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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 80
- 81
- 82
A/N: Hey! I was wrong; I got this done quickly after all. Just one more real chapter after this one (and it’s a doozy) and then the epilogue. Chapter 82 is over 9000 words, and it is the last sex scene I have to offer, so I hope you all find the grand finale thoroughly satisfying. (I just wanted to give you a heads up in case you wanted to read it *alone* . . . or with someone special. Or in the middle of your workday—you know who you are. Whatever floats your boat.)
81—Polyphony
“If you asked me to.”—Patti LaBelle
(Lucius) 
Hermione curled into Severus with a groggy sigh, her arm delicately draped over his scarred body like a sash of pride. 
Mimicking her, Lucius curled into Snape's opposite side: pale, bony home.
Severus seemed surprised to find himself buried in cuddly lovers, but after only a second’s hesitation, he put his free arm around Lucius and stroked his shoulder as if he welcomed the pileup. 
Lucius closed his eyes, listening to the strong beat of Snape’s heart and the soft whisper of Draco and Hermione’s combined breathing. Everyone had calmed down after the drama at St. Mungo’s, and Lucius was grateful to see their day ending in peaceful triumph.
He slid his hand along Hermione’s outstretched arm—her skin like satin beneath his fingers—and she blinked open her eyes, smiling when she saw him so close.
“Hey there,” she murmured.
Lucius grinned. “Hey yourself.”
“You ready to turn in?”
“It has been a rather long day.”
She reached out and touched his neck, her fingertips trailing down his throat. “Yes it has. Very long. I don’t think I could have gotten through it without the three of you.” Her fingers paused on his sternum. “I can’t say how much it meant to me that you came today, Lucius. Thank you.”
Lucius bit his tongue to keep his stinging eyes in check, but he didn’t hold back his smile. “I was happy to be there for the two of you.”
“You were there for everyone. You’re quite the humanitarian when you allow yourself to be.”
Snorting dismissively, Lucius waved her off. “I did only what anyone else would have done.”
Hermione arched an eyebrow, and it was so Snape-like he expected a droll baritone to follow.
“Yes,” Hermione deadpanned, “after being party to a secret medical-murder-rescue mission, everyone thinks to themselves ‘Why not send out for a buffet to feed twenty or so Weasleys, who are all staring at me like I'm a rogue boggart.’”
“What?” Lucius countered innocently. “We were celebrating. It’s not every day you and Severus save a dying baby.”
“A baby you’d never met before in your life—the mother of whom is the youngest child of a family the Malfoys have been feuding with for over a century.”
Pursing his lips, Lucius gave her a halfhearted shrug. “They’d been through a tough time. It was the least I could do.”
Hermione shook her head with a growing smile. “You can’t fool me, Lucius. I know you’re a generous man under all that flippancy. And I saw you talking to Ginny while everyone was passing around James. What did you say that made her hug you so hard? You didn’t buy her her own charity, did you?”
Blushing, Lucius looked away. He didn’t think anyone had seen that. “Of course I didn’t.”
“Then what happened? I’ve been dying to ask all evening.”
“We were merely discussing the intricacies of an overnight stay at St. Mungo’s.”
A look of understanding crossed Hermione’s face, but then her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to be searching him for further clues. “And?”
Lucius sighed, knowing she’d get the story out of him sooner or later. “We commiserated over the horrors of watching a loved one die . . . and the utter incompetence of the medi-magic field when it comes to cases that don’t follow the textbook. And then I might have apologized.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “You did? For what?”
“Not the illness,” he said, sensing her confusion. “More for . . . our past. The animosity. But specifically I wanted her to know how sorry I was about slipping her that damn diary in Flourish and Blotts all those years ago.” 
He explained quickly when he saw her expression darken. “I didn’t even know it was a diary until the Dark Lord demanded its return. I’d actually looked it over several times, and although I knew it had been cursed in some way, I’d never uncovered any of its secrets or discovered its purpose. I assumed it was just some sick memento from the past, a trophy of some sort. I thought Arthur would be caught with it and their family name disgraced.”
Hermione looked absolutely sickened by his confession, but she said nothing in reply, allowing him to continue.
“Ginny said the book made her do things, things she doesn’t totally remember . . . but she said the Chamber rumors were true and there was a basilisk down there—and that you got petrified.”
Hermione nodded, her mouth pinched.
“I’m so sorry, love. If I could go back in time and change the past, you know I’d do it in a heartbeat.” His eyes landed on Draco. Merlin, there was so much he’d go back and change, evil deeds not withstanding. “But I can’t. All I can do is apologize and try to right my many, many wrongs. That’s what I told Ginny . . . and I asked her what I could do to make amends.”
“What did she say?” Hermione whispered.
Lucius felt his face go red, but he knew if he stalled, he’d never be able to admit the truth. “She asked me to apologize to Arthur and Molly.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I already did.”
Everyone in the bed went still, a collective bout of shock silencing all signs of life.
Hermione recovered first. “How did they react?”
“Pretty much the way you three just reacted.”
Severus snorted, but he might have been laughing at himself.
“Did they say anything?” Hermione pressed.
“They thanked me. I believe that was the extent of our interaction. I didn’t wish to intrude on their celebration any longer than necessary. It was a time for family not repentant attention seeking.”
For several seconds Hermione stared at him, face blank, but then her mouth stretched in a pained grimace, and the tears were upon them like a flash flood.
Draco, who was spooned along her back, wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close, peering curiously at Lucius through the tangled briar of her hair. 
“I can’t believe you did all that,” Hermione said, her voice cracking. “I’d say I’m proud of you, but that doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.”
“Proud is fine by me. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hide me from your friends and adoptive families; I don’t want to be the wedge that comes between you and those you love.”
Hermione rested her hand atop his, petting his fingers, her face streaked with tears. “I’m always proud of you. Every day. I’ve known for a long time that you were bigger than your past, that there was more to you than haughtiness and pureblood pride. All those things—those labels—they aren’t you, Lucius. Do you know what you really are?”
Lucius had been stuck on that very question for months. So much of his identity had been turned on its head, he didn't even know where to start. “What am I?”
“You’re love,” she replied. “We all are. It's who we are and what we do; it permeates every facet of our existence. You might take on these stories society tells you about what’s valuable and what’s important, but when it’s all said and done, the love is all you’re left with. It’s you. You get it? It’s not something you have to acquire or earn, you can’t lose it or have it taken away. It’s the core of what makes you you.”
“So,” Lucius murmured, slightly lost, “is Draco the most important cog in the Quartet machinery? He’s the hub of our love, is he not?”
Hermione shook her head. “Draco is our hub of emotion, but I think love is something more than mere emotion. Emotions come and go—they’re mutable and often brought on by circumstance. But if you think about it, love is always there. It’s constant. Even when we forget about it. It never stops.”
“What about when it dies?” Severus asked quietly.
Hermione placed her hand over his heart. “Yes, well . . . I don’t think it can. That doesn’t make sense. Love isn’t physical, so how can it die or even degrade?”
“But the people who experience the love are physical,” Severus replied. “They will pass away with time.”
“The people’s physical bodies will, yes.”
“And with it their memories and feelings.”
“Yes, feelings and memories are transient; I’ll concede that.”
“But you’re saying love is beyond that because it’s not really a feeling?” Draco asked.
“Perhaps I’m complicating things by calling it love,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “We associate love with particular people so strongly that it’s difficult to separate the concept from the state of being. And it’s hard to discuss something undefinable. How about if I put it like this . . . Lucius, tell me why you love Severus.”
Lucius glanced up at the man, and they shared a look of perplexed bewilderment. “I . . . I don’t know . . . because he’s . . . “ The first word that came to mind was Severus, but of course that wasn’t an answer. “Because he’s . . . intelligent?”
“You love Severus because he’s intelligent?” Hermione said, as if making sure that was his final answer.
“Well that’s not the only reason.”
“So you love Severus for a list of reasons?”
“No . . . that’s not quite accurate.”
“Okay. Try again. Explain to me why you love Severus.”
“I suppose it’s because he’s —I don’t know—so much like me. We understand each other.”
“So you love Severus specifically because you share similar histories.”
“Mmmmmm . . . no, that’s not quite right either. I think it might be part of why we get on so well together, but it’s not really why I love him.”
“Can’t you think of the reason why you love Severus? A reason to explain your choice.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a choice,” Lucius said, his brow furrowing.
Hermione grinned. “No? You can’t think of the moment you decided to love Severus?”
“No, of course not. Who the devil decides to fall in love with someone? You just do.”
Beaming, Hermione grasped his hand. “So you just love Severus? Not for any reason. Not because of what he can do for you or because of what you can do for him? You just love him because . . . he’s Severus.”
“Yes!” Lucius said, glad they were finally speaking the same language.
“Excellent. Let’s try it with Draco now. When was the first moment you realized you loved Draco?”
The memory of baby Draco and the overwhelming bliss that had followed his arrival came rushing back; joy coursed through his body just as it had the morning of Draco’s birth, and all the air left Malfoy’s lungs as the truth slammed into his chest like a runaway bludger. “I loved Draco the first moment I saw him.”
“Before you even knew him?”
Lucius looked into his son’s eyes—eyes that were so much like his own it seemed he was looking at his own reflection. Except . . . as soon as Lucius took himself out of the equation and just saw Draco, he saw the truth.
“I knew him,” Lucius whispered, staring at his son in wonder. “I knew everything I needed to know the second I laid eyes on him.”
“Can you tell him why you loved him so much?” Hermione whispered back. “Do you know now?”
He nodded, never looking away. “I loved him because he was. Because he existed. Because he was nothing but love—pure, innocent perfection. He was . . . nothing—no story, no history, no expectations—but at the same time, he was everything. Everything.”
Draco’s stolid expression snapped, his face folding. And Lucius lost it. Without the carapace of forced arrogance and defensive bravado, Draco was once again the boy Lucius had adored on sight. It felt as though he were seeing him for the first time in twenty-seven years, his long lost son. Lucius didn’t know if he was crying because he was so happy to have him back or if he was grieving all the time they’d lost together.
Pushing Hermione’s hair aside, Lucius wiped away Draco’s tears, brushing his fingers along the boy’s soft cheek. “I’ve never stopped loving you—ever—but I did forget what that really meant. And I’m so sorry for that.”
Draco shook his head, his hand over his eyes. “N-No, I made it worse. I thought you hated me . . . and I hated you back.”
Refusing to let go of him, Lucius twisted his head and used his own shoulder to wipe his eyes. “I didn’t hate you. But I don’t blame you for thinking I did. That’s all on me.”
Lucius could see Draco wanted to believe, but there was still so much doubt between them. The boy had been learning not to trust his father for almost three decades; convincing him otherwise wouldn’t happen overnight. Lucius had taught him well.
“You are a good boy,” he murmured. “I should have told you that more often.”
Blinking open his eyes, Draco took a deep breath and studied him through a haze of tears.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Lucius told him. “I understand. And I take full responsibility for making sure you know I love you from now on.”
Draco’s lips twitched into a reluctant almost-smile. He nodded.
Sensing an opening, Severus came to the rescue for the second time that day, clearing their blocked up noses and vanishing their tears with a flick of his fingers.
Struck by the influx of oxygen, Malfoy’s body calmed, and like magic, he immediately settled back into the peace of the joined Quartet, which felt even warmer now that he’d patched up some of the gaping hole between him and Draco.
“Thank you, Severus,” Lucius drawled, genuinely grateful for the reprieve. “That's a marvelous spell you’ve invented. Handkerchiefs are so passé.”
Chuckling, Severus bowed his head. “I know it’s secretly why you love me.”
At that, Lucius looked at Hermione, who was tucked under Snape’s arm, crying and smiling, her face shining like the sun. Placing his fingers beneath her chin, Lucius brought her back to the surface, and Severus reached over to clean her up with a wave of his hand.
“I see what you mean now,” Lucius said, kissing her lips. “You’re right. What makes us us can’t be described. I have no specific reason for loving Severus or Draco. But I do. Not because of anything they’ve done . . . or not done . . . or because I’m supposed to. I simply . . .”
“Love them,” she stated. “You saw through to their true selves, and you were drawn to the freedom of that nothingness and everythingness reflected back at you.”
“Yes,” he whispered, startled by the realization. “I see it in you too. I’ve always admired the freedom you posses—I just never knew that’s what it was. You’re so . . .”
“Primal,” Severus finished for him. “Occasionally primordial.”
“Yes,” Lucius agreed excitedly. “Exactly. Like fire. I admired your power and warmth, but I also found that power and warmth frightening.”
“I scare myself sometimes,” she said with the hint of a smile.
Puffing out a laugh, Draco shook his head. “No, I get what he means. There used to be times where I’d feel totally out of control with you, like I’d fallen off my broom and was plummeting toward the earth, but at the same time you were the cushioning charm that caught me at the last second.”
“I sound quite terrifying,” Hermione said blithely.
Severus snickered and kissed the top of her head. “A bloody nightmare. What could possible scare three emotionally crippled Slytherins more than a stubborn Gryffindor who loves them unconditionally. You’ve been ripping apart the very fabric of our known universe for months.”
She smiled, looking very content. “You’re welcome.”
“Yes,” Severus laughed. “A thank you is most definitely in order. You’ll just have to wait until I recover from the upheaval first.”
“Speaking of recovering from upheavals,” Draco interjected hesitantly, “is anyone else worried about what's going to happen now that the Weasleys have witnessed us in action? I’m pretty sure half of them had a mild aneurysm when they saw all of us there today.”
“They’re not going to tell anyone,” Hermione said, as if that were ridiculous.
“How do you know?” Lucius asked. “That Percy Weasley looks the sort who’d rat on his own grandmother if it resulted in a promotion.”
Hermione snorted and shook her head. “I’m as good as family when it comes to the Weasleys; Percy loves me. Plus, I’m the only one who supported his push to regulate the thickness of cauldron bottoms coming in through the international market. I might have swayed Kingsley in his favor. He hasn't forgotten that.”
Lucius just stared at her. “I’m sorry, did you say the thickness of cauldron bottoms? What on earth has that got to do with the four of us being seen together at St. Mungo’s?”
“Trust me,” she said, laughing at his confounded scowl. “I’m the last person he’d ever go to the papers about. And after all the trouble The Prophet has caused Harry, the rest of the Weasleys aren’t too keen on reporters. But all that is neither here nor there, because the Weasleys aren’t upset about us being together.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Lucius demanded. “If they’ve figured out what's actually going on, how could they not be upset? We’re the bloody Malfoys! And Severus Snape!”
“Well, number one, they’ve known I’ve been friends with Draco for years, and since they ask after him every time I go to the Burrow, I think they've accepted the fact that he's turned over a new leaf—so that’s one Malfoy they don’t hate. Number two, Molly already loves Severus. She's thoughtful enough to not make him uncomfortable by constantly reminding him, but I know she was one of the few people who visited when he was recovering after the war.”
They all looked up at Snape, who nodded once in confirmation, albeit with a sour frown. “Once I could swallow, I appreciated the food, but those jumpers . . .” He shuddered. “The woman’s mad if thinks I’ll be caught dead in any of those monstrosities.”
“So,” Hermione went on, “Severus is safe. That just leaves you. And while you may not be their favorite person, you did fund an entire charity for me, which I know went a long way toward influencing their opinion. If you apologized today, then that might have been enough to sway them completely—whether they forgive you or not. And let’s not overlook the most important gold star on your chart.”
“What’s that?” Lucius asked suspiciously.
Hermione smiled. “You saved their grandchild.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Lucius exclaimed. “That was all you and Severus!”
“Was it?” Hermione said, feigning confusion. “That’s strange. I distinctly remember you coming in my arse and being a large part of the discovery process. You don’t honestly think I could have done that without you, do you?”
“I . . . didn’t consider that. I suppose you’re right . . . again.”
“She usually is,” Draco muttered. “Saves time if you just accept it and don’t argue.”
Hermione blushed and reached back to slap his arse.
“Oo! Starting a bit late tonight, aren’t you, Nanny Granger?”
 Snorting, she wiggled into him. “Don’t get me going.”
“Me? You’re the one rubbing yourself all over my junk.”
“Don’t be perverse—I’m just snuggling.”
“Well if you snuggle me much harder, I’m going to come all over your bum.”
Hermione and Snape both started to laugh, and Lucius mentally staggered back as the scene settled over him like a warm cloak, his chest buzzing with a familiar euphoria, open and free. He hadn’t felt so good since Draco was maybe one or two years old. It seemed strange that he could forget a feeling that seemed so natural—so integral—to his soul. Why had he ever let it go? 
But of course, he knew the answer.
He’d begun to look outside his own heart for happiness, and it had led him down a dark and winding path of sorrow and pain. But he’d found his way back—after a long and arduous detour. One that had almost eaten him alive. Yet, here he was, after all that struggle, right where he belonged. 
With his family.
Noticing that he hadn’t joined in on their laughter, Hermione quieted and reached out to him. “What’s wrong, Lucius? Why do you look so sad? Did you want a snuggle too?”
Lucius smirked, chuffing lightly. “Actually, I was just thinking about how much I love you . . . and how short our time together here is. Perhaps I’m still a bit maudlin from St. Mungo’s.”
Her eyes softened, and she stroked his cheek. “No, love. I understand. It’s been a tough day for everyone—of course you’re thinking about how much you want to keep us with you forever. I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Are you really? Because, if you are . . . I might have a solution.”
“What kind of solution?”
“I was thinking . . . we could get married.”
Her face went blank. “To whom?”
“To each other.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and he was horrified to see denial in her eyes.
“I could never do that to Severus and Draco. I love you all equally.”
“No, you misunderstand. I want you to marry all of us.”
“I don’t think we’re allowed to do that.”
A bark of relieved laughter escaped his lips. “Says who?”
“Society.”
“Then it’ll just be a private affair. We won’t broadcast our arrangement.”
Lucius rolled over to his bedside table and retrieved the small grey velvet box he’d hidden in the drawer. Turning back, he smiled to himself as he lifted the lid. “I got one for each of you. Just simple bands. Platinum.”
The four rings were nestled all in a row, resting beside each other in comfortable companionship, much like the four of them heaped in the bed. Taking out the smallest one, he held it up and gave her a questioning look. “What do you say, love? Would you like to marry the three of us?”
Hermione raised her head and stared at the rings in round-eyed astonishment. It took her half a minute to say anything at all, and when she did, she looked hopefully cautious, her chocolate eyes bright. “What about everyone else? I don’t want to put anyone on the spot.”
“I think we all know Draco wants to marry you,” Lucius said, glancing at his son, who looked even more hopeful than Hermione. “But you’re right, I should ask Severus. Severus?” he said formally. “Would you like to get married?”
Snape flexed a sharp black eyebrow and shifted his gaze the two on his left, his expression impossible to decipher. "To everyone or just Hermione?”
Lucius shook his head with a smile. That was a yes. “You know very well I meant to all of us.”
"I just thought I should make sure,” Severus said with a sly smirk. “Someone once told me to always read the fine print.”
“That’s where they get you,” Lucius agreed.
Severus rubbed the back of Draco’s neck and pressed his lips to the top of Hermione’s head. “I can’t pass up a three for one deal.”
“There you have it, love,” Lucius murmured, his heart racing. “Everyone wants to get married. It’s up to you.”
“No pressure,” Draco joked dryly.
Hermione burst out laughing, the joy of the sound belying the tears in her eyes. “Of course I want to get married to all of you.”
Draco kissed the back of her neck and, in a rush of sheer delight, Lucius leaned over and pecked them both on the cheek. Fumbling for her finger, he quickly slipped the ring over it, afraid she might change her mind if he gave her too much time to think. 
“Here,” he rasped, “put on Draco’s ring for him.”
She sniffled and took the platinum band, and Draco splayed his fingers, his hand trembling even harder than hers. Once Hermione slid the ring into place, Lucius was sure his son was going to start crying again, so he left him to his happiness and went for his own ring. But Severus plucked it from his grasp and, with a quirk of one brow, did it for him, his touch lingering on Lucius’s palm. 
Lucius looked into Snape’s bottomless black eyes, and a surge of memories came rushing back: young Snape—a serious, scrawny loner, more nose than face. Always reading and scowling. That piercing look in his eyes the first time Lucius kissed him, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hex him or ravage him. Thank Merlin he’d chosen the latter. Who would have guessed that one day he’d be asking that awkwardly interesting boy to marry him? And his son. And his witch.
Hermione snatched the last ring from the box and held it out to Draco. “You haven’t done one yet.”
Grinning, Draco and sat up and leaned over to put the ring on Snape’s long finger. 
Severus smiled and caught him by the back of the neck, drawing him in for a quick kiss to seal the deal. Unable to pass by Hermione without giving her the same, he touched his lips to hers, but he pulled Draco along for the ride and pressed his face into her neck for a surprise assist that had her squirming with giggles.
“So,” Severus said as he pulled back to look into her eyes. A small tic twitched in his cheek, but otherwise he looked quite placid—which meant he was up to something. “Marrying all three of us . . . I hope you're up for a challenge. Just out of curiosity, whose name were you planning on taking?”
A moue of dismay stole her smile, but Lucius couldn't help laughing when he saw Snape's devilish smirk.
“Don’t worry about it right now, love. We can hammer out the details later.” Under his breath he whispered, “Hermione Malfoy-Snape.”
Severus snickered. “Hermione Snape-Malfoy has a much more commanding presence to it, don’t you think?”
“How about Draco Malfoy-Granger?” Draco murmured, still nuzzling her neck. “I’ll gladly take your name if you like.”
Hermione turned to him. “Really? That actually sounds quite nice.”
Lucius glanced at Severus. Damn. The boy had one-upped them again. “We could all take each other's last names. Draco and I could be Malfoy-Granger-Snape. Severus could be Snape-Malfoy-Granger. And you could be Granger-Snape-Malfoy. Then we’d all have a bit of the other.”
Hermione nodded. “I’d like that. I guess we’ll have to keep our professional names anyway so people don’t find out.”
“Are we really going to have a ceremony?” Draco asked. “Who in the world would agree to marry us?”
“I’ll look into it,” Lucius answered. “We’ll do it in another country if need be.”
"I don’t think there are any countries that will allow you to marry your own son,” Severus said with a hint of dark humor.
"Thank Merlin,” Draco muttered. “No offense, Father, but I wasn’t looking to take our relationship to that level.”
Lucius nodded. “I think being joined by blood is sufficient.”
“You know,” Hermione jumped in with a rakish smile, “as a Quartet, we could be in for one hell of an interesting honeymoon.”
Snape snickered and gave Lucius a secretive smirk. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Well, I’m awake now,” Draco said. “I think I need some fucking to fall asleep.” He goosed Granger, and she jumped away with a squeal.
“I agree,” Hermione laughed. “Are you two up for a goodnight shag?”
Lucius was up for a lot more than that.
Severus nodded, reading his face. “You ready to put these two to sleep?”
“Damned Legilimens,” Lucius said with a grin, “you read my mind.”
Polyphony—simultaneously combining a number of parts, each forming an individual melody and harmonizing with each other.
“If You Asked Me To” by Patti LaBelle. Written by Diane Warren. Released in 1989.
This song was used in the James Bond film License to Kill, and peaked at number 79 on the US Billboard Hot 100. But in 1992 Celine Dion covered it, and it went on to reach the number four slot.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Da-RjeCObyA (LaBelle Version)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1bKuXbnGDqI (Celine Version)
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