Wow, the reviews for the last chapter were AMAZING! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I so loved reading all of them, what a great number of kudos. I am sorry I have not had time to reply to all of you. This past week was absolutely insane with work, and it's not looking better this week either. My energy has been sapped and that results in my writing languishing. Therefore I have prioritized getting this next chapter up instead of writing review replies. Hope you enjoy it-thanks for reading and reviewing!
"Something needs to be done about Nagini," Hermione commented softly, looking at Professor Snape, who managed to look both quarrelsome and worried. "I don't know what…what Voldemort would want to be done with her."
This seemed to galvanize Snape into action, as he removed his wand from his sleeve. "I will move it elsewhere and the Dark Lord can decide later."
"No!" Hermione stopped him with a raised hand. "No magic, please. My head is still aching."
She seemed to deflate after that admission left her mouth, blinking her eyes rapidly. Severus realized that she was on the brink of tears, and mentally cursed at being put in this position. He had absolutely no experience with soothing a crying woman, much less his former student who was now the Dark Lord's wife!
"Of course—I will get a house elf to deal with this…mess." Severus' gaze swept the room, the destroyed furniture and bloodstains everywhere testifying to the very nasty business which had just gone on. "Ms. Granger, your robes—"
Hermione looked down and realized the hem of her robes was soaked with blood. "I—I need—" Hermione paused, forcing her thoughts into logical order. What she needed was… "I need to talk to you."
Her head whipped up to stare at Severus, and he was momentarily shaken by the intensity of her gaze.
"Are you still in contact with the Order?" she demanded.
"I have been, yes." Severus was unwilling to discuss anything in detail before he knew exactly what the Dark Lord had done or was capable of doing to her. "Ms. Granger," he began, but she cut him off abruptly, straightening again. Her carriage was erect, a mannerism that was very reminiscent of someone—the realization of exactly who did not sit well with Snape.
"That's not my name anymore," she said coldly. "As much as my husband might despise it, my name is Hermione Riddle."
"And is that the name your husband prefers you to use?" Severus retorted, his patience waning. "Whatever name you use, the fact remains that your husband is the Dark Lord, and he will return soon. May I suggest, therefore, that we conduct whatever discussion needs to be had before he does!"
She was once again a very young woman as she took a step and her robes slapped wetly against her ankles. She paled and said, "I need to change, and this…"
"Needs to be cleaned up," Snape finished for her, his limited patience at its limit.
Hermione nodded and closed the doors to her bedroom, her feet propelling her to the armoire as her thoughts coalesced around the urgent, the immediate. Her marriage bond. Voldemort's wrath. Help for Ron. The necessary. Focus, Hermione.
Severus Snape ran his fingers through his lank hair. The situation had just grown dire for Potter and the rest of the Order. The Dark Lord might order him to betray Remus, to trap him. As well, the Dark Lord had seen Draco save Harry. He would revisit that later, of that there was no doubt. For the time being, he was focused on inflicting as much damage as possible on the Order in retribution for their attack on his wife. In all likelihood, more blood would be spilt this day.
He turned his wand with clinical precision to the task of removing and Scourgifying the blood that pooled and littered the floor, calling for the one Malfoy house elf whose name he knew as he did so.
"Migsy!"
The house elf popped into the open doorway from the hall, trembling as its huge eyes took in the carcass of the snake and all the blood. "Sirs, I's not allowed in there."
"Then call the bloody elf who is!" Snape snapped, turning his wand to the next puddle of blood. "Now!"
The house elf disappeared with a crack as the doors to the bedroom beyond opened and Hermione stepped through, looking cleaner at least in a fresh set of dark green robes. She had pulled her hair back into a neater arrangement, and perhaps pinched her cheeks or some other Muggle trick, because there was more color in her face. Severus straightened and regarded her clinically.
"Madame, I believe we must adjourn to a different room."
A different house elf popped into view, and although the sound startled her, Hermione could just tolerate Verity's magic. "Verity, please see that Nagini is moved, and repair the room. But first, please put two chairs in the audience chamber."
"Yes, mistress," the house elf nodded vigorously. "Very quickly."
"After you," Snape gestured, holding his arm out to the hallway. Hermione moved quickly enough, he granted, but he perceived that she was not as steady as she appeared when her hand trembled slightly as she opened the door to the room that Lord Voldemort used for more formal audiences. Severus felt the tremble of wards as he passed through, but if it affected the Dark Lord's wife she gave no sign of it. The chairs she had requested were already in place, separate from the throne-like chair which the Dark Lord preferred. She sat with a swirl of robes and began to speak.
"You must understand that what you think, what everyone must think of me, it's not the whole picture," Hermione said, her gaze fierce with the fervor of misunderstood youth.
"It rarely is where the Dark Lord is concerned," Snape replied, feeling somehow as if he were the one being schooled. There was something about her posture, her tone, and even her mannerisms that bore the imprint of her husband, alongside that iron will that she had always possessed, that damnable need to prove herself worthy and equal or better to those around her.
"I am well aware of what Tom is, of how he handles people, how he handled me—but you don't realize, it was Tom Riddle who handled me. I bonded myself to Tom Riddle, before he fully took the name of Lord Voldemort."
The words tumbled out in a rush, but they were controlled words for all their haste, reflecting many hours spent in careful thought of how she would tell someone, the best person to understand how this happened. That that person was Severus Snape was irrelevant—he was the only person whom she knew had been sympathetic to the Order in her original time, and there were enough similarities to make her believe that it was a good bet that those sympathies remained now.
"Do you mean to tell me that you traveled back in time?" Severus asked slowly, giving himself the opportunity to recover from the shock of her disclosure.
"Yes. At the battle at Hogwarts. In my original timeline Lord Voldemort hit me with a spell while he was dueling Harry. It sent me back to Hogwarts in 1944. I spent almost seven months there."
"Then you must have met Professor Dumbledore, must have sought his assistance—" Several things tumbled through Severus' mind, slight oddities that rearranged themselves in light of Miss Granger's explanation. "This is why Dumbledore had me continue Occlumency lessons with you," he said, studying her carefully, and Hermione nodded.
"I am sure it was. Originally I did not receive more than a few months of lessons from you prior to the Department of Mysteries. Did we continue them then?" Hermione asked, and saw Professor Snape's confusion pass briefly across his face.
"Yes," he confirmed, his brow furrowing as he looked at the girl—no, young woman before him.
"I don't remember everything yet, you see," she explained hollowly. "It is part of the reason that Voldemort has kept me to himself—it was very disorienting at first, and he…had his reasons to keep that information to himself."
"And you are sure he won't mind you discussing the nature of your marriage?" Severus had to be careful now—she had not said how they were bonded, and this was quite relevant to the amount of control the Dark Lord could wield over her.
"He told me he didn't care what I mentioned to Neville when we saw him the day of my accident, so no, I don't think he cares if I discuss it with you," she replied testily.
"Are you able to protect your mind still from the Dark Lord?" Snape queried sharply. There was no point in discussing anything delicate with her if this was not the case, and he would know now before anything more was said between them.
"Yes," Hermione said. "Not at the moment, however, because of the…accident. It will probably be another week or two before I am able to Occlude him fully again."
"But you are able to Occlude him when you are at your full strength?" Snape pressed.
"Yes. It is one of the things that intrigued him about me," Hermione said, then looked down at her hands. "Among others."
"I must you ask you the nature of your marital bond, madam. I am sorry to pry, but the fact that it was a voluntary arrangement has shocked your friends, needless to say."
She paled again and Severus cursed himself for reminding her of what had just happened to her friends not one door down. "I am sorry to be blunt—" he began to apologize but she held up a hand and stiffened visibly.
"No, you need to know and we don't have much time," she said, her voice slightly hoarse. "I am talking to you because you must tell them how things are, how they will always be. Our marriage bond is unbreakable, and he could always find me. They have to realize that I am never going to be free of it, and I knew that when it was formed. I—" she turned her head away, closing her eyes hard to prevent more useless tears from forming, or, worse, falling in front of the hard Potions Master. She composed herself and turned her attention back to him, her expression determined. "I knew what it meant, and I chose it. I had my reasons."
The last set Severus back in his chair. Later he would toss over what could possibly compel a young woman such as Miss Granger to enter into such an agreement with full knowledge of what the man must become, but for now he was concerned with her lack of shielding. She continued on, however, words tumbling from her mouth in jumbled haste.
"I have to ask—Ron—he was hit with a spell, several in fact. I know what he used, the first curse, but…I was distracted by Nagini when he used the second spell—will you, could you help them?"
"You know, madam, that I would not undertake any such communication without the Dark Lord's approval," he said, the formulaic response echoing emptily in his mouth while his brain processed the situation. She had not revealed much about the nature of the bond between herself and the Dark Lord, and this was pressing. "How would the Dark Lord know where you are, madam?"
"I doubt you would understand," Hermione said, something delicate and brittle creeping into her tone which Severus mentally recoiled from. It was a type of condescension that was alluring and enticing in a poisonous manner, and it distressed him as few things could still do to see such a young soul corrupted by it. "The details of my marital bond are hardly a topic my husband would find seemly. That having been said, I am not the shrinking victim that Harry and Ron wanted me to be, nor am I an innocent caught in the seductive wiles of a more opportunistic predator. How could I be, when I knew exactly what he was as I pledged myself to him? The only thing I will say to you, sir, is that I know my husband far, far better than you presently think."
The rage that still suffused his body, beating like a second heartbeat beneath his skin, was quite easy to control, all things considered. As Lord Voldemort landed at the reeducation center that was currently a target of the unfortunate Order of the (missing) Phoenix, he assessed the situation with the rapid, clinical eye that had catapulted him to the heights of dueling fame, and with good reason. The hex that incapacitated a ginger Weasley was halfhearted at best, his brain correctly assessing the threat posed from that quarter to be minimal.
"Your arm," he demanded coldly of Walden MacNair, pressing his finger to the Dark Mark and sending a jolt of pleasure and adrenaline through the man as he wordlessly Summoned more of them: Rookwood. Dolohov. Bella. Lucius. Gibbon. Jugson. If they were foolish enough to attack his interests, he would annihilate them. They were prompt to answer the summons, Apparating with precision and speed that signaled the end of this particular little folly.
"Stun and capture," he ordered, and they broke off to attack.
Arthur Weasley was dueling a pair of very inept Snatchers when the telltale black smoke tendrils began to appear. He wrapped one up in a bow (literally), and was finishing off the other when he saw Lord Voldemort himself, moving very deliberately toward one of their own. He couldn't see who it was through the smoke and duels taking place, but he immobilized his opponent and moved toward Lord Voldemort, the coin portkey heavy in his pocket.
"Not time yet Molly," he said to himself as he saw who was the target of the Dark Lord's wrath: Nymphadora Tonks. She was defending herself with the zeal of her dead mentor, but Voldemort was going to cut her down and soon without help. He threw his wand into the fray.
The center was a melee, former Snatchers and Ministry employees battling in a very patchwork manner against their former guests and members of the Order. Voldemort heard the high pitched squeal of laughter from Bellatrix, and passed Lucius as he dueled with Kingsley Shacklebolt. His own attention was fixed on one Order member ahead—debts must be paid, after all. He strode forward, a blistering hex thrown at his desired opponent drawing the attention of another Weasley, as well as that of Minerva McGonagall.
"Nymphadora!" Minerva shouted. There were flashes of blue as portkeys began to activate. The Order members did their best to bring the freed 'reeducation students' with them, but not all were going to make it out.
Voldemort was focused, his wand whipping a lasso of fire that Minerva countered with a clever waterspout. She transfigured a fence into a jaguar while he parried the Weasley patriarch's hexes, his attention firmly fixed on the ex-Auror with hair that was fluctuating between purple and red.
"Your manners still need improvement!" Minerva countered tartly, blocking the curses he tossed at her and throwing a few of her own.
"I'll be sure to tell my wife," Voldemort retorted, causing the witch's eyes to narrow and Arthur Weasley's face to flame. Tonks just grew angry, her hair flashing red as she threw a nasty bit of dark magic at him.
"Nymphadora, such an ugly curse," the Dark Lord chided, landing slicing hexes in a row: one, two, three on all of them as he blocked two curses with his wand and used his hand for the last from McGonagall herself. "The teacher could still be taught a few things," he commented, his expression mocking.
Tonks was defending herself ably enough, the blistering not so bad. Voldemort hit Arthur Weasley with a writhing set of vines that were intent on choking him, his wand circling underhandedly without pause to land a purple curse on Tonks' calf before finally dissolving the jaguar with a streak of fire, tired of merely blocking its passes. He laughed when Tonks cried out in pain, the blisters bursting and leeching a painful, gooey substance that burned through her flesh.
Minerva and Arthur were aware that their portkeys were now required, the Dark Lord wasting no time in turning his full attention toward McGonagall as Arthur fought off the vines and Tonks scrambled to deflect the wordless Immobulus and keep the burning from spreading. Arthur's fingers clutched the portkey in his pocket and he garbled the activation spell, whirling away in a flash of blue.
"No!"
Minerva saw it before Tonks did, pushing the witch out of the way and the portkey coin into her hand, taking the curse from the Dark Lord herself. Voldemort caught the blue flash and hit Tonks with another spell as she whirled into blackness as Minerva fell to the ground, convulsing. Voldemort picked up her wand as he leaned down, a calculated maliciousness in his expression.
"You, madam, are a fool," he whispered, his gaze drifting to the spot where Tonks had disappeared. Walden MacNair and Lucius approached as Voldemort took her wand. He straightened, his eyes glowing red as he took in the scene before him. Some of the prisoners had escaped, true, but most were still present, being subdued in an utterly vicious manner. Bellatrix was enjoying herself thoroughly, using her favorite whipping curse to move a few terrified witches toward the detention area.
"Call the Aurors. I want formal trials for all of them. Let the rebellious see what they have wrought. But this one—" he paused and toed Minerva, who was now as stiff as a board from the curse he had cast on her, "—this one I want at the Manor. Lucius, see to it."
"Immediately my lord."
"Oh my God, Ron!"
"Stop it!"
Draco shoved Harry away from the blood-covered boy, forcibly keeping him away. "You're not helping Potter, fucking hell stop that NOW!" he roared, and Harry finally stopped fighting him, dumbly staring at Madame Pomfrey and Remus as they worked to get Ron stable, Molly Weasley's shrieking a crazy din in the background. Harry finally turned his attention to Draco, taking in the taunt cords of muscle in Draco's neck as he restrained him against the wall of the cave.
"That's my best mate—" Harry said urgently, and Draco met his eyes.
"I know that, Potter, but you're not doing him any good like this! Let Pomfrey do her job. You can't do anything for him right now."
Harry met the steady gaze of those grey eyes, then nodded once.
"Okay."
Draco let Harry go, and Harry shook off his hands, confusion showing briefly on his face at Malfoy's concern.
"Poppy, please," Molly said, clasping her hands together, but Poppy Pomfrey was far too busy to pay attention to the Weasley matriarch. "Remus, quickly, cut that off! There, yes, exactly—lord, this is a mess—I'm sorry, Ronald…gracious…" Her words faded away as she worked her wand, darting glances at Remus and grimacing occasionally as she found other things. Ron's cries had faded, although it was hard to tell if this was a result of a silencing spell from Madame Pomfrey or the fact that the pain had grown too much.
"Ron—" Harry began hoarsely, but Madame Pomfrey finally had a moment to spare, her attention snapping to Harry.
"That's quite enough from you, Mr. Potter! I don't have time for your maudlin recriminations!"
This brought Molly Weasley's attention to Harry, and she began crying at him. "Harry, what have you done? What has my son done? Why did you do it, Harry? My poor son, look at him—"
"Come on, Potter. Get some fresh air." Draco grabbed his sleeve roughly and pulled him away toward the cave entrance, away from Molly's screeching cries and the wand haphazardly clenched in her hand. Once they were clear of the sightline of the entrance, Draco let him go and ran his fingers through his hair, turning away from him and looking at the horizon.
"Why did you do it?" Harry asked, eyeing him speculatively. "You could have left with Neville and been safe. Why would you do that?"
Draco glanced over at him then returned to staring at the trees. "I knew you couldn't keep your arse out of trouble."
"But he saw you. You know he's going to call you, use that damn Mark like a whip to drive you insane until you go begging him to kill you. So why do it?" Harry's fingers clenched impulsively. God he hated Malfoy so much, and then the git had to go and do something like this! It didn't make any sense.
"Maybe I just wanted to drive you fucking insane, ever consider that, Potter?" Draco sneered.
"No, no! You tell me the truth, you prick! I want to know why!" Harry yelled, getting right in Draco's face. "Your parents are on the short end of his leash, and we both know he won't hesitate to punish them if you don't go crawling back! So you tell me right now why you did that!"
"It's always about you, isn't it, Potter? Always centered around the supposed savior of the wizarding world, the fucking Boy Who Lived who will save us all! Well fuck me if I'm not buying!" Draco yelled back. "Just because you're an arrogant fucker doesn't entitle you to know my thoughts, you piece of offal, so fuck off, because I'm not telling you a bloody thing!"
Harry shoved him at that, and fists and legs started flying. Both had gotten in a few decent hits before Remus broke them apart with a shout, holding them by the scruff of their shirts like a pair of dogs.
"Enough!" he said forcefully, setting them both away from each other. "You might consider that other people are involved here!" he added with a hiss before striding back inside. Draco and Harry exchanged mulish looks before shuffling back inside, where groups had begun appearing from the reeducation center.
"Over here…yes, we will have that looked at…oh, thank God, Arthur!"
Molly cut the vines away and embraced her husband, tears rolling down her cheeks as Arthur got his first glimpse of Ron, his expression stony.
"Not a word Harry," Arthur said as Harry stepped forward, brushing past him to speak to Poppy Pomfrey. Ron's face was ashen and twisted in pain, but he wasn't making any noise.
"Can't he have a pain potion, something?" Harry said hoarsely, and Malfoy snorted under his breath.
"For fuck's sake Potter, he's been cursed by the Dark Lord. They can't give him anything for fear of making it worse."
"Just shut up!" Harry roared, hitting Draco with the slug burping curse before he could think the better of it.
"Really…mature…Potty…" Draco managed between slugs as Remus slammed Harry against the wall.
"That's enough!" Remus hissed. "My wife is missing, Death Eaters are on the rampage, and your former Head of House was also hit by at least one curse from He Who Must Not Be Named. Now, do you think I am asking too much of you to control yourself just ONCE today?"
Remus' voice had increased in volume as he spoke, such that all the attention of those present in the cave was drawn like gawkers to a car wreck at the sight of the Boy Who Lived being chastised by a senior Order member. A flash of blue heralded the arrival of Kingsley and a breathless Bill Weasley by Portkey, Kingsley unloading Bill onto Arthur as soon as he could manage and making his way to Remus and Harry, unaware of the tension between them.
"Remus! He was dueling Tonks and Minerva—I think one of them got away—"
Tonks reappeared in a blue flash, covered in blood and weeping sores, her features morphing quickly in a nonsensical fashion, as if she couldn't control herself. Remus let out a howl of anguish that tore through the cave, trying to help his wife as Poppy Pomfrey rushed over to see what could be done for her. Harry paled further, aware of the many pairs of eyes that were fixed on him.
"Shit…come on Potter," Draco managed after spitting out a vile, puce colored slug. He grabbed Harry's wand firmly before anyone could protest. "Fuck me if I'm letting you splinch us—let's go."
"I do not believe you are quite as self-possessed as you claim, madam," Severus said, folding his hands together between his knees. "However, I am aware that the Dark Lord can be very appealing."
Hermione dropped her head at this, a short bark of laughter escaping her. "I do not think I want to know what you mean by that. Answer two questions for me: was Neville rescued, and what was Draco Malfoy doing here with Harry?"
The first question did not surprise him, the second was more of a twist. Actually, it was more analogous to a violent bowel obstruction.
"I believe that Longbottom was removed. Did you see Draco?" Snape's voice was urgent, and he leaned forward in his chair.
"It was hard to miss him throwing himself on Harry to portkey him out. I doubt my husband will be terribly forgiving of his absence, unless you know something I do not?"
Hermione could tell that Snape was extremely unhappy about this piece of information, which suggested that either he had no previous knowledge of Draco's whereabouts (which she doubted), or he was unhappy that Voldemort was now aware of where Draco was and presumably had been for the past months. She was prevented from questioning him further, however, by the arrival of Voldemort himself.
"Severus. I would like to speak with you later—two hours."
Severus nodded at the clear dismissal, but in true Voldemort fashion he didn't make the clean escape he was perhaps hoping for.
"Do be sure to tell Lucius that I will require his presence as well. And ensure that he brings Narcissa."
At least it's not me on the block, Severus thought uncharitably, nodding to Ms. Granger and excusing himself from the Dark Lord's presence.
"What did you do?" Hermione asked, standing carefully as he drew near, surveying her before he laid his hands on her shoulders.
"Are you referring to the curses I placed on your friends, or the result of the foolish attack on one of my reeducation centers?" His tone was not guarded, but neither was he being perfectly open in his countenance.
"Is everything a part of your game, then? Or will you admit that I have proven my constancy to you and cease speaking in riddles?" Hermione's voice was firm and her stance was argumentative. Good, it means you were not seriously injured, Voldemort thought to himself.
"Testy, I see. Did you expect any less from me? You felt exactly what I did when I prevented them from further injuring you." His voice was not raised, but it still cut like a cane across fresh wounds, causing Hermione to shudder, closing her eyes briefly to his inquisition before raising her head again and meeting his eyes with the flash of fire in her own.
"I am well aware of what you did, and how you felt, and how I felt while you did that to them! Do you not think it upsets me, to know how you injured them and how elated I felt through you at the prospect? I am sick with myself, angry with them for being so stupid as to come after me like that, and angry with you for not letting me tell them why I couldn't go with them, why I agreed to marry you—" Hermione stopped to catch her breath and Voldemort tightened his hold on her shoulders minutely.
"So you are now regretting my nature for me? Planning to apologize to those who were so self-centered they did not even hear your pleas to stop?" He was being harsher now, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me, Hermione; but more importantly, don't lie to yourself. The fact that I want you, that I will kill for you, that I pledged all that I am to defend you—you value that. Do not pretend to be less than you are."
"Why must everything be so black and white to you? Can you not see how compromise breeds cooperation?" Hermione said, bringing her hands up to curl around his arms. "Could you not have talked to them?"
Even as she said it, she knew how foolish it was. He knew it too, his eyes showing disappointment at her lack of reasoning as she said, "That was foolish, I know, but they may have listened to me."
"Or they would have assumed you were under the Imperius, or some other obscure spell that compelled you to say and do whatever I like," he retorted.
"Or an obscure marriage bond," Hermione snapped. "Which I am."
The corner of his mouth turned up at that. "Which you are. As am I. Which is why I did what I did."
"Which was utterly—"
"Predictable? Appropriate? Necessary?" He was annoyed and it showed in his lashing tone of voice.
"Excessive!" Hermione finished, her brow furrowing at him. She was relieved that he was no longer angry, the pause in the roller coaster of emotions a welcome respite.
He twined his right hand in the hair at the back of her head, tilting it just so, studying her. One of her pupils was slightly larger than the other, and her heart rate was up from the argument.
"You still have a headache."
"Yes."
She whispered it, the word soft and still in the room, just like her.
"Faes hi takēm kātha." His magic soothed the ache, and her eyelids fluttered closed. "I admire your loyalty, but it is misplaced."
"It is damnably hard to hate you properly when I know you." Her confession sighed out of her, that easy honesty that he envied and prized.
He kissed her. It reminded her of Hogsmeade Wood, the same light sweetness and steady support from his magic. This time, however, she didn't hesitate to return it, clasping him at the waist of his robes and pulling his head down with her other hand at the nape of his neck.
"The next time, you will have your wand, and you will not hesitate to defend yourself. In the interim, I am not letting you out of my sight for the next few weeks." His left hand had wandered to her waist, to the bump that was apparent to both of them, two people familiar with her body and its natural shape. "Do you feel this little one yet?" he asked, the first natural curiosity he had demonstrated in the baby.
"I think so," she said, her eyes flitting away from his. He was still cold in his mannerisms, a detachment that was almost unnatural but certainly involuntary. "It's hard to describe, but it's not like anything I have felt before."
"Good." He released her and stepped back.
"What will you do to Draco?" Hermione asked, unwilling to break contact fully with him, her hand still on his waist.
"I thought young Malfoy was not your friend," he countered, his expression a mixture of curiosity and calculation.
"No, he isn't, but I'm astounded at his effort," Hermione said. "I would think you would be as well."
"So you think I should assuage my curiosity before killing him?" he parried, mindful of the skitter of feelings caused whenever he mentioned killing anyone. Such a Gryffindor, his wife.
"I don't think you should kill him at all. He must be of some use to you, surely—if only as a means of keeping Lucius in line," Hermione observed offhandedly, although had he looked he would have seen how her mind was racing with hope that he would take it in the nonchalant manner she affected.
"For someone who professes such disdain for my games, Hermione, you play them with alacrity," he observed, tapping her lips with his finger. "Hush, sweet. That was a compliment—do take it as such. Now, if you don't mind, I have some tactics to discuss with my Death Eaters. I would prefer it if you rested."
"And yet, your preferences are not the driving force for my actions," Hermione countered, and he raised his brow.
"I hardly think Verity will have finished removing the bloodstains, pet," he commented casually as they went to exit the room. "I doubt you would find such ambience conducive to delineating the differences in fungi subspecies."
She paled, as he had known she would, but it didn't deter her, her mouth opening again as he swept her across the threshold to their room.
"Do let me know when you plan to inform Severus that it is the placenta he will be needing, and not the baby's blood."
She gave him a mock bow as he closed the doors, which he acknowledged with a nod of his head. As he turned away, a brief smile crossed his mouth. He wondered exactly when she would find the missing piece of the potion's puzzle. Knowing his wife, it would not be long.