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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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53—Da Capo
“It's hard to explain.”—The Strokes
(Severus)
Severus mindlessly unbuttoned his collar and wiped at the back of his neck. The underside of his hair was still damp from the tub, but he was too absorbed in the drama to bother charming it dry.
The door had been left open a crack, and peering through the gap, Severus watched the reunion unfold. Hermione sat on the sofa, holding hands with Draco, while Potter and Weasley, who both looked painfully uncomfortable, had taken the settee across from them.
Even though Severus knew in his gut she needed to face this challenge head on, the pragmatic devil on his shoulder felt the timing lacked forethought. Confrontations of such importance required a clear head—and bath time had not been the recuperative soak he’d intended. As soon as Lucius had started to wash her back, she’d burst into tears, which had, quite understandably, rattled poor Lucius. 
They’d managed to wash away the visible signs of stress by giving her massive mane a thorough shampooing, but a scalp massage couldn’t heal a witch’s emotional wounds. All that simmering hurt and instability hadn’t been eradicated—it had merely been taken off the boil—and Severus worried that if things got too heated with her friends, the added pressure would crack her remaining fortitude and leave her broken. No one possessed an unlimited supply of resilience. Not even miracle workers.
But even with all that concern for Hermione gnawing at his stomach, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Draco’s gambit. Going to such lengths, using all his resourcefulness, getting what he wanted. It did Snape’s Slytherin soul proud to see his godson exemplifying the best of their house. And it must have taken considerable cunning to convince an angry Boy Wonder and his apoplectic sidekick to come to Malfoy Manor for a chat. Perhaps silver tongues and unicorn sparkle were a hereditary trait.
And Draco's plan wasn’t without merit. This get-together could be precisely what Hermione needed. She thrived on friends and fellowship, love and understanding. And no matter how much he hated it, those morons were her family. She needed them. But how would she ever explain the situation in way anyone else could understand? It was inexplicable to him, and he was a part of the infernal thing.
Hermione did have a knack for debate though. Or maybe not so much debate as wearing another person down with unrelenting passion and conviction. How many times had he conceded an argument simply because he got caught up in her excitement?
Did she have that same sway with her friends? Did they find her determination as contagious as he did?
For her sake, he prayed the answer was yes.
To give her a fighting chance at reconciliation, Lucius and Severus had decided to lie low. Lucius claimed he had some work to attend to in his office, but Severus couldn’t resist the lure of espionage.
Turning his head, he placed his ear to the door’s aperture. She’d been recounting their romantic evolution—minus the juicier tidbits—for the past fifteen minutes, but she’d reached that day’s catastrophic climax, and Severus knew there would be some harsh reactions from the boys when she finally finished.
“I don’t know what else to say,” Hermione told them. “I promise you both I’m completely safe. And, honestly, I feel better than I have in years. We work really well together, and they're all taking care of me.”
“Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape are taking care of you?” Ron said in a sarcastic monotone. “That’s pretty fucking unbelievable, Hermione.”
Severus noticed Weasley hadn’t included Draco in that disbelief.
“I know it is,” she said. “I was surprised at first too. But they’re both quite different now. Well . . . Lucius is different, Severus is sort of the same, but . . . he’s different with me.”
“What do you mean ‘he’s different with you’?” Potter asked in a low voice.
Severus leaned in, rather curious about the answer himself.
“He’s still, you know, Snape, but . . . he’s thoughtful, and he really understands me. We can talk about anything.”
“Can’t you just be friends with him?” Ron whinged.
“We are friends. But I’m attracted to him physically as well.”
“Snape?” Ron repeated, as if she’d become confused about the subject of their conversation.
“Yes, Snape,” she said, and he could hear her smiling. “I know he seems cold to everyone else, but he’s not like that with me.”
“I can accept that Snape isn’t evil,” Potter told her. “I testified before the Wizengamot on his behalf, and I'm grateful for everything he did for me; but it’s hard to believe he’s a good man for you, Hermione. Don’t you want someone who, I don’t know, has an ounce of warmth?”
“He is warm,” she countered. “Not with everyone, but he is with me.”
“What about Lucius?” Ron groused. “You know, the man who tried to kill us? The man who put Riddle’s diary in Ginny’s books. The man who fought against us in in the final battle.”
“He didn’t,” Draco cut in. “About the battle I mean. He didn’t fight at all. He and my mother were both just trying to find me.”
“He hasn’t been the same since Azkaban,” Hermione said gently, “and when Narcissa died . . . he changed even more. He’s not the same man we fought in the Ministry.”
Harry’s voice dropped, but Severus could just make out the words. “Even if he is different, how can you forget what he did to us?”
Silence followed. He imagined the wheels in her head spinning, searching for the right reply.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she answered, practically whispering. “I’m not defending his past. What he did was reprehensible. But, as someone who’s made a lot of her own mistakes, I can forgive him his. I forgave him long before I became involved with him. I don’t want to spend my whole life at the mercy of anger and grudges. There’s no freedom in that.”
Weasley huffed in exasperation. “I think you might be taking that forgiveness overboard, 'Mione!”
"I didn’t go looking for any of this,” Hermione went on, totally calm, as if at peace with the perplexity of the situation. “And in the beginning, I can't say I was any less confused than you are now. I kept waiting for someone to do or say something offensive, but in all this time, no one’s said a single thing to hurt me. Not one thing. Not even when they’re tired or pissed off about something else—they never take it out on me. All three of them always treat me like a queen.”
Snape smiled, pleased to have his efforts recognized even if he wasn’t in the room.
“Can you say the same?” she asked them. “Have either of you ever snapped at your wife after a long day? Do you always put aside your own problems to make sure they’re as happy as possible?”
There was no answer from either boy, and a contemplative stillness filled the room.
“How’s it going?” Lucius whispered in his other ear.
Snape raised his hand and tipped it back and forth in a vacillating waver. Not terrible. Could be better.
Lucius bent down to listen next to him.
“I didn’t jump into this on a whim; I gave it a lot of thought,” Hermione continued. “And the thought of losing any of them was unbearable. They each bring something to my life that . . . I don't know . . . makes me feel whole.”
Draco’s calm murmur could barely be heard from out in hall, “You should tell them about your eyes, love.”
“What about your eyes?” Ron demanded, a hint of Molly’s fretting tone creeping into the question.
“I . . . m-my eyes,” she stuttered and then stopped. After clearing her throat, she tried again. “Recently, I developed a new ability.”
“A new ability,” Harry echoed. “What do you mean?”
“I can sort of see auras now.”
“Auras? Like, in different colors?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I don’t get it,” Ron said. “What’s that got to do with all this?”
“Well, it was sort of brought on by our . . . being together.”
“How do you know?” Harry asked.
“I went to a mediwitch, and she did some tests to confirm it—even though it was pretty obvious what had caused it.”
“Are you saying that you developed an extra-sensory power after . . . sleeping with them?” Potter sounded both revolted and stunned.
“Yes. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought that that sounded like a good sign they were the right match for me.”
Another awkward silence ensued. Severus and Lucius both pressed forward, listening for any small sounds.
“Sooooo,” Potter said slowly, “you mean for this to be longterm. You really want to stay with them.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“You seriously love them,” Weasley muttered, his voice hollow with disbelief. “All of them. This is insane, Hermione. How are you gonna explain this to people?”
"I don't know. I guess I’ll have to find a way to tell our friends, but I don’t really think it’s anybody else’s business. I’m not ashamed that I love them, but I don’t think the world needs to know my private affairs.”
Lucius stood up straight, staring blankly at the door. “Did she just tell them she loves us?”
Snape nodded. Had she not told him yet? It didn’t seem like it. Lucius looked as though someone had just hit him over the head with a skillet.
“What’re you going to do about work?” Potter asked. “Sooner or later everyone’s gonna find out you four are living together. How will you deal with the public outcry?”
“And they don’t know you like we do,” Ron added. “If you think we’re being hard on you, wait’ll the papers get ahold of this.”
Hermione heaved out a long sigh, and when she spoke, her words quivered, on the brink of tears, “I don’t know yet.”
Snape’s hand flexed against the wall, aching to comfort her. But something in him knew that what he wanted and what she needed were two different things. He had to stay put.
“Even if I find some sort of civil rights organization to work for, they’re not going to want to deal with my celebrity status if the public hates me. That’s just bad press for them.”
Without warning, Lucius threw open the door and burst in on their confab. Severus spun out of sight and listened intently as Malfoy strode across the room.
“I might have a solution for you,” Lucius announced, not bothering to hide the fact he'd been eavesdropping. “We’ll simply bypass the middleman.”
Da Capo—From the beginning
“It’s Hard to Explain” by The Strokes. The Strokes first single, written by Julien Casablancas (the lead singer) and released in 2001.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BXkm6h6uq0k
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