. "Sort of. Lord Harold is the result of a lucky union between a Muggle and Lord James. His parents are both dead now, but he is the ward of Sirius Black. So you see, he and your husband the Duke are cousins of a sort. Lord Harry stays at Potter Castle."
"I haven't heard my husband speak of Lord Harold before. The only relative I know of is Lord Sirius." The firewhisky was going down easier and easier. Before she knew it, the stuff was gone and Pansy discreetly signaled for more.
"He wouldn't." Pansy's eyes sparkled with amusement. "The Duke and the Lord of Potter Castle do not get along so well."
"Why not?"
"Differing view of politics, I suppose. School rivals. Lord Harold was not on friendly terms with the prince or any of his chums. But he is still the last of the ancient house of Potter, and so his antics are tolerated."
Hermione was beginning to feel funny—like she was somehow lighter, but heavier at the same time. Heat coursed through her veins and settled at her temples. She was vaguely aware of Pansy's stare focused solely on her. "I was hoping to get a wand," the words sort of rushed together, "Thomas promised to teach me." A third glass of firewhisky was placed in front of her and Hermione waved it away as dizziness surged in her brain. "Oh no, I simply couldn't. I've overindulged, I believe Thomas will be angry with me."
"Thomas," Pansy mimicked with an edge of cruelty. She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, a wisdom passing through her gaze Hermione could not fathom for the moment. "What do you know about Thomas, dear? You know, of all the wizards in the kingdom, he is of least relation to me. I had hoped...but no. It wasn't to be. And now I am to face life with a commoner and a potential squib for my first son. You are quite lucky, and you don't even realize it. Maybe you don't deserve it."
Pansy's words were running together in Hermione's head, not making very much sense. "Lady Pansy?" Her brows knitted together in confusion. The room spun and suddenly the laughter of the pub occupants rang through her ears.
Pansy's sharp laugh pierced through the indistinguishable noise. "Come on, Sweet Duchess. It's time we got you home safe and sound to your castle."
Hermione did not even remember the journey. There was a brief flash of stumbling through the line of occupants to use the crowded Floo. The violent retch of her stomach as her body was stretched and pulled through dimensions. She could recall tripping and falling as she reached the sitting room of Salazar Castle. Currently, the odd sensation of spinning was preventing her from successfully climbing up the ottoman so she might perch on furniture instead of the floor. Somehow through the haze, Hermione could see Pansy pouring a glass of firewhisky from Thomas' crystal decanter and setting it on the table above Hermione's head. Oh no. This will simply not be good at all.
Pansy bent down and peered at Hermione. "You are quite right, you know. Your Lord Husband does not fancy his ladies drunk. He finds it sloppy and distasteful." She reached out and caressed Hermione's cheek with the palm of her hand. "Good luck, little Mudblood. That's what you get for getting in the way."
The witch made her way to the Floo but all Hermione saw were a kaleidoscope of Pansys. Hermione felt wretched and truly worried now. Thomas would arrive to find her at any moment and what would he say when he discovered her disgraceful position? Through the fear, Hermione felt giddy with laughter and made another effort to pull herself up onto the furniture. Whatever happened, it was sure to be a spectacle.
~oOo*oOo~
At first glance, Thomas liked what he saw.
Hermione appeared to be the quintessential Pureblood Princess complete with the poise to suite the title.
Until he noticed the strain.
It was there at the corner of her eyes and then in the way she clenched her hands in her lap, as if she were holding on for dear life lest she fall. It was in the tense way in which she held herself, the slight lean to the left and her jerky overcorrection.
"Where are the rest of your dresses?" His eyes scanned the table next to her, taking note of the half-filled glass of firewhisky. Disapproval bloomed in his chest. He distinctly remembered telling her she needed his express permission to indulge in spirits.
"They will be arriving shortly, my—Thomas." Her voice was slightly roughened, husky from disuse.
Allowing the furious rage to shine through his eyes, he looked down at her. He felt pleasantly sated when she shrunk back from him in fear.
"And this drink beside you?"
She peered to the guilty looking glass which sat on the table before looking back at him and blinking innocently. "It isn't mine, Thomas." Her eyes widened in fear. "I know you don't like your ladies to drink."
He swiftly bent down and pulled her up from her seated position, dragging her with him as he pulled her to his office. He was surprised at how frequently she tripped and would have fell if not for his steady hand. Irritated, he stopped and straightened her once and for all.
"Then why did you?" he drawled, addressing her earlier statement as he took a firmer grip of her arm.
She neglected to answer as they reached his office. His eyes drew to the collection of wands he had requested from Gregorovitch's that he'd been eager to show her before her ill advised transgression. He stepped her back into the wall and caged her with both of his hands resting on each side of her face.
"You meant to incite my wrath purposefully?" There was a threatening edge to his voice, a hidden warning she surely couldn't miss. "How curious."
She swallowed convulsively. "No," she stammered, trying in vain to shrink away from him. "It was an accident, really."
He scoffed loudly. "Are you saying someone else is to blame?"
For a moment, hope surged in her eyes, before it deflated and vanished. "No, just me alone."
Now that was curious. Thomas was always good at spotting a lie, and he could tell his flighty little wife would hardly disobey him without provocation. In an instant, he knew just what had occurred. The frigid bitch of a witch he had set up to be her guide for the day had got her well and truly drunk in the hopes of displeasing him, no doubt. Pansy was as jealous as she was vicious, and she was toying with Hermione. Yet he did find it surprising that Hermione did not try to pin the mishap on Pansy right from the beginning. Surely she was frightened, so why didn't she shift the blame on someone else? His lips curled into a smile. There was no way of knowing what passed through Hermione's mind, but he would have fun with her, just the same.
~oOo*oOo~
When his eyes went from wrathful to downright wicked in a span of seconds, Hermione then became truly fearful.
Damn Pansy and her schemes of revenge! Hermione had done nothing to her, and now Thomas was on the verge of punishing her for her disobedience! Some of the haze cleared from her brain as the adrenaline thrummed at her temples. She was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, but the added mixture of alarm made for a heady mixture.
Thomas was closing in on her from all sides, looking as furious as a vengeful angel - a fallen one at that - and Hermione wanted badly to escape his clutches.
"I didn't take you for a rebel, Hermione," he said silkily, the ghost of his breath whispering against her neck. "Actually, I pegged you for a rather good girl."
She frowned, swallowing her unease. "Well, I am a good girl." It felt funny telling him so, and when a ragged breath left his nostrils Hermione could not help but feel like she said the wrong thing.
"Hermione," there was no mistaking the underlying fondness in his voice "you're so funny."
She bristled. "I'm not trying to be." Could he not simply drop his hands and step away from her? They were practically breathing the same air and it was becoming hard to focus. Her husband could be so...convincing. And when she was in this state, she wasn't sure what exactly she would let him do.
"Just admit you intended to rile me."
His smirk was almost teasing, as if he found her antics adorable or something. Her ire warred with her trepidation. "I did no such thing."
"It's all right, Hermione."
And then his right hand did the most wonderful thing and dropped from the side of her face. She felt like she could breathe! Until it came up again, this time gripping her hip instead of the wall. A squeamish feeling settled in the pit of her belly as she stared into his hooded eyes.
"You should be happy." He skimmed his lips over her neck, eliciting a shiver. "You've won." His voice was seduction, having the effect of fogging her already dizzy brain. "Consider me provoked."
Hermione gasped when she felt him latch over a spot on her neck, sucking over a pulse point. She writhed in his grasp in a pathetic attempt to break free, but he only took her right hand and held it above her head as he stepped closer and pinned her in between his hard body and the wall. His pleasant scent assaulted her, or maybe it drugged her, she couldn't be sure. All she knew was heat was rushing through her veins and it seemed to have culminated from that spot on her neck where Thomas was sucking.
It actually...didn't hurt.
No.
There was a word for how it felt.
Pleasurable.
Her chest heaved at the revelation, and she quit trying to break away. Spurred on by her compliance, the hand at her hip began gliding over the silk of dress, drawing sensations that made her feel even hotter. The fear flooding her mind disappeared to be replaced with something toxic. Thomas' beauty was almost painful to behold and he was making her feel this way - like she was weightless - like a fire had been ignited in her and it wouldn't stop.
A whimper escaped her throat and the hand gripping his wrist relaxed. She felt him smile against her neck.
"I think the lady likes it," he whispered, his breath tickling her skin.
He kissed a line up the column of her throat and she couldn't help arching her chest. What was causing her to move like that was a mystery to her but she couldn't help shifting her body. She blamed it on the traveling heat which left a fiery trail in its wake.
Thomas traced his hand up the side of her chest before he cupped her chin and tilted her head. The side of her breast tingled where his fingers had just skimmed, but it was hard to expound on that when his velvet lips brushed hers. For the first time, she didn't clamp her mouth shut and clench her teeth. She allowed him to nibble on her lower lip before outright sucking on it. Her free hand wrapped around his shoulder while the other stayed restrained above her head.
Clarity burst through the fog and she realized with sudden desperation that she wanted to kiss him back. Her fingers tightened around his shoulder as her lips tentatively moved with his. He tasted like something heady and forbidden that she couldn't get enough of. How had she been afraid of this before? It was...beyond enjoyable. Had she not been so tense with worry she might have realized how wonderful it could be, but alas she hadn't been able to relax like this the first time he kissed her.
His tongue slipped into her mouth and sought out hers. She made a sound of surprise and stiffened. Fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her head back and then to the side so he could better explore the cavern of her mouth. Her heart hammered against her chest as her breathing quickened. The caress of his tongue laced fire through her mouth and all the way down to her belly. Soon she was kissing him back with equal fervor, allowing Thomas to guide her in his skillful explorations.
Desire spread through her, causing her to feel rather delirious. The sensations were so unlike anything else she'd experienced, she wasn't quite sure what to do. Luckily, Thomas knew exactly and Hermione was happy to let him dominate. Vaguely, she registered the absence of his hand on her scalp. It descended down her back and - to her shock - her bum! Her pinned arm fell forward weightlessly when he released it. He grabbed her from behind and pressed her forward against him where she felt the clear result of their intense kissing in the form of his arousal.
She gasped away from the kiss, panting as Thomas gave her a measured look. Hermione couldn't help but stare right into those mesmerizing eyes.
"Interesting," his eyes skimmed down her chest to where he held her securely around the waist, pressed up against him. Hermione followed his gaze before lifting her eyes again languidly. "Now when I kiss you, darling, I expect you won't turn me away again."
A fierce blush crept up her face at the use of his pet name. She shook her head, feeling somewhat in a daze.
He chuckled and the dark inflection of his laugh caused her heart to stutter. "Very good. I think I shall like very much to see you lose control."
His words were lost to her, but slowly the gravity of what they had done sunk through the pleasurable confusion. He was speaking of their coupling - he had to be! - and Hermione could hardly think about that without causing herself to worry. Her trepidation sparked back to life. Would Thomas spend a lot of time making her feel good as he had done now before he put her through so much pain later? She could only hope, but sometimes her husband could be so cruel.
"Cheer up, darling." He stepped away and linked her arm through his. "I've brought you here to choose from one of these wands I've procured for you."
Hermione took a shuddering breath as her eyes landed on the long, rectangular boxes sitting on the oak desk.
"You ought to be thanking me."
"I—, um...thank you, Thomas."
He fixed her with one of his dark smiles she was beginning to associate with him. On unsteady feet she approached the desk and tried to listen to what Thomas was telling her about her wand selection. It was a hard feat to manage, however, especially with her mind still reeling from that kiss. One thought came up more prominent than the others. She had expected everything which involved a husband and wife joining to be accompanied by pain and discomfort, but those were hardly the feelings she had experienced. She closed her eyes briefly against the tirade of emotions that threatened to assault her when she thought about their kiss. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that. Hermione wasn't an optimist by nature, but she couldn't help but wonder if she was wrong about kissing, what else she could be wrong about.
~oOo*oOo~