A/N: Major apologies for the delay. I had surgery on my dominant hand and am stuck using only my left. Did I ever mention just how UN-ambidextrous I am? (It is sad how long this note has taken to type.)
Wedlocked
Chapter 33: On Wands
The scream ripped through her dreams, forcing her eyes open and adrenaline into her veins. She scrambled to cover herself and find her wand simultaneously. They were under attack. It was the woman in the cup come back to kill Sirius. It was Lily finishing the argument from the night before. It was Sirius realising what a horrible mistake he had made.
"Dammit, woman!" Sirius bellowed from his spot sprawled on top of her. "Why are you shouting? I am a fucking adult and this is my bloody house! I can sleep where I want, for as long as I want, with whomever I want, in whatever state of undress I bloody want!"
"Where have you been?" the unmistakable voice of Molly Weasley demanded with as much anger as Sirius had offered her.
"Here! In bed! Sleeping!" he shouted. "Now, piss off!" He grabbed the wand from Hermione's hand and sent a spell across the room to slam the door in the indignant woman's face.
"Shouldn't have done that," Hermione groaned. "She's just worried."
"Well, she needs to find a better way to show it," he griped and finally lifted his head off her bare chest, a charming smile taking over his creased cheeks and annoyed scowl. "I've always thought breakfast in bed was a fine way of showing concern."
"I'll remember that," replied the girl dryly.
"You do that," he smirked. "Here." He handed the wand back to her.
She held her hands up to reject it despite knowing it was the same one he had taken from her; the wand had worked perfectly for him, so it had to be his. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she could see that it was her wand – 10 ¾ inches, vine wood polished from where she gripped it in exactly the same way each time.
That wasn't right; a wand rarely worked well for anyone but its owner. Only a truly powerful witch or wizard could control another's wand, and even then it took massive concentration. Sirius was half-asleep and still recovering from his encounter with the Horcrux. There was no way he could have controlled her wand that easily. Something else was at work here. Perhaps his wand was of similar materials. Wandmaking was the most closely-guarded of magical arts, so secret there were no books published on the topic expect wandlore, which was more akin to old wives' tales and hardly worth basing any real theory on. It was all she had, though. If his wand was of either vine wood or dragon heartstrings, like hers, then he might have better control of the magic.
"What?" he asked as she continued to stare at him.
"What's your wand made of?" she asked without preface.
He quirked an eyebrow and looked over to his wand on the table next to him. "Blackthorn, I think. Why?"
She ignored the question. "What's the core?"
"Unicorn hair," he said. "What's this about?"
"You used my wand, Sirius."
"I gave it back," replied the man, as if that set right any wrong he might have done in borrowing it without asking.
"That's not the point." She pulled on a shirt, determined to have some level of dignity while talking to him about this. Such ease of magical transference was unusual, and she needed all the information she could to research it when she got back to Hogwarts. "You used my wand. Barely awake, you made a wand with completely different core and wood work perfectly. That cannot be normal."
"Was that meant to be a compliment?" he wondered. "Because it sounded rather close to an insult."
"It's strange. That's all I'm saying."
"Well, that's my shirt," he replied.
"Do you me to give it back?"
"I'm making a point," he bit out, sounding very close to annoyed. "That's my shirt. It's made of different fabric, cut to a different pattern, but it's still a shirt. It doesn't fit you as well, but it does the job as best as it can considering that it wasn't made for you. Wands work the same way."
He was so close to winning the argument. It made sense, very good sense, but it was wrong. "Magic does not work like a shirt. If the wand isn't yours it won't work, not well anyway."
"Try mine." He held it out for her to take.
"No, I don't want to blow up the house!"
He gripped her hand and slapped the wand handle into her palm. As with her own wand, she felt the magic tingle when it touched her, like bubbles forming just beneath the surface of her skin. She had touched other wands, usually Ron or Harry's when she was cleaning up after them in the common room or after practicing spells in an empty classroom; on those occasions, she had never felt this kind of reaction.
She flicked the wand and her dressing gown flew across the room to her.
"Maybe because we're married…?" she reasoned weakly, sounding unconvinced even to her own ears.
"My parents never managed it," he shrugged and stood. "Father once tried using my mother's to punish me for breaking his wand– I was only five and didn't know any better – it exploded in his face and broke half the windows on the ground floor… Then again, I caught James using Lily's wand once to cast a locator charm when he had misplaced his. Whatever, it's not that important."
Hermione did not share his indifference. She sat deep in thought and completely unaffected as her husband paraded around the room naked, too busy considering what the difference in reactions might mean to feel either inferior or aroused. She would need to ask James and Lily about their wands as soon as she had showered. At the thought, she jumped up and raced to the washroom, leaving Sirius completely bewildered. The poor man had never been witness to Hermione's single-minded pursuit of information.
"James," Hermione called as she left the bedroom. "James?"
"Happy Christmas!" the painted man cried. "What did you bring me?"
"What was your wand made of?"
The man's smiled dropped. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. It's Christmas – gifts, drink, songs, Christmas."
"Yes, yes," she waved it away. "But what was your wand made of?"
"Mahogany, if you must know. Dragon heartstrings. What does it matter?" he practically snapped, annoyed that she had not gotten him anything for the holiday.
His consternation was lost on her. "What about Lily? What was hers made of?"
"Willow," he said, now slightly concerned for her sanity.
"Willow…" the girl repeated. "So different…" She walked off, bypassing the kitchen in favour of the library.
"I worry about her sometimes," James muttered to Sirius. "I think you might have gotten a crazy one."
She sat in the library scouring the few books on shared magic that she could find until Harry and Ginny physically dragged her from the room. She protested the whole way, but settled down at the table to eat when Harry threatened to have Sirius lock the library door with a spell she could never break. Knowing the man capable of performing such a spell, she sat and ate.
"Well, since we're all here now," Molly paused to give Hermione a hard and dissatisfied look, "perhaps we could have our Christmas."
They moved to the sitting room and tore into the presents that had managed to go unopened that morning. Harry got some very nice Quidditch supplies, while Ron got the ubiquitous sweater and a manual on chess strategy. Ginny squealed equally at the broom cleaning kit and the palate of Muggle makeup, odd girl that she was. Hermione had the most to open since she had not paid any attention to the wrapped gifts when she woke that morning. She tore into them now at everyone's insistence. She got a book on Runes, a book on dragons, a book on tarot cards (obviously a gag gift), a book on raising children (clearly a hint from Molly), a book on planning for divorce (a gift from her mother) and a book on Renaissance architects, inventors and artists because she had commented to Remus that she was intrigued by the multifaceted genius of such men.
There were just a few more gifts, all for her and all wrapped in exactly the same way. They were the size and shape of books, but as she lifted one of the presents, the pale blue paper flexed and fell as the object inside drooped in her hands. If it was a book, it was certainly not like any that she had ever held, which was saying a great deal; even paperback books held their shape when lifted off the floor. This was soft, yielding, like cloth.
Her eyes flew to Tonks, who was paying Hermione no attention, kissing Remus on the cheek and enjoying being openly in love. Next she looked to Ginny, who was looking slightly bored, like she wanted to go clean her broom or try out some of her new makeup. That left only Sirius. He looked innocent enough as he chatted with Harry, but when he looked her way there was no mistaking the mischief in his eye.
"Aren't you going to open it?" he inquired.
"No, I don't think I will," she said. "It feels like something I'm going to have to return."
He smirked, knowingly. "Maybe not."
The conversation was drawing attention back to Hermione and the remainder of her presents. If she did not move quickly, they would start trying to open them for her. That would be far too embarrassing.
"I think I'll save them for when I visit my parents," she hedged and stole back the remaining unopened presents from Tonks's eager hands.
She ran up the stairs as quickly as she could, dropping the gifts as if they were electrified.
"I spent good money on those," Sirius reprimanded.
"What were you thinking giving me that sort of thing in front of everyone? Even Ginny and Tonks had the sense to give them privately!" She pointed accusingly at the presents he was lifting off the floor. They seemed so innocent with the icy blue paper and virginal white ribbons, like Sirius with his pretty face and grey eyes, always looking the angel.
"We're in private now." He pressed a gift into her hands, "Open it."
"No," she glared.
"I'll open it for you, then." He sat on the bed and selected one of the gifts. The paper tore under his fingers as Hermione flinched, anticipating lace and boning and silk ribbons. "Happy Christmas, swot."
Not really wanting to look at whatever miniscule bit of lace he had the nerve to call underwear, she look up and let her jaw drop. "That's…"
"A jumper, I know."
She snatched it from his hands and held it up by the shoulders. It was just a jumper; soft and expensive, possibly even silk, but still just a jumper.
"I heard everyone was buying you books," he said before she could even ask. "And you said you didn't have enough clothes to fill your half of the closet, so I bought you some. I'm quite clever and considerate, you know."
"So the other two aren't knickers either?" she asked hopefully.
"No, I saved the knickers to give to you tonight," he grinned and threw the other two gifts to her. "Open them and put them on. It'll annoy your mother to see you in clothes I bought you." He smiled like the imp he was and left her to get ready.
She had been so focused on researching and then on her presents, that she nearly forgot about going to visit her parents for dinner. The idea held none of the appeal it normally did. Her mother's letters had not grown any more complimentary toward Sirius since the wedding; the book on divorce was subtle compared to some of the letters she had sent begging Hermione to reconsider the marriage, to find a nice, sensible boy her own age to date for a while. Those letters were practically glowing given the ones she sent to Sirius berating him for defiling her baby and threatening to call the police and have him charged as a paedophile.
Still, it was tradition to spend the evening with her parents regardless of their opinion of her husband or the clothes he bought her.
The jumper was tighter than she normally wore, but as something to wear for looks rather than warmth, it would do well enough. A skirt came from the next wrapped bundle, and, finally, a scarf that was definitely worth more than her whole wardrobe put together. To add to her feeling of inferiority, Sirius had left a box with a new pair of heels in the closet for her.
"Sirius," she called as she wobbled slightly on the stairs. "Should I worry that you are so good at picking out clothes for me?"
James' snort seriously diminished the effect of his wolf whistle.
"Shut up, you," Sirius ordered his friend. "No need to worry. I let Ginny loose with a wad of cash in Muggle London. She picked it all out."
"Oh, that's all right then," Hermione agreed. She tried to prolong the moment she would have to face her mother, but Sirius would not let her run off to thank Ginny for the gifts. He dragged her from the house, entirely too eager to irritate the young woman's mother in every way he possibly could.