Good afternoon! Well it has been a week but I am on vacation and my family is all well, yippee! I am writing away so that is good. Thank you all so much for the reviews from chapter 36! I love reading reviews, they spur me on to keep writing. After I post this I will try to reply to you all. I hope I am keeping the right balance between continuing to peel back layers of the ever changing relationship between LV and Hermione while keeping the plot moving along. If you want to know how many chapters remain, do let me know in your reviews or PMs and I'll tell you in the next chapter if that is the consensus. It is all mapped out and events have settled themselves in the correct order for plot resolution. Some key scenes are already written (as usual). :) Without further ado, then, here's the new chapter! Do let me know if you like it. Thank you all!
The Daily Prophet's headline was large and likely dictated by the wizard who sat across from her:
DARK LORD OFFERS AMNESTY!
New Chief Warlock Lord Voldemort Weds Member of Golden Trio, Explains Program of Change
A large photograph dominated the front page, showing Voldemort kiss her hand before turning his attention to the press conference. The article beneath was the standard rehashing of his changes to the Ministry and the new pre-Hogwarts education program, but the secondary headline was the inflammatory rubbish Hermione had been expecting.
MARRIAGE OF THE CENTURY: LORD AND LADY VOLDEMORT SPEAK AT LAST!
The wizarding world is ablaze with talk of the consummated love between the darkest of Dark wizards ever known, Lord Voldemort, and a heretofore highly praised member of the Golden Trio, keepers of the Light, the former Miss Hermione Granger. You, eager readers, are doubtless eager to hear the tale that has resulted in the Dark Lord choosing for himself a bride of questionable parentage, but unreservedly high magical abilities. Herein I relate to you every detail, as communicated to me by the Dark Lord himself and his erstwhile bride.
Hermione groaned as she read the beginning of the article, eliciting a wordless raised eyebrow in query from Voldemort.
Hermione shook her head in the negative. No, it was no worse than she expected. Steeling herself for the tripe that was being eagerly digested across Great Britain, she resumed reading.
Lord Voldemort, a wizard not known for his sentimentality, has finally taken the plunge and wed. His choice of bride speaks volumes about the man himself: mysterious, incredibly powerful, and difficult to understand. Yet one witch clearly gained more than his attention, and in the process has thrown society's expectations on their ear.
Of course, Miss Granger has always had a penchant for powerful men. It began during her fourth year at Hogwarts, when the studious miss was courted by none other than Viktor Krum, the world famous Quidditch player. It seemed that Miss Granger was not content with the heights of this conquest, however, as she also dangled Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, from her fingers for years. Is it really surprising, dear readers, that she capitalized on whatever mysterious opportunity threw her into the path of the Darkest wizard of all time?
The Dark Lord and the former Miss Granger seemed to be on *very* familiar terms, light caresses being exchanged throughout the interview. It was enough to make even the most hardened of hearts soften. Indeed, it is the rarity of the picture before you that bespeaks an intimacy which few could boast.
Hermione groaned as she saw the picture of them kissing. It was worse than she imagined, the picture replaying the end of their little moment ad nauseum. She didn't know what bothered her more: the fact that it was an open-mouthed kiss, the way her mouth followed his briefly, the little upturn at the corner of his mouth as it ended. He had known perfectly well that the photographer was there, damn him, and he allowed this picture to be published!
"Does it bother you?"
Hermione thought about it before she looked at him. His ruby eyes were calm, although she knew he was amused by her reaction. "It's not the fact that the picture is there, Tom. Rather it is that this was a very intimate moment, and I don't like sharing that with anyone, to be frank."
"Did you not want more people to see my humanity?" he asked. "This will bring more people into the Ministry without further bloodshed. You cannot have it both ways, faes hi takēm kātha."
"I am aware," Hermione said, her eyes sliding away from his and back to the paper. "I suppose my discomfort over a picture of us snogging is a small price to pay."
He lazily snagged her hand as she set her cup of tea down and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Rest assured that it is a coup that will not be repeated by any member of the press in future."
Hermione sighed and began to read again.
It comes as no little surprise that the Dark Lord himself has chosen to wed a muggleborn. When asked this very question, the Dark Lord's reply paid homage to his wife's intellect and many talents. He went on to say that his wife is in perfect agreement with the Ministry's new education programme, which is aimed at correcting the Muggle influences that litter the upbringing of the muggleborn witch and wizard. The Lady Voldemort herself stated that "my husband's intentions are widely misunderstood," and enthusiastically threw her support behind the changes.
The Ministry has embarked on an ambitious program to ensure magical children become aware of their heritage and the customs of the wizarding world much sooner than their entry to Hogwarts. Such things have been taken care of easily enough by magical parents, but there are obvious insufficiencies in the childhood education of muggleborns prior to wizarding school, and even some remedial lacks in those born to halfblooded parents.
"The new childcare and education centers are remedying this deficiency," Lord Voldemort explained. "The best practices for early childhood education are being put to use in the preschool centers, and an educational programme for children aged 5 to 10 will be rolled out within the coming year. These centers provide a safe place for the very young to experience magic, and will provide necessary education for Muggle parents regarding the best way to handle a magical child."
Questions of the couple regarding their plans for children of their own were slyly dodged.
"I don't think that is a subject we are prepared to discuss at the moment," the Lady Voldemort said. The Dark Lord added,
"My wife does want to be a mother, and I cannot imagine not accommodating her wishes in this respect."
Since the couple dodged a public wedding, one can only imagine the interest a pregnancy would engender for the most intriguing couple in all of Great Britain.
The Lady Voldemort was insistent that she remains "friends" of the Boy Who Lived and other presumed members of the Order of the Phoenix, a banned organization. The Dark Lord was adamant that only one amnesty offer would be made, and stated that the application of the amnesty to even members of this banned group was his wedding gift to his wife. "If they are prepared to behave themselves with the good grace expected of every member of our society, I am prepared to overlook their offenses as a courtesy to my wife. All I require is a public acceptance of the new order at the Ministry of Magic."
One wonders what the Lady Voldemort's "friends" will make of her intimacy with her husband. Then again, if they do abhor the former Miss Granger's profession of continued friendship, there is no better proof of this author's assertions regarding the young woman's ambitious nature. It seems safe to say, however, that she has met her match in her husband. Time will tell, readers, how very entertaining their marriage will be.
Hermione threw the paper down on the table in disgust.
"Something else displease you, kitten?" His tone was sly with hidden laughter, and Hermione decided to give him part of the reaction he expected.
"That woman is the worst for innuendo and outright slander! But of course she wouldn't dare to say anything about you, so it's hardly surprising you let her away with it, is it?"
"Did you have a point to your outrage, pet, or are you merely flattering my vanity?" Voldemort asked. "We have a few things to do today if the latter be the case."
"You know she is an unregistered Animagus, don't you? I can only imagine what sort of mischief she could cause if she should happen to sneak into a meeting at the Ministry, for example," Hermione observed idly. The slight upturn of her face and superior expression in her eyes gave her away, however, and the corner of Voldemort's mouth lifted as he clasped her hand and brought it to his lips.
"You are quite vindictive at times, Hermione. It is so shocking to see from such a noble Gryffindor—but perhaps a tribute your Ravenclaw wisdom," he said lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I will see that your irritation is vented properly, sweetling. Now, we have a duel to attend."
"Oh? Whose?" Hermione asked, allowing him to draw her to her feet. She refused to think about what he considered to be a 'proper' venting of irritation. Her stomach bumped briefly against his body, and he placed a steadying hand on it, satisfied with the strong pulse of magic from the child beneath her skin in response to a casual flick of his aura. There was a glimmer of response inside him, the same sort of oddity that plagued him at times with Hermione. He ignored it, as usual. He had far more pressing problems than seeking an explanation for these roiling flutters.
"Why yours of course pet. Let us go see who is to be your opponent, hmm?"
"Good morning, my Death Eaters," Voldemort said as his servants straightened from their bows. "Severus…Lucius…Bella…Antonin…Walden…Calvin…Augustus…"
Hermione waited for him to finish greeting the Death Eaters. It was the first time she had been in company with them at an official summons, and she was aware as they were not that she would be dueling one of them shortly. He turned his attention back to his wife, drawing smoothly to a halt at her side. "You will recollect that I have recommenced dueling practices with each of you to clean up some sloppy habits that developed during my absence. You will be interested to know that I have also been tutoring my wife. Hence, I would beg your indulgence," he paused, and everyone knew it was an order, not a request, "to participate in some practice duels with my wife?"
There was a murmur of acquiescence from the assembled Death Eaters, and Voldemort turned back to his wife, satisfied. "Ready, my lioness?"
"Of course," Hermione said, expelling a breath. She wasn't worried per se, but she still didn't know who he would choose for this first outing. Voldemort turned back to look at his Death Eaters, his eyes scanning purposefully.
"Antonin. I believe you and my wife have already crossed wands. I am curious to see a rematch."
The swarthy man bowed curtly, then raised his head. "If my lord would be so good—what restrictions would you place on this duel?"
Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He could see the lust for revenge on the man's face, and knew he was thinking of the sessions during which he had smarted under his wand. None of his Death Eaters were stupid—they would have put two and two together and known that it was her memories that had fueled their 'correction'.
"None. But know that my wand will defend my wife should it become necessary."
"Yes, my lord."
Dolohov straightened from his bow and removed his wand from his sleeve, striding to the center of the room to observe the proper dueling courtesies. Voldemort nodded to his wife, slowly sliding his wand from his robes. Every eye in the room was fixed on him and that wand, except for his wife's. She was assessing Dolohov. The corner of his mouth turned up.
"Begin."
The first few minutes of the duel passed silently as Dolohov cast and Hermione rebuffed, a steady pattern as he was looking for weakness while she just wanted to get a sense for his casting patterns. The other Death Eaters were spread around the room, watching with a mixture of disaffectation, interest, and antagonism. She ignored them all, the tingle of focus that dueling provided now sharpened into the finest crystalline lens. She could almost hear Tom's voice, her wand moving to block his curses and hexes easily. She could feel the build of her magic, and for the first time she felt the baby's own magic swirl at the increased activity. She laughed out loud from the sensation, causing Voldemort's sharp gaze to meet hers briefly. She shook her head at her husband and sent a Langlock at Dolohov, who was growing enraged from her blocks and careless, brief laughter.
"Laugh at me, will you? I'll give you something to laugh at!" Dolohov hissed, uncaring of the Dark Lord's razor edged temper as he threw three curses in quick succession at the chit.
Hermione blocked them and hit him with a stinging hex, and further nettled his pride with a rebuttal. "The only thing laughable are your reflexes," she retorted, landing a slicing hex cleanly across his chest.
"The little wife seems to have improved markedly," Lucius commented to Severus, his face a mask of disdain.
"She resembles her husband," Severus said pointedly. In fact, her wandwork was almost a mirror of the Dark Lord's, and it was apparent to all present that she did not view the duel as a challenge. It was unsettling to see the power she wielded in her spells. And above it all, the Dark Lord watched with amusement on his face. "I do not think your dear sister-in-law approves."
Bellatrix's jaw was set hard, causing Severus to wonder if she was drawing blood from the way in which she must be biting her tongue. Her response had not escaped the Dark Lord either, of that he was sure.
Hermione was now finding it easier to predict what Dolohov was going to do, and this was causing the man to become more unhinged. He had now forgotten the presence of the Dark Lord entirely, the rage at this chit defeating him in a duel causing him to increase the pace of his casting and vary its frequency. This was now more challenging for Hermione, as she was having to rotate between shielding and throwing her own curses. She got him again, this time hitting him partially with the acid drops curse that Voldemort had taught her.
"You bitch," Dolohov snarled, and Hermione saw Voldemort's wand twitch. It was time to end this, and she worked Dolohov over quickly, casting faster so he could barely block her. He was becoming increasingly desperate, willing to take chances now. It was during one of those moments when Hermione was throwing a curse that Dolohov chose to take part of the hex she threw and cast one of his own, aimed squarely at her midsection. Hermione realized it the second he threw it, but was halfway through an Incarcerous, her magic already flowing to complete it, the duel's end in plain view. Severus and all the other Death Eaters in the room were stunned as Lord Voldemort's wand flashed with the split second reactions he was known for, grounding the curse in a smoldering jag of heat as Hermione's spell hit Dolohov and bound him, causing him to fall to the floor unheeded as Voldemort glided to his wife.
"I trust you learned from that, faes hi takēm kātha," he said quietly, placing a hand briefly on her abdomen. That spell had been closer than he'd like, but the babe's magic was fine. He dropped his hand, aware that a rush of breath had circled the room at his gesture. He turned his attention to Antonin, dissolving the ropes holding him so the wizard could regain his feet, eyeing him warily as he did so.
"I believe I've made it sufficiently clear what the penalty is for failing to observe proper dueling courtesies, Antonin. Crucio!"
Hermione knew better than to show a response, although seeing Tom's Crucios never got any easier.
Voldemort flicked his wand away, dispassionately watching the man panting on the parquet floor. He leaned down and said quietly, "You owe my wife an apology, Antonin."
Straightening, he said more forcefully, "Worse will come to anyone who insults my wife again." His words carried around the room as intended, and the Death Eaters nodded their acknowledgement of his order as Dolohov pulled himself to his feet. Voldemort returned his attention to the wizard, who met his unflinching gaze and walked over to Hermione, bowing stiffly.
"My apologies for my outburst, my lady. I forgot myself."
Voldemort turned back to the room at large. "Our meeting will commence in thirty minutes. Severus, I want you in my study. Five minutes."
Lucius Malfoy took Severus' arm. "Come, quickly. I have something to show you."
Severus was irritated. "Lucius, this is not the time. You heard the Dark Lord."
They were passing Bella, who was whispering to Antonin as Walden adroitly detached himself from the conversation and left with a flicked glance to Lucius. Severus saw Lucius' eyes linger on Bella and Antonin before he returned his attention to Severus. "Yes, yes, of course. But I insist you come and seek me out before you leave the Manor. Nothing could be that urgent at the school, and I have something important to show you regarding our earlier conversation."
"Fine," Severus said. He wanted to warn Lucius again but hadn't time. If the man was determined to pursue a death wish, he had best keep a close eye on him. He made a mental note to talk to Draco at the first opportunity.
Severus entered the Dark Lord's study to find him conversing quietly with his wife. Severus noted the familiar manner in which they dealt with one another, which bespoke of more than physical intimacy. It disturbed him, but what could be done about it?
"Shall I go?" Hermione said as a courtesy as Severus entered, but Voldemort simply quirked his brow in amusement.
"No, no, stay where you are, pet. Severus is here to discuss the blood for the Souteni potion. Perhaps you would care to give him your thoughts on the subject."
Hermione was actually thankful to stay, and hoped that she might have an opportunity to speak with the headmaster in private again. She wanted to know what was happening to her friends and the Order. She looked at the headmaster and hoped that her gaze conveyed that she wished to speak with him. "It would be best to wait until the baby is born, and use the placenta."
"My wife is more than four months along, Severus." Lord Voldemort was watching his potions master shrewdly, looking for any sign of a reaction.
Severus was stunned, but he masked it well. She had been held for four months and a few days. If she was more than four months' pregnant, that meant that Lord Voldemort had impregnated her more than fifty years ago. He had to be very cautious with his advice now.
"As the baby carries your original genetic material—" he paused for the nod of assent from the Dark Lord, "—that will make the potion especially potent," Severus offered cautiously. "However, there will be a requirement to separate your wife's blood from the placenta before it may be used."
Voldemort took Hermione's hand and pulled her up from the couch. "Ah, but that won't be necessary, will it Hermione?" He was looking at her expectantly, and Hermione could see that Snape was shocked by Voldemort's intimate manner with her. Oh yes, her husband was enjoying making Snape squirm very much.
"I thought—" Hermione cut herself off when she saw the look Voldemort was giving her. Arguing with him in private was one thing, but he never had tolerated public disagreements in front of his Knights. The Death Eaters were no different. Apparently he wanted to reveal more of the details of their marriage to Snape.
"No, it won't be necessary," Hermione acknowledged. Voldemort merely tightened his grip on her hand and inclined his head slightly, a silent command to tell her former Potions professor exactly why that was so. "I believe my husband wishes me to admit to you that I participated in a Bonding rite with him at the Vernal Equinox, 1945. It is how I came to be mated to him, you see."
Severus did see, a slight hiss of breath inward the only visible response he allowed himself. Lord Voldemort turned to look at his potions master.
"After so many years of you protecting Lily's son, I think you begin to understand, Severus, that he wasn't truly my target. An inconvenience, yes, and a damn nuisance by way of the involuntary bond—but not my true goal. I do hope that, now that my wife is safely back by my side, the Order finally appreciates what they have lost."
Voldemort's remarks were casually laced with barbs, and Hermione knew full well that Severus Snape was treading on dangerous ground. Her eyes met Snape's briefly as Voldemort turned toward him, and she pleaded with him wordlessly to make a good case for himself. She might not like Severus Snape, but she did respect him, and he was one of the few Death Eaters whom she felt she might be able to trust.
"Of course, my lord," Severus paused. This had grown quite treacherous, very quickly. "I would never presume to know your motives for what you do, my lord. I have only sought to serve you to the best of my ability."
"And, therefore, I trust that your ability remains uncompromised, Severus," Voldemort said, the Elder wand slipping easily into his hand. "It would be…such a pity to lose you at this late stage, Severus."
Snape immediately got to his knees and bowed his head. "I took an oath to you, my lord. I may have been angry at you, or disagreed with you, but I have always remained loyal to you."
Hermione held her breath as Voldemort released her hand and turned fully to his servant kneeling before him. Of course he had known about Lily Potter, how close the juvenile Severus had felt to her. He had known how angry Snape had been at her death, how he had worked surreptitiously to protect Harry even while he despised the whelp. Yet he had used Snape's one point of disloyalty to his own ends, allowing him to serve as a double agent for more than a decade and a half. He used the tip of his wand to bring Severus' chin up, so the potions master had to look at him.
"I am well aware that you have hidden things from me, Severus. I have permitted it because it suited me to do so, and because I did not doubt that, deep in your heart, you realized that however many promises the other side may have made to you, they could never keep them. You are wise enough to understand that the Dark Arts are never truly defeated, nor are they ignorant. But let there be no mistaking it, Severus," and here he blew into Severus' mind with a rapidity and ease that left Snape reeling, "there is no hiding anything from me."
Snape was pulled through a barrage of images and feelings which he had kept under lock and key for so many years, causing tears to fall from his face while Voldemort easily moved through the darkest recesses of his memories. Hermione looked away, aware that Tom was ruthlessly viewing highly private moments. He was never more Tom to her than when he read so easily those emotions in others that he had such trouble recognizing in himself. She turned back, however, when a strangled gasp fell from her former professor's lips.
"Please," she said, her arms wrapped around herself. She knew Tom heard her, and turned away again, relieved, as he released the spell and slipped out of Severus' mind.
"You see, Severus, how she respects you. I hope you appreciate how valuable an ally you have—but do not forget that she is bound to me more irrevocably than any pair in history since Merlin and Morgana. I do hope you will bear that in mind when you convey your unequivocal support for my amnesty back to the Order."
Snape had almost crumpled when Voldemort left his mind, the sheer power of the Dark Lord's possession of it making him shaky and sick. If his skin could have blanched any paler, it would have at Voldemort's gleeful revelation of the true nature of his marriage bond to Miss Granger and subsequent demonstration of its effects. He must have actually bound his magic to Hermione's, stabilizing his own to an incredible degree. It would explain in part how the destruction of so many of his Horcruxes had had little effect on him, but it wouldn't explain it fully. No, there was something else that the Dark Lord had cleverly hidden from everyone, and Severus did not doubt that if he could do that, he was unstoppable.
"Yes, my lord. I am grateful for your lady's grace, but more so for your kindness," Severus said, aware that this was the answer Lord Voldemort expected, irrespective of his aching head and how broken he felt.
"I have left something for you there, Severus. See to it that I do not regret it," Lord Voldemort said, studying his potions master as if parsing what he had seen in his mind. Severus turned his aching head and saw the Pensieve, a swirl of memory in the basin, waiting for him.
"You will not," Severus vowed, and stood stiffly. He didn't dare look at the former Miss Granger as they left for their bedroom, simply dipped his head into the bowl and was whisked away, back to a familiar house from so many years ago.
"Stand aside," Lord Voldemort ordered cruelly, his wand poised at his side. "My quarrel is not with you."
"Your quarrel IS with me," Lily Potter shot back, parrying his stunning spell and the next with the desperation of those who know they have lost.
"Enough!"
The stunning spell hit her precisely, but he was kind enough to leave her upright as he prepared to deal with the infant.
"NO!"
There was a blur of movement in the memory, Lord Voldemort's memory, as Lily, his beautiful Lily, threw herself in the path of the killing curse. She had broken the stunning spell, casting herself in a perfect arc to save her son.
"No, no…" Snape sobbed, pulling his head out of the Pensieve with immense effort. He couldn't bear it, to see her lifeless body again, the empty eyes. He knew now after so many years that Lily would never have loved him the way he wanted, the way he needed, but he had been certain the Dark Lord had lied to him—that he had not tried to save her at all, merely saw her as another obstacle in his path to destroying that damn prophecy. His mind ached, but his heart demanded a thorough accounting, a precise inventory of this memory. Memories could be tampered with, could be faked.
Steeling himself, he plunged back into the bowl, this time viewing it with as detached an eye as possible. He didn't know how many times he did it to himself, viewing this source of all his torment, but never in any instance could he find a shred of evidence to suggest it wasn't a true memory, exactly what had happened that terrible Halloween. He viewed it to the end, when Lord Voldemort's own memory faded in a flash of green, then black. Lily was so herself, every mannerism the woman he had loved, the Dark Lord every inch his haughty self. Slowly that knot of hatred for his master, so closely hidden and even nurtured, began to unravel, and Severus Snape slid to the floor a broken man.
"You disapprove," Voldemort said as he closed the door and turned back to Hermione. "This, my dear wife, is why I am the dictator, and you are the supportive spouse."
Hermione refused to turn around to look at him, and he allowed her her petulance. "You humiliated him. It is rarely an efficient tactic."
"Because you have had so much experience leading people," Voldemort said without any real malice. He drew alongside her and held up a cup to her. "Drink. You are neglecting yourself in that way you always had when you were overwrought."
"What are you going to do with him?" Hermione asked, finally turning her head to look at him.
"I have given him the gift of the truth. I would think you would approve."
"Of course I approve of telling the truth, but why were you so harsh about it?"
"You do not even know what he has done in this timeline. He could be even worse than you recall, could have treated you more shamefully than he did the first time he taught you. And yet you do not hesitate to defend him." He paused to hold the cup to her lips, his eyes silently ordering her to drink. She did, taking in a few mouthfuls of juice before he withdrew the cup. "I have never understood that about you."
"Why do you want to understand me?" Hermione asked. "You have me exactly where you want me, and have navigated yourself into a position of considerable strength, well on your way to convincing the entire magical community to let you have your way. Tell me, of what use am I to you now, other than as a vessel to a child that I'm not quite sure I believe you really want after you get your potion?"
He smiled, letting a few tendrils of his magic curl around her, her own responding instinctively. "You are still an enigma in some ways, Hermione. I like that about you."
"So you are still trying to solve me," Hermione said, her eyes deep and open. "And what if you finally do solve me? What then, Tom? Am I to be discarded like all the rest of your toys when you're through with them?"
He leaned forward to brush the hair away from her ear, his mouth surprisingly warm on the shell of her ear. "I believe you are the only exception, witch. I do not want to let go of you."
His breath was like a caress, and Hermione unconsciously turned her head toward his mouth, resulting in a near kiss on her ear. Her eyelids had fluttered, almost closed. He was mesmerizing, and she brought her arm up, her hand stopping on his cheek as her mouth met his for a genuinely nice kiss, nothing expected other than the pleasure of two souls in temporary communion with one another. The kiss came to a natural end, her eyes opening to meet his.
"Why can't I let go of you?" she whispered as her fingers played with his robes, and his eyes flickered with several flames of emotions that he kept very well regulated.
"Because you don't want to."
She allowed him to draw her fully into his arms, each taking the simple comfort offered by the embrace. Hermione pressed a kiss to his collarbone, a thank you for the quiet that he offered her in moments like this. Voldemort dropped his head to her hair to do the same, then gripped her chin gently to make her look up at him.
"When are you going to admit that you love me, witch?" he asked, his eyes a swirl of the flames from the fire.
"When you solve me, Tom Riddle," she whispered back.
In a different part of the manor a very different sort of discussion was taking place.
"I'm telling you, Cissy, I won't do it!" Bella whinged. "He is making those mudbloods too comfortable, too full of expectations. It's as if that damn mudblood wife of his has poisoned him! I simply refuse to contribute to this watering down of our principles."
"Bella, we have no alternative," Narcissa said patiently. It was always difficult to deal with Bellatrix when she was fuming about something, and the possessive gesture which the Dark Lord had made toward his wife's belly was curling like poison through her sister's blood. "The Dark Lord has ordered that it be so."
"Perhaps the Dark Lord has compromised his reason," Bella whispered menacingly. "He has impregnated her, Cissy!"
The indrawn hiss of Narcissa's breath was sharp.
"The walls have ears, Bella!" she warned, but her sister was beyond amendment.
"I'm not the only one who has noticed the way he favors that mudblood, how it has tainted his aims—and believe me, if there is even a hint of weakness, we are not afraid to pounce."
Severus' head was aching as he left the Dark Lord's personal study. His mind was reeling from the blows that the Dark Lord had laid on him as surely as if he'd wielded his wand. He felt drained and sick, thus he barked with more than his usual sharpness at the house elf who appeared with a pop before him in the hall.
"Master is waiting for Master Snape," the elf said, and Severus groaned.
"Tell your master that I am in no shape for discussions—" he began, but Lucius came down the hall then, taking stock of his situation with a wordless glance.
"You can't seriously think I'll let you leave like that, old man. Come, a headache potion at least…"
So Severus found himself ensconced again in Lucius' damn study, watching the man bring out more volumes of his father's journals.
"Severus, I realize you are not feeling particularly charitable at present," Lucius began.
Damn right, Severus thought to himself. The headache potion had alleviated some discomfort, but from experience he knew it would be days before he felt himself again. He fervently wished with all that was holy that he had an experienced assistant headmaster waiting, but doubtless he would have many miscreants to deal with when he returned to Hogwarts. Setting that other headache aside, he tried to focus on what Lucius was saying.
"My father wrote repeatedly of the Dark Lord's tasks concerning Miss Granger. Apparently there was some trouble with Grindelwald, of all things! I am investigating the circumstances behind that—seems to be a convoluted business from what I have learned from Europe. Nonetheless the experience firmly sealed my father's loyalty to the Dark Lord, as he only wrote disparagingly of 'babysitting' duties henceforth."
"Really, Lucius, is there a point to this?" Severus scowled nastily. He only wanted to go home and lick his wounds in private while he considered what was best to do.
"The young Dark Lord was more than infatuated with her, Severus. He protected her. And he corrected her—my father writes of several times when Miss Granger was brought to heel publicly. The last time was the vernal equinox, 1945."
Severus did look up at that. "What did he say about that precisely?"
Lucius looked up, startled at this visible indication of interest. "Let me find the page…ah, here it is. 'Participated today in a little demonstration of Tom's power so he could bring her to heel again. He really worked her over, she was sobbing at his feet before we were through. Had the added benefit of putting that arrogant Potter in his place, as well as that sniveling Ravenclaw Longbottom. Of course neither of them will remember the events of the day, but I will well recall the sounds of their screams under my wand for the rest of my time here. Fools, all, not to recognize what is before them.'
Potter. Longbottom. The reason for Miss Granger's participation became stunningly clear.
"Thank you, Lucius, that is most enlightening. Always the same troublemakers, isn't it?" he drawled lazily, while his mind reevaluated all that Granger had told him, as well as her behavior with the Dark Lord. It suddenly became important that he revisit the enrollment records at Hogwarts.
"Indeed," Lucius said, then leaned forward conspiratorially. He seemed to have forgotten that Severus had just endured severe trauma of some kind under the Dark Lord's wand, so eager was he to impart the gossip he had to share. "And I don't mind telling you that if the Dark Lord does not see to it that these troublemaking families are not removed entirely to finally end their pernicious influence, there are those who stand ready to take matters into their own hands."
"Entirely understandable," Severus said, then groaned. "If you will excuse me, Lucius, I must go. This headache requires peace and darkness for complete abatement."
"Of course, Severus. Do let me know if you find any in the Headmaster's office," Lucius said with a smirk.
Severus bit his tongue on the warning he was about to offer again to the patronizing man about the danger of underestimating the Dark Lord. The arrogant arse could eat the Dark Lord's wand right now for all he cared. Really, the strands of friendship amongst Death Eaters could only be strained so far before they snapped.