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The Headmaster's Wife	By : Mrs_HH Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 96743 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 23
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 42
- 43
- 44
Author's Notes:
Bonjour! I post this chapter rather aptly from a poolside in the South of France as this chapter is set at Beauxbatons, in le South of France.
Enjoy!

The crack of Apparition sounded through the ornate white marble entrance hall at Beauxbatons as Severus and his entourage arrived. Where the stone and torches of Hogwarts added an air of ancient learning, the marble and crystal of the palace bestowed an air of serenity to the institution.
They were greeted by the imposing figure of Madame Olympe Maximee, who was accompanied by a tall, austere, but attractive looking witch in pale green robes, a male and female student, and the familiar figure of Fleur Weasley.
Hermione surreptitiously squeezed Lucius' arm, noticing how he flinched at the sight of his soulmate. Severus noticed this gesture, and gave his friend a sideways glance and an arch of the eyebrow to show his concern. Lucius' struggle to maintain an unruffled exterior indicated that he was far from alright.
Madame Maxime spread her arms in greeting, deliberately ignoring Sexton and Percy.
"Ah, Professeur Snape! Bienvenue à l'Académie de Beauxbatons. And m'lord Malfoy, Mademoiselle Granger et...'agrid? Oh mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! 'ow are you, mon cher?"
"Oui, je suis très bien, merci," Hagrid announced proudly.
Lucius had to suppress a chuckle at the thick west country delivery of the French language, but Hermione elbowed him subtly, and whispered for him to behave.
"I did not know if you were coming. Ze 'eadmaster said 'ee was bringing me a surprise, mais I did not zink it would be you. We 'av much to discuss. You must stay wiz me," the headmistress told the half-giant, gesturing theatrically.
"Sylvie, preparez la chambre d'amis dans mes appartements," she told the woman standing next to her. She reminded Hermione somewhat of Minerva with her tight bun and glasses perched on the end of her nose.
The witch nodded before Madame Maxime went on to introduce her as Sylvie LeBlanc, Deputy Head of Beauxbatons, together with the Head Boy and Girl, and, of course, Fleur Weasley.
"Now," she continued, "ze party from Durmstrang will not be 'ere for another couple of hours, so I suggest zat ze 'eadmaster and I will go to my office. Fleur will escort Mademoiselle Granger and m'Lord Malfoy to zeir rooms, Sylvie will escort 'agrid." Turning to Robert, the Head Boy and Giselle, the Head Girl, she said disdainfully, "You will escort Messieurs Weasley and Sexton to zeir rooms on ze second floor."
The two pupils responded with a polite, "Oui, Madame."
"But Madame," Sexton piped up officiously, "as a representative of the UK Ministry of―"
"Monsieur Sexton," the headmistress started haughtily, "I do not believe zat you will find ze talk of two professeurs exchanging stories of ze day to day running of zeir schools to be of any interest to ze UK Ministry of Magic. You will go wiz Robert and Giselle, and we will see you soon."
With that, she clapped her hands, and the various escorts led their charges away from the entrance hall, heading towards their rooms. Meanwhile, Madame Maxime escorted Severus to her office.
As Hermione walked up the pristine white staircase with a pale blue runner, talking to Fleur with Lucius maintaining a safe distance behind, she heard Severus in her head.
Keep an eye on Lucius. I've never seen him so affected by anyone. He certainly wasn't this bad on Friday.
She noted that every so often Fleur would glance back at Lucius quickly, and each time she would turn back with a look of increased frustration.
Hermione looked over her shoulder to see why this was and saw that Lucius' eyes were trained on the floor. But his internal struggle was palpable, and Hermione's stomach clenched as his usual exuberance was being slowly drained from him.
I'll try, she responded uneasily.

"Cafe, 'eadmaster?" Madame Maxime asked as Severus lowered himself into the ornate Louis XV armchair the headmistress had directed him to.
"Please," Severus said, eyeing his host carefully. "Madame, as much as I would be delighted to compare notes on our day to day administrative headaches, I suspect that isn't what you wished to discuss."
"Of course not, but I despise all Ministry idiots. Who are zey to tell us what to do? Milk and sugar?"
Severus declined both since Hermione had triumphed in the battle of added sugar. "So, what is on your mind?"
"Straight to business, I see. Très bien! Now, what do you know of Highmaster Poliakov?"
"I met him briefly just before Karkaroff's demise," Severus informed her. "He seemed very astute. Talked a little too much though."
"Was ee a sympathiser of ze Dark Lord?"
The headmaster shook his head before taking a sip of coffee. "As far as I am aware he neither denied nor confirmed any allegiance."
"But ze fact ee lives, where Igor was killed would suggest―"
"―that he is adept at self preservation."
"As are you. Tell me, what iz it like now zat you are no longer a marionette?"
Severus huffed mirthfully. "I feel less encumbered, but as touched as I am by your solicitude, I believe you have concerns about the highmaster?"
"I will come to zat. Now, I appreciate zat you are skilled at ze Dark Arts, but all I 'av heard from 'im while discussing zis gathering, iz 'ow superior ze Durmstrang Institute iz because zey specialise in ze 'true' magic."
"They've always had a very high opinion of themselves, but he has not voiced such opinions to me in our communication. Then again I expect he knows he would get short shrift," the raven-haired wizard mused before his tone took a darker turn. "The Dark Arts are not to be trifled with. Not that the magic itself is necessarily evil. But they are diverse, they are powerful, and they must be respected lest they consume you. They adapt with each user and in the hands of the wrong practitioner, they are unyielding and destructive. Glib comments from the head of a school specialising in them are indeed worrying. I would not have expected such rhetoric from Poliakov."
Madame Maxime nodded carefully. "Neither would I. But I 'av not only heard it from 'im. Do you know 'is deputy, Anders Harkinssen?"
Severus pursed his lips, trying to recall where he had heard the name before. "There was, I believe, a prominent sympathising family in Denmark by the name of Harkinssen. The head of the family I believe is a Gustav Harkinssen–a contemporary of Abraxas Malfoy–but I do not know if this Anders is related to them. Lucius can confirm, I'm sure. When was he appointed?"
"He was appointed as a Professeur of Duelling after Igor was killed, but only became deputy when Poliakov became highmaster in June. My–how do you say?–guts tell me zat we should keep an eye on 'im."
Severus exhaled forcefully. "Well, we are all a little jittery following the war," he commented, giving the appearance of dismissing her fears, whilst his real aim was to elicit a stronger response from the half-giantess.
Madame Maxime leant forward, and in a quiet, husky voice said, "Perhaps ze war did not die just because ze Dark Lord did. Perhaps there are those who wish to see his work continued."
Severus carefully placed his cup on the table between them, which gave him enough time to lock his impassive mask in place before he looked up and stated calmly, "In that case, Madame, it can do no harm to observe."

Whilst Severus was discussing matters of intrigue, Fleur, together with her charges, had reached the ambassadorial suites on the fifth floor of the palace.
"I persuaded Madame Maxime to put you in these rooms–well, and moi aussi–as they are the largest and have the best sea views."
There were four rooms along the corridor, which like so much of the palace had pale blue carpet and wall hangings, silver and crystal fittings. They walked past the first, which had been intended for the other Hogwarts guest before Madame Maxime realised it was Hagrid, and stopped outside the second. "So, Hermione, this is your room," Fleur informed her. "I chose this one for you and Severus because this room and the next have the biggest beds."
"So who's Lucius sharing with?" Hermione asked jokingly before realising the implications of her question.
Fleur visibly paled, and her blue eyes darted towards Lucius. Noticing her discomfort he said flippantly, "Oh, Severus mentioned something about joining you in a threesome. It's the only reason I came. Please, don't crush me by telling me it was just a ruse to get me to come along."
Hermione laughed and slapped the blond wizard on the arm. "Behave, and consider yourself crushed."
Fleur found herself laughing at the easy banter between Hermione and Lucius, and the look of feigned disappointment on his face. She didn't know Hermione very well, and by Lucius' response she tried convincing herself that Hermione had been teasing him, rather than knowing about their predicament.
"Anyway, I'm sure it's a lovely room," Hermione continued, trying to diffuse any further awkwardness. "Perhaps when you've finished settling Lucius in, we can have tea together, Fleur?" she suggested, placing her hand on the ornate silver door knob.
Fleur looked between Hermione and Lucius, finally deciding that the curly-haired witch must have known something as Lucius' attention was now fixed on the ceiling.
"That would be lovely," Fleur replied distractedly, glaring at the blond wizard who was clearly avoiding her gaze. She then heard the soft clicking of a door closing, and turning to where Hermione had been standing, realised that she and Lucius were now alone.

Without a word, Fleur grabbed Lucius' arm, dragging him into his room. As soon as the door was closed she growled, "How dare you tell them! I cannot tell anybody and yet you―"
"Calm down, my love," Lucius interrupted, trying to appease her, "I have told them nothing. But we are dealing with two people with far too much intelligence for their own good. They worked it out at the ball, but I can assure you―"
"But Hermione, she is like the daughter of Molly and Arthur," Fleur grumbled, nibbling at her nails.
"Don't do that, darling," Lucius admonished. "Hermione will not say anything, and even if she did, at this precise moment in time...I don't care. I...why are you here?" He asked suddenly, snapping out of the trance he'd felt himself starting to slip into.
"Olympe asked me to come. Ever since that awful tournament I get—how do you say?—wheeled out at events like this."
"I don't know, it wasn't that awful. It allowed your sister to harass my son to the point where I was asked to intervene."
"She didn't harass him," Fleur huffed, defending her sister. "She was seven. How old was Draco...fourteen? Yet he needed his father to get rid of a little girl, who for some reason idolises him."
"Idolised, surely?"
"No, she still talks about him. She is very excited that he is a professor. Arithmancy will be her favourite subject seemingly," Fleur told him knowingly. "Does he know she is transferring to Hogwarts?"
Lucius couldn't contain his amusement. "I certainly haven't told him, and he has not indicated that he knows, but I'd like photographic evidence of his reaction when he finds out," he chuckled. "But that is by the by. The fact is if it hadn't been for your sister's infatuation, I wouldn't have had cause to speak to her sister about the situation, and for that I am eternally grateful," Lucius purred, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her forehead.
"Yes, but all we did was talk. Not that I didn't want more to happen between us. But nothing could have made that tournament less horrible. And what happened to Cedric was―"
Fleur's voice trailed off as Lucius' smile evaporated. He shuddered as images of that night in the graveyard and a newly reborn Voldemort flashed before him. His hand, which had been touching her upper arm, suddenly tensed, and Fleur noticed him tune out for a moment. He released her arm before gently trailing the back of his fingers across her cheek.
"I know," he told her softly, "but I did enjoy, and look forward to, our conversations when we met after that. They were a happy distraction from the hell that was rapidly becoming my life. It was just a shame when I finally persuaded you to take that internship at Gringotts that I―"
"It wasn't my fault that you were a Death Eater," she murmured, playing with the front of his robes.
"True," Lucius whispered, cupping her face gently. "But I'm not one now."
The blonde witch looked into his eyes defiantly. "Can you really change what you were, Lucius?"
Lucius' chest constricted painfully. "I will never deny what I was, but trust me when I say that I have seen the error of my ways. You have to understand how I was brought up; the beliefs I was taught from the cradle. One day, I will tell you all about my past, even though the prospect scares the shit out of me. But you deserve to hear the truth, even if you hate me afterwards."
"If it is the truth, and it is in the past, then we need never speak of it again," Fleur told him softly.
Lucius chuckled mirthlessly. "An admirable sentiment, but a wholly unrealistic one."
Fleur was now toying with a strand of his hair. "Perhaps."
Lucius went to speak, but paused, carefully considering what he was about to say. "But know this. I began to see the error of my ways long before that final battle. I remained because I had no choice...or at least, I saw that there was no choice because I am essentially a coward. But the bastard was in my fucking house; he was threatening my family at every turn. So when I saw the opportunity to defect, I took it, although I admit running away during a battle was not the bravest of acts.
"But I did what I needed to do to protect my family, and although there seemed to be no hope for us, after seeing you―being with you for those brief moments during the battle―I realised I had fallen in love with you, and that it wasn't some infatuation; some lustful urge to bed a beautiful, lithe witch half my age. I needed to get away so that I could protect you because I'm not an Occlumens, and Merlin only knows what would have happened if Potter had failed and the Dark Lord got hold of me. I couldn't have protected you any other way, and I needed to prove to you―or perhaps it was more to myself―that I was worthy of you."
Fleur bit her bottom lip. "And you and Narcissa, are you still getting divorced?" She asked cautiously.
"Yes. But we are divorcing for numerous reasons. One of which is that we were never really in love with each other and life's too short to pretend anymore."
"And now, I am the married one," Fleur sighed regretfully.
"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Lucius snarked, directing his gaze to the floor.
Fleur reached up and gently touched his cheek. "I couldn't wait for something that was unattainable, and you were married at the time."
"I understand," Lucius admitted, an uncharacteristic rawness invading his voice.
Fleur closed her eyes, her voice also on the verge of breaking. "I feel so guilty. I want to be with you, but I do love him."
The blond wizard gave her a watery smile, his heart sticking in his throat as she admitted that she still loved her husband. "I know," he said breathlessly, partly devastated by Fleur's admission, but also mesmerised by her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips.
She then leaned up to close the distance between them. "That doesn't mean that I don't love you."
Lucius looked into her blue eyes and felt himself becoming drawn to her. "I love you, too," he said breathlessly, his lips hovering just a breath away from hers when there was a soft knock at the door.
The atmosphere immediately changed as Fleur pulled away, growling in frustration. Just as there was a second knock, Lucius cursed under his breath, eyes flashing with anger at the interruption. He squeezed Fleur's hand reassuringly before striding towards the door and flinging it open, hoping to scare the impudent interloper. Unfortunately, it was Hermione, and she seemed immune to Lucius' scare tactics.
"Hello," she greeted cheerily, feigning innocence. "I thought I'd come and see how you were settling in."
"I don't need a chaperone, darling," Lucius hissed through his smile.
"I know, but you do need to wear less fitted trousers," Hermione teased, looking at a blushing Fleur.
Lucius smirked. "Yet I can tell that you're impressed."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh sod off. Now, shall we have some tea? I need tea."

Since Severus and Hermione had worked out who Lucius' soulmate was, it had proven to be a bone of contention between them. Although they both agreed that they wanted Lucius to be happy, they couldn't agree on how this could be achieved and thus felt incredibly torn.
Hermione admitted that she wasn't that close to Bill–unlike Ginny or George, and certainly not as close as she had been to Ron before he took leave of his senses–but he had always been nice to her, and he was still Molly and Arthur's son.
But Lucius was as good as Severus' brother, and before he'd started seeing Hermione, he would have been actively assisting the couple in arranging illicit meetings. But Molly and Arthur had offered Severus a welcome into the 'family' that had shocked everyone. He certainly hadn't expected such overwhelming kindness from them, or their invaluable support, as both he and Hermione found their footing through the early stages of their soul bond. And Bill was their son.
The irony was that as eager as Molly and Arthur were to help Hermione and Severus, neither would be keen to assist another soul-bonded couple, who were unable to acknowledge their connection and were slowly tearing themselves apart from the inside because one of them happened to be married to their son.
Their increasingly heated discussions seemed to revolve around one issue: should they help Lucius and Fleur?
Hermione believed not―beyond not exposing them―but Severus wasn't sure that would be enough. She certainly made sure that Severus knew in no uncertain terms that she did not approve of, nor would she have anything to do with arranging illicit meetings between the two. It was when they were discussing the situation on Tuesday night that Severus blurted out, "Well, thank God you turned Weasley down because I don't think I could have kept away from you."
Hermione froze for a moment as she realised what he was saying. Her feelings for Severus, even though she never thought she could be with him, had been growing for five years. But so had Lucius' and Fleur's. When Hermione looked back, she had been drawn to Severus more and more, even when she was with Ron. She couldn't have married him; her feelings for Severus had grown too strong by then. But Fleur had started dating Bill two years ago whilst Lucius was unavailable. At the time, it would have been easier for the French witch to ignore her feelings for her soulmate. Hermione could probably have ignored her feelings for Severus two years ago. But Lucius admitted that seeing her in the battle ignited everything between them once again and though he tried to stay away, he couldn't.
A sudden wave of empathy hit her, and she found herself weeping for the pain that she knew the two of them must be in.
"They shouldn't have slept together," she whispered into Severus' chest.
"I agree, but they have, and unless you have that confounded Time-Turner on your person, there is nothing we can do about it," Severus said flippantly, looking up at the ceiling.
"But we can be supportive," Hermione told him pensively. "If neither of them has anyone to talk to they'll crack up, and if Fleur cracks up, that will affect Bill as well as Molly and Arthur. We can't help them see each other, but when they do, we have to be there for them. They have to know they can talk to us."
Severus agreed. "We can't be judgemental either because we don't know what we would do if we were in their position."
Hermione sighed deeply. "I know."
And so with this in mind, Hermione sat drinking tea with the couple, engaging in small talk, which carefully avoided the subjects of Bill, the Weasleys, and Fleur's pregnancy.
Hermione also took the opportunity to observe the couple in question. When Lucius was with Narcissa, the young witch had no interest in their relationship. But from what Draco and Lucius himself had told her, there had been respect and platonic affection , but they weren't in love. Their strengths as a couple lay in their loyalty to family, and keeping up appearances. Neither would allow the outside world believe that things were less than perfect between them until recently.
So it seemed strange to see the usually arrogant and brash wizard, acting with such gentleness towards Fleur. On the other hand, she mused, it probably was no less strange than seeing the way Severus acted towards her. And it was that thought that felt like a smack to the back of the head. Lucius and Fleur were no different with each other than Molly and Arthur, her and Severus, and Hermione's heart suddenly ached as she realised they would never be completely fulfilled.
She was about to ask Fleur what she was going to wear to the feast when she heard Severus in her head.
Where are you?
Having tea with Lucius and Fleur. Where are you?
In our room, and I'm extremely disappointed that I was not greeted by the sight of you lying on the bed with your hand in your knickers waiting for me.
I do apologise. Shall I come and rectify the situation?
Alas, there is not enough time for that, but I am about to take a shower as we need to get ready before the Durmstrang party arrives.
Hermione immediately divined the subtle inference that she should join him in the shower. She placed her cup and saucer down on the tea tray, and announced, "I think Sev's back, so I'll go and spend some time with him before we go down for the feast."
Lucius observed her carefully as she stood up, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Well, don't wear him out when you spend time with him. He's an old man, you know?"
"He's not old. You're not old until you're at least forty-three," Hermione countered teasingly.
Fleur snorted with amusement. "Don't worry, Lucius, you're very fit for your age." The moment the words left her lips, the blue-eyed witch felt her cheeks burning, and her gaze quickly found her lap.
Hermione diffused the situation by joking, "So those potions Sev brews for you are working well then, Lucius?"
The blond wizard playfully snarled at her. "Darling, I love you, but I must respectfully ask that you fuck off and attend to your wizard."
The brunette witch stuck her tongue out at him, excused herself, and then left the room smirking. Shortly after, and with a soft kiss planted on Lucius' cheek, Fleur also left to get changed.

Hermione stood in front of the ornate full-length mirror that hung on the wall, attempting to fix her hair yet again. Having a shower with Severus had been an incredibly good idea at the time, but now as she battled her newly washed and dried hair, she was beginning to regret it–or at least she regretted not keeping her hair dry. She couldn't regret anything else they'd done in the shower.
Severus walked towards her, adjusting his cufflinks before placing a kiss on the back of her neck. "Why don't you wear it down if it's being a pain in the arse?"
"Because I haven't got my smoothing products and it will go frizzy," Hermione grouched, frustratedly balling her fists and growling at the mirror.
"The way you had it earlier was nice?" Severus remarked, hoping his comment was helpful.
Hermione huffed. "But it looked too messy."
"No, it didn't. In fact, it looked very sexy...almost as if you'd just been fucked."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She glared at him in the mirror when his hand snaked around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.
She knew he was up to something. In the shower, their love making had left her dizzy, he'd told her how beautiful and sexy she looked in her burgundy velvet dress and robes, and now he wanted her hair to have the 'just fucked' look.
Ordinarily, she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. He usually complemented her; they often had amazing sex in the shower, but there was some ulterior motive lurking behind his otherwise innocuous gestures. Then it hit her.
"Sev, why don't you complete the look by planting a big love bite on my neck? I'm sure Viktor will stay well away, then."
Severus halted in his ministrations, his lips hovering just above her skin. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he shrugged before continuing.
Hermione laughed and turned in his arms. "Oh really?" She teased, grabbing onto the front of his frock coat. It still gave her a buzz of excitement when he wore anything other than his usual heavy wool coat and trousers. This frock coat was a silk and wool blend in the darkest blue, with self-coloured embroidery on the cuffs, inside the lapels, and collar.
She leaned up to plant a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, before adjusting his cravat. "Well, I don't believe you," she told him casually. "Lucius was right, you know. You don't need to be jealous of Viktor. There is only one man for me and he is standing right in front of me, looking rather gorgeous. Now, if you want to complete the look, you can help me put on the pendant you gave me last night."
Suitably chastised, Severus said nothing, but summoned her pendant, carefully undid the clasp and gingerly placed it around her neck. Once secured, his fingers lightly caressed her creamy skin. "I try not to get jealous, " he admitted, looking at Hermione in the mirror, "but everything I have ever wanted has been taken away from me, and―"
"―and I'm not going anywhere," Hermione stated emphatically.
A small smile graced his lips, and knowing that he was allowing his insecurity free reign, turned her round in his arms. He kissed her soundly, reminding himself that he was, for the first time in his life, a lucky bastard.

As Hermione chatted with Fleur on the way down to meet the Durmstrang representatives, Severus and Lucius hung back slightly to avoid the prying ears of Beauxbaton's Head Boy, Robert, who had been tasked with retrieving them for the gathering.
"Do you know Anders Harkinssen?" Severus asked non-committally, glancing briefly at the blond wizard to gauge his reaction.
"Anders Harkinssen?" Lucius repeated.
Severus snorted. "Going deaf are we?"
"No, but I just wanted to check the name because I presume you wish to know if he's related to Gustav in some way,"
The dark-haired wizard nodded, and drawled, "Your presumption is correct."
"The simple answer is no. Gustav's sons were Andreas and Casper. He had a sister―Father quite liked her―but she was childless. Of course, old Gus was not adverse to taking the occasional witch on the side. So unless he's illegitimate we're not talking about the same Harkinssens," Lucius told him.
Severus was silent. It didn't really matter that this man wasn't related to the Harkinssen's that Lucius knew, but it would have made it easier to find out why he was spouting one of the old Pureblood values.
"Having said that," Lucius suddenly interrupted Severus' thoughts, "to the best of my knowledge they are the only Harkinssens I know of in the wizarding world. They were a very small family. For generations there was only a son, and when a daughter was born, she was childless for some reason. But there was always a son. I only know this because Andreas is the same age as me, but Casper was born in my seventh year. I remember Gustav telling father that the situation was wholly unheard of in his family, and father telling him that he wished he had another son because I was an utter disappointment.
"Anyway, why are you interested?"
"He's the deputy at Durmstrang, and he and Poliakov have been spouting on about the superiority of Durmstrang because they specialise in the true magic," Severus told him dispassionately.
Lucius looked up at his friend. "Poliakov said that?"
"According to Olympe."
Lucius thought for a moment. "Well Father, and, by extension, I wanted to send Draco there because of their values, but not because their teaching was superior, or because they taught the true magic. What is the true magic anyway? The Dark Arts?"
"Again I can only go on what Olympe has told me, but yes," Severus confirmed.
"I can't speak for this Harkinssen, but that doesn't sound like Poliakov. I would classify him as a moderate at best."
Severus arched an eyebrow, but without looking at his friend said, "My thoughts exactly."
"Are you also thinking this all seems a bit suspicious?" Lucius asked in a hushed tone.
Severus just nodded as they had reached the entrance hall and were now being escorted to a small reception room where the two men being discussed were waiting.

"Ah, 'eadmaster Snape," Madame Maxime announced as they entered the room.
A portly, greying wizard in blood-red robes turned, clipped his heels together, and gave Severus a sharp nod of greeting.
"Headmaster, it is good to see you again," he said in a thick East European accent before extending his hand to him.
Boris Poliakov was much older than Severus. If Hermione had to put a bet on it, she would say he was pushing seventy. A fit seventy, but then for wizards, seventy was akin to early middle age. He struck her as a jovial babbler, very much of the Horace Slughorn mould, but with a far harder interior than his rotund exterior belied. But it was with some pride that she also noticed that, despite their difference in ages, the older wizard was slightly deferent to her partner.
"It has been a while," Severus drawled, shaking Poliakov's hand and looking into his eyes for signs of anything unusual. He couldn't find anything, and wasn't sure if that pleased or worried him more. "Allow me to introduce the Head of our Board of Governors, Lord Malfoy―I'm not sure if you have met before; Rubeus Hagrid, our Professor of Magical Creatures and advisor to the Ministry's Beasts Division; Harold Sexton from the Office of International Magical Cooperation, and Hermione Granger, Professor of Potions and more importantly, my partner."
Hermione blushed slightly at the nonchalant way Severus introduced her, but still noticed him throwing a brief glance in Viktor Krum's direction. Viktor simply met her gaze with raised eyebrows. Yet her attention was suddenly drawn back when she heard the snap of heels, felt her hand being taken and a kiss being planted on the back of it.
"Miss Granger, it is an honour. Of course, we haff heard much about you from Viktor," Poliakov said teasingly, flashing a grin at Viktor, who simply rolled his eyes in Hermione's direction.
Severus bristled at Poliakov's statement, but the older wizard had now moved on to wax lyrical about how lucky they were to have an International Quidditch player on their part-time staff to teach Flying and to take charge of Quidditch training. Severus' lips tightened in annoyance as the highmaster pompously asked who the flying instructor was at Hogwarts.
At the mention of George Weasley, Viktor, grateful for an excuse to silence Poliakov, immediately piped up. "He is an excellent flyer. Most beaters haff to be, or else they would end up in hospital all the time."
"As I used to find to my cost," Severus agreed, which earned a deep chuckle from Lucius.
"We were forever scraping Severus up off the floor," the blond wizard explained.
"This coming from the man who wouldn't play Quidditch because it played havoc with his hair. Thankfully your ineptitude seems to have skipped a generation," Severus snarked playfully. "In fact, in addition to Mr Weasley, Professors Malfoy and Potter are also coaching our Quidditch teams."
Poliakov's ears pricked up. "Professor Potter? As in―"
"The very same," Severus drawled. "Harry is our Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
The look between Poliakov and Harkinssen was not lost on Severus and Lucius.
"Wiz those two involved we should hold inter-school Quidditch matches," Viktor suggested, looking between the three headteachers.
"That is certainly something to consider," Percy and Sexton said almost simultaneously, which caused Severus and Madame Maxime to give their full support to the idea just to spite the ministry officials.
Not enjoying having his thunder stolen, Poliakov then introduced the tall, blond wizard with piercing blue eyes, who had been hanging back, quietly observing the occupants of the room.
"Allow me to introduce my deputy. Did you not bring yours with you?" Poliakov asked casually.
Severus shook his head. "Given recent events, I did not wish to leave the school without its two most senior members of staff."
Poliakov nodded sombrely. "Of course. How is the situation since the fall of the Dark Lord?"
"There will be plenty of time to discuss politics tomorrow, Boris," Severus drawled.
The headmaster looked to Madame Maxime for support, who looked exasperated at Poliakov's rambling. Severus then took the initiative and held his hand out to the man he wanted to find out more about. "Mr. Harkinssen, I understand you are something of a dueller."
"My reputation has obviously spread far and wide," Harkinssen said arrogantly.
"No," Severus told him, "but as a former spy, I find it useful to discover as much about those I come into contact with as possible."
It was a statement of fact, but his response seemed to throw the blond wizard slightly, but not as much as the disconcerting way Severus' black orbs seemed to burn into him. "Well, I must try harder then," he stuttered out.
A small smirk graced the corner of Severus' lips. "I wouldn't bother. Notoriety is not all that it is cracked up to be."
Poliakov, sensing his deputy's disquiet, cleared his throat and began to introduce the two remaining members of his entourage; his Professor of Offensive spells, a suitably spiteful looking wizard, and his Professor of Defensive spells, a younger wizard perhaps in his early thirties, who look far too self-satisfied for Hermione's liking.
The highmaster was still rambling on when Sylvie LeBlanc appeared to inform everyone that the students were now seated in the Dining Chamber, in readiness for the feast. Poliakov looked a little affronted by the interruption, but Madame Maxime took the opportunity to usher her guests enthusiastically towards the door. As Severus, with Hermione on his arm, walked past her, she gave Severus an enquiring look. His response was a subtle raising of his eyebrows to indicate that, he too, thought something was amiss.

The grand dining chamber at Beauxbatons was a similar size to the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but the white marble walls and the abundance of crystal chandeliers and twinkling wall lights made it feel much bigger. That said, Hermione thought, it lacked the warmth and homeliness of Hogwarts.
Madame Maxime rose from her seat at the large U-shaped top table that had been assembled for the occasion. Poliakov sat between her and Severus so that she could sit next to Hagrid, and after she had duly introduced the highmaster and headmaster to her students. the feast began.
The tables were laid with pale blue runners, crystal goblets and silver plates. Soon appeared huge platters of fresh seafood, Provençal style dishes of fish and chicken, light citrus and olive salads, and fresh breads. Everything looked delicious, and the top table was soon filled with lively discussions thanks to Fleur's seating plan.
"Mrs Weasley," Lucius drawled, giving the witch in dark blue robes sat next to him a sly smirk, "anyone would think you were being rather cruel seating Hermione between Severus and Mr Krum. I certainly didn't expect the pleasure of your company."
"Well, I had to get some benefit after being given such a thankless task," Fleur stated with a hint of amusement in her voice as she attacked a lobster claw. "Anyway, I happen to know that Viktor is no longer interested in Hermione, and I wanted you all to myself, so I thought it would be nice for them to catch up."
"Well, for your sake, my dear, I hope Severus doesn't end up hexing him for looking at her in slightly the wrong way," he chuckled before knocking back an oyster.

After two hours of small talk and excellent food, which Severus only survived because of Hermione's well timed and apposite comments in his mind, the students were dismissed and everyone retired to Madame Maxime's private drawing room for informal discussion and a nightcap.
The conversations in the drawing room had remained fairly light despite Sexton and Percy trying to bring up Ministry matters. Naturally they were ignored, and told in no uncertain terms that they were only there at the Ministry's behest, but would have no bearing on any of the discussions taking place. However, as the evening drew on, Fleur's pregnancy began to take its toll, and she excused herself for the night.
Lucius, feigning weariness himself, offered to escort Fleur to her room as they had to go the same way.
No one apart from Hermione and Severus suspected anything―not even Fleur's brother-in-law―and the couple slipped away quietly, heading towards their rooms arm in arm.
"Have you found out what happened to your Dark Mark?" Fleur asked as they entered the corridor to their rooms. Her hand moved from his arm and slipped into his hand, entwining their fingers tightly.
"Hermione has been conducting research into it. Perhaps you should ask her, but I do know the same thing happened to Sev's."
They slowed as they approached Lucius' room, and Fleur's sparkling blue eyes told him she had also reached her destination. They paused by the door, staring at each other, breathing in one another.
"And were they doing the same thing as us when it happened?" Fleur asked seductively, her chest heaving as Lucius' snaked an arm around her and splayed his fingers against her lower back. The anticipation between them was palpable as Lucius leaned in closer.
"All I know is that Severus' mark turned silver after he and Hermione consummated their soul bond; the first time they made love," he whispered before their lips finally met.
That first touch was soft and inviting, but they were suddenly consumed by desperation, and crashed through the bedroom door, clutching onto one another as they tried to satiate their shared hunger. Fleur slammed the door shut, and before Lucius could blink, she'd immediately divested him of his jacket and waistcoat, and pushed him up against the door. Her hands roamed over his shirt-covered chest as blue eyes bore into grey. With a wicked smirk, Fleur ripped open his shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere before her tongue licked up a smooth chest whilst battling to undo his trousers. Lucius' preening wasn't confined to his hair. He may have been older than Severus, but he still looked after himself and was certainly no stranger to depilatory charms.
Lucius found himself gripping the door knob for support as Fleur sank to her knees and released his painfully hard member. She ran a wet, flat tongue from his balls to the tip, swirling it around the swollen head before she completely engulfed him, making his knees buckle as her sucking and teasing began in earnest.
He was fervently trying to find his reality. This was surely an exquisite dream that would probably be interrupted by one of his house-elves at any moment. But the blood rushing through his veins, the heat of Fleur's skilfully-moving tongue, didn't diminish but intensified until the searing pleasure of his orgasm took him by surprise, and he spilled into her willing mouth.
But as pleasurable as it was, Lucius found himself apologising for his speedy release. He was sure that even his greenest teenage encounters had lasted longer. But all Fleur did was purr in his ear, "It just means you'll last longer now."
With a rustle of silken fabric, Fleur's gown pooled at her feet. Lucius' eyes raked over her form lustfully as she stood before him wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue panties to match her robes. He'd never missed a woman so much in his life, and all thoughts of how wrong this was vanished as he scooped her up and placed her gently into the middle of the bed. He crawled next to her; his shirt was still open, his trousers and boxers still sat loosely at his hips, and Lucius lowered himself to gently kiss the witch he so desperately wanted to be his.
With their initial desperation for each other satisfied, they settled into soft, languorous kisses and gentle caresses. Kissing, Lucius had to admit, had never been his favourite pastime. He'd decided his mouth was designed for giving other pleasures, but with Fleur, the tender touch of her lips was making him burn even hotter than the fire he knew was waiting for him in hell. But even though he kissed her with more passion than he'd ever used for anyone, a tinge of sadness crept into his awareness. This had to be the last time he would ever taste her, and with that being the case, he was determined to make this moment last.
The two lost track of time as they explored each other's mouths, but suddenly their intense need for one another reared up again. Lucius swallowed Fleur's whispered plea for more and moved to hover over her, his leg gently placed between her thighs, allowing her to grind up against it. He nipped and nuzzled her neck, careful to leave no evidence that he had been where he shouldn't before his tongue and lips explored her silky skin.
His ministrations inevitably brought his mouth to her soft, creamy breasts, but it was this act that found his conscience taunting him. They had swelled with pregnancy, her areolae were larger and darker, and his thoughts were suddenly brought back into sharp relief. She was pregnant, and not with his child. He pulled back and a cursory glance downwards showed the slight swell of her abdomen, confirming to him that he had to stop. Guilt and despair washed over him as he collapsed onto the bed beside her, but it was when she asked, "Is it because I'm pregnant? Does my body disgust you?" that ripped his heart out.
Lucius knew there was no easy way to tell a hormonal witch what he was about to tell her. But he had stopped because she was pregnant, but certainly not because her body disgusted him.
"Darling, the changes brought on by your pregnancy make you even more beautiful, and if this were my child I would ravish you thoroughly at every opportunity. But she is Bill's and he should be the only one to enjoy you."
He then sat up, trying to put some distance between them.
"I don't care, Lucius, I need you," Fleur pleaded, tears filling her eyes as she pushed herself up and rested her head on his shoulder whilst gripping the other.
"Even so, you are still at a delicate stage. Merlin only knows how much I want to make love to you, but I would hate myself if I did you or the baby any harm," Lucius stated mournfully as he twisted round to face her.
Fleur shrugged. "It doesn't bother Bill."
"And Bill is precisely the reason why I can't make love to you, especially now that I know you are carrying his child," Lucius groaned, closing his eyes as he tried to quell his rising anguish, trying to relieve the sting of his tears.
Fleur gently pulled him to her. His head pressed to her chest, and she whispered soothingly, "I would never have thought this would have bothered you."
"Neither would I, but it does," Lucius admitted, wishing for all the world that it didn't.

In the next room, Severus was bracing himself against the conjoining wall. His cravat lay on the floor. His frock coat was unbuttoned, his shirt was untucked and open, and his unfastened trousers were resting at his hips. He had closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head against the wall. His hands worked blindly to release Hermione's curls as the witch in question knelt before him, stroking his cock enthusiastically, whilst her mouth lavished attention on his balls.
As everyone began to disperse slowly from the drawing room, Severus had been cornered by Durmstrang's Professor of Offensive Spells. Hermione knew he could be a while, and with Fleur, Lucius, and Viktor gone, and Hagrid engrossed in conversation with Madame Maxime, she decided to go back to their room rather than be stuck with Percy.
Secretly, she'd hoped for an opportunity to return before Severus. He may have been joking earlier when he said that he'd been disappointed not to find her ready and willing on the bed, but she was going to make sure he wouldn't be disappointed now.
Once she'd got back to the room she quickly removed her robes and dress, knowing Severus would arrive back at any moment. She stood in front of the mirror in just her bra, knickers, and hold-up stockings, wondering if she should keep her heels on or not. She grabbed her lipstick, reapplied it, and decided to lose the heels for fear of them getting caught in the sheets should she need to move somewhere fast. There would be nothing sexy about fighting the bed linen.
She lay back on the bed, bent her knees, and parted her legs, planting her feet firmly against the mattress. Glancing up at the pale blue and silver drapes surrounding the large four poster bed, Hermione absentmindedly considered something similar for one of the guest rooms at Snape Manor, before closing her eyes and imagining Severus kissing the inside of her thighs. Her hands travelled down over her belly and across her breasts, almost sensing the warm puffs of his breath and the slight roughness of stubble that she knew he would have at this time of night. She could almost feel his hot, flat tongue licking a trail towards her rapidly dampening folds, and revelled in the ache that needed to be assuaged. She couldn't get enough friction by simply clenching her thighs alone, and she knew it was time to apply more direct pressure.
Her fingers slipped over her black lace covered sex, and she pressed her knickers between her moistened lips, its material grazing roughly yet deliciously across her engorged nub. But it still wasn't enough. It was more direct, but not direct enough, and her fingers slipped inside her knickers until they encountered her wet heat. She imagined the pressure her middle finger exerted to be his nose. He might hate it; it may have been the butt of many a childish student joke, but what he did with it between her thighs...oh how she wished she had her hands on a Time-Turner now, so she could give her younger self a clue about how talented his nose was.
She was slick now. A quick finger dipped into her silky channel was providing just the right amount of lubrication for her fingers to glide quickly and smoothly over her swollen clit. Hermione found this method of masturbating more effective than fingering, and she was quickly being transported into a twilight world where Severus was relentlessly sucking and chewing on her glistening folds as her orgasm approached at breakneck speed. She could almost hear his deep, guttural groan as his name fell from her lips.
But it was when she heard him say, "Fuck, you're beautiful when you come," that her eyes snapped open and she saw him leaning up against the wall, his hand palming his hardening length through the front of his trousers. She was speechless. If he thought she looked beautiful, it was nothing to how he looked to her right now. The heavy smoulder of burning lust in his eyes, the way he bit his bottom lip, the way his hand moved over himself took her breath away.
Hermione brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean, smirking at the stuttered gasp that came from Severus' direction. He seemed pinned to the wall, and without a word she gracefully swung her legs off the bed, and seductively sashayed her way over to him.
Standing on tiptoe, her lips followed by her tongue swept across his eager mouth, only for him to grab her into a scorching kiss, where he savoured her taste as their tongues battled against the other's. But Hermione had other plans. She pulled back, wiping the lipstick smudges that adorned his thoroughly kissed mouth with her thumb before magically undoing every button on his frock coat and shirt in one go. She licked up his chest, her eyes never leaving his, causing yet another shiver to run through him. Her tongue laved over his nipples and his breath hitched as her teeth gently grazed over them before biting gently. But she didn't linger, even though she wanted to feel more of his deep groans vibrating in his chest. Hermione continued planting hot, wet kisses down his stomach until she sank to her knees, deftly undoing his trousers. She pushed them and his boxers down his hips until his cock sprang free, nearly hitting her on the chin. Looking up and him and biting her bottom lip in anticipation, she placed a soft kiss on the very tip before flicking her tongue at it.
Blinking slowly as she looked up into his pleading eyes, which closed and were accompanied by a sharp exhalation as her mouth engulfed him. And this was how it remained until Severus' hand stilled in her hair, and Hermione paused at the sound of raised voices coming from the next room.
At first, they both suspected that Lucius and Fleur were being rather vocal whilst in the throes of passion, but they both suddenly found themselves to be disquieted as it was obvious the couple next door were rowing. Hermione stood up and went to speak, only for Severus to place his finger over her lips, and Lucius and Fleur's words became clearer. He'd obviously cast a spell to enable them to hear through the wall, and she was reminded of Fred and George's extendable ears. It was probably the same charm, but spies didn't need the joke shop trappings.
Hermione silently gasped, and a look of consternation fell across Severus face as they heard Fleur yelling at Lucius.

"What did you say? Did you just call me a half breed?"
"No, but that is how the press will portray you. If you divorce Bill to be with me, can you imagine the headlines? Part-Veela lover of Ex-Death Eater and former Pureblood supremacist, fighting for custody of her child."
"Does my breeding actually bother you?"
Lucius sighed. "Not as such."
"Not as such?"
"It will be hard for us," he admitted dolefully.
Fleur looked at him incredulously. "So? If we are meant to be together how will it be hard for us? We will have each other."
Lucius was trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Because you will be divorcing not just Bill, but the Weasley family. The press―"
"The press...is that all you care about? If I don't care about the press, why should you?!" Fleur screamed at him.
"Because I also have a son to consider and you're pregnant. And your child is―"
"That's it, isn't it?" Fleur cried as she got off the bed and slipped on her dress, tears now falling freely. "You don't want my half-breed baby whose father is tainted by lycanthropy―"
Lucius almost gasped, realising that she had completely misunderstood him. "Fleur, please, that isn't what I―"
"You don't want her because gods forbid, if anything should happen to Draco, she would carry your precious name," his lover railed at him, heading for the door.
"No, darling, you―"
Fleur stopped as she put her hand on the doorknob, and turned to look at Lucius. His heart sank as he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks. With steely determination, she growled, "Well, I will remove the problem for you. I may never be happy in my life without you, but I would never be happy with you while you insist on remaining a bigoted bastard."
"Fleur, please, you have totally misunderstood―" But Lucius' words fell on deaf ears and an open door. He stared at the space Fleur had just vacated. He closed his eyes, trying to control his inner turmoil and ragged breathing until with an angry flick of his wrist, he slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the bed, fuming at both himself and her―but mostly at himself.

Severus and Hermione looked incredulously at each other as they heard soft footsteps running towards the stairs and the door to Lucius' room slam shut.
"Go after her," Severus urgently told Hermione. She immediately dressed using magic and summoned the pair of flats she was glad that she'd had the foresight to pack.
Hermione looked at him quizzically. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to knock some fucking sense into an arrogant arsehole."
The couple parted ways in the corridor. By the time Hermione reached the far door, she heard Severus blasting open Lucius' door, and him say menacingly as he entered the room, "I suggest you lower your wand, Lucius, before I lower it for you."
The door slammed shut, and by the lack of sound, she knew a silencing charm had been cast.

Hermione ran down one flight of stairs and was just about to descend the next when she saw Krum walking up towards her. "Viktor, have you seen Fleur?"
Krum nodded. "Yes, she has just run past me. She was crying, but would not tell me what is wrong?"
Hermione twisted her mouth, pondering where Fleur would go, when the Bulgarian suddenly placed a hand at her elbow.
"Come, we will look for her together. I will not haff you exploring a strange place alone."
"Thanks, Viktor, but―"
"Severus would haff my head if he knew I'd seen you and anything happened to you," Viktor told her emphatically.
Hermione gave him a watery smile before they headed off to find the scorned witch.

As Hermione and Viktor were searching Beauxbatons for Fleur, Severus and Lucius were stood in the middle of the latter's room, both looking as dishevelled as the other. Lucius still had his shirt untucked, as did Severus, except he had his frock coat on as well.
After staring each other down, Severus was the first to speak, or rather, yell. "What the hell were you thinking? You're supposed to love that girl and you called her a fucking half-breed!"
"Not exactly," Lucius countered, "but she said she was going to leave her husband and that would do her no good. Besides, the Weasleys come as a package: divorce one, divorce them all, and I'm sure Ginerva would waste no time in―"
"You should have thought about that before you fucked her, then," Severus parried whilst doing up his shirt.
"You know how and why that happened," Lucius snarled, turning his back on his friend and walking to the window.
"And you ended it so well, didn't you?" Severus mocked, pacing the floor while trying to work out what was going on in Lucius' head.
Lucius laughed incredulously and looked over his shoulder at Severus. "That's rich coming from you."
Severus growled, and was about to launch himself at Lucius, when a low, pained noise sounded in Lucius' throat. Wand still between his fingers, Lucius raked both hands through his hair, and stated disconsolately, "The point is she is with child―another man's child―and she just wouldn't listen to reason."
"Don't blame the fact that she is pregnant on―"
"Oh don't you start. I meant that we would be hounded by the press. If she went through with such foolishness, my former allegiance would be continually thrown at us. I had to try and make her see reason. I had to point out―"
"― that she's a half-breed?"
"I didn't call her a fucking half-breed," Lucius railed before saying in a calmer voice, "I may have made reference to half-breeds―"
"Oh that makes it alright, then," Severus told him sardonically.
"You know, Sev, I don't think you are in any position to criticise me when you called your best friend a Mudblood."
"That...that was completely different," Severus spat back.
"Was it?"
"I was sixteen, for fuck's sake. And she was more than my best friend―you know what she meant to me. I said it in a fit of pique. I didn't mean to call her it, but she'd been nagging me again about you lot, I'd just been humiliated, and then she practically emasculated me in front of those four bastards. I snapped." Severus declared, his voice full of exasperation. "But I didn't get up that morning and think, 'Today, I shall call Lily the M-word'."
Lucius, pinching the bridge of his nose, ground out, "And neither did I."
"Well I hope you at least get the chance to apologise," Severus muttered dispiritedly before lambasting Lucius again. "She's your soulmate! Did it really come as that much of a surprise that she would mention wanting to be with you? I know it is nigh on impossible for you to be together, but you could have come to some arrangement. Now, you've ruined any possible―"
"How could we come to some arrangement? Would you give up Hermione whilst she fucks someone else and then invite her out for coffee once a week?"
"No, but then we're together. We made the second declaration of engagement last night. She's part of me. And let's be honest, it's not as if meeting up with witches for coffee has ever bothered you before!" Severus ranted.
"Well it bothers me now," Lucius hissed, wishing that Severus would stop making reference to his tryst with Ginny Weasley. "I've told you before that she deserves to be more than just my mistress." He slumped onto the edge of the bed, and said menacingly, "And you may be fortunate enough to have your witch by your side day in and day out, but that does not mean you can denigrate how I feel about Fleur."
Severus felt a pang of guilt. "I didn't mean to imply―"
"I know," the blond wizard muttered, dragging his hand over his face before looking up at his friend. "I've had plenty of affairs in my life, but this...this is so different. You have no idea what this is doing to me. I hear her name and my heart stops, I see her, and she takes my breath away. I touch her, and all reason leaves me. Kissing her is like having a healing balm poured all over me, and yet whenever we say goodbye, she goes back to her husband, and all I'm left with is nothing but memories and her scent. What is it with the scent thing?"
Severus shrugged, realising how much his friend was hurting. "I don't know," he admitted. "I presume it's the same for them, but I find Hermione's scent is...well, it's intoxicating for want of a better word. I remember it changed after we first made love―"
"So did Fleur's. I wonder if he noticed or if it is only something a soulmate can detect?"
Severus shook his head. "I think we've got more important things to research than the significance of soulmate scents."
Lucius gave his friend a watery smile. "Have you started looking for the incantation yet?" he asked, picking a piece of fluff from his trousers.
"No, but I almost had to restrain 'Mione from haring off on her own."
Lucius chuckled mirthlessly before falling backwards onto the bed. "Sounds like her. Oh fuck! How how did I end up in this mess?"
"You couldn't keep it in your trousers?" Severus offered.
Lucius huffed ruefully. "Story of my life."

"I am glad that I haff this chance to speak to you alone," Viktor told Hermione as they moved quickly through the corridors.
Initially, Hermione's blood ran cold as she imagined what he wanted to talk about, but then her logical side kicked in. Viktor knew about Severus, so if he was about to make some misplaced declaration, then he was more stupid than she had given him credit for.
"It must be serious if you couldn't tell me during the feast. You had plenty of opportunity," Hermione chuckled as he playfully glared at her.
Viktor took a deep breath before continuing. "I could not tell you when there was anyone from Durmstrang near to us."
"Why?"
"Well, I am getting married," Krum nonchalantly informed her, looking down a corridor which appeared to be a dead end.
"Oh Viktor, that's wonderful. Tell me all about her," Hermione demanded conspiratorially.
A slight blush coloured Viktor's cheeks as he began to tell Hermione about his fiancée, Melina.
"So she's a Muggle?"
"Yes. That is why I could not say anything earlier. I told Fleur last week, so apart from my family, you two are the only ones in our world who knows," he told her dejectedly.
"And does she know you're a wizard?"
Viktor nodded.
"Sorry, I don't see what the problem is," said Hermione, looking over another balcony and noticing Fleur, who was sitting by a fountain in one of Beauxbatons' many courtyards.
"Poliakov may be more accepting, but I could lose me my job and get thrown off the Bulgarian team if I marry a Muggle," Viktor admitted quietly.
Hermione put her hand on his arm. "We've just fought a war to stop this rubbish. Vik, you can't keep this quiet forever. "
"I know. I just wish I knew what―"
Viktor stopped talking suddenly, pulling Hermione into an alcove as they heard two voices coming up the stairs.
"Did you know Malfoy would be here?" Harkinssen growled.
Sexton snorted. "As always, Snape plays his cards close to his chest. Anyway, what does it matter?"
"He asked me if I was related to the Harkinssens"
"And you said no, presumably?"
"To him, yes."
"What do you mean?"
"Poliakov thinks I am."
Sexton exhaled forcefully. "It's just as well that he's not really that much of a concern anymore. The point is, does he know that you're not?"
"Of course he does. Anyway, what news from London?" Harkinnsen asked.
Sexton snorted. "I think you know, Anders."
"Yes, bad news spreads like wildfire. You know, you're all getting quite good at this political game, Harold, but you know they don't trust you. And it is difficult for anyone to place their trust in a Ministry that messes up such a public event."
"It seems no matter how much planning goes into these events, one cannot plan for a spanner being thrown into the works," Sexton commented with a sigh.
The two men walked past the alcove, and the spying couple heard a door open. Harkinssen's voice was growing fainter as he and Sexton walked down the corridor and the door began to close. But they managed to hear, "And a very attractive spanner, who seems to haff a past connection between her and―"
"What was that about?" Hermione whispered to her companion.
Viktor narrowed his eyes, thinking about what he'd just heard. "I do not know, but I do not like the sound of it."
"Neither do I, because I think I'm the attractive spanner―"
"And I am the past connection," Viktor stated. "Come, let us get Fleur, and then I think we should inform Severus."

Each courtyard in Beauxbatons had an ornate fountain at its centre, which was charmed to bathe the area in silver and blue light. As Hermione and Viktor entered the one currently occupied by Fleur, they found her perched on its edge, her hand dangling in the water as she sobbed unashamedly.
Cautiously, the young witch and wizard approached the crying woman, knowing that her Veela ancestry and pregnancy hormones could combine quite lethally if they put a foot wrong.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Fleur, are you―?"
"Do I look like I'm alright?"
"No, but you do look very cold," Viktor said, removing his cloak. "Here, put this on. It will help you warm up," he told her, placing it around her shoulders with a flourish before casting a warming charm around the three of them.
Fleur quietly thanked him before he asked, "Why are you so upset?"
Viktor's face was full of incredulity as Hermione and Fleur explained the situation. The blonde witch hadn't taken too kindly to Hermione's admission that they had eavesdropped on their row, but knowing that there were two people who actually cared about them appeased her somewhat.
The Bulgarian took a moment to process all that he had been told before responding. "Why are relationships never easy?"
The three of them shrugged. It was a simple question, but no one had the answer.

"I told Fleur that if she needed to talk we could meet for coffee," Hermione mumbled into Severus' chest as they melted into each other's arms when finally they managed to sink into bed. "Do you think they'll be alright?"
Severus continued winding one of her curls around his finger. "I think she will come out of this better than Lucius," he said pensively. "But we can talk about them when we get home. For now, we need to get some sleep. I have Durmstrang baiting to do in the morning."
Hermione smirked at the thought of Severus running rings around Poliakov and Harkinssen–or whoever Harkinssen really was. "From what Viktor said, it doesn't sound like all is well there, and you know something, don't you?"
"I know nothing, but I have my suspicions, and I hope they are incorrect. We'll know more tomorrow," he said, stifling a yawn before planting a kiss into her hair. "I love you," he whispered, pulling Hermione tight against him and inhaling her comforting scent.
Hermione smiled softly as she kissed his chest. "I love you, too," she murmured as she, too, revelled in the comfort his scent provided.
They remained in companionable silence for some time before Severus admitted quietly, "When I was younger I used to be so jealous of Lucius." Hermione pushed herself up to look at him, gently tucking his hair behind his ear. "But now I wouldn't change places with him for the world."
Hermione considered his words, and with a wicked grin moved so that she was now hovering above him. "Are you sure you're tired?" she purred, her lips gently brushing against his.
Severus chuckled deeply. "Now you come to mention it, I don't think I am," he admitted with a smirk, suddenly reversing their positions. "Any ideas what we can do to tire me out?"
"One or two," Hermione whispered breathlessly before he captured her lips, making love to her until they both slipped into a blissful sleep, grateful for the fact that they had each other, and utterly convinced that they always would.
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The Headmaster's Wife