Good afternoon! This is quite another hefty dose, but it could not be cut. A few review replies first:
Cyador, more follows here. Let me know what you think!
viola, more is uncovered here...just too much for one chapter!
KEZZ, what do you think of this then?
Alesia, your bungee jump analogy is great. I hope this chapter satisfies, in a good way.
zeeksmom, I laughed that you were so outraged at Molly and Arthur. Well, it is good intentions, but you know what they say about those! I think you'll like this chapter too.
RevQ, more Lucius/Hermione goodness afoot!
angstar, what say you to this emotional angst?
Okay, there is a lot being unpacked here. All of it matters, I just couldn't cut it down. I know what I think I'm conveying about Lucius, his views on marriage, and Hermione, and her views on marriage. Curious to hear your responses to this-so please, review! Thanks for reading!
Hermione stirred, then uttered a soft 'Lumos' to light the path to the unfamiliar bathroom. The waning moon provided scant light, and she stopped to take in the view briefly before she padded softly back to bed. It had snowed, a light dusting. It occurred to her that Christmas was fast approaching, and she had yet to do any Christmas shopping. Such a mundane joy to be lost in the midst of the hurricane around them.
She turned her attention to her husband, turning over what he had said earlier. Lucius was fast asleep on his stomach, his head turned toward her. He really was quite handsome, even if he wielded that as effectively as he used his wand. "Every contrivance, every slippery trick"…well, Hermione admitted to herself, she had already known he was like that. It was practically required for a Slytherin, and Lucius was the epitome of that House.
If she were being honest with herself—which, Hermione sternly told herself, is the precise reason you are awake now, because you know you need to think about what he said—she would admit that she was having trouble remembering that she was now the point of his maneuverings, and not the target of them. As much as she wanted to think she had accepted that she was part of the Malfoy family, it was much harder to actually rely on Lucius (or Draco, or Astoria) more than her friends. She sighed and remembered what else he had said—that she had scared the shit out of him.
"What did you really mean by that, Lucius?" she whispered to him quietly, but he slumbered on. She considered his hand as it rested on the pillow, stuffing another pillow behind her so she was slightly propped up. She loved his hands—strong and supple, just like the wizard himself. They were very masculine hands, capable of inflicting pleasure or pain.
It was this last that concerned her. She knew that he had done something to that would-be thief at the Manor. Since then, she had no idea what else he had done while in England or France, or wherever else he had gone. It worried her—not just the fact that he was capable of such ruthlessness, but that he did not hesitate to use it when he deemed it necessary. How could she love a man who could be violent like that?
"Knut for your thoughts," Lucius said quietly, and Hermione's gaze locked with his as she realized she had been stroking his hand absentmindedly. "Don't stop on my account," he added when she made to withdraw her hand.
"You scare me sometimes," Hermione whispered, part of her feeling like a fourteen year old again.
Lucius closed his eyes briefly, but clasped her hand. "Ah."
There was a wealth of meaning in that one syllable. His thumb stroked over her palm gently. "Tell me about it."
His tone was placid, his expression calm. It was impossible to see his eyes clearly in the dim light, but that was probably better. It gave her the courage to go on. "You can be incredibly ruthless, to the point that I wonder if you truly know where the line is—the line between right and wrong. And I thought I was past it—our history, the war—but then I know what you've done recently, like that burglar at the Manor, and who knows what else. So when you get angry, because I've done something that I view as asserting my right to participate in my own life, I worry that you'll be…that angry with me, step over that line," Hermione finished on a whisper, bravely keeping her eyes locked on his.
Lucius was stunned. From time to time he had wondered briefly if Hermione was afraid of him, but she had always gone toe to toe with him, refusing to give in to any fear she had. However, it was clearly hurting any effort to build trust between them. And, he admitted, it hurt.
"You are afraid I'll hurt you?" he asked gently, seeking clarification.
A brief expression of shock passed over her face. "No, not that—I'm not afraid of you hurting me directly. But I am afraid of you taking matters into your own hands, and winding up back in Azkaban, or involved in something beyond you…"
"Of history repeating itself," he said, relieved, and she nodded and continued.
"I would be lying if I said you weren't horribly intimidating when you're upset, and that is frightening by itself. It does make me…consider my actions carefully. And to a certain extent, I am tired of that, the feeling of eggshell walking. It's…not been easy giving up my independence, considering, well, your family's history and my family's…absence." Hermione thought again about the disconnect that had grown steadily between her life as a witch and her Muggle parents, such that she was able to tolerate not knowing what had happened to them.
There was another reference to her missing parents. Lucius made a mental note to inquire about that later, but right now he was concerned about not just getting, but keeping them on the same page. Lucius interrupted her thoughts with his own.
"So, if you will allow me to rephrase: you feel as if I am dictating what you must do when I ask you to engage or not engage in certain behaviors, by not participating in a discussion with you or allowing you enough freedom?"
Hermione's brow furrowed and she huffed a bit. "I don't think that quite encapsulates it—I worry that if I don't do things your way, you will walk off that line, and it will cost us dearly. So it does color my actions, and I feel as if it shouldn't—if that makes sense. I think there should be more discussion, more give and take—and less of you just deciding what would be best."
Lucius relinquished his hold on her hand and propped his head up on his hand, waving his hand backward behind his head to turn on the wall sconce there. "What was your parents' marriage like, Hermione? I confess to having absolutely no idea what most Muggle marriages look like, but I think it will help tease out the difference in our perspectives—because from my point of view, you are asking me to give up one of the most fundamental duties I have as your husband, and the head of the family. So before we discuss what measures we can take to alleviate your feelings, I have to understand what you think our marriage should look like. We've danced around this topic before, but I don't think we've really gotten to the heart of the problem until now."
Hermione felt herself fall a little bit more in love with Lucius as he patiently tried to untangle the Gordian knot constricting them. Her eyes warmed involuntarily, and Lucius' softened in response as she began speaking. "They met and fell in love in dental school. They had been married for ten years when I was born, and I think it was a shock to them. They were very successful with their work, but everything at home ticked along because they each took care of various things—Dad mowed and took care of the garden, Mum did the laundry, they both took turns cooking, and they loved camping vacations. And I had absolutely no doubt that they loved each other very much, and they loved me. I had friends whose parents were divorced, but I never worried about that with my parents. They were just…a match, and you knew it when you observed them. It was right, it was comforting."
"And what about your extended family? What sort of familial obligations would be present?"
"Family birthdays for my grandmother, the holidays, that sort of thing. My grandmother was wonderful, but she had dementia and passed away a few years ago."
"But everyone just did as they pleased, living their own lives?" Lucius asked, and Hermione nodded.
"Of course. Everyone has to make their own way in the world, don't they? At least, in the Muggle world, to an extent."
"And did you ever feel that your father dictated to your mother things that would occur in your family?"
"No, of course not. My mother wouldn't have stood for it, and although they did have some rows in the end they were on the same page about most things."
Lucius was thoughtful. "And what is your impression of wizarding marriages?"
"They seem to be far more unbalanced, in terms of the power dynamics. Even the Weasleys—Molly defers to Arthur, and I've never quite understood why, but it obviously works for them. Yet it seems every wizarding marriage has that sort of misogyny, even if the witch is powerful in her own right. And I don't understand it. This world is so much better in some ways than the Muggle one, but so backwards in others."
"And you consider this more traditional approach to marriage to be backwards?"
There was a hint of censure in Lucius' tone which made Hermione just a bit irritated. "You don't have to remind me that I didn't grow up in this world, I remember it well enough every day, I assure you. I simply have trouble accepting that which I do not understand. Why are wizarding marriages set up that way?"
"I can only explain it the way my father explained it to me, as his father did before him. But, I would like to be a bit closer, if you please. I think we do better in close contact with one another. It prevents misunderstanding." Lucius reached for his wand and summoned extra pillows from the bench at the foot of the bed, then gestured toward the headboard. "A bit of transfiguration, do you mind?"
Hermione scooted down the bed, while Lucius reshaped the headboard to be more like a padded, highbacked bench, with curved, padded wings. It was smaller than the bed, sort of like a little coze, and Lucius tucked himself into one side and waved his hand at the other side.
"Where do I put my feet?" Hermione asked with a laugh as she jostled herself into her corner.
"Right here," Lucius said, pulling them into his lap. He had one foot pressed on the bed, his knee up, and his other leg was resting outside of hers. "Better, yes? I like to see you fully when we talk. Now, wizarding marriages are contracts, but their purpose is more than procreation. Through strategic marriages, as I've said, families were able to increase their holdings, their influence, and thus their survival. This is not dissimilar from old Muggle history, however, you have to realize that this system has continued to benefit the wizarding world while the Muggle one has diverged markedly. As you rightly note, powerful witches would be capable of exerting their own influences. And, because the wizarding community is a much smaller one, there quickly arises the question of divided loyalties, as conflicts are inevitable. Thus, what you characterize as misogyny is a very necessary practice to allow a woman to cleanly cut loyalties to her birth family if and when it is required that she do so. By preserving this traditional aspect to marriage, witches gain the freedom to pledge their loyalty to only one family."
"But then they must defer to their husband in all things? What sort of independence is that, really? It's exchanging one set of ties for another." Hermione knew that Lucius was of an older school of thought, but she really didn't think Ginny deferred to Harry in that way. However, she was smart enough to admit that she wasn't in the middle of her friends' marriages, so she really did not know the nitty gritty details of how they handled conflict and disagreements.
"What is your family but a set of ties? The difference is they are ties that you choose to continue, presumably because you love them. Married witches choose the ties that will bind them, and they accept the responsibilities that accompany that." Lucius could feel Hermione's magic shifting, and he massaged her foot carefully. She was entering the stage of pregnancy where magical outbursts were likely, and as important as this conversation was he had no desire to wind up hexed or burnt.
"What you call responsibilities I call subservience," Hermione said pointedly, then sighed as Lucius' hands stroked firmly downward on her foot. "What exactly does this cost the wizard? From here I don't see much that is different for you."
"In marrying you, I pledged my life to you," Lucius said earnestly, then dropped his head to place a kiss on the instep of her foot before shifting his hands to the other one. "That means quite a lot to a wizard, Hermione. It means I would do anything in my power to protect you, and our children. I would stand up to anyone, anyone, who dared to threaten you. This is the reason that we refer to it as Bonding—because I am bonded to you, my magic is bound to yours. You felt it through my wand, the compatibility. It is also why so many purebloods are reluctant to wed a Muggleborn, because this is so fundamental to wizarding marriages, and it is a hard thing for Muggleborns to understand, given Muggle society these days."
"But isn't that sort of compatibility possible without you dictating, for lack of a better description, how things are handled concerning me, or our child? And without keeping secrets from me? If you'd only explain your reasoning, I might be happier acquiescing to your wishes, or we could figure out something that will make us both happy," Hermione said, trying to bend enough to still his hands on her foot, as pleasant as it was. Lucius took the hint and scooted a bit closer to her instead, placing his hands on top of their child.
"I am not accustomed to explaining myself to anyone, Hermione. I have been the head of the family for the better part of two decades, during which time I have been responsible for all family decisions. Narcissa was content, for the most part, to observe a submissive role, in part because of the danger of the times and in part because she had no wish to be responsible for the outcomes. She was uncomfortable with the responsibility of the results of decisions taken, and I was comfortable with it—had been raised to be comfortable with it. And as charmingly intellectual as you are, you still have blind spots regarding wizarding society and how pureblood families operate. Thus I have felt it is better for me to lead, and you to follow. It is not because I think you incapable of making good decisions, it is a reflection of how I feel best able to protect you."
"What about Voldemort? He tried to compel Draco to kill Dumbledore—how could you stand that, then, if your marital vows pledged you to protect them both? You must have known it would torture Draco." Hermione noticed that he still flinched ever so slightly whenever Voldemort's name was mentioned, a lingering proof of that wizard's effect on him.
"That was a very dangerous time for the Malfoy family. The Dark Lord was always dancing on the edge of powerful magicks, twisting and compelling them to his own ends. His experiment with marriage magicks produced the mess that was Rodolphus and Bellatrix's marriage, so you'll notice that he left most of the spouses of Death Eaters well enough alone. It was enough to secure one of the partnership to bring the family on board, so to speak. Draco found himself caught between my pledge to serve the Dark Lord and my marital pledge to protect my family. I was in Azkaban, and thus not able to do anything to prevent Draco from accepting the commission. This is where the wife holds power in her own right, Hermione. Narcissa compelled Severus to make an Unbreakable vow to protect Draco, and to finish the deed if Draco did not so as to prevent the Dark Lord's wrath being taken out on our son."
"Which Severus was fine making, as he had already promised Dumbledore that he would kill him himself rather than let a Death Eater do it," Hermione said, remembering what Harry had said about Snape's memories.
"Poor Severus. I fear he rather felt himself married to the whole wizarding world to atone for that one mistake," Lucius remarked, his eyes flicking back to Hermione's. "Much as I feel the weight of my mistakes. I have never apologized to you, witch, for my treatment of you for your birth. I hope you know how very much I regret it, knowing what I know now."
Hermione was intrigued to find out how Lucius had learned so much about genetics, but at the moment she was caught by the look in his eyes, begging forgiveness. He was so vulnerable, so unlike himself. She leaned forward as much as she was able, trying to touch his face, and he moved forward so they were in more of an embrace, her hand soft on his cheek and jaw. "Lucius, I forgave you long ago. I have known for a long time now that your slurs were more affectionate than insulting. You have respected me for too long now for me not to forgive you."
"Why did you marry me, witch? The truth, now," Lucius said huskily, his eye color deepening to a darker grey. Hermione felt extremely vulnerable. More than sharing her body or her intellect, he was asking her to share her soul, her heart.
"You made me feel more. Everything was heightened when you were involved—work, your teasing and testing, sharp questions and sardonic wit, dancing through Ministry hoops as if you owned them and it had in fact been your idea to place them there—I was attracted to you," Hermione admitted. It seemed silly to disavow it as she had done then, but now they were so intimate, she had trouble sleeping when he wasn't with her.
"I believe you are dancing around the truth again, dearest. When I was appointed as the head of your division, I took charge. I kept you on your toes and didn't let you overextend yourself. I helped you focus your attention on what only you could do, and dealt with the rest. Is that not a form of partnership? The only difference is that I was in authority over you. And frankly, you liked that, because I could be the buffer between you and the distasteful things that come along with working at the Ministry. I could freely be a bastard because it was expected of me, and you were free to focus on your job. You no longer had to rely on Harry, who is frankly too self-effacing for his own good to trade heavily on his position. He merely wants 'normality', whatever that is, and you couldn't ask him to forsake that even when you felt the ugly tug of notoriety. 'He did it, so can I', you reasoned, but you are too intelligent to have left it at that. You needed me, Hermione, and you still need me." Lucius paused, his eyes raking her face. "And since we've been married, how have I made you feel?" Lucius asked, pressing for confirmation of what he read there.
Hermione's eyes were pleading, confused. "Please, Lucius."
"How, witch? How have I made you feel?"
"Safer," Hermione whispered, tears falling briefly. "I feel safer being married to you."
"And?" Lucius used a slight featherweight charm to scoot her bottom closer, her legs around his hips as his hands rested on the sides of her belly, their child sleeping through the emotional storm between its parents.
Hermione shook her head. It was too much to say, but Lucius, as ever, was ruthless in dismantling her walls. "Hermione, I could use Legilimency on you right now, and know what you refuse to say. But I don't have to, wife, because I already know it. You love me. You've loved me since I kicked your arse in that duel in my office, and you have fallen harder since we married. You love that I stand up to you, and that I won't let you do anything damn dangerous. You feel cherished because of it, and because you know I am a man of my word. I pledged myself to you, and I will keep that pledge. And that, my darling, is why you are having so much trouble—because you think your friends somehow have a different type of marriage than you do. But my pet, they are just the same. You are at the life stage where you should be rightly concerned with having and raising babies, and here you are, driving forward a highly controversial and dangerous research program. You are torn, my love, and I will put a stop to that—because that is what I need to do as your husband."
"You're wrong," Hermione said determinedly, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks. "I would feel lost without my work, without something to keep my brain busy. I've always known that, I've never been interested in being a housewife or stay at home mom. It's not me," she insisted, placing her hands on top of Lucius' own. Lucius covered them and said,
"I did not mean to imply that you should stop your work. I meant what I told you on our honeymoon: you can continue working. I am merely pointing out that your viewpoint is changing, just as your body is changing. Or do you really want to tell me you can picture handing over this little one to Smidgen every day, then going off to work for eight or ten hours? You are already wondering how you can keep this up—and I am telling you, we will find a different way for you to do so. It will mean sacrifices, and I do not mean another Time Turner. Instead you will adjust your expectations of yourself, and I will adjust the expectations which the entire remainder of the wizarding world has of you, on your behalf."
"But if I don't solve the Squib problem, who will?" Hermione said. "I can't give up, or put it on the back-burner. Too many families are hurting from this."
"Which is worse, Hermione? Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, or doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? You sacrificing yourself falls into the latter category, I assure you. You will have to learn to let more things go, to delegate more, to exercise patience as other wizards and witches learn as you learned. If my discussion with Dr. Hayes taught me nothing else, it is that this will not be cured tomorrow, or in six months, or possibly even six years. And that, my dear, is why the Marriage Law will prove to be a wise decision, and it is also why you should not feel guilty for admitting you cannot be all things to all people."
"You need to tell me exactly what she said," Hermione said, reminded that she was still annoyed that he had done the interview without her. "I barely had a chance to discuss anything with her, and I'm still pissed off that you talked to her without me!"
"I have copious notes and a transcription of what she said. But that is beside the point, wife. We are discussing the tendency of others to place unreasonable expectations on you, and your need to try to meet those expectations. It is not reasonable to expect you to fix everything, despite your magnificent talent and copious intellect. If nothing else, this Squib problem proves that. I want to hear you admit that, that you feel pressure from those expectations. It's part of why you were attracted to me."
"Why are you trying to make part of this mess into my personal problem?" Hermione asked. "It's not like I asked for the marriage law, or the ugly realities of the magical genome. And what you're suggesting is irresponsible, to pull back when so much needs to be done."
"This is precisely what I mean. Who is putting pressure on you? What would happen if you were dead, if Antonin Dolohov isn't so off in his aim next time and you die? What then? Will the wizarding world fade away to nothing because Hermione isn't there to solve the problem?"
"That is cruel, Lucius," Hermione retorted, involuntarily throwing off a stunning spell that Lucius waved off with a hand. He had learned to be very good at reading Narcissa's flares when she was pregnant with Draco. It seemed it was a skill that was equally necessary with Hermione.
"Sometimes I have to be cruel to be kind. Hermione, love, what am I trying to do here? I want to protect you. Even from yourself and your work ethic. Because I have learned the value of patience, and allowing time to work for you, instead of struggling against it. You need help. You are also about to become a first time mother, and, setting aside the fact that a group of very nasty wizards and witches are trying to prematurely end your life, you have no one else other than me who even vaguely understands your work in the magical community. Frankly, my dear, I have no desire to work myself into an early grave after escaping it so narrowly within the past decade, and I certainly have no desire to see my new wife do so either. There is only one logical approach: allow others to learn. Train them. Teach them. Let them take part of the burden, and allow yourself to step back as the standard bearer for magical research. Without so much pressure on you, I predict you will achieve even greater things than you imagine are possible."
Hermione shook her head, her mind tumbling over everything Lucius had said. How could he do that so easily, just strip away all the reasons she gave herself for working so hard, for blindly pushing herself even when the likelihood was that the problem was too big for a single witch to solve?
"Why did you marry me, Lucius?" Hermione felt that Lucius had stripped enough of her layers bare, and despite a few tantalizing hints he had yet to say exactly what had compelled him. "You pursued me like a chess game, setting up the courtship ritual and practically stalking me for weeks before the matches came out. And even before then you were unnaturally interested in me."
"Ah," Lucius said, and Hermione rearranged herself so she was sitting sideways on his lap, her legs crooked up so his leg pressed nicely against her lower back. Lucius shifted his left hand beneath her hair and began to rub between her shoulders.
"Oh, that's nice—now spill, please," Hermione said. "Godric knows I've had quite enough of my psyche dissected by you. It's your turn."
"Charming," Lucius huffed, but he allowed her to place a soft, leisurely kiss on his lips. "It's a good thing they don't call these Houses of Rest," he quipped, casting a quick Tempus to reveal that it was past 2 AM.
"Quit stalling. Why. Did. You. Marry. Me?" Hermione said, echoing Lucius' own punctuated speech when he was impatient.
"Yes, yes, I am coming to that…well, how to explain what drew me to your work, and then to you? Really, I must go back to the Battle of Hogwarts, because it was in those terrifying hours that I realized how utterly broken my entire life was, regardless of who won. At that point, I was desperate for him to lose, I hoped against hope that Potter would pull something unbelievable, defeat the greatest dark wizard since Grindelwald, as unbelievable as that sounded when he walked into our camp. When Narcissa grasped my hand so tightly as we made our way to the castle, I knew, somehow, that it was not over. Once the battle was raging again it was all we could do to find Draco. We were both wandless, we had to dodge all sorts of curses and jinxes. I recall Narcissa stumbled once, but that overwhelming need we both had to find Draco gave us a boost with our wandless magic. I don't recall any of the final battle between Harry and Voldemort, I simply recall finding Draco, grasping him tightly, the smell of his clothes, of him, holding him as Narcissa clung to him as well, and crying with relief. The rest remains a blur. Even the following weeks with shuffling between Ministry holding cells, the Manor, and court, I was just a broken man. I had seen too late how insidious and deceitful the doctrine I had espoused truly was, had come to the edge of the crumbling cliff and by some miracle had not toppled over. It was wildly frightening and humbling at once, and I did not even know how to process it. And then to have testimony from Potter at trial! I remember that being rather remarkable. But truly, I was lost. Lost to my recriminations, fighting to figure out who I was after my entire dogma was so thoroughly shaken, so thoroughly cracked that I had to ask myself, was there really anything to it?"
Lucius paused to take in Hermione's countenance. Her face was so open, her eyes calm and accepting, and Lucius found the impetus to go on.
"I couldn't tell you what Narcissa was going through. I was rather drawn into myself, the Ministry demands on us simply bothersome noise. Most of the hassle of dealing with them fell on her, so lost was I in myself. I believe Draco was going through a similar experience, as we would often spend an entire evening sitting in the library together, not saying a word. This went on for what seemed like years, with Narcissa coaxing and prodding us both until she finally got Draco to go out with Astoria, roused me enough to negotiate the marriage contract and see them married off. By that time, I had realized that I could not continue merely existing, but must make some strides toward recovering my former status. Even if such efforts were for naught, I had to prove to myself that I could make them, that I could find some semblance of who I was and regain myself.
"I believe it was at this point that Narcissa fell into a depression. I was meeting nothing but sneers and slights in my efforts, and the Ministry was unsure what to do with me. She had propped both of us up for so long, she had not dealt with her own emotions from the exceptionally brutal end to her birth family, nor from our extremely changed status. I tried to jolly her along, believing it was simply exhaustion from all the effort she had poured into me and Draco, but I realize now that she had simply burned herself out. I blamed myself for her death, for letting her go about her business. Deep down, I knew she was barely existing, I knew she needed more help than I could give her—but I let her go nonetheless, allowed myself the delusion of believing her protestations that she was fine, truly! I wish I could tell you that doesn't influence me when it comes to you, Hermione, but it does—oh it does!"
Hermione cupped his cheek in her palm, wordlessly wiping away the single tear that escaped with her thumb. Lucius clasped it and pressed a kiss into her palm, then brought her hand down to his lap, his eyes transfixing her with their intensity. "Why would I marry you? Why would I not, Hermione? Your work gave me a purpose other than a doting grandfather, and caretaker for a company that mostly runs itself. At first it was the prospect of proof, the final proof that my culture was fundamentally flawed, that drew me to the opportunity. I wanted peace, and silence from the family ghosts. And Kingsley was keen to offer—a chance at redemption. I attended lectures at Oxford, with the same Dr. Mullan who some arsehat has Imperiused, learning all I could about Muggle genetics and how they were studied. And I watched you spark and spar with me, so passionate and dedicated to your cause, and I saw a bit of my younger self in you. Oh my dear, if you take nothing else away from this night absolved from time and reality, please remember this: I know you, so well. You were infuriating and enchanting, so capable and yet so damn naïve. And by Salazar, I wanted you. I was shocked by it, I even tried denying it, but it was inescapable. You are so indescribably talented, Hermione. It's so beautiful, watching you use your magic, matching you in a duel or working alongside you. To feel it now, bound to me…I simply cannot tell you how much I love you."
"Lucius," Hermione said, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a fierce embrace which he turned into a passionate kiss. He made love to her mouth, causing white hot pleasure to flow through her veins. As she kissed him back, Hermione realized it had never been just sex to Lucius. He had always made love to her. When he ended the kiss and drew back, his swirling grey eyes hot with desire and love, Hermione looked at his marvelous mouth, then back at his eyes, softly saying, "I love you, Lucius. So much it scares me. I don't want to lose myself in our marriage."
"Where has all of your Gryffindor courage gone? Too afraid to love your husband?" Lucius teased warmly, drawing back to tuck her hair behind her left ear, then caress her cheek. Just like this, this is how he wanted to see her always—her eyes warm with love, her cheeks pinked, her full mouth blushed from his kisses. "That's not like my wife."
"This is not how I planned to fall in love," Hermione admitted. "It was supposed to be all hearts and flowers, not you sneaking me off my feet—my swollen feet, thanks to you!"
Lucius was unrepentant, arching a brow when he felt a kick underneath his hand. "I will never apologize for making you a mother, Hermione, although I would have wished the circumstances to be different. I would have liked time to be together as a couple before becoming parents together, so I could make love to you with wild abandon, irrespective of whatever else is going on."
"I wasn't aware that you hadn't done that anyway," Hermione said with a smile, and Lucius smirked mischievously.
"You have no idea how many times I wanted to disrupt the papers on your desk in a thoroughly lascivious manner," he said, his eyes flashing. "As it was, I had to settle for stealing documents and watch you get frustrated looking for them."
"You utter prat!" Hermione said, her mouth pursed indignantly, another wave of magic washing over her as she gesticulated. "Do you know how much time I wasted looking for those things, only to have them pop up in the oddest places?"
"Now, enough of that," Lucius said, waving the jinx away and catching her hands before she could do something else. "You can be annoyed with me later. Since we're both wide awake, I can think of better things to do than argue. I want to help you relax back into sleep."
"Oh?" Hermione felt another flare of magic, but this time she controlled it, flipping Lucius onto his back and straddling him. "And how exactly are you going to do that, pray tell?"
"I merely want to relax you, love. You seem so tense," Lucius purred, his hand slipping easily between her legs and finding a wet, warm home.
"You are sinfully good with your hands," Hermione gasped, feeling a burst of heat flood her body. She was so sensitive now, the slightest touch set her off. She focused and ground down a bit with her hips, causing Lucius to sit up abruptly, vanishing their pajamas without a word and thumbing her nipple with one hand while the other continued to stroke.
"I was under the impression that you enjoyed my mouth even more," Lucius said silkily before he took her other nipple into his mouth, paying homage to her gloriously pregnant state.
"More, Lucius," Hermione demanded, one hand seeking him while her fingers threaded through his hair and tipped his head up to give him a hot kiss.
"Your wish is my command, dearest," Lucius said, filling her and placing his hands on her hips. "You set the pace. I want to watch you come while you ride me."
Hermione's body twisted deliciously inside. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," she whispered in his ear as he laved her throat.
"I know," he whispered back, biting her earlobe.
Hermione woke up to the rays of the weak winter sun caressing her face. She stretched and sat up slowly, unconcerned when the sheets fell away from her naked breasts.
"Mmmm," she murmured when Lucius stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. "You look good enough to eat."
"Did you not get enough of that last night?" Lucius asked wickedly, sitting down easily next to her and running his fingers lightly along her collarbone. "Unfortunately, any further bedroom escapades will have to wait until we are back at the Manor. I'm afraid that that—" he pointed to the owl waiting outside the window, "—is likely to be a rather insistent request for our return. Due to the nature of this House, I could not be terribly specific in my reassurances to Draco about where we were last evening."
"Pity," Hermione said, then considered what likely awaited them at home. "Lucius, what are we going to do about the plotters, and work, and everything?"
"Well, pet, I think we will shortly be able to put a stop to the plots attacking you and your work. I promise to tell you everything alongside everyone else, but suffice it to say that Bertrand is firmly in our corner and he is working on it from France. As for the rest, we are agreed that our family and our marriage comes first, yes?"
Hermione agreed. "Of course it does, Lucius. We couldn't keep on as we were, pretending we didn't love each other, and trying to protect each other behind each other's backs! That clearly does not work."
"Just so. Therefore, we focus on you and I, fold everything back in on top of that, and decide together how to handle it, provided you accept that I will never willing allow you to place yourself or the baby in harm's way. And when all of this nastiness with the Ministry and attacks is behind us, we tell them all to fuck off."
Hermione laughed at that. "It's not that simple."
Lucius gave her one of his wicked grins. "Of course it is, love. You simply haven't learned how to do it yet."
Hermione shook her head wryly, but when they were dressed and standing before the Floo, ready to return home, she clasped Lucius' hand tighter in her own. At last, she felt like they were a fully united team.
"I love you, Lucius," she said before he could throw the Floo powder into the fireplace. It was easy to do here, just the two of them. She wondered how much it would show when they were back among their friends and family.
"And I love you, Hermione," Lucius replied, his eyes possessive but loving before he returned his attention to the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor!"
