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The Headmaster's Wife	By : Mrs_HH Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 96914 -:- 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
- 53
- 54
- 55
"Bloody hell, what time do you call this, Thickie?" a groggy Lucius snapped from the wingback chair that he was dozing in, as the face of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement appeared in the grate of Malfoy Manor's drawing room. The blond wizard was sure he'd heard a clock chime seven times a few moments ago.
"What the hell are you doing there?" Pius urgently enquired, almost on the verge of panic. "Is Narcissa alright? Is the baby alright? I thought you were at Snape Manor? Where's Hermione?"
"Firstly, this is still my house. Secondly, as far as I am aware, both Narcissa and your progeny are well. Thirdly, I will get to that in a moment and fourthly, I should imagine Hermione is still asleep, which is frankly a blessing," Lucius grumbled, massaging his temples in a vain attempt to clear his hangover. He yawned and swept his usually immaculate hair, which now hung limply and tangled, over his shoulder. "You know, it was a clever move on Severus' part to plan this excursion whilst her ladyship is unreasonably hormonal. Even after taking all the potions that Severus and Molly Weasley recommended for her, she's still a harpy."
"Yes, Severus has been rather smug about that," Pius chortled, much to Lucius' chagrin. The older wizard also noted the ease with which the snobbish wizard currently used when referring to the Weasleys.
"Honestly, one minute she's fine and the next―well, being away from Severus is accentuating her foul mood. All the usual placation methods seem to fail, and then after she has yelled or grunted, she bursts into tears. I have found my arms full of sobbing witch on numerous occasions."
Pius couldn't contain his amusement. "And that is such a hardship for you, isn't it?"
"As much as I adore her, she is as good as Lady Snape, and, therefore, it would be wholly inappropriate to discuss any hardship of mine and Hermione in the same sentence.
"Anyway, we're here because Narcissa called Hermione last evening to discuss something about the renovation of Snape Manor, but Madam was snarling in her bedroom so I took the call. I may have mentioned Hermione's mood swings and Narcissa invited us over for dinner. Draco and Luna were also in attendance as was a fair amount of alcohol," the blond wizard groaned. "Merlin's saggy sphericals, Luna can hold her drink. Anyway, my head dictated that I couldn't sleep, so rather than languishing in bed, I decided to get up."
"You certainly look worse for wear. Now, to prevent a certain wizard of our acquaintance from having an apoplectic fit―"
"Panic not. I ordered the entire Auror escort to come with us and I reinforced the wards. Anyway, what brings you to call so early? Is all well?"
"Yes, I just wanted to see how Narcissa was," Pius explained, slightly relieved by Lucius' explanation. "She's usually up and in here by this time."
"Ah! Is she suffering badly?" Lucius asked, recalling how his early mornings had often been interrupted by the sounds of Narcissa vomiting from their bathroom when she was carrying Draco.
Pius sighed. "Oh yes. It's hard to sleep through it sometimes."
Lucius laughed before calling Mitzi to inform Narcissa that Pius wanted to talk to her. As the young house-elf disappeared, the grey-eyed wizard asked, "Were your endeavours successful?"
"They are restored of their memories and are magically resting, but how they will react when they awake is anyone's guess. I believe Simeon is going to call Hermione whilst Severus is still indisposed, but I'm sure he will fill Hermione in fully when he comes round."
"Considering he is still in Australia that will be quite an achievement," Lucius snorted.
Pius snorted, shaking his head. "Your school boy humour hasn't improved."
"Of course not, but what do you mean, 'when Severus comes round'? Is he alright?"
"Yes; nothing serious," Pius reassured. "He collapsed from exhaustion after restoring Michael Granger's memories. It took him five hours. Simeon says he just needs to sleep it off."
"Five hours?" Lucius had observed Severus' work in the service of the Dark Lord―with devastating results in some cases―but he'd never known him to work for that long on anyone. "Hermione doesn't do things by halves, does she?"
"Indeed not. I don't know if Severus is proud of her or on the verge of hexing her into next week."
"Undoubtedly both," Lucius chuckled as his ex-wife walked into the room, looking rather drained. Very few people ever saw an unkempt Narcissa. She was one of those women who could rise from their bed in the morning, looking serenely radiant and fresh even before heading for the bathroom. However, there were occasions when she wasn't looking at her best, and although Lucius was one of those who had been privy to that sight, he had to admit that she was looking particularly poorly.
"Sit down," Lucius fussed, standing to usher her into a chair. "Would you like some tea?" he asked gently as she greeted him and then Pius.
"No, thank you," Narcissa replied weakly. "Actually, Hermione brought me a recipe for ginger tea. Could you ask Mitzi to make me some, please?"
Noticing how pale the older witch had been looking, Hermione had asked the Weasley matriarch for the ginger tea recipe that she'd brewed to help Fleur with her morning sickness. Narcissa had found it to be so effective that she could have kissed Molly―if the two witches had been on better terms.
Lucius nodded before turning to the grate. "I will take my leave, Pius. Please pass on my best wishes to Sev when he wakes up, and tell him good luck. Merlin knows he'll need it when he reveals to the Grangers that he is bedding their daughter."
Pius laughed as the chuckling blond left the room, leaving him face to face with his pregnant fiancée.
Noticing how weary Narcissa was looking, Pius' brow furrowed. "How are you feeling, darling?"
"Queasy," she sighed heavily as Mitzi arrived with her ginger tea. "Hermione is brewing something for me, but this old wives' concoction of Molly Weasley's is working wonders," she told him, taking a sip of the pungent infusion, which burned in her throat. Screwing up her elegant features slightly, Narcissa choked out, "At least I can eat again. Anyway, how are you?"
"Tired, but I should not complain. I've mainly been observing, catching up with Graeme and speaking to Arthur Weasley when time differences allow. I've not exactly been doing anything strenuous. Severus, however, is absolutely exhausted."
"It sounds as if he was successful, though."
"He was, but Hermione's father proved rather difficult to crack. Her mother was much easier, but please allow Simeon to explain this to her. Severus will no doubt be in touch the moment he wakes."
Narcissa smiled knowingly. "My lips are sealed, but she is quite distracted without him. Poor Lucius has taken the brunt of it. However, I am sure that our ladies' night this evening will help her to regain some of her spark."
"Are you staying over at Snape Manor?" Pius asked, a little concerned for his witch's well being. He knew she wasn't one to go to bed early when there was gossip to be had.
"Oh, we are all staying over," Narcissa informed him with a mischievous grin.
Pius could tell when she was plotting. "All? And who else will be there?"
A tranquil smile graced Narcissa's lips, a sure sign that she was up to something. "Well, only those with whom Hermione is particularly close. I know that she's invited Molly and Ginevra Weasley, Miss Angelina Johnson, Luna and Minerva. However, given Lucius' obligatory attendance, she decided not to invite the younger Mrs Weasley."
"What have you done?" Pius enquired with a resigned sigh.
Looking affronted, Narcissa sat up a little straighter and looked at the grate imperiously. "Me? I have done nothing. No, I happened upon Miss Johnson in Gringotts yesterday and was told that she was having lunch with a certain French witch to try and cheer her up. I merely suggested that she persuade the younger Mrs Weasley to attend this evening, and I would make the necessary arrangements with Hermione."
Rolling his eyes, Pius shook his head at Narcissa's insistence on meddling in her ex-husband's life. And he knew full well that she had not discussed anything with Hermione yet. "Darling, is that wise?"
"Is anything about their situation wise? They are unhappy apart and yet they cannot be together. I've told him to take her as his mistress, but he won't hear of it, for some unknown reason, so when they have the opportunity to be together they should take it."
"Just be careful, sweetheart," Pius cautioned. "The situation is akin to a cauldron on the verge of exploding. Make sure you cast protection charms before you are covered in something unsavoury."
"Oh, my love, your concern is touching, but fear not: they will both thank me in the morning," Narcissa confidently stated.
Pius twisted his mouth in consternation. "I sincerely hope you are correct."

Now that she had a few months' experience under her belt, Hermione was rather enjoying teaching even if it was time-consuming. And between studying for her NEWTs, her apprenticeship, her pastoral role, and having a relationship with Severus Snape, she hardly had any time to herself. However, it was rewarding enough for her not to mind.
So far, this week had been particularly enjoyable, despite her foul, hormonal temper. She had been overseeing NEWT level classes in Severus' absence and realised that she wouldn't have any trouble teaching them on her own when the time came. It seemed strange that the potions she had struggled with when she was a student now seemed second nature to her, but she wasn't complaining.
She had also been happily filling the potions journal that Harry, as her apprenticeship sponsor, had bought her, and had badgered Draco until he'd scheduled some time for them to work on her primary project. In order to prove her theory that a combination of arithmancy and ancient runes could be used to enhance a potion to remove scars and heal injuries caused by Dark Magic, she needed Draco's professional help. She also needed his Dark Mark.
Neville had also been cornered into working with Hermione. Severus had mentioned that she needed to do more ingredient research and field work, and she wanted to study the indigenous plants of Tuscany because he'd promised to take her to his Tuscan estate at Easter. Hermione was rather looking forward to the ingredient gathering expeditions and copious amounts of sex. There were some perks to your Potions master also being your partner.
However, what she wasn't enjoying this week―and the reason she was keeping herself so busy―was that said Potions master was not there with her. She hated it all the more because the reason for him being so far away was to sort out the mess that she'd created. But what made it worse was that she'd expected a call from Severus that morning. However, when the call came through, she was rather thrown when she heard Simeon's voice. His news had been both comforting and worrying, and as the day progressed she gave up on hiding her concern.

After completing her final lesson of the day―her favourite first-year class―she sat down at her desk, worrying her lip as she thought about what Simeon had told her about Severus' exhaustion.
"Professor, is everything alright?" a gentle voice beside her asked.
She looked up to see Emile Ashbourne wearing a worried expression.
Giving him a weak smile, the young professor nodded. "Yes, all is well."
Emile's hazel eyes narrowed; he knew Hermione had just fibbed. "Look, I know I'm only young," he started with fierce determination in his voice, "but you and the headmaster have always been there for me when I need to talk about my parents or school, and I just want you to know that you can talk to me too."
Hermione couldn't help but to be touched by the young Slytherin's offer, and decided to allow him into a small confidence. "I was expecting a call from the headmaster this morning, but seemingly he's not very well. I'm just a little worried about him."
The young wizard nodded. "I can understand that, but at least you know he will call. Mum always waited for Dad to call when he was away on business and he never did. But then it turned out that he wasn't away on business," he told her with a shrug.
Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Hermione felt her heart sink as she watched the confident boy who stood before her a moment ago shrink into himself. What made it even sadder was that they were now in December and with Christmas approaching, this was a particularly difficult time for anyone living in a broken home.
"Where will you be spending the Christmas holidays?" she enquired softly.
The boy stared at his feet. "I'm not sure. Mum's probably but she says she needs to get away on her own and Dad's new girlfriend doesn't want me there. Michael Simpson said I could go and stay with him, but his parents have booked a holiday to Austria."
"So you'd be at home on your own? Do you think Professor Snape will allow that to happen?"
Emile shrugged as only a twelve year old boy could. "I heard Professor McGonagall say that the school was closing over Christmas as no students had applied to stay."
"Mr Ashbourne, I can assure you that you will not be alone at Christmas," Hermione blustered, quite proud of her impression of Minerva. "Now, I was going to see The Founders. I need to speak to Lady Helga, and I think Lord Slytherin quite enjoys his chats with you―not that he'd admit it. Would you like to accompany me?"
She was rewarded with a beaming smile. "OK. Thank you, Professor."

The only occupied portrait when professor and student walked into the Founder's Room was Rowena Ravenclaw, who was reading a large tome, glasses perched on the end of her nose.
"My lady," Hermione greeted with a courteous bow of her head.
The stern witch looked away from her book and over the top of her glasses. "Ah, Professor Granger. Any word from your wizard?"
"Not since last evening. I am expecting a call from him later," Hermione confirmed, trying to hide how much she missed him.
Unfortunately, she didn't do a very good job. Rowena's lips threatened to break into a smile before replying. "You know, normally when the Head of the school is away for a prolonged period of time, I can sense the disquiet within the very walls of the castle, but I must say it is remarkably calm. Never underestimate your appeasing presence, young lady."
Hermione was a little taken aback. "I won't."
"Excellent. Now, I presume you are here to see Helga, and you, young man, have come here to see Salazar." It was more a statement of fact than of question.
"I would be more than happy to speak to you too, my lady," Emile said smoothly. He relished the opportunities he got from learning to speak with the very best in the magical world at seemed to have settled back into school life relatively unscathed from his poisoning ordeal, much to the relief of the headmaster, his Head of House, and a concerned Professor Granger. He was making friends and embracing all aspects of his magical existence with alacrity. He was even having extra flying and Quidditch lessons with Ron, Harry, and Draco, who all firmly believed that they had found the new Slytherin Seeker.
"You are indeed a born Slytherin," Rowena sighed, placing her book down on the table next to her. "I shall retrieve them for you, and Professor, thank you for finally coming to see Helga. She might finally shut up. However, chance will be a fine thing."
Moments later a bright, lilting voice could be heard playfully chastising a low, hissing drawl as Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin entered their portraits.
"Hermione!" Helga exclaimed. "Oh, my dear, I am thrilled that you have finally come down to see me. And hello to you, my boy," she said in greeting to Emile.
Emile bowed his head as he returned her greeting.
"I thought you'd come to see me," Slytherin grumbled, feigning―or perhaps he wasn't―annoyance.
"I have, my lord," the young wizard confirmed. "How are you, sir?"
"Still dead," Slytherin responded dryly. "How is your half-blood Gryffindor Head of House?"
Emile placed his hands behind his back. "Professor Potter appears to be doing a good job."
Hermione and Helga couldn't help but smirk at each other as they observed him become a consummate member of his house.
"Your discussions with the headmaster have served you well," Slytherin told him, staring down his nose with a penetrating glare. "I am satisfied. Now, tell me of your studies."
Whilst they began to converse, Hermione turned to Helga Hufflepuff. "Severus always passes on your regards, and I apologise for―"
"Don't fret, my dear," Helga dismissed with a wave of her hand. "As I explained to your wizard, I understand how busy you are, and if I had a man like yours, I wouldn't―"
"―know what to do with him," Slytherin interrupted, much to Emile's amusement.
"Neither would you," the founder of Hufflepuff retorted, showing off her usually well hidden wit, which had Hermione and Emile looking at each other, their eyes wide in disbelief.
Slytherin simply ignored the painted witch and carried on his discussion with the young wizard before him.

Once Helga Hufflepuff was sure that her colleague and young Mr Ashbourne were deeply engaged in conversation, she gestured for Hermione to cast a Silencing charm whilst studying her appraisingly.
"Now, young lady, I see there is still no ring upon your finger," the portrait witch observed with a sniff of dissatisfaction.
"Well, Severus is a very traditional wizard and we are observing the Declarations of Engagement," Hermione informed her truculently. "However, we did make the fourth declaration before he left for Australia." She felt her cheeks blush as she remembered how little sleep they'd got that night.
"I hope he doesn't delay much longer," the Welsh witch groused. "I cannot tell you enough how much the two of you are needed in this brave new world, and there will come a time when he will need your love more than ever before."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry, I don't quite follow."
"And they tell me that you are an intelligent woman," Hufflepuff sighed. "Think, girl. Love is a powerful ally to have on one's side," she impressed upon the Potions professor, "and besides, I do love a good wedding."
As Hermione considered the portly witch's words, a few things clicked into place. "My lady, can I ask if this has anything to do with the Prophecy, and if it is, why can't Severus and I just be told what it says?"
"Because all the requirements have not been met."
With her brow knitting together, Hermione shook her head in disbelief. All who knew of this alleged prophecy had the sneaking suspicion that it would be heard once she and Severus were engaged, but now that one of the Founders had practically admitted it, the young witch was incredulous.
"Surely it can't be that simple? So as soon as he puts a ring on my finger―"
"―The prophecy will be spoken."
Hermione could feel her fury rising to a point where she couldn't formulate a sentence. "But that is so...we won't be manipulated...no, we won't. We won't just get engaged to...we'll do it when we're ready...I can't believe this...we suspected it, but...no, it's wrong playing with people's lives like this, and―"
"―Hermione, my dear, please calm down and put your Gryffindor sensibilities to one side for a moment," Helga commanded, her voice raised in frustration. "You are soulmates. Blame the universe for its manipulation if you must, but please do not tell me that you are unhappy with the arrangement."
"No, no, of course, not. I love him more anything," she said, a small smile gracing her lips.
"We know you do, and rather frequently," Helga teased with a glint in her eyes. "You were destined to be together before we even spotted your potential as a couple. Yes, we did manipulate you to an extent, and for that we have already apologised, but we did provide you with the necessary equipment to save him." She then looked at Hermione intently. "However, I believe you would have found a way to save him regardless of our assistance."
Hermione bit her bottom lip. She'd thought about this a lot, and every time she ran over that night in the Shrieking Shack she also played out an alternative scenario where she had not had all those potions in her pocket. Of one thing she was certain: the way she felt about Severus when she first saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood would not have changed. Her soul had reached for his, and she wouldn't have let him die. She would have Apparated them both to St. Mungo's and pleaded with them to save him, putting anyone who refused under the Imperius if necessary.
"Now, don't go all maudlin on me, young lady," the kindly witch soothed. "Your wizard is alive and well and you are happy. You're just not engaged yet."
Hermione went to respond but was cut off again. "Oh, and tell your friend, Mr Malfoy, to stop fighting his association with my young Hufflepuff."
"Gabrielle?"
"Yes, he will be so much happier and much more complete if he accepts her admiration of him. He seems so determined to fight his dearest supporters. That said, I'm not sure if he'll have much of a choice but to give in soon. And I hope he does because that young man has so much potential."
"Which is?"
"To be revealed, but having never had a younger brother or sister, he will benefit from the lessons that she can teach him."
Shaking her head, Hermione looked bemused. "You mean, Gabrielle thinks of him more of a big brother rather than wanting to―"
"Precisely, but I suppose being a Malfoy he assumed she would be after his body―which is not bad, although not a patch on his father's or his grandfather's," Helga admitted as a dreamy expression passed over her painted visage.
Hermione tried to banish the thought of Abraxas Malfoy in the buff. She'd never seen Lucius in anything less than a shirt and trousers―unfortunately―but she had seen far more of Draco, and he wasn't bad, in a good looking male friend kind of way.
"Just have a friendly word in his ear, my dear. He will listen to you."
Hermione snorted. "Are you serious?"
"I'm always serious, even when I'm not."
"Well, I do think he's being a bit silly trying to avoid her," the young witch admitted, "but does that make Gabrielle one of The Six?"
"Hasn't it been obvious?"
Hermione's brow furrowed, but she still managed an arched eyebrow that would have made Severus proud. "Actually, no," she scoffed.
Helga shrugged. "Oh well, there we are."
"But..."
"Yes, my dear?"
Hermione's thoughts turned to the meaning of Luna's dreams about The Six. The capricious witch had said that Draco needed the love of The Six. "The two who have always been, the one that was chosen, the one whom he chose, the one who seeks to be deserving, and the one who is yet to reveal themselves."
The accepted wisdom was that Draco's parents were, "the two who have always been," Severus, being his godfather and chosen by Lucius and Narcissa was, "the one that was chosen," and Hermione, whom Draco had befriended, was "the one whom he chose." Luna at the time was, "the one who is yet to reveal themselves," but what had been a mystery had been, "the one who seeks to be deserving."
At first it was assumed that this was Draco's then boyfriend, Adrian, but now it made sense that it was Gabrielle Delacour. Hermione did not have a younger brother or sister but she remembered watching Ginny with Bill, Charlie, and to a certain extent, Percy. She always seemed to want their approval, wanting to prove that she was just as important to them as the twins and Ron. And that was practically what Gabrielle was doing with Draco. From the moment she'd met him all those years ago at the Triwizard Tournament, she'd wanted to impress him. She cared about him, and she wanted him to see her as important.
That'll make it awkward for Lucius and Fleur if Draco allows Gabrielle into the fold.
"Oh nothing," Hermione continued. "I was just about to think out loud," she said with a wry smile and a slight shrug of her shoulders.
"A dangerous practice as I am sure your young man has advised against."
Hermione snorted in confirmation. Severus was always telling her that she thought too loudly.
Helga seemed to take a deep breath before she spoke again. "Well, I am glad you came to see me. Call me silly, but I wanted to be the one to tell you of the requirement. I know you do not wish to be rushed―I understand that―but time will soon become of the essence and does it really matter to you when he asks you?"
Hermione pulled herself up to her full height and looked to the portrait before her. "No, but with the greatest of respect, it does matter to him. He needs to regain control of his life," said the Gryffindor, finally voicing what she'd tried to tell the founding witch earlier.
A sad but chastised expression fell over Helga's face. "I am afraid that for all the majesty of magic, it often forgets the feelings and needs of the sentient beings that it requires to answer and channel it. And despite his best efforts to appear inhuman at times, Severus is undoubtedly one of the most human of beings I have ever had the pleasure to observe."
"He is," Hermione admitted with a soft smile.
"Well, I think I've taken up enough of your time, my dear. Now, if your schedule allows with your examinations coming up, please come and see me more often. I enjoy talking to you. And the moment you get that ring―perhaps not the exact moment as I hope you will be engaging in something very pleasurable―come and see me. Oh, I do love a good wedding."
Hermione shook her head gently. "So you've said."
"Yes, I have, haven't I!" the bumptious witch confirmed with a light chuckle.
Turning to Emile, Hermione chuckled to herself. He was sitting crossed legged on the floor, elbows on thighs and chin resting on his knuckles whilst listening intently to Salazar Slytherin waxing lyrical about magic and power. The boy was like a sponge in the way he absorbed information and experiences.
Hermione did not wish to break the quite endearing scene before her, but knew that Emile had an advanced flying lesson soon and that Ron was coming up to Hogwarts especially to give it before dinner.
"Mr Ashbourne, shall I escort you back your common room so that you can change for your flying lesson? It would not do to keep Mr Weasley waiting."
With a heavy sigh that had Helga covering her mouth to contain her amusement, Emile agreed reluctantly, but only after Slytherin jerked his head to dismiss him.
"My lady, my Lord Slytherin, we will be on our way then, and I will try and see you soon," Hermione said with a subtle bow of her head.
As the living witch and wizard left the Founders' Room, Hufflepuff sighed deeply. "Mr Ashbourne seems a little out of sorts."
"Indeed," was her only response.
"Fine, don't tell me then!"
Slytherin rolled his eyes as he stood from his chair, but paused before he left his portrait. "She knows the issues, and soon he will know too. They will be ready when the time comes."
"Why do you Slytherins always speak in riddles?"
With a shrug of his shoulders, Slytherin walked out of sight, but the last thing Helga heard was, "So meddlesome Hufflepuffs can't understand."

The room swam into focus. Severus' ears picked up the distinct sounds of trolleys, busy feet, and hushed, but hasty discussions. The clinical cleanliness stung his nostrils and it was this that brought his vision into sharp relief. The room was dim apart from a brighter light which he knew was directed at his head. He could tell the room was white and that the walls were tiled halfway up. The crisp, white cotton sheets were all too familiar and his heart began pounding in his chest. He'd been here before. He'd woken up in a room like this before. Panic was overtaking him, and pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, one overriding thought entered his mind: Please don't let it have been a dream.
He was gulping in air when, in a moment of clarity, he felt his neck, his hand stilling as the dressings, which he expected, were replaced by soft, raised, but slightly damp skin. Checking his chest, again, all he found was sweat and skin. There were also no medical staff busying around his bed, no Auror guard by the door. Only then did the raven-haired wizard's breathing begin to slow. Closing his eyes, his mind was soothed by one word, or rather, name: Hermione.
Realising that he was not back in St. Mungo's and attributing his groggy head to the mental rigours of restoring Michael Granger's memories, Severus slowly pushed himself up on his elbows to take in his surroundings a little more.
Fuck! I must have been out of it if someone could undress me, he thought to himself, noticing that he only had his boxers on. Once he felt able, he sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest. Hanging his head, his hair flopped over his face whilst he pinched his nose to try and clear the muzziness he still felt. Checking the time as he stretched his neck, he was shocked to see that it was three in the morning. Calculating that he had been asleep for ten hours, his mind turned to two things: he had to call Hermione, but more pressingly, he really needed a piss.
Once his bladder was relieved, Severus decided to forgo a shower until he'd spoken to his witch. Pulling on his shirt that had been folded neatly and placed on a chair by the green tiled fireplace, a ragged piece of parchment sitting atop the mantelpiece caught his eye, and he immediately recognised Pius' cursive script.
I've had it connected for international calls.
Running his fingers through his hair to try and tame it, he prepared to call their office where he knew Hermione would normally be at this time of day. However, finding her not to be there, he tried their chambers―again to no avail. As a last resort, he called the staffroom, hoping to find her there.

Professors Sprout and Longbottom were drinking tea and listening to Professor Potter bemoaning his love life, or rather, lack of it.
"Look, I really don't know what went on to split you two up, but I know Gin well enough to know that she adores you. You've got to tell her, mate," Neville offered, taking a sip of tea.
"Come now, Harry, nothing ventured, nothing gained," Pomona chimed in boisterously. "M'colleague is correct; she adores you―always has. And I know they have discovered that Mr Zabini was Imperiused and Obliviated, but no smoke without fire, I say."
"I suppose so," Harry groaned. "I just know that if we do get back together, it will take a while for things to get back to the way they were and..."
Neville rolled his eyes at Harry in exasperation as Pomona continued to wax lyrical. "Faint heart never won fair maiden, Harry, dear," she chimed as the coals in the fire began to glow, and the face of Severus Snape appeared.

"Ah, Headmaster, are you checking up on us?" the Head of Hufflepuff blustered cheerily.
Severus smirked. "Not at all. Do I need to?" he enquired, unable to hide the fatigue in his voice.
Pomona chuckled heartily. "Of course not. You sound tired, Severus. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I am fine, thank you, but you are correct in your assertion that I am tired. You know how tedious and draining Ministry business can be. No, I was simply wondering if anyone knew of Hermione's whereabouts? She is not in our chambers or our office."
Neville shrugged. "I've been studying in here all afternoon and she's not been here since lunch. I know she had first year Potions―"
"I am aware of her schedule, Professor, hence why I checked our office," the headmaster groused before adding, "but I am pleased to hear that you are preparing for your N.E. . I trust you have been studying equally as hard, Professor Potter?"
"I'll send my Patronus to her, and say you're looking for her," Harry offered, deftly avoiding Severus' enquiry. The truth was, his studies were not going at all well and with exams being only two weeks away, he'd practically given up.
Chuckling inwardly at Harry's sidestepping of his question, Severus said, "If you could, I would be most grateful. Tell her I will call our chambers in half an hour."

"Hey, you?" Hermione said cheerily as Severus appeared in their fireplace.
She had just walked back into their chambers and found a sleeping Lucius sprawled out on the sofa with an open book resting on his chest. She was about to sneak up on him, but yelped as Harry's stag entered the room to pass on the message from Severus. She had to laugh as the snoozing wizard fell off the sofa, grabbing clumsily for his wand.
"Hello, sweetheart," Severus greeted her wearily. "My apologies for not calling sooner, but I was rather tired and―"
"―Simeon told me you passed out," Hermione interrupted him before he could downplay the situation. "Are you all right?"
Sighing deeply, Severus nodded his head. "I am now that I've slept. I will admit that it was a little disconcerting waking up in a hospital bed."
Hermione gasped. "What do you mean 'hospital bed'? Simeon just said you'd passed out and they were letting you rest." A volley of questions regarding his health followed.
"Hermione, I'm fine. We were already at a medical facility and I was not in a position to Apparate back to Melbourne. Simeon said it was as much for convenience sake as it was a precautionary measure for me to sleep here," her wizard grumbled, trying to reassure her. "I still feel a little lightheaded, but I haven't eaten for nearly twenty-four hours, and before you start nagging, I have already asked for a sandwich."
Consoled that Severus was looking after himself, Hermione moved onto the subject that she was eager to talk about. "I'm glad you're OK, love. I was really worried when you didn't call, but Simeon explained about Dad."
Severus snorted softly. "He was a little troublesome."
"Five hours is not a little troublesome, Severus," Hermione blustered, annoyed at his dismissiveness.
Running a hand through his hair, Severus exhaled forcefully. "Please, love, I don't wish to argue with you. I'm too tired, and the details are irrelevant now. The point is, the restoration was successful, your parents are both comfortable, their minds are resting and we shall start the rehabilitation process tomorrow."
Feeling suitably admonished, Hermione bit her bottom lip as she thought about what Simeon had said about her mother. "So Simeon told me that the spell was failing for Mum," she said quietly, her voice unable to hide the upset and guilt she felt over this.
Sensing this, Severus tried to placate her. "Partly, but it is hard to assess if that was wholly the case."
"My casting was poor."
"No, your casting was impeccable, but your positioning may have been a contributing factor. However, who is to say that your mother wouldn't have struggled against the spell anyway? The mind is a complex instrument as I have so often tried to instil in you. It is imprudent to dwell on what happened because it has been remedied. Now we must concentrate on something much more important: reuniting you with them."
Hermione wanted to believe him, but she could not shake the unsettled feeling in her stomach. She prayed to whoever was listening that her parents wanted to be reunited with her. "Did they look well?" she asked, trying to sound as if her heart and mind were not filled with dread.
"Very."
Heartened by that, she tried to ask nonchalantly, "Did they mention me?"
"Your mother did, but I'm afraid―"
"―I guess Dad's going to be the one who is angriest with me. I didn't expect him to―"
Knowing that Hermione was determined to self-flagellate over her guilt, Severus was quick to interrupt and reproach her again. "If you would let me finish my sentence without making spurious assumptions I would be most grateful, darling," he told her calmly, but his tone begged no quarrel. "I was about to say that I do not know if your father enquired about you because I ignominiously ended up on the floor before he had a chance to speak. I have not spoken to anyone, so I don't know if he spoke of you afterwards. However, I expect they gave him little opportunity to speak given his previous outbursts.
"Furthermore, you will stop berating yourself over this. What's done is done. What was done has been rectified. You must remain strong in your conviction that what you did was right if you wish to restore your relationship with your parents. Any sense of hesitancy will lead them to believe that you had a choice."
"I didn't."
"Then you did the right thing. For what it is worth, sweetheart, your mother still seems to have a very similar soothing effect on your father as another curly-haired woman of my acquaintance has on another grumpy bastard."
Hermione gasped. "Did you just refer to my dad as a grumpy bastard?"
"Do you deny it?"
Severus had never been more relieved to hear her laughter. "No, he is a grumpy bastard, but like another grumpy bastard I know, when he cares about something he has a very big heart."
Arching an eyebrow and suppressing the quirk of his lips, Severus drawled, "I'm sure I don't know who you mean. Now, in case I am unable to speak with you before I attend to your parents tomorrow, aside from your letter, is there any message you would like me to pass on?"
"Just tell them that I'm sorry and I love them," Hermione told him, shame crawling across her face again.
"As much as I will find it difficult to relay one of those sentiments I will endeavour to do so, but I will not pass on your apology. Remember what I said," he told her sternly before changing the subject to prevent Hermione from brooding further. "What time are you departing for the Manor?"
"Soon, unfortunately," Hermione told him with a heavy sigh. "I'm beginning to think it was a bad idea inviting Molly with Lucius and Narcissa being there. I wanted to talk to you for longer about it, but everyone will be arriving at seven."
"Do not worry. They will never be close, but they will be civil for you. Now, I will be Apparating back to the hotel soon. You are more than welcome to call later as I very much doubt that I will sleep again tonight."
Hermione smirked at the subtle subtext of what Severus had just said. "Well, I might just do that," she teased before biting her bottom lip whilst checking to make sure Lucius wasn't around. "Perhaps I can get you off by just talking dirty to you this time."
"We won't know until you try," he purred. "However, I should let you go about your evening. You can tell me about your day later."
"Oh, I will. I went to see Helga, and―"
Rolling his eyes, Severus huffed. "Tell me later. Go on. It would be bad form for you to arrive after your guests. Mrs Hopkins will be most displeased," he cautioned knowingly.
Hermione's face contorted at the unpleasant thought of being on the end of Mrs Hopkins' censure. "Yeah, you're right. Well, I'll probably speak to you later. Glad you're feeling better and thank you for...well, for what you did for Mum and Dad."
A wistful smile twisted on his lips. "I would hope that you know, by now, that I would do anything to ensure your happiness."
Blushing slightly, her chest swelling from the strength of emotion she felt towards her wizard at that moment, she whispered, "I do. I love you."
"And I, you. Now bugger off."
Hermione smiled as the call ended only for her reverie to be broken by a rather lascivious voice coming from the library door.
"Well, well, well. Now, there's a conversation I wouldn't mind listening to later."
Given the glare he received as Hermione stormed into her bedroom, Lucius was left with the distinct impression that his comment had not gone down very well.

The main drawing room of Snape Manor was beginning to slowly fill with guests for Hermione Granger's Girls Night with Lucius being an honorary girl for the evening―much to his son's amusement.
"How are you, dear?" Minerva McGonagall asked Molly Weasley as she entered the room, giving the housekeeper a bemused stare whilst she was formally introduced to the other guests.
Hermione, who had been talking to Lucius and Narcissa, looked mortified and rushed over to offer Molly a restorative glass of sherry, mumbling something about trying to tell Mrs Hopkins that she didn't need to introduce anyone―not on hers or Severus' watch.
Smiling at the young, flustered witch, Molly took a sip of the amber beverage, revelling in its quality, before responding to the Scottish witch with a deep sigh. "Oh, well you know me..."
"Indeed I do, Molly, and I believe you look troubled," Minerva told her, with a hawk-like stare.
Molly realised that Minerva would not give up until she learned the truth. Jerking her head towards one of the window seats, she rather enthusiastically declared to the room that she was going to admire the new curtains that Hermione had been telling her about.
"Well, it will be in the Prophet tomorrow," she told Minerva in a hushed voice, "but a number of curse-breakers were sent to assist the Albanian Ministry last Tuesday. Obviously, I am unsure of the details except that my Bill was one of the curse-breakers, and once they got there, the initial assessment is that they might be there until after the baby is born."
Minerva gasped, clutching her hand to her chest. "Oh, my dear, how terrible for you all, but more so for Fleur. How is she?"
Sighing deeply, Molly twisted her mouth in consternation. "Miserable. This pregnancy is proving to be hard for both of them. Obviously a man should be with his wife at a time like this, but―and I never thought I would hear myself say this―I think a little time apart might be good for them."
It was just as well that Minerva had her back to the other occupants of the room as shock continued to play across her face. Never did she think she would hear something like that come from Molly Weasley's lips. "Really?"
"Ever since his...accident...he's been...well, you know Bill. He was always so mild mannered, but now...he has a few anger issues around the full moon. I never thought I would feel sorry for Fleur, but she can do nothing right for doing wrong. Normally, she declines invitations to the house without Bill, but she came over for tea on Sunday. She is so worried about him to the point where, I believe, she fears for their marriage―she was so upset with some of the things he said to her before he left."
Considering this, the older witch nodded thoughtfully. "They do say that the only people who know the truth about a marriage are those in it, but I can't believe Bill would leave without apologising."
The curse-breaker's mother hung her head, examining her now half filled glass of sherry. "Neither would I, Minerva, and that is why I am so worried about them both."

"My lady, Miss Ginevra Weasley and Miss Luna Lovegood," Mrs Hopkins announced, nodding her head deferentially to Hermione.
Greeting her friends, and again looking highly embarrassed, Hermione, once again, said to the housekeeper, "Thank you, Mrs Hopkins, and please, there is no need to..."
"Once again, I beg to differ, my lady," Mrs Hopkins said with a wry smile.
Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. She was sure the housekeeper called her that to wind her up.
"Oh, don't worry," Narcissa said sympathetically, "you'll get used to it."
"Then why doesn't she call Luna 'my lady'? After all, she is Lord Black's girlfriend," Hermione groused.
"Because you are the lady of this house. Luna is not the lady of any house, as yet," Lucius informed her casually.
"But―"
"―Nothing," the blond wizard huffed. "Listen, a few days after my release, I met Severus for a drink and having followed his trial congratulated him on keeping his title and estates a secret for all those years. Having decided to spend the night getting thoroughly pissed, we adjourned here. I may have pointed out that this place was ideal for the odd party, and would certainly impress any witch that he brought up here.
"To which he declared, and in front of Mrs H, no less, that the only witch he would bring here would be―should he find someone daft enough to want a relationship with him―the future Mrs Snape. You should know him well enough by now to know that he doesn't make comments like that lightly, and that is the kind of comment that Mrs Hopkins takes very seriously. You were the first woman he brought here after that conversation, and we all know that you are not some―"
Lucius voice trailed off as Mrs Hopkins walked back into the room, followed by two witches―one of which he hadn't expected, nor was prepared, to see. "―Passing fancy," he concluded weakly.
"My lady, Mrs Fleur Weasley and Miss Angelina Johnson."
Hermione caught the panic in Lucius' eyes, and quickly turned to greet the new arrivals.
"I hope you don't mind," Angelina began, "but I thought Fleur could do with a night out rather than being sat at home all alone now that Bill is away."
"Oh God, of course, not. Bill's away?" Hermione blustered before addressing Fleur. "I'm so sorry, Fleur. If I'd known Bill was away I'd have invited you, but I just assumed that you wouldn't have felt up to it."
Fleur knew that Hermione was lying, but as her dark blue eyes fixed on steel grey, she could understand why the curly-haired witch had omitted to invite her.
Noticing this, Hermione put her arm through the French witch's, urging her to sit down on one of the sofas before whispering urgently, "I am so sorry. Severus asked Lucius to stay―"
"It is fine. I am sure I can resist him," Fleur responded confidently.
Hermione looked at her dubiously. "Are you sure?"
"No, but I have to try."

Dinner was a very light-hearted affair with wine, laughter, and free flowing conversation. Lucius was in particularly good form, which was unsurprising as he was surrounded by witches― one of his favourite pastimes.
"So come on, Hermione, does your wizard have any annoying habits?" Angelina asked, the wine having loosened her tongue somewhat.
Hermione smiled knowingly as she took another mouthful of Mrs Hopkins' infamously decadent chocolate and pear tart.
"Just a few," Lucius muttered under his breath.
Narcissa snorted softly. "You've got room to talk," she laughed. "Compared to you, Severus is a veritable angel."
"I can assure you he is far from an angel," Hermione snorted, silencing Lucius' oncoming retort. "But none of his habits are that bad and that is all I'm saying on the matter. He'd never forgive me if I told you anything else."
"Oh, I'm sure that with the right inducements, Severus would forgive you anything," Lucius mumbled into his wine glass before taking a sip.
"All right," Angelina said, changing tack, "does he snore?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It has been known," she confirmed, suppressing a giggle when she thought of the nights she could have happily smothered him with a pillow.
Angie was less than satisfied with that answer, and pointing her spoon at Hermione, asked, "Is he messy?"
"It depends. The lab is immaculately organised, his desk is organised chaos and he does have a habit of leaving books and journals lying around. Apart from that, I don't have to go around picking up after him."
Minerva snorted. "He obviously hasn't grown out the habit of leaving books at his backside. When he was a student, he had so many books and they were always strewn everywhere. And you always knew when he'd been in the library."
"In fairness, Professor, his books were all he had," Narcissa interjected softly.
Minerva nodded, knowing this to be the case. "Oh, I know that, but what always baffled us was where he got the money to buy them."
Clearing his throat, Lucius chose his words carefully. "Well, I was already supporting a little Potions endeavour of his, and let us say that if you wanted anything, Severus was your wizard."
"Oh, well that all makes sense now," the Head of Gryffindor blustered. "The surge of contraband throughout all the houses―not just Slytherin―declined sharply after he left school."
Lucius laughed. "Did you expect him to only provide for his own house? No, he was quite happy to supply everyone else. He just charged them more."
Minerva and Molly rolled their eyes, whilst the younger women found that fact to be quite amusing when Angelina had to ask another question, but this time directed at Lucius.
"Have you ever been jealous of Professor Snape?"
Lucius smirked, taking a sip of wine. "You mean apart from the fact that he gets to sleep with Hermione?" he teased, although he realised his comment, once again, hadn't gone down well. "Well, I am not a man prone to jealousy, however, he has certain talents for which I confess myself envious."
Ginny snorted. She would never admit it, but she still held a flame for Lucius and that was enough to make her angry with him. "He's richer than you. Aren't you jealous of that?"
After Molly had admonished her daughter's rudeness— Hermione also glared at the redhead— Lucius answered almost gently, knowing that antagonising his scorned witch when her mother was present would not be wise. He certainly didn't want Fleur―who had hardly said a word throughout the meal―to think any less of him.
"His inheritance aside, Severus' wealth has been forged through his own hard work, skill, and business acumen. However, given his background and knowing how little he had growing up―not just monetarily but emotionally―believe me, he deserves every Knut. I will just expect a rather expensive Christmas present this year."
Hermione blushed. She already knew what Severus was buying Lucius for Christmas, but she was also taken aback by his candour. It was moments like this when she realised just how much Severus meant to the older wizard.
"What I am envious of, however, is twofold," the blond continued whilst slicing through a piece chocolate-covered pear. "First of all, his ability to carry off eyeliner better than myself and the fact that he makes smoking look...I believe the modern day parlance is 'cool'."
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Only when he's smoking cigarettes. You both smoke cigars very well."
"Severus doesn't smoke," Hermione protested. At least, he'd never smoked around her and she found it to be the most loathsome habit so she was sure she would have noticed.
"Not anymore, I grant you," Lucius smirked.
"He gave up about five years ago," Narcissa added, on cue, showing that after being married for nearly twenty years she and her former spouse could still bounce conversations off each other.
"But when he did, he did so with a certain nonchalance that I was never able to emulate," Lucius continued, chuckling at Hermione's disapproving glare.
"I remember catching every single one of my boys at one time or another trying to smoke and hide it," Molly laughed, entering into the conversation. "Thought they were so grown up, but none of them looked 'cool' apart from Charlie, but he does have an affinity for fire and smoke so it was inevitable really."
Narcissa had a similar story to tell. "Do you remember when we caught Draco with a packet of Muggle cigarettes?"
Lucius nodded, finding it hard to contain his amusement as he swallowed another mouthful of dessert. "He was posing in front of his bedroom mirror, a lit cigarette in his hand, practicing all manner of absurd phrases―I presume they were to try and impress some witch or wizard. I merely asked, from the doorway, what the hell he thought he was doing, and in his panic he threw the cigarette and it landed on the curtains. If we'd been a Muggle household, the place would have been turned into a pile of ash."
"Draco told me about that," Luna chimed in airily. "It was quite funny really."
Everyone looked at her, waiting for another pronouncement to come from her lips, but all that happened was the enigma that was Luna Lovegood gave them a brief, vacant smile before returning to her pudding.
It appeared that the conversation had ground to a halt when Hermione remembered the other reason why Lucius was jealous of Severus. "You said something about eyeliner?"
"Ah yes, eyeliner," Lucius reiterated. "I think, due to the circumstances which led me to make this discovery, Severus should tell you himself."
Noticing Hermione's confused expression, Narcissa elucidated. "I'm sure Severus has already told you that prior to the first war, Inner Circle gatherings were rather hedonistic affairs."
Minerva snorted incredulously at the blonde witch's glib comment.
Knowing that Narcissa's remark would be rather controversial in the current company, Lucius attempted to clarify. "Contrary to popular belief, the atrocities which you may associate with allDeath Eater gatherings were only commonplace amongst the lower ranks―that does not excuse their existence, of course. Before Voldemort's disappearance, he was a master at keeping his political and financial allies―his Inner Circle―close at hand by catering to their proclivities. However, in the lead up to the second war, many of the old guard had been replaced by crazed, depraved thugs. The only way that we could avoid such events was to attend your own funeral.
"But before that, many of the parties that we attended back in late seventies and very early eighties, were, as Narcissa says, rather hedonistic affairs. And as such, Hermione should ask Severus about how I discovered that he looked stunning in eyeliner," Lucius stated knowingly before taking a sip of wine.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blond wizard but knew that he wasn't going to relent. And she knew Severus well enough to know that it would be a very interesting conversation.

After dinner, everyone moved back to the drawing room. As the clock chimed eleven, Molly decided that it was time for her to go home, and Minerva had to get back to Hogwarts in Severus' absence. Ginny, Luna, and Angelina were staying, but soon after her mother-in-law departed, Fleur declared that it was time for her to leave as well.
"Nonsense, my dear! You should stay," Narcissa said almost too brightly. "There's no point in you going back to an empty house. Tell her she can stay, Hermione."
"Of course you can stay! If you want to, that is. Don't feel that you have to if you would rather be at home," the evening's host told her, trying to give Fleur plenty of opportunity to refuse.
Fleur smiled ruefully. "I would love to stay, but I don't have anything to sleep in, and―"
"Oh, don't you worry about that," Narcissa interjected, arching an eyebrow at Lucius, who simply rolled his eyes.
Hermione and Fleur couldn't believe what Narcissa was doing; thankfully Ginny and Angelina were oblivious. Luna's knowing smile, however, was rather disconcerting.
"I took the liberty of asking Mrs Hopkins to make up a room for you just in case you decided to stay," Narcissa continued. "Now, I'm tired, too, so why don't I show you to your room and sort some suitable night attire for you?"
Fleur realised that it would be unwise to refuse.

As the two blonde witches ascended the main left-hand staircase, Narcissa spoke. "Because we didn't know you were coming I'm afraid I had to ask Mrs Hopkins to make up a room for you on the family side of the house. The guest accommodations are still in the process of being renovated, and only three are completed on that side, so you will be away from the other girls. I do hope that is all right."
"Is Lucius at this end of the house, then?" Fleur asked, trying to hide the hope she felt, while sensing that Narcissa was up to something.
Narcissa chuckled softly. "You must think me terribly transparent."
"Only from certain angles. But why? Why are you helping us? It is because of me that you and Lucius―"
"Please do not labour under the illusion that you broke up a happy marriage," the older witch informed her as they walked towards Fleur accommodation for the night. "There had been cracks I can assure you, and besides, given my situation now, I should thank you. Make no mistake, I still care for Lucius, and I know he needs you. I am sure you will be able to come to some amicable arrangement in due course, but for now, you both need to grab whatever time you can together. I shall get you a nightgown."
"I do not know what to say," Fleur admitted softly as Narcissa opened the door to the room she would be sleeping in.
"Nothing at all, my dear, nothing at all."

Shortly after Fleur and Narcissa had gone to bed, Hermione yawned and everyone else decided that was their cue to retire as well.
Lucius had gone to see the Auror in charge before heading to bed, and was once again relieved to be told that it had been a quiet night. As he made his way to the stairs, he saw Hermione sitting there hugging her knees, waiting for him.
"Why aren't you talking dirty to your wizard?" he chuckled, trying to bring a smile to her melancholic face. Failing to do so, he sat down next to her. "What troubles you? Do you need pointers?"
Hermione gave him a rueful smile. "No. I just...I'm so sorry. I didn't know Angelina would bring her."
"I know, darling. I sense Narcissa's hand in this. Interfering bitch," he said, putting his arm around Hermione's waist. As she rested her head against his shoulder, he asked, "Do you think I should say goodnight to her?"
"Nothing wrong in that," Hermione mused before whispering teasingly, "it's whether you say good morning as well that could cause some problems."
Lucius snorted softly. Puffing out a breath, he conceded, "I should talk to her. I need to apologise to her personally for my idiocy at Beauxbatons."
"Then talk to her," Hermione growled with playful frustration, nudging him hard enough that his body moved.
Feigning annoyance, he stood and planted a kiss atop Hermione's curls. "Send my regards to your wizard―lucky bastard that he is―and sleep well, sweetheart."
"And you," she told him, squeezing the top of his arm.
"One way or the other, I believe I shall."

Fleur slid into the king-size bed of the room Narcissa had ushered her into and pulled the dark purple, velvet chenille bedspread up to her chin. Seeing Lucius tonight had been harder than she'd ever imagined. Ordinarily, the physical and emotional draw to one another would have been hard to ignore, but their soul bond was calling to each other, begging them to reconnect. The closest they got was when Lucius placed his hand on her lower back as he guided her into the dining room.
However, the relief they both felt at Lucius' touch had an unfortunate side effect. As their bond sparked, an imperceptible amount of magic had been released— magic that only two other people in the room could sense. Hermione wasn't an issue, but when Molly turned round to seek the source of this magic, Fleur realised what a tightrope the two were walking. Luckily, Lucius had moved away from her almost immediately, and Molly's eyes had quickly fallen to Hermione, whom she assumed must have been thinking about Severus because she asked her if she was missing him.
It had been too close a call, and Fleur was resolved to not seek Lucius out, but she stared at the door as if willing him to walk through it. An hour later, her patience was rewarded.
The knock was soft, but to Fleur's ears, it was as if a gong had been sounded. She knew it was him.
She sat up, adjusting the covers to leave them pooled at her waist, making sure that her nightgown was covering everything that it should. Not wishing to appear desperate, she paused for a moment before granting him entrance.

Lucius entered the candlelit room slowly, half expecting to be thrown out the moment he crossed the threshold. He'd divested himself of his usual three-quarter length jacket and stood there feeling incredibly exposed in just his dark blue waistcoat, open high-collared black shirt, and matching fitted trousers.
The last time they'd spoken, he had hurt her beyond measure by his tactless comments. Admittedly, she had misconstrued his meaning and jumped to her own conclusions, but she had taken him by surprise when she told him that she would leave Bill. He should have had a plan in place for such an occurrence, but instead when he opened his mouth, the wrong words came out. And then, the hole he'd dug for himself as he tried to backtrack had started growing exponentially until he was well and truly buried.
However, his small gestures of apology and even smaller tokens of affection―all of which were graciously passed on by Hermione―had been received with increasing ease. This allowed him to surmise that his chivalrous gesture of assisting a pregnant witch to her seat at dinner would not be rejected and he dared to hope that Fleur would allow him an opportunity to make peace.
"Good evening, Lucius. You are well?" Fleur asked coolly, praying that her increased heartbeat would not show through into a blush.
Bowing his head courteously, Lucius' response was to the point. "I am well. You look radiant as always."
Their bond started to thrum and a sense of openness and familiarity flooded through them.
Fleur huffed. "I wish I felt it. I'm just over halfway through this pregnancy and yet I feel huge."
Knowing that he was treading in dangerous territory, Lucius stated simply, "You certainly don't look huge."
"Well, these feel huge," Fleur groused, looking down at her swollen breasts.
Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but managed to engage his brain before his other thinking mechanism took over. He had been trying not to stare at her breasts, but the pale blue silk negligee that Narcissa had given Fleur, was enhancing them in the most distracting way. "However I respond to that will be wrong, so―"
"―you can't keep your eyes off them," the blonde witch snorted disapprovingly.
"You see before you a starving man."
Rolling her eyes, Fleur shook her head. "I cannot believe that you didn't find yourself a witch in France."
Closing his eyes, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcefully. "Darling, I can assure you that the last witch to touch my person intimately was you. And please allow me to apologise for that night."
Recalling the last words that she had spoken to him, Fleur's throat tightened. She'd called him a bigoted bastard when all he'd been trying to do was protect her. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Only if you let me apologise, too."
The corner of Lucius' lips curled slightly, but he was determined to say his piece. "I would normally say 'ladies first,' but on this occasion I beg your permission to throw politeness aside."
The blonde witch's expression became one of concern, and swallowing hard, she nodded reluctantly.
Crossing his arms high on his chest, Lucius raised his one hand, pressing his knuckles to his lips.
"You accused me of continuing to hold bigoted views, that I was more bothered about the press and my family's name and reputation than I was about you. I apologise if this is how you feel, but I must inform you that you could not be more wrong. The subject, I agree, is emotive for both of us, but I do not think those things when it comes to you. I still struggle to shake years of ingrained prejudice, but for you and Severus and Hermione, I am trying.
"My intention on that fateful night was merely to point out the folly of revealing our relationship knowing that it will cause you far too much pain."
"How can it cause me more pain than I am already suffering because I am parted from you?" Fleur choked out, fighting back the surge of emotion that was threatening to spill forth.
Seeing her struggle, Lucius was immediately at her side, sitting on the bed and taking her hands in his. Their bond surged as it revelled in this small touch, growling in frustration as he fought it.
"Darling, you love your husband, the father of your child. To be with me, you would have to give up so much; you would be vilified and for what? A man that does not deserve you? You must see reason, Fleur. I am simply not worth it."
Fleur's expression hardened, her brow furrowing as she shook her head, squeezing his hands as she affirmed, "Yes, you are, Lucius."
"I beg to differ, but I do not wish to argue my point," Lucius said dejectedly. "I just need you to understand that you and your happiness are more important to me than anything. To rebut your belief that I am still a bigot, I wish to show you a copy of the changes I made to my family's Statutes of Inheritance. I wish to demonstrate that I am trying to move beyond my previously held beliefs."
"Lucius..."
"These changes were lodged at the Ministry and with my legal representatives on September 21st 1998―two days after I was informed of your pregnancy."
Fleur's mouth twisted in consternation. "I do not need to see such documentation."
"In that case, I shall inform you of the changes, personally. From now on, any Malfoy from myself to my heirs can marry a Pure-blood, Half-blood, Muggleborn. However, I did not stop there. I included an additional concession which allows for the union of a Malfoy with a―and please know that I despise this term despite its legality―a Half-breed. I did it so that if there is any chance in the future that I can be with you, you will be accepted as my legitimate partner."
"Oh, Lucius," Fleur whispered breathlessly. "You did that for me?"
"I did, and if you had given me a chance to explain, I would―"
A finger placed over Lucius' lips caused him to shut up, and he tentatively pressed a kiss to the silencing digit. He watched as Fleur pushed back the covers and knelt up on the bed, silk fabric clinging to her ripening body. Before he could speak a soft pair of lips replaced the finger.
Once he was over the shock of Fleur's bold move, Lucius kissed her back chastely. "You are so beautiful," he whispered against her lips. His hand, which he'd instinctively raised to place on her side, brushed against her bump. Immediately, his movement froze, and he began to move his hand away.
Fleur, however, had other ideas, and taking his hand, asked, "Would you like to touch?"
Lucius' eyes widened, and he blustered out, "That is an honour that should only be reserved for your―"
"Severus said the same," Fleur chuckled, "but Hermione and I managed to persuade him. Seemingly, she could barely walk the following day as he insisted on practicing making a baby."
"Severus always has to do things so thoroughly as well." Lucius couldn't help but laugh as he imagined the scene. "I suppose yours would be the first baby bump he has ever touched. Despite being Draco's godfather, he was never allowed to touch Narcissa once she was showing. Who would have thought that the king of brooding would be so broody."
Fleur chuckled softly. "You only have to see the way he looks at Hermione to know that he is."
Lucius tentatively shifted his body and placed his hands either side of Fleur's swollen belly. "I agree," he said gruffly, the feel of her bump moving him more than he cared to admit. "However, Severus carries many fears regarding parenthood―all of which, I believe, are unfounded. Hopefully, one day, he will be afforded the chance to experience the trials and tribulations of being a father."
He looked up into Fleur's eyes and smiled softly. "Thank you," he choked out before clearing his throat and attempting to withdraw his hands.
However, Fleur placed her hands atop his and Lucius gulped as the witch he so desperately wanted to be his, whispered against his ear, "Stay with me tonight."
Steeling himself, he cleared his throat and pulled back slightly. "Darling, as much as I would relish the opportunity to―"
Sensing Lucius struggling between what he knew to be right and what he wanted, Fleur was determined to ease his conscience. "Just hold me. That's all." However, the reality of the situation between her and Bill overwhelmed her, all of a sudden, and she stuttered out, "I have not been held for...I don't know when...I don't know when he's coming back, or even if..."
Lucius' brow furrowed sympathetically. He understood fully how she felt, and his usually cold eyes warming as his heart went out to her. "Were you given no warning?"
"No," Fleur whispered, lowering her head to hide her now glistening eyes. "He went into work last Tuesday as usual and arrived home unexpectedly to pack." Her voice cracked as she admitted, "We had half an hour together before he had to leave again and all we did was row."
Lucius immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and stroking her hair to comfort the now sobbing witch.
Allowing her to cry herself out, he reflected on how most men would have rejoiced in the fact that their rival was indisposed, and usually Lucius would be no exception. However, he could not bring himself to celebrate because he felt Fleur's pain and conflict flowing from her. He knew that she loved her husband, and would never delude himself that she didn't. Yet something felt off kilter. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that she would tell him sooner or later. He just didn't want to find out anything which might give him too much hope. He believed it easier to have none than see a glimmer of it.
As Fleur stilled in his arms, he ushered her under the covers before walking round to the other side of the bed. He sat next to her atop the bedspread, leaning against the headboard, pulling her to him. Kissing her temple, his fingertips skimming up and down her arm, he muttered, "Do you know anything of his mission?"
Fleur sighed and turned into him. "He just said that a powerful curse has been discovered in a forest in Albania and that a team of curse breakers was being sent to assist their ministry."
Lucius' ears immediately pricked as Fleur mentioned Bill's destination. "Albania?"
"Yes. Does that mean something?" she asked urgently.
"It is probably no more than coincidence," Lucius mused, praying that it was just that, "but the Dark Lord had an affinity with Albania and spent many of his wilderness years there."
He felt Fleur's body tense and sought to reassure her by squeezing her gently. "The Dark Lord is dead. Potter and his companions ensured that he died as any mortal wizard. No, I am sure this is something else entirely, although, I doubt that makes the mission any less perilous for your husband―unfortunately," he added quickly.
Fleur thought for a moment, subconsciously working the buttons of his waistcoat open. "Did you see in the Prophet that the Lestrange brothers were seen in Romania?"
Lucius' fingers stilled at both the mention of their names and the feel of his chest being exposed. "I did."
"Do you think that they were heading for Albania?" the worried witch asked, looking up at her lover with concern as her fingers slipped between the buttons of his shirt.
Until now, Lucius had just assumed that they were trying to get as far away from Britain, as possible. However, now that Albania had been mentioned again, he hoped that the two events were not connected, but if they were the notion was certainly troubling.
Looking down at Fleur, his mouth twisted in consternation. "I have no idea," he admitted sincerely before kissing her forehead gently and wrapped her in his arms as he sought to comfort himself as much as her.

After a few moments of simply holding each other, Fleur whispered, "You'll get cold sitting on top of the duvet."
Lucius snorted softly, determined not to give into their bond which was urging them to reconnect physically. "Nice try."
Undeterred, the French witch tried again. "Why don't you get under the covers with me?"
"Because then I'll be too hot," he attempted to reason, knowing that his argument was weak.
"Not if you take your clothes off," Fleur shrugged before her pleading eyes met his.
Groaning in frustration, Lucius thumped his head back against the headboard. "Fleur, please, stop tempting me."
"I'm only asking you to hold me, and you would just be more comfortable if you undressed and got into the bed with me."
Her logic was impeccable to his twitching cock, even though his brain was stoically trying to stop his heart and body from giving into Fleur's tempting proposition.
His final pathetic attempt to stave off what was sure to be a pleasurable but bad idea seemed utterly ridiculous, but it was all he could think of as his mental defences began to crumble. "I will poke you constantly if I just wear my boxers."
Fleur's cheeky grin and purred, "I don't mind," was his final undoing.
"You, my dear, are a temptress," he mumbled into her hair before he scrambled off the bed to undress.
"I am part Veela."
"Yes, you are," he chuckled, unceremoniously toeing off his shoes, removing his waistcoat, and pulling his shirt from his trousers. However, seeing his witch lick her lips in anticipation, he slowed down and unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs at a maddening slow pace, smirking at her frustration.
The fading light of the candles cast harsh shadows around the room, and Fleur was finding it hard not to pounce on him as she looked at how his smooth, defined chest was enhanced by it. She certainly couldn't contain her whimper as he slowly unfastened his trousers.
She was not the only one being tortured by the sight of their lover's form. Lucius' stomach knotted as she allowed the duvet to slip from her silk-covered pregnant body. His mouth watered at the thought of unwrapping such an enticing confection, but despite his cock giving him away, he knew that he could not allow himself to do anything more than nibble.
"You really are lovely," he said softly, dropping his trousers, knowing that she would see the evidence of how lovely he thought she was.
Fleur's expression turned feral as her eyes gazed appreciatively at the bulge in his boxers. "So are you," she teased. "Now, shut up and―"
Lucius' lips silenced her by jumping onto the bed and capturing her lips far more quickly than she anticipated. Slipping under the covers, he pulled his witch to him before devouring her mouth as their hands desperately explored one another. Despite his grunted protest, Fleur pushed down his boxers, cupping his balls as she kissed down over his chest. "Fuck, I've missed you," he growled, feeling the heat of her hand on him.
Just like the first time, he thought to himself before he flipped her over and trailed hot, wet kisses down Fleur's throat towards the alluring valley of her breasts.
"I've missed you, too," she gasped, feeling the spaghetti straps of her nightgown being moved down her arms to reveal her sensitive breasts. Immediately his lips found her taut nipples, and she arched into him as best she could, hungry for his touch. Lucius rewarded her eagerness by allowing his hand to glide down her body, caressing the inside of her thigh before his fingers gently parted her folds.
"I can tell," he purred, revelling in her wetness, but determined that this was as far as he would go with her. However, he couldn't quite believe how much she seemed to need this. It was beyond the bond, but now probably wasn't the time to enquire about the state of her sex life with Bill. Instead, Lucius reasoned that she needed an orgasm, and as orgasms are said to be beneficial to one's health, he was more than happy to carry out this caring, and frankly sexy, act.
His lips ghosted over her throat and jaw before tenderly kissing her mouth. His tongue languidly rolled over hers as his finger lazily circled her clit. "I love you," he whispered for the first time in weeks, and he found a lump in his throat as Fleur reciprocated the sentiment. At that moment, and the moments that followed where Fleur came, crying out Lucius' name, everything felt right with the world. Both knew that it wouldn't last, but neither of them cared.

Despite her recent inability to sleep well, a now naked Fleur found herself incredibly relaxed and contented as her similarly attired soulmate spooned her. She also noticed how her unborn child seemed to still under the protective masculine hand that was placed over her belly and soon she found herself drifting almost towards oblivion.
Lucius, however, remained awake for a little longer, savouring the feel of his soulmate lying in his arms. It should have bothered him that he was protecting her and another man's child, but it only served to make more determined to discuss something of the utmost importance with Fleur before he left in the morning. The thought of leaving her distressed him beyond belief, but the comfort of her sleeping so peacefully next to him allowed him to fall asleep as if he hadn't a care in the world. His dreams that night were full of a stunning blonde witch, a small redheaded girl playing in Draco's old playroom with two younger children―both blonde. They were the kind of dreams that he had no right to be dreaming.
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The Headmaster's Wife