Once In a Lifetime

By Pigwidgeon37

‘Are you sure it won’t be too much?’ Hermione asked, casting a baleful look at the stack of files she’d just levitated over onto Ginny’s desk.

‘For the last time,’ Ginny said and rolled her eyes. ‘No, it won’t be too much, yes, I‘ve perfectly understood your indexing system. This is your wedding, Hermione, it’s a bit more important than work!’

‘Maybe I ought to tell Lucius that I don’t want to go on that honeymoon after all. The Wizengamot will be back in session four days before I come back, and it’s just unfair-‘

‘Hermione!’ Ginny interrupted her, already exasperated but still laughing. ‘You’ve been on holiday before, I’ve been on holiday before, and there never was a problem taking over each other’s work. Luna and Neville are here, too, they’ll help me if it really gets too much.’

‘I just feel as if I’m letting you down...’

‘Nonsense. You have a wedding to prepare.’

‘So have you.’

‘Yes, but mine is going to be in December, and I promise you I’ll take time off before and after too. Does that make you feel better?’

‘Slightly.’ Hermione sighed and sank into her chair. ‘I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable about having this big wedding, you know.’

‘I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to talk to about that. Why don’t you tell Lucius? It’s a bit late though, what with the invitations already sent out.’

‘I tried.’ Hermione gave her friend a lopsided smile. ‘It was like taking away a little boy’s favourite toy. I just couldn’t insist.’

‘You two.’ Ginny shook her head. ‘You’re wrapped around each other’s little fingers.’

‘You have to admit it has its advantages. If I hadn’t used all my, erm, feminine wiles to persuade him, do you think he’d have talked to Draco? Or Draco to him, for that matter, if you hadn’t literally shagged him into it?’

Ginny was about to answer when a bright red memo zoomed out of the fireplace and towards Hermione, missing Ginny’s head by a scant inch. Hermione unfolded the parchment. ‘McG wants to see me.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s half past six, and it’s Friday. What on earth can she want to talk about?’

‘It’s also your last day at the office before the wedding. She probably wants to try and talk you out of it,’ Ginny replied cheerfully.

‘Very funny. I know she isn’t happy.’

‘But you are. And that’s what counts, isn’t it? The rest is her problem, really.’

Hermione shot her a dark look. ‘Wait until you and Draco go public. I bet you’re going to get your very own talking-to then, and you won’t like it a single bit more than I do.’

‘Probably. But I’ll have the advantage of knowing exactly what she’s going to say – I don’t think it’ll be very different from the sermon she’s about to give you. Are we still having our girls’ night tomorrow?’

‘Of course.’ Hermione rose from her chair and went towards the door, her stride not as determined as usual. ‘I’ll be at our, well your place at around seven. Wish me luck.’

‘Don’t take any shit from her!’ Ginny called after her friend, when the door had almost closed behind her.

Hermione stuck her head through the door and grinned. ‘I won’t. Till tomorrow then!’

McGonagall had accepted the invitation to the engagement party, which had taken place two weeks ago. But she had made it quite clear, by staying no more than thirty minutes, that she was merely fulfilling a social obligation. A cool handshake with Lucius, a distant peck on the cheek for Hermione, a few exchanges of small talk with other important guests, and she had left the premises followed by a devout Percy Weasley and her escort of two Aurors.

This wasn’t the best of auspices for her talk with the Minister, Hermione thought. Not that she’d been expecting anything like enthusiasm from her former teacher and mentor, but she’d read disappointment on her face when she’d told her. That, Hermione admitted, smarted a bit. Well, at least Neville and Luna had been happy to hear the news and had congratulated her; her parents had first been very sceptical but then easily charmed by their future son-in-law, and Snape had managed very civil congratulations. Harry and the rest of the Weasley clan had sent back their wedding invitations unopened. Molly Weasley’s howler, which had been delivered by the same owl, had been disposed of with a quick Incinerate before it could start spewing insults.

Hermione entered the suite of offices on the second floor. Percy and the two secretaries had already left, and the Auror sitting behind the reception desk gave her an informal salute and told her to proceed directly to McGonagall’s office. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Hermione braced herself, knocked and entered.

McGonagall looked up from a parchment she’d been reading and rose. ‘Hermione,’ she said, crossing the office to meet the young witch and holding out her hand, ‘how good of you to come. I wasn’t sure whether you were still here.’

‘Minister.’ Hermione squeezed the proffered hand and smiled. ‘I had to brief Ginny – she’s taking over for me for the next three weeks, as you know.’

‘I know.’ McGonagall nodded. ‘Please have a seat. Would you like some tea, maybe?’

This was certainly not what Hermione had expected; she’d prepared herself for a stern but brief prep talk on how to stick to one’s professional ethics while married to a former Death Eater, whose hunger for power was as notorious as his ruthlessness in obtaining it. ‘Tea would be nice, thank you,’ she said politely.

She’d evidently not managed to keep the surprise from her voice and facial expression, because McGonagall was giving her a rather amused look. ‘Chompy!’ she called, and a House Elf, clad in a bright red terrycloth towel, appeared immediately. ‘Tea for Miss Granger and me, please. And some sandwiches, I think. I have an appointment at half past six with the German ambassador,’ she said, taking the chair opposite Hermione’s, ‘and the woman never offers her visitors so much as a glass of water.’

‘German efficiency, I suppose,’ Hermione said.

‘German lack of manners, if you ask me,’ McGonagall huffed. The tea and sandwiches materialized on the table, and she filled both their cups. ‘Sandwich?’

‘No, thank you. I’m going to have dinner with Lucius.’

‘Of course. You don’t mind if I-‘ She gestured at the plate.

‘Of course not.’

McGonagall carefully selected an egg-and-watercress sandwich and took a bite. ‘How are the wedding preparations coming along?’

If this was some kind of weird game, she’d better play along, Hermione thought. Bearing in mind though that the Minister’s Animagus form was a cat. ‘Quite well. The first fitting for my and the bridesmaids’ robes will be on Monday.’

‘Miss Weasley and Mrs Longbottom will be bridesmaids, I understand?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Will you attend the wedding, Minister?’

McGonagall delicately put her teacup back on the saucer. ‘This is a purely private meeting, Hermione. You don’t have to address me as Minister, you know.’

‘Thank you.’ To hide her puzzlement, Hermione took a sip of tea. ‘Well, will you attend, Minerva?’

‘Have I given you any reason to doubt I would?’

‘I wasn’t quite sure. You don’t seem to appreciate my choice of husband very much.’

Taking another sandwich, McGonagall said, ‘I am sure you know perfectly well what you’re doing.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘What can I say? Yes, I certainly do.’

‘Do you love him?’ For the first time since Hermione had entered the office, McGonagall’s eyes fully met hers.

The temptation to tell her to mind her own business was strong. ‘I’m not marrying him for his money. Or his looks,’ Hermione added.

‘I hadn’t suspected you were. But...’ The Minister dabbed her lips with a napkin and leaned back, to scrutinize her former pupil. ‘He’s a very powerful wizard.’

Hermione merely smiled and nodded.

‘And being married to a witch in your position may hold considerable advantages for him.’

‘I suppose that he considers being married to me an advantage in itself.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ McGonagall said, smiling faintly. ‘I would be very... distressed though, if this marriage put you in any kind of, shall we say, conflict of interests.’

‘So would I.’

Silence fell. Hermione, who had learned a thing or two from her soon-to-be husband about the value of such silences, was careful not to break it. The seconds trickled by, and still none of the two women said a word.

Hermione almost jumped when McGonagall rose from her chair. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to excuse me – I still have to read five feet of information for my meeting with the ambassador.’ She held out her hand for Hermione to shake. ‘Oh, by the way, do try to sound out Mr Malfoy on his thoughts about becoming my political advisor. Good evening, Hermione. Give my regards to your fiancé.’

Hermione was still pinching her arm when the lift was taking her down to the entrance hall.

~o~o~o~

‘That cunning old cat!’ Lucius said pensively. ‘A particularly fine piece of tactics for a Gryffindor, I must say.’

‘She managed to get your balls into a rather tight grip. That would be an admirable piece of tactics even for a Slytherin. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. A very wise move.’ Hermione sought and found a more comfortable position for her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, really, for having handed her your balls, so to speak.’

‘Seeing as you take excellent care of them otherwise, I am inclined to forgive you, my dear.’ He pulled her closer and started caressing her thighs and bum. ‘If I refuse and she mentions it to anybody, purely by mistake of course’ – Hermione snorted – ‘speculation will be rife as to why I rejected such a tempting offer, especially as my wife is one of the Minister’s Counsels. Everybody’s going to assume that I’m pursuing my very own goals...’ He sighed. ‘And three guesses what the answer is going to be, given my past. So I have to accept.’

‘Do you mind terribly?’ Hermione put her thigh across Lucius’s, to rub it against his cock.

‘Not really, at least I don’t think so. It is doubtlessly going to be quite interesting, and I won’t deny – well, at least not to you – that I’ve been longing to be back on the political parquet. Though I’ll have to find a way to avoid having to attend too many meetings. I’ve always found meetings to be terribly boring. And I’ll draw the line at having to walk behind her, like Percy Weasley. At her side, or the deal is off.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be amenable to that suggestion. When are you going to contact her?’

‘Protocol dictates that she be seated to my left at the wedding feast. I suppose that will give us ample time for a little private discussion – rest assured that her glass will never be empty.’

‘There was a rumour, while I was at school, that she wasn’t, erm, averse to having a glass or two.’

‘Seeing as that particular rumour was already making the rounds while I was at Hogwarts, there has to be some grain of truth to it.’ He hoisted her up to sit astride his thighs. ‘And what do you think, my dear?’ His hand sneaked between her legs. ‘Does the idea of getting married to the Minister of Magic’s future political advisor appeal to you?’

‘To be honest’ – she threw her head back and moaned – ‘the idea of getting married to a sex-crazed bastard like you holds enough appeal as it is. No, don’t make me... Not yet, damn you!’

He smiled and retrieved his hand, to make her suck his finger. ‘But you’re so delicious to watch...’ Sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, he nuzzled her breasts. ‘And you know how much better the second one is. Do sit down, ma’am.’ He gestured at his cock and inhaled sharply when she slid down. ‘I’m already regretting my choice of handfasting ritual – a whole week of abstinence before the wedding seems hardly fair.’

Hermione chuckled and arched her back, increasing the friction. ‘That’ll teach you to read the small print next time.’

‘I must say I find this show of unbridled gloating’ – he thrust up hard, making her cry out – ‘very unbecoming in my bride. You could have told me.’

Her nails dug into his biceps when he thrust again. ‘I didn’t want to insult your intelligence.’ She leaned in for a deep kiss. ‘But if it’s any comfort to you, I hate it too.’ Holding him in a tight embrace, she slowed their rhythm a little. ‘By the way,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘I’m not going to wear anything under my bridal robes.’ She bit his earlobe. ‘Just so you know. Only stockings. The very finest silk your money can buy. With lovely...’ She moaned when his finger slowly stroked down between the cheeks of her arse. ‘Ohmygodyes! Garters!’

~o~o~o~

Her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth and forehead wrinkled in concentration, Ginny was copying a complicated set of runes from a sheet of parchment onto Hermione’s lower back.

‘Thanks for doing this for me,’ Hermione said. ‘Luna would probably have drawn some strange magical creature, and somehow I wouldn’t feel comfortable with Mum doing it.’

‘Considering that love bite on your shoulder, I must say I sympathize. Not something you’d like your mother to see.’

Hermione giggled. ‘It’s all that abstinence I guess. We got a little, um, carried away last night. Stopped just in time.’

‘I thought Lucius was a bit on edge. Though I have to say he’s really making an effort to be nice to me. Giving us the rooms with connecting doors was an especially nice touch, really. I’m sure Draco will appreciate it a lot.’ She continued her drawing in silence for a moment, then said, ‘Just imagine... Snape’s doing the same right now to Lucius. Interesting thought, isn’t it?’

‘Interesting in which sense?’ Hermione tried to turn her head far enough to get a look at Ginny’s face but had to give up for lack of flexibility.

‘Interesting in the sense that it’s a major turn-on.’

Hermione yelped. ‘Ginny! I never thought – Does the thought of two men turn you on?’

‘Well, obviously. Not just any two men, of course. But your husband and his friend of old... Doesn’t that do anything for you? I’ve often wondered about their friendship being not quite platonic.’

‘Maybe I should’ve asked mum to apply the runes,’ Hermione growled. ‘I don’t think I could feel much more embarrassed, love bite or not.’ She rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘Honestly, I never had reason to assume that Lucius is anything but straight.’

‘Well, so am I. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do a bit of experimenting back in the old days. Lots of people do, you know. You really had other things on your mind while we were at Hogwarts, so I suppose you never got round to doing your own bit of experimenting, but believe me, there was a lot going on in the dormitories.’

‘Oh god!’ Hermione groaned. ‘Ginny, please, have mercy! I’ll be sitting between the two of them during the feast, I won’t be able to look left or right without blushing!’

‘Between your husband and his best friend...’ Ginny started drawing another rune on her friend’s left shoulder blade.

‘Ginny, stop it! Now! Please!’

‘I wonder if Lucius told him that you won’t be wearing any underwear.’

‘Ginny, I mean it!’

‘All right, all right. Let’s switch to a less offensive topic. When are your parents going to arrive?’

‘McG told me she’d send a ministry car to their house in the early afternoon. They ought to be here around three p.m., I think. Same time as Luna and Neville. Luna looks lovely in her bridesmaid’s robes, don’t you think? I mean you do too but I already told you so.’

‘Green looks good on her, yes – makes her look a bit like a wood elf, don’t you think? By the way, I got an owl yesterday from Parvati and Lavender – they told me I’d get my bridal robes and the robes for the bridesmaids for free, isn’t that wonderful? I mean, I could afford them, now that I don’t have to save up for a cottage anymore, but it’s much better this way.’

‘Those two are giving something away for free?’ Hermione snorted. ‘You sure Draco didn’t put them under Imperius?’

‘No, no. They said that because of your wedding they practically have to fight off customers. Everybody wants to buy their outfits at Frills & Fripperies, since the Prophet reported that that’s where your bridal robes come from.’

‘And I wonder who told the prophet,’ Hermione murmured.

‘I may have dropped a word to Rita. And mentioned that I did so to Parvati and Lavender. Purely by accident, of course. All right, I’m done. Facial hair next, okay?’

‘That stupid ritual,’ Hermione muttered, sitting up and fishing for her dressing gown. ‘If at least the preparations could be done magically, I wouldn’t mind. But having my facial hair torn out with a piece of string...’

‘It’s not that bad. I practised on myself – it just stings a bit, and the skin gets a little red and blotchy, but the new facial lotion Snape developed works miracles. Draco gave me a bottle, it’s not on the market yet but fully tested, so you don’t need to worry about having to get married with green tentacles coming out of your ears or anything.’ She took a piece of cotton thread and made a loop, holding one end of the thread in each hand and pinching the loop closed with her left thumb and index. ‘Ready to suffer?’

‘It’s unfair,’ Hermione grumbled. ‘Lucius can just shave while I...’

‘He can’t use a shaving charm, though. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t cut off his head in the process.’

‘Dad said he’d help him. So I suppose the perfection of his aristocratic features won’t be marred by cuts and sticking plaster. Ouch!’ Her hand flew up to her cheek. ‘Did you say it stings a bit? That bloody hurt!’

‘So you’re more sensitive than I am,’ Ginny commented, mercilessly repeating the operation. ‘Funny though, eh? What has the world come to – Lucius Malfoy being shaved by his Muggle father-in-law...’

‘Who’s only three years his senior. If this wasn’t a completely mad world, Lucius ought to get married to somebody my mum’s age.’

‘Well, he was. You don’t mind the age difference, do you?’

‘No, why should I? Although I have to say that sitting there in December playing the mater-in-law to you will probably feel a bit funny.’

Once the ordeal of facial depilation was finished, the two young women decided to have a cup of coffee and relax for a while. The wedding was to start at five, and they had a long evening ahead of them.

~o~o~o~

‘For somebody who hates dancing, you’re doing very well,’ Hermione said to Severus.

He gave her a sardonic look down his nose. ‘I am known to do my duty, Miss, I beg your pardon, Mrs Malfoy.’

‘Don’t you think’ – she almost stumbled when they had to negotiate their way past a rather clumsy couple, but he caught her – ‘Thank you. What I wanted to say: don’t you think, now that I’m married to Lucius, what with you being his best friend – you could start calling me Hermione, if you’d like to.’

‘Your offer is most gratefully accepted. Switching to Mrs Malfoy would be... rather strange. And Miss Granger is out of the question, obviously.’

‘Especially since the word detention always seems to linger somewhere close when you call me Miss Granger.’

‘Now don’t boast, Hermione. I gave you detention only once, in your seventh year. And you’d deserved it. Many times over, but you were clever enough not to get caught.’

‘Or fortunate.’

He merely smirked. ‘I’m sure we’d both like to forget your school antics. This is a different lifetime, and if I’m to call you Hermione, please do call me Severus. The moment has come to get rid of all those old burdens, not least because I have to be careful to stay on your good side.’

There was a faint undertone of... what was it? Anxiety? Distress? Anger, even? Hermione wasn’t quite sure what he was hiding under the superficial smoothness, but she knew that his wasn’t just polite bantering. ‘Do you? I’ll take that as a compliment, although I’m not quite sure what I owe it to.’

‘Am I wrong in assuming you’d be able to persuade Lucius to spend less time in undesirable company?’

‘You’re one of his oldest friends, why would I do such a thing? Unless of course you decide to convince him that he needs to get back into the habit of cheating on his wife. That would be something I don’t appreciate at all.’

‘I don’t think Lucius would be interested, and if he was, he certainly wouldn’t care for any of your more creative hexes any more than I would, so that’s rather out of the question.’

‘Good point. But I assure you, I won’t mind my husband spending time with his best friend, just as he used to do before we got married. Or did you think I’d give up my girls’ nights with Ginny and other female friends?’

The waltz was over, and the crowd came to a brief standstill before movement began anew, when everybody was changing partners or going back to their tables. Severus kissed her hand. ‘Thank you for the dance and the conversation, Hermione. I believe’ – he scanned the room – ‘it is now your mother’s turn. Or do I have to dance with the bridesmaids first?’

‘I have no idea, honestly. All I know is that I’m allowed to sit down now, and – oh, hello dad! I thought I might rest my poor feet for a while.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mr Granger said. ‘You can rest your feet every day, but you get married only once. Or so I hope.’

‘Oh, I have no intention to go through all this again,’ Hermione said lightly. ‘But maybe I could tempt you with a glass of my husband’s best brandy? We might sneak off to the library... You could even loosen your tie for a moment,’ she added sweetly, seeing her father’s grimace of discomfort when he tried to wedge a finger between his collar and throat.

‘If you’re as resourceful in persuading your husband as you are in tempting me,’ Mr Granger said when they had left the noise and heat of the ballroom and were making their way towards the library, ‘the poor man doesn’t stand a much better chance than I did against your mother.’

‘I do have my moments. So does he, though. I think our powers of persuasion are more or less equally distributed between the two of us.’ She handed her father a snifter of the 1863 Malefoi.

‘Oh my...’ Mr Granger stared at the glass after taking a sip. ‘This is... I’ve never tasted anything like this!’

‘It’s one hundred and forty years old.’

Mr Granger held his tumbler up as if it was the Holy Grail. ‘If you hadn’t married him of your own free will, I swear I’d have bartered you for this.’

‘Mum would have prevented me from becoming a bartered bride, I hope.’

‘Don’t be too sure. After Lucius smiled at her for the first time, Helen would have traded you for another of those smiles, without hesitation.’

That got him a giggle from his daughter. ‘He could charm lions into campaigning for vegetarianism if he wanted, yes.’

‘Come here,’ Mr Granger said, waving her over to perch on his knees. ‘The engagement and wedding – it all came rather, well, out of the blue, and we haven’t had much time for talking lately, you and your old parents. I know that good looks, a large fortune and charming manners can’t have been your reason for marrying Lucius. Your mother knows that, and I know that, and we both trust you. But... you told us some horrible things about the man who’s just become your husband. I remember that he slipped your friend Ginny that book – something about basilisks, I think it was...’

Hermione decided not to refresh his memory on the exact nature of Tom Riddle’s diary. Who needed to know what Horcruxes were anyway? Especially since they’d all been destroyed together with their maker.

‘And he used his power to drive Dumbledore away from Hogwarts, and then there was that fight at the Ministry, where you got badly hurt...’

‘He used to be a Death Eater, dad. That wasn’t the kind of club where you were allowed to choose between evening activities, like between playing bridge and breaking into the Ministry of Magic. You’d joined Voldemort, you went where you were told to go, to do what you were told to do. But that’s neither here nor there. He had time to think things over, and I think he used it well. Some people would say he has changed, I’d rather say that his beliefs have. The man underneath has remained quite unchanged, as far as I’m able to judge. I didn’t know him all that well back in the old days, for obvious reasons.’

Mr Ganger sighed. ‘In the end it all seems to come down to trust. You have never given your mother and me any reason to doubt your decisions – not that we liked all of them, mind you...’

‘Is marrying Lucius one of those you don’t like?’

‘No, I don’t think so. This one belongs to the Has-Hermione-Gone-Crazy category. Not disapproval, just disbelief, you know.’

‘So long as you don’t give him the If-You-Hurt-My-Daughter speech...’

‘I love you very much, Hermione, but I have never felt the need to give that speech to anybody. You’re absolutely capable of doing that yourself. Plus, you’ve got a wand and I haven’t.’ He emptied his glass and tightened his grip around his daughter’s waist. ‘You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but somehow I think I would’ve had more reason to give that speech to Ron.’

‘You’re a very wise man, dad. You know me, and so you know that passive-aggressive behaviour is likely to hurt me a lot more than a good fight. There’s a lot of things one may say about Lucius, but one certainly can’t accuse him of being passive-aggressive.’ She got up and took her father’s hand. ‘Once more unto the breach, I think. You’ll have to dance with Ginny.’

‘Can’t say I mind, she’s such a lovely girl,’ he said and rose as well. ‘Would you fix that tie for me?’ Hermione did so with a flick of her wand, and cast another charm to smooth out his trouser leg where her weight had left creases. Mr Granger tucked her arm into his, while they wandered back along the corridor. ‘Any plans to make me a grandfather?’

‘Not quite yet. I couldn’t do that to mum before she turns fifty.’

Her father’s snort was drowned out by the noise that washed over them when they opened the door to the ballroom.

~o~o~o~

Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her feet. ‘Why,’ she said accusingly, ‘do weddings have to be so terribly exhausting when you’re supposed to have sex afterwards? Look at my feet!’

Lucius, who was busy undoing his cravat, obediently turned his gaze towards her feet. ‘You did seem to limp a little when – are those actually blisters?’ He kneeled next to her and took her right foot in his hand. His finger gently stroked her instep, making goose bumps rise on her arms and legs. ‘Let me...’ He pulled his wand from his sleeve and cast a healing spell. ‘Anything else I can help you with, my dear?’ His hands stroked her silk-covered hips.

Hermione smiled down at him, trying to square ‘Lucius Malfoy’ with ‘my husband’ and admitting to herself that merging the two concepts in her mind was going to take some time. Or maybe they’d simply refuse to merge completely – and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she thought. Her mental perception of husband and lover being almost but not quite the same might make married life a lot more interesting. Not that she had any trepidations regarding married life with Lucius, at least not as far as the possibility of getting bored was concerned.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘the thought of having sex does feel strange with my parents in the same house.’

‘The guestrooms are in the other wing, Hermione. I don’t think you need to be overly concerned.’

‘Doesn’t the thought of’ – she counted on her fingers – ‘seven people under the same roof, who think of us having sex, disturb you?’

‘Since they are certainly envying both of us, I cannot say it does, no. But I could always Apparate us down to Cornwall, if that is likely to increase my chances of actually having sex during our wedding night.’

Hermione pondered the suggestion. ‘I don’t think I’d like to go elsewhere. But I’d like to have a hot bath. What do you think?’

‘I shall reserve judgement until you tell me whether you intend to invite me to join you,’ he replied, rising to his feet.

‘That was rather the point.’ She let herself fall back into the softness of the duvet and looked up at him. ‘We actually did get married, didn’t we?’

Lucius sat down next to her and caressed her waist and belly through the fabric of her dress. ‘There are certain signs that seem to indicate that we did, indeed, get married, my dear.’ He lifted her left hand and kissed the inside. ‘This ring for instance, although that is circumstantial evidence at best.’ Lying down and gathering her into his arms, he began to drop kisses on her throat and face. ‘And since I’m in an especially lenient mood today,’ he murmured in between kisses, ‘you won’t have to address me as My Lord and Master tonight. We can start tomorrow, at breakfast. Which promises to be all the more gratifying, as our guests will be there to witness it.’

‘Lord and Master,’ Hermione said, ‘That does sound rather kinky...’ She pulled him closer for a deep kiss.

‘Yes, doesn’t it. Not to mention that it evokes faint hopes of you allowing me to be on top, from time to time.’

‘I told you I have difficulties having an orgasm when I’m not on top.’

‘I know. But I think of it as a challenge. One I’d particularly like to face.’ He rolled her onto her back and moved to cover her body with his. His leg slid between hers, bunching up the silk of her dress. ‘What do you think?’ he whispered into her ear, nudging her thighs further apart with his knee. His hand went down to the hollow of her knee. The silk of her stockings, so thin that it was almost insubstantial, was warm and slick under his stroking fingertips. He let his hand wander up the back of her thigh and teased the skin just above her garters. ‘Wouldn’t that be worth a try?’

He only got a moan in response, because he’d chosen to punctuate his question by giving her nipple a tender bite through the thin silk of her dress. ‘Should I take that as a yes?’ he said, proceeding to give the other breast the same treatment.

‘You should stop playing games and fuck me, that’s what you should do!’ Hermione said, wrapping a leg around him and trying to pull him further down. She didn’t have enough leverage, though, and gave up with a growl of frustration. ‘Lucius! This is supposed to be a wedding night, not a wrestling match!’

‘You are not nearly naked enough for a wrestling match,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I have to admit, though, that the idea of taking you like this, fully clothed in virginal white, does not lack a certain appeal.’ He bent his head to kiss her again while undoing the fly of his trousers. Her eyes went wide when he entered her in one smooth, deep thrust. ‘Your lack of underwear is as practical as it is charming, my dear.’ He pulled back and thrust again, hard, making her cry out and cling to his shoulders.

If they hadn’t been lovers before, Hermione thought – although coherent thought was becoming increasingly difficult to achieve – she might have been frightened by his roughness. As things were, she had to admit that having her wrists and upper body pinned to the mattress by his hands and torso, and being fucked harder than ever before in her life, might be something she’d definitely like to try again. Her legs were wrapped around his hips so tightly that her muscles ached, and due to the lack of other stimulation her cunt seemed to have become the epicentre of all sensation. The thought of the people sleeping under the same roof had faded into some distant and totally unimportant part of her mind. She felt the fabric of his shirt tear under her grip and heard his gasp of pain when her nails dug sharply into his skin, but all she cared for was the incipient tightening of the muscles deep in her lower belly and his face above hers, his eyes which had narrowed to slits but remained focused on hers. She wanted to close her eyes when she was on the verge of coming, but he buried his hand in her hair and gave a hard yank. ‘Don’t,’ he said hoarsely when her eyes flew open. ‘Don’t... I want to see...’

He couldn’t finish his sentence, because they both came, staring into each other’s eyes, and then rode the waves together, mouths locked in the most intense kiss either of them had ever given or received. ‘Mine,’ Lucius panted, burying his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder. ‘Mine, mine, mine.’

It was possessiveness, Hermione thought dimly, yes, it was, but it also was something more. There was the unspoken ‘yours’ woven into his words, the ‘yours’ that he might never want or dare to speak aloud, because he was Lucius and might never come to understand the difference between not being in control and weakness. But he had allowed her a glimpse at his complete emotional nakedness. He had taken her, but also given himself. He acted the more possessive the more he felt possessed by her, and that was what made his possessiveness so utterly desirable.

They remained like this for a long time, clinging to each other, Lucius still inside her and on top of her, exchanging lazy kisses, not talking. It was a precious moment; both knew it and neither wanted to end it.

~o~o~o~

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Ginny asked, looking up from her desk to stare at Hermione, who’d just entered their office, as if she’d seen a ghost. ‘You weren’t supposed to be back until – you didn’t quarrel, did you?’

‘No trouble in paradise,’ Hermione said cheerfully. She walked over to hug her friend. ‘It’s just that McG asked Lucius if he could start today, and then they almost had a big row, and so I stepped in and told Lucius that I didn’t mind.’

‘And how well that must have gone down with him!’

‘Oh, he did sulk for a bit, but then I found him this lovely first edition of Baudelaire’s Fleurs Du Mal, and he deigned to come out of it. Do you think we might sneak off for coffee at Fortescue’s? I’d love to chat a bit, but I don’t quite feel like doing so here at the office.’

Ginny got up with a grin. ‘That’s my girl. Let’s get out for an hour, we’ll skip lunch break later, to make up for it. Besides’ – she gestured at the open window – ‘the weather is so lovely, and who knows how long it’s going to stay like this?’

They locked and warded their office, and quickly walked along the corridor to the lift that took them down to the foyer. Only two people were queuing in front of the Floo connection to the Leaky Cauldron, and so they were comfortably seated under a pink-and-white striped umbrella five minutes later, with coffee and orange juice and a platter of delicious-looking Danish pastries.

‘So, where did you go for your honeymoon?’ Ginny asked after taking a large bite out of an apricot pastry. ‘I scanned the Prophet every day, but you seem to have eluded the journalists quite nicely.’

‘I suppose none of them would have dreamed of trying Muggle luxury hotels in Normandy. Although I was sure I saw Rita at Mont St. Michel, but on closer inspection the woman turned out to be an American Muggle tourist. Striking resemblance, though. Lucius wanted to turn her hair permanently green, for having given me such a nasty shock. I had to buy him loads of Belgian chocolates to convince him that it wasn’t a good idea. How did people react to his nomination, by the way? We arrived back home late last night, and I didn’t have time to catch up on the comments in the newspapers.’

‘Quite well, I’d say. McG held the press conference the Monday after your wedding, which was good because you’d had such favourable coverage – did you see the Sunday Prophet before your departure?’

‘Of course I did. You were there, Ginny. Remember Snape’s, or Severus’s I should say, snide comment when he saw the picture of himself and Luna dancing?’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘I must be getting old. But the memory of your mum lecturing Lucius on the disastrous effects of eating too much cholesterol seems to outshine every other memory of that breakfast.’

‘She did make up for it with the compliment on his teeth, though,’ Hermione said, laughing. ‘Speaking of people being lectured – any news from the Burrow?’

Ginny’s grip on the handle of her coffee cup tightened. ‘I told them last Friday,’ she said tonelessly.

‘Oh, Ginny!’ Hermione reached across the table to take her friend’s free hand. ‘I’d hoped they would... Why didn’t you wait a bit longer?’

‘The invitations for the engagement party are going out today,’ Ginny said, stubbornly looking at a shop window on the other side of the street. ‘I wanted to tell them myself, which I think was only decent.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. ‘It... wasn’t very nice.’

‘Oh, Ginny,’ Hermione repeated. She tried to think of something comforting to say to her friend, but “I’m so sorry” was all that came to her mind. ‘I’m so sorry. Did they all... I mean, your dad isn’t as bad as...’

‘Oh bugger,’ Ginny said. ‘All right, I’m feeling like crying and so I’m just going to cry. And’ – she sniffed and gave Hermione a watery smile – ‘I’m also going to eat all these lovely chocolate pastries, because they might help.’

‘You don’t have to talk about it, if-‘

‘No, that’s okay, I want to talk about it. You’ll understand me better than anybody else, given your experience with... well, all of them.’ She blew her nose, refilled her cup and charmed all the chocolate-filled pastries to neatly assemble on her plate. ‘I’d decided to go without Draco, and I’m glad I did, or else there’d have been a blood bath. I might have chosen a better moment, of course – mum was terribly upset because she’d just had one of her rows with Fleur.’

‘Well, at least you could be sure of Fleur’s support.’

‘Not really, because Charlie was so upset, and they seem to be having problems anyway, so Fleur obviously wasn’t that eager to create more of them and just kept quiet.’

‘Oh, I see. And your father?’

‘Three guesses, Hermione. He used to be quite sensible about McG’s reforms and all that, but after the news about Lucius being appointed as her political advisor... That was obviously the last straw. The only one who at least pretended to be reasonable about my engagement was Percy.’ She snorted, but tears were still running down her cheeks. ‘He started a very boring speech on post-war reconciliation – not that anybody was listening, of course. They were all too busy screaming at me. I don’t know who was worse, Ron or my mother.’ Shaking her head, Ginny furiously dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Hermione had conjured for her. ‘You know,’ she said, a bit calmer after a few sips of coffee and a bite of chocolate pastry, ‘I could’ve lived with being shown the door and mum telling me I wasn’t her daughter anymore. Well yes’ – she shrugged when Hermione winced – ‘that was what I’d expected. But I’d really hoped they wouldn’t sink as low as telling me that I’m desecrating Bill’s memory. I...’ She buried her face in her hands and leaned into Hermione who’d moved her chair closer, to put her arm around Ginny’s shoulders. Now she was crying hard, shaking and sobbing. ‘I loved him so much,’ she blurted between sobs, ‘I loved him more than my parents, how dare they, how dare...’

Hermione shot some curious passers-by a glare reminding them that staring wasn’t polite, and that a powerful witch’s reaction to impoliteness may have rather unpleasant consequences. She tried to comfort her friend as best she could, while mentally cursing the Weasley clan. She was muttering soothing phrases and rubbing her friend’s back, when inspiration struck.

~o~o~o~

‘You do look terribly smug,’ Severus said. ‘That expression of supreme satisfaction on your face would not, by any chance, be related to a visit you and the esteemed Minister paid this morning to a certain red-headed tribe?’

The two wizards had decided to go for a short stroll through the grounds before dinner – the weather was warm with just a hint of autumn and ripe fruit, and Severus had arrived a little earlier than usual.

Lucius smiled. ‘She is brilliant, isn’t she?’

‘She can’t hear us, Lucius, so there is no need to praise her more than she deserves. What the hell-’ He looked down at Lucius’s hand, which was holding his arm in a death grip. ‘Lucius, the woman may be your boss, but that certainly doesn’t justify-‘

Lucius’s grip slackened, and he bemusedly cleared his throat. ‘I, erm, apologize. I thought you were speaking of Hermione.’

Severus frowned. ‘Hermione? Why would – you don’t mean to tell me that this was her idea? Was it?’

‘It was. And it helped me kill a whole flock of birds with a single stone, not to mention that the act of throwing it was exceedingly pleasant.’

‘Well, you certainly managed to score quite a lot of points with Draco and the Weasley girl. They were looking almost as smug as you.’

‘I scored points with practically everybody, not least my wife. Besides, the fact that those ginger-haired proles will have to show up at both Draco’s engagement party and wedding might have considerable impact on the ultra-conservatives. Especially since no Weasley is ever going to admit to anybody that they were forced to do so by me. As Hermione didn’t hesitate to point out to Minerva.’

‘A most cunning piece of political tactics,’ Severus said. ‘You’ve got yourself a brilliant wife, Lucius. Ginevra is a close second, though. Or will be, now that she’s finally free of her family’s clutches.’

‘She’s about to become a Malfoy, what else did you expect?’

‘I certainly never expected you to give credit to your wife for being a brilliant tactician.’

‘Why would I want to hide the light of my life under a bushel?’ There was a serious undertone to Lucius’s ironic words which didn’t escape is friend of old.

‘Lucius, Lucius. You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?’

‘Quite. But I find that I’m enjoying it a lot more than I would ever have thought.’

They walked on in silence. Dawn was already falling, turning the world mysterious and blue. The moon was a thin sickle nesting in the crown of an ancient oak tree.

‘Our lives have changed a lot, haven’t they?’ Severus said into the quiet.

Lucius nodded but didn’t answer immediately. ‘Are you satisfied with the changes in your life?’ he finally asked.

‘I don’t have to teach anymore, I don’t have to serve two masters anymore. I even seem to have reached something that feels suspiciously like peace. I’ve never known peace before, so I’m not quite sure of course. But it feels good, and therefore I’m certainly not going to question it.’

‘What about getting married?’

Severus snorted. ‘Come now. Don’t be ridiculous – we’ve had that discussion when you married Narcissa. And a few times after that.’ He put a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. ‘You are the type of wizard who ought to be married. You’re a patriarch by nature. I’m not.’

Lucius smiled and shot him a sideways glance. ‘You may call me a patriarch in fifty or sixty years, when I’ll have the necessary number of children and grandchildren to crowd at my venerable knees. Anyway, not all married men are patriarchs, Severus. Or rather, you don’t have to be one in order to enjoy married life.’

‘Of course not. But, although I am by no means a monk, I‘m essentially a solitary creature, just in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘The question is whether you are solitary by choice. Doesn’t everybody need a companion?’

‘That depends, I’d say. Everybody has basic needs, which have to be fulfilled. But this doesn’t imply that all those needs must be fulfilled by a partner or spouse. Look at yourself, for example. When you were married to Narcissa, you had to have some of your basic needs fulfilled by others. Many others,’ he added, his tone not entirely free of sarcasm.

Lucius chuckled. ‘That’s true. Not with Hermione, though.’

‘Not if you mean to keep your balls where they belong, no. You are lucky to have met a woman who complements you so well. Not that she isn’t lucky as well – there aren’t many men who could handle her.’

‘I doubt,’ Lucius said, ‘that she’d see it your way. She’s convinced that she’s handling me, not the other way round.’

‘Which only proves my point. Each of you could convincingly argue they’re handling the other. The secret of a successful marriage, I’d say.’

It was completely dark now, but they had reached the park, which was illuminated by torches.

‘I’ve never asked you directly,’ Lucius began.

‘As if you’d ever sink that low,’ Severus remarked dryly.

‘Put it down to the bad influence my wife’s Gryffindor bluntness is having on me. I’ve never asked you whether you like her.’

‘I don’t quite see why you should have asked.’

‘Because I’d like to know, obviously.’

‘Well there’s that. It’s one hell of a question to ask your best friend though, whether he likes or dislikes your wife. Whatever the answer, it’s sure to cause trouble.’

‘Rest assured that I’m not going to hex you either way.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t, because you’d be dangling from that gargoyle’ – he pointed up at the roof – ‘by the bottom of your underpants before you’d even manage to draw your wand. Hermione and I get along well. What else do you need no know?’

‘It’s... difficult to explain,’ Lucius said, a little impatiently, while holding the French door leading from the terrace into the dining room open for his friend. ‘It is important to me. I like to know how my nearest and dearest feel about each other.’

‘But you’re not a patriarch.’

‘Oh, shut up already. Not telling me will only serve to make me assume the worst, by the way.’

‘Interesting,’ Severus said, following him into the library for their traditional glass of whisky before dinner. ‘Would the worst be me having an affair with your wife, or planning to use an untraceable poison on her?’

‘I wasn’t aware that your feelings concerning Hermione, be they friendly or hostile, run that deep. Like or dislike are scarcely reason enough to poison or steal your friend’s wife.’ He handed Severus a glass of whisky.

‘One look at your family’s history ought to be enough to put an end to that particular delusion, dear Lucius. Remember Mathilde de Malefoi stabbing her brother-in-law because he’d spilled his wine on her favourite tablecloth?’

‘It was a very rare vintage,’ Lucius remarked. ‘Although I admit that enforcing etiquette in such a drastic way might leave one devoid of relatives on whom to enforce it. As was so aptly demonstrated by the Malafede branch of the family. Old Brabantio Malafede ought to have consulted his physician before permanently turning his last remaining great-grandson into a toad – at one hundred thirty-eight, lust potions will get you only so far, and Genovese inheritance law was a bit picky when it came to toads.’

Both wizards chuckled and emptied their glasses.

‘I do like her, by the way’ Severus said when they entered the dining room. ‘I hope your patriarchal heart is at peace now.’

~o~o~o~

The autumn brought the Lazenby trial – a quiet affair worth a notice on page 7 of the Daily Prophet – and the second Malfoy engagement party within three months, which was by no means a quiet affair and got even more press coverage than the first, as Lucius remarked with an expression of mingled surliness and pride Hermione found adorable. With all these events, September and October were over before they’d even begun properly, or so it seemed, and with the beginning of November the preparations for Ginny’s wedding started in earnest.

Hermione took her role as future mother-in-law very seriously. This, combined with her double workload caused by Ginny’s absence, led to serious overexertion, so that Lucius had to put his foot down (Hermione was both livid and grateful when she discovered that he’d talked about her to McGonagall) and demanded that she take Thursday and Friday off, so as to spirit her away for an extended weekend at the house in Cornwall. Hermione had prepared herself for the first serious row since they got married, because she meant to tell her husband, once and for all, that she was having none of his Malfoy chauvinism. Fortunately she was accosted in the corridor by Percy, who treated her to a pompous harangue criticizing her selfishness, because Lucius had refused to accompany the Minister on a rather important mission to China, arguing that his wife’s health was more important to him than customs regulations. She wisely chose not to discuss the matter any further with Lucius and simply enjoyed four days together with her husband, reading, going for walks, being fed like a Christmas goose and making love whenever they felt like it.

Draco and his father had been back to speaking terms – slightly strained but at least civilized – since shortly before Lucius and Hermione’s wedding. Things had vastly improved since Hermione had had the fortuitous idea to despatch both her husband and McGonagall to the Burrow, in order to force some unpleasant truths down Molly and Arthur’s throats.

In October, father and son had almost had another fall-out over the choice of venue for Draco and Ginny’s wedding; Hermione had been able to prevent the worst by convincing Ginny that hexing one’s future father-in-law was not the most auspicious of beginnings for a life as Mrs Malfoy junior. In the end, Lucius had acknowledged, if with rather bad grace, that Draco’s refusal to hold the wedding at the Manor was sensible, and that opting for the neutral ground of Hogwarts instead was indeed an excellent idea. The Christmas holidays were scheduled to begin three days before the wedding, so there was more than enough time for decorating, and the ten or so students remaining at the castle were most welcome to participate in the festivities. The Headmaster had offered to temporarily convert some of the dormitories into guestrooms for the couple’s closest friends and family.

The evening before their departure Lucius, already in his nightwear, fondly watched his wife as she tried to tame her hair, wearing a negligee that made his heart beat faster. She smiled at his reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. ‘It’s going to be strange, being back at Hogwarts after such a long time,’ she said, attempting to force a brush through her wild curls.

Lucius smirked. ‘Strange is a bit of an understatement, my love. At least from my point of view – spending two nights in a Gryffindor dormitory might render me permanently colour blind.’

‘It’s a girls’ dormitory, though. Does that somehow heighten your expectations?’

‘Hmm...’ He cocked his head. ‘Do you still have your school uniform?’

Hermione’s hand stopped in mid-stroke. ‘Lucius!’

He laughed. ‘Doesn’t the idea seem a little bit titillating?’

‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘But only a little bit.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, okay. It does turn me on. But I’ll draw the line at addressing you as Professor.’

‘Master will do quite nicely, my dear. Did you manage to calm Ginevra?’

She sighed. ‘I did my best, but she’s understandably nervous. I hope her mother is going to behave. I’m a bit less preoccupied about the rest of the Weasleys. But Molly...’ She gave up on her hair, rose and joined Lucius in their bed. ‘I wish I could cast Imperius on that bigoted old shrew!’ Lucius opened his arms, and she moved over to snuggle against him. ‘Ginny told me how badly she’s treating Fleur...’

‘The delectable Miss Delacour?’

‘The very one. Don’t get me wrong – getting together with Charlie after Bill’s death wasn’t the most fortunate decision she could have made, but Molly has no right to interfere, in my opinion. I’ve always been convinced the relationship would end in disaster, and I’m still sure it will... Who in their right mind would do such a thing?’

‘I agree with you that it seems a little odd nowadays, but a few hundred years ago it would have been the proper thing to do. If your husband died, you had to marry his closest unmarried blood relative or, if none was available, his best friend.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘So be careful, should you ever feel the urge to hex me, because if you overdo it you’ll have to marry Severus.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Hermione said, ‘who of the two of us would resent such an arrangement more.’

‘You don’t dislike him, do you?’

Hermione craned her head to look at him. ‘No, of course not. Actually, I quite like him – he’s being very civil, and he’s been a lot of help with some cases we worked on together. I’m not quite sure though...’

‘You’re not quite sure of what, my darling?’

‘It’s just a gut feeling, you know. But sometimes I can’t get rid of the impression that he doesn’t... well, quite approve of our marriage.’

‘Really? He speaks very highly of you.’

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t hinting at any Mudblood nonsense. And I don’t think it’s personal at all. But sometimes... sometimes I just think he disapproves of you being married, whether to me or anybody else. He has to be very lonely at times.’

‘He keeps assuring me that he’s a solitary creature.’

‘Sour grapes?’

Lucius’s caresses became a little less vague, and he smiled when he felt her heartbeat accelerate. ‘What does your feminine intuition have to say on the matter?’

‘It says...’ She paused to undo the top buttons of his pyjama top. ‘It says that he saw you get married, and now he sees Draco get married, and somewhere deep down he’d like to find the right woman but is afraid to admit it.’ Her fingertips mapped out the smooth, hairless planes of his chest. ‘Lucius?’

‘Yes, my love?’

‘I’d like to ask you a... well, a rather intimate question.

‘Intimate? I’m intrigued,’ he said, carefully teasing a nipple to attention. ‘Go ahead, sweet.’

‘Did you and Severus ever – I mean, was there ever anything more but platonic friendship?’

His expression suddenly guarded, he stopped his ministrations to her breasts and looked up. ‘Yes, there was. It is a thing of the past, however.’

‘Do you think you might tell me a bit more?’

‘Yes, I think I might.’ He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. ‘But I would like you to tell me first why you want to know more about it.’

Hermione sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Now I’ve put you off sex, haven’t I?’

‘Just for a while, my love. Talking politics while fucking is one thing, talking about certain aspects of one’s past is another.

‘That makes sense,’ she muttered, while stuffing a pillow under her upper body. ‘Ah, yes. That’s perfect.’ Her arm was resting across his chest, her belly pressed against his hip, and her leg insinuated between his. ‘Why do I want to know? It’s something Ginny and I talked about, while she helped me prepare for the wedding. But I’m sure I would’ve forgotten it, if it hadn’t made me observe the two of you together from time to time. There’s an... intimacy about you, that seemed to hint at more than just friendship. But I want you to know that I’m not jealous or anything. It interests me, because I’m sure it must have been important to you, and that’s why I want to hear more about it. Just like I wanted to know more about your relationship with Narcissa. To add another piece to the jigsaw that is you.’

His chest rose and fell under her hand in a deep sigh. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to tell you much, because I – and I’m sure Severus’s feelings on the matter are the same – don’t especially like to recall those times. He had just left school and received his Dark Mark. I was almost twenty-three and a rising star among Voldemort’s Death Eaters. To make a long story short, we were sent on a mission, just the two of us, and we were both mortally afraid. As I said, we were very young, so of course none of us would have dreamed of admitting his fears. There was a lot of... well, pent-up emotion. It led to a few, erm, nights of passion.’

‘Who started it?’

‘I did. Severus would have been far too shy.’

‘And after you came back?’

‘None of us mentioned it ever again. It was a kind of unspoken agreement. I think we both regarded it as a moment of weakness, which it was, in a way.’

‘Somehow it makes me feel sad. For both of you.’

‘Sad?’ Lucius raised his head and looked down at the mass of curls that was sprawled across his chest and shoulder. It obscured her face. ‘My darling, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.’

‘I can’t really explain it. I just have this mental image of two boys who are so afraid of what they have to do, but also trying to look tough... They’re young and ambitious, but quite clueless when it comes to emotions. So they would rather eat slugs than tell each other how afraid they are. That’s what makes me sad. The speechlessness. The lack of self-assurance under the cool facade, so they had to stick to their role as tough guys. Did you at least enjoy it?’

‘Did I... Yes, I suppose I did. It was...’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘All right. You’re my wife, I love you, I can tell you. It was the first time I had sex with somebody I really cared about.’

‘Why do you have such a problem telling me?’

‘Because I like to think of myself as straight.’

‘Well, you are. And even if you were bisexual, you said you love me. That’s what matters, isn’t it? More than your sexual orientation does.’

‘It matters because I don’t want you to have any doubts.’

‘I don’t have any doubts, Lucius. I’m happy because you trusted me enough to tell me. That’s all. It’s always better to know the truth – if only to avoid possible gaffes. Just imagine how much I could hurt Severus with some completely innocent remark, made out of sheer ignorance of the past.’

‘You’re surprisingly tactful, considering you’re a Gryffindor.’

‘And you are surprisingly honest, my love, considering you’re a Slytherin.’

They kissed – it was a sweet kiss at first, which deepened and became more heated. Hermione smiled to herself when Lucius pushed her onto her back. Much as she liked being on top, there were days when he needed to feel he was Lord and Master. Today was one of them, she thought, and she certainly wasn’t going to deny him. He was far too good at it, too.

~o~o~o~

The wedding went off with nary a hitch – all the Weasleys were reasonably well-behaved – then there was Christmas, which involved a medium-scale dinner party on Boxing Day at the Manor, then there was New Year’s Eve, which involved a full-scale reception at the Manor, and then Ginny and Draco finally departed for their honeymoon.

It wasn’t until the end of January that everything went back to normal, and when she and Ginny found themselves sitting at their respective desks, facing each other, for the first time since the middle of December, Hermione felt as if she was finally letting out a breath she’d been holding for six weeks. She’d also sorely missed their girls’ nights – spending time with Luna and Neville, with her parents or with other friends was fine, but it just wasn’t the same. Mrs Malfoy senior and junior agreed to meet on Saturday night, in order to do some much overdue catching-up. Since Lucius was about to depart for Egypt together with McGonagall – there had been heavy pressure from the Egyptian side to reopen the British market to flying carpets, and low-level negotiations hadn’t yielded any result so far – Hermione suggested that Ginny might come to visit at the Manor and spend the night there, in case the dent they made into the Malfoy liquor stocks was so substantial that Apparating wasn’t an option anymore.

The weather was cold, and it had been continuously snowing for three days. Ginny and Hermione therefore spontaneously decided to start their get-together a bit earlier and spent the whole afternoon building a snow castle, until dawn fell and they returned to the house in high spirits but with red noses and cold feet. After a hot bath they went to sit in Hermione’s study and have a proper afternoon tea.

‘The construction of snow castles,’ Hermione said, after they’d fended off the worst bites of hunger, ‘is something you just can’t do with your husband, isn’t it?’

‘Well you could, but would you like it?’

‘That’s what I meant.’ She snorted. ‘Or can you imagine Lucius wearing a woollen cap?’

‘I can imagine Lucius wearing lots of things, but woollen caps – definitely not. He’d refuse to just stuff his hair underneath, as lesser mortals do.’ Ginny grabbed another sandwich. ‘I wonder who spends more time on his morning toilet, Lucius or Draco.’

‘One and a half hours is Lucius’s average. Remember the New Year’s reception? We’d invited the Mexican ambassador – did you meet him?’ Ginny shook her head. ‘Well, anyway, we invited him because he’d been so reasonable about that break-in at Gringotts and the problems with the extradition. He’s got a good friend at Ceremonial, and he told me that this friend had told him that Lucius drives Ceremonial to distraction when they have to plan official visits, because he refuses to participate in meetings that start earlier than 11 a.m. It seems that he explained to them – the Ambassador said “very nicely” but I have difficulties believing that – that nothing short of the Apocalypse was likely to make him get up before eight, that he really doesn’t care for breakfast before ten, and that they consequently had to schedule any meetings for after eleven. They complained to McG, but rumour has it that she told them she preferred a late start too, and so they grumbled a bit, but had no choice but to accept.’

‘How terribly gauche of them to expect Lucius to do anything by other rules than his own,’ Ginny said, giggling. ‘I can’t say how many times – not that I care to count them, really – I’ve seen Draco argue with Severus, because Draco won’t make an appearance at work before ten. Dressed to the nines of course, but I’m sure Severus would rather have him unshaved and rumpled, if only he started an hour earlier.’

Both women silently contemplated their husbands’ morning rituals as they proceeded to sampling the tea cake.

‘Erm, Ginny,’ Hermione said finally, ‘I’d, uh, like to talk about something, but it’s... well, very, very private. Something I’d like to remain strictly between you and me.’

Eyes sparkling, Ginny leaned forward in her chair. ‘Tell me. I promise I’ll be as silent as the grave.’

‘You won’t even discuss it with Draco, promise?’

‘Neither with Draco nor with anybody else. Promise. You know I can keep a secret.’

Hermione gave her a warm smile. ‘I know. And believe me, I’m more than grateful. This is different, however – just, uh, embarrassing, not work-related.’

‘I’d gathered as much, seeing as you’ve gone crimson. Is it about sex?’

‘Y-yes, it is. In a way.’

‘I love hearing about other people’s sex lives,’ Ginny said with a broad grin. ‘Whether it’s problems or fantasies or weird games, it always gives me good ideas.’

‘You ought to have become a marriage counsellor,’ Hermione replied dryly. ‘You’d get lots of good ideas in that line of work.’

‘That’s a Muggle thing, isn’t it?’ Ginny frowned. ‘Weird, really. To tell a complete stranger about your problems with your partner... Anyway. Go ahead, tell me!’

Hermione sighed. ‘You remember our talk on my wedding day? About Lucius and Severus?’

‘Of course I do. Any news on that front?’

‘Well, yes. I asked Lucius about his relationship with Severus – he was surprisingly frank, really.’

‘Wicked,’ Ginny breathed after listening to Hermione’s account in rapt silence. ‘That’s... Wow. What I said back then was just meant to rile you up a bit, you know, it wasn’t even a wild guess. I never thought...’ She cocked her head and looked at Hermione. ‘Are you... well, jealous?’

‘No, I’m not. I’m not disturbed or disgusted or anything either. Quite the contrary, really. It’s, uh, it’s becoming a fantasy, and I don’t know what to do about it.’

Ginny frowned. ‘I can imagine. How do you think Lucius would react if you told him?’

‘That’s the problem – I have no idea how he’d react. He’s as inventive as he’s open-minded, but this isn’t just about sex, it’s a lot more complex. Telling him might...’ She shrugged and sighed. ‘It might break up a marriage and a friendship – I don’t think I’m exaggerating here. It might also intensify both the marriage and the friendship. Although I suppose that’s a rather optimistic outlook.’

‘It also depends,’ Ginny said slowly, ‘on what exactly your fantasy is about. Do you want to watch, or do you want to participate?’

Hermione felt her face grow hot again. ‘I’d like to participate. Be fucked by both of them. Have Lucius watch me while I give Severus a blow job. That kind of thing. Shit, this is so embarrassing!’

‘Would I be making things easier for you if I told you that Draco and I met this girl during our honeymoon – I don’t even know her name – and that we had a threesome? It was absolutely mind-blowing, if I say so myself.’

Pouring them more tea, Hermione said, ‘That makes it slightly less embarrassing for me, yes. But you can’t compare the situations, I’m afraid.’

‘I agree. Inviting that girl was a joint decision, and none of us knew her. There was no danger of emotional involvement. No sugar, thanks,’ she said and took her cup. ‘Your problem is the emotional aspect, I think. And that’s always more difficult.’ She scrutinized her friend over the rim of her cup. ‘I really don’t think I can give you any sensible advice on this, Hermione. Do you think you could handle the emotional impact of a threesome with your husband and his best friend?’

‘Speaking strictly for myself, yes, I believe I could. What I can’t understand’ – she cut herself another slice of tea cake – ‘is that the idea of a threesome with just any other man, or woman for that matter, doesn’t do anything for me. It only works when I think of Lucius and me together with Severus. I know I’m playing with fire even thinking of it. But fantasies are difficult to repress.’

Ginny nodded. ‘I know. If you want my advice – on a strictly non-committal basis of course-‘

‘Ever the lawyer.’ Hermione smirked. ‘Tell me, I won’t hold it against you, I promise.’

‘I’d say you ought to talk about it to Lucius.’

~o~o~o~

Most people who thought they knew Hermione well – a group that consisted of pretty much everybody who knew her, except for her parents, her husband, Ginny and Severus Snape – would have answered the question “Is Hermione a rule-breaker?” with a resounding NO! Different people would have given different reasons, of course. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley would have started enumerating situations where Hermione had nagged on and on about the dangers and risks of breaking rules. Her former teachers (with the notable exception of her Potions Master) would have sung her praise not only for being a top student and the brightest witch they’d ever had the pleasure of teaching, but also for her discipline and respect for rules.

Only those who truly knew her would have explained that, yes, Hermione knew all the rules by heart and generally respected them, but was ready to break them if the breach was worth a calculated risk.

Telling one’s husband that one fancied a threesome with him and his best friend wasn’t exactly the equivalent of infringing a regulation or law, but it certainly meant that one had to cross a line. The thought of stepping over that invisible line was all the more daunting, as one had to expect consequences but couldn’t – as after breaking the law – be sure of their nature.

It was this uncertainty that made Hermione hesitate to tell Lucius. Not least because she was unable to exclude the possibility of such a confession seriously damaging their marriage.

When she’d accepted his proposal she had been very fond of him, besides being physically attracted to him to a degree that almost frightened her. She hadn’t proclaimed that she loved him, but been reasonably sure that love would come with time. And so it had. After almost nine months of marriage she loved her husband and was in love with him. She knew he loved her too.

Hermione was happy, in one word, and most unwilling to risk that happiness for a passing fancy.

Only it wasn’t a passing fancy.

It wasn’t an obsession either. It wasn’t something she lacked or needed. It was, as she had recently found out, quite simply the desire to see a side of her husband that would never be revealed to her otherwise. And curiosity of course.

At the beginning of June Ginny announced that she was pregnant. The child was due in December. A temporary replacement had to be found and trained for Ginny’s job, and thus Hermione had to wave a regretful goodbye to her and Lucius’s plans for an extended summer vacation in July.

The replacement arrived towards the end of June, in the person of Cho Chang, who had returned to her native Muggle world after the war, to study law and work for a multinational company, but had never completely severed her ties with the wizarding world. She’d married a Muggle and decided, a year after the birth of their first child, that the somewhat slower pace of the wizarding society was what she needed to dedicate herself to both her job and her daughter without neglecting either.

Hermione had never really liked Cho and found out that her feelings hadn’t changed in the intervening years. She had to admit, though, that her work was impeccable, which was all the more appreciated as it gave her and Lucius the possibility to take their holiday during the second half of August. They’d originally intended to celebrate their first wedding anniversary with friends and family, but decided to simply drop the project and celebrate together, just the two of them.

Given that the journalists had more or less lost their interest in the elder Malfoy couple – pictures of Ginny, proudly carrying her belly while unashamedly snogging her husband in public were a much juicier subject than the politician and the lawyer – Hermione suggested a trip to wizarding Italy, where Lucius would finally be able to do a bit of genealogical research on the Malafede branch of the family (extinct since 1475) she was eager to help him with. Sticking to the wizarding world also offered the possibility to take three House Elves along on their trip. House Elves were something Hermione had learned to truly appreciate since she’d moved to Malfoy Manor, the square footage of which made her shudder at the thought of having to clean and maintain even a tenth of it. Having to host dinner parties on a regular basis had been another reason for her to acknowledge that House Elves were as useful as they were indispensable. The adage ‘bandaged like a Malfoy House Elf’ was beginning to go out of fashion, though.

They thoroughly enjoyed their stay in Genoa. Hermione grudgingly accepted that, in spite of his fair colouring, her husband’s skin became slightly (and very appetizingly) tanned whereas hers was prone to burning. This led to the discovery that the lightest of caresses on sunburned skin were able to bring her to hitherto unknown heights.

Hermione had never before set foot on a yacht, and so they spent their last Italian evening out on the sea, watching the sunset and having a truly fantastic dinner.

Whether it was the effect of the sun, the wine, or of the gently rocking movement of the sea, suddenly Hermione felt that this was the right moment to broach the subject of Severus Snape.

She held her glass out for Lucius to pour her more of the crisp white wine and waited until the House Elf had left them alone with a large ceramic platter, on which seafood and grilled fish had been piled in a mouth-watering pyramid.

‘Lucius,’ she said, watching him while he elegantly negotiated a couple of grilled sardines, ‘I’d like to make a somewhat... well, unusual suggestion.’

He inspected the bread basket and selected a chunk of white bread studded with olives. ‘Unusual?’ He smiled at her. ‘If you deem it unusual, it’s probably outrageous.’

‘That’s what most people would say, I suppose.’ She returned his smile and helped herself to some delicious-looking prawns. Explanations could be given later, she decided. Right now, she was going to say what she wanted to say, as plainly as possible. ‘I’d like to have a threesome with you and Severus.’ There. She’d said it. Only now did her stomach show a certain desire to retreat into her toes.

‘Just once?’ Lucius asked without missing a beat, ‘Or would you like to make it a permanent arrangement?’

He couldn’t fool her of course. Hermione doubted that even Voldemort, so apt at reading people, would have been able to discern the signs. But Voldemort hadn’t been married to Lucius and, more importantly, Voldemort hadn’t loved him. She also knew that Lucius never wore his mask of imperturbable calm when alone with her, except if he needed it. Sooner or later it came off, but in his very own time. ‘Just once,’ she replied equally calmly, ‘unless of course we unanimously decide to make it permanent. I don’t think I‘d like that, though.’

He slowly raised his head to look straight into her eyes. ‘Call me a fool,’ he said, ‘But I’m willing to bet my right hand that there is nothing wrong with our marriage. Which makes me wonder’ – he speared a grilled squid – ‘why you are making this suggestion.’

‘I wouldn’t have made it if there was anything wrong with our marriage. Would you...’ She hesitated briefly, but then continued, ‘Would you like to have a look for yourself?’ Offering him a look into her mind was the ultimate proof of trust. Hermione knew that he knew it.

The mask came off – a slight widening of his eyes, a line on his face infinitesimally less deep, his mouth a trifle more relaxed. ‘You are being very generous, my love.’

She smiled. ‘I don’t think of it as generosity, really. But this matter is too delicate for words alone, and since we’re lucky enough not to have to rely on words alone, inviting you seems the logical conclusion.’

‘Now?’

‘Whenever you wish.’

Lucius took her hand, and she rose from her chair, to move around the table and stand before him. He pulled her down to sit on his knees. ‘Are you sure?’

‘You know me well enough to know I‘m sure.’ She put a hand on his shoulder for balance, when he let briefly go of her to pull his wand out of his sleeve. ‘I’m ready.’

He nodded and cupped her chin, his eyes locking with hers. She heard him pronounce the incantation ‘Legilimens!’ and then had to deliberately relax, in order to allow him to sift through her memories, thoughts and feelings. He searched methodically, although not in a linear progression. He followed her associations and let himself be guided by her thought processes.

Hermione felt her mouth curl into a smile when he quickly sorted through some childhood memories. She sensed his surprise when he came upon a first cautious wish to have a child. He arrived at their wedding day – ah, so he obviously remembered their conversation and knew where to start – and continued from there. Glimpses of Severus and himself through Hermione’s eyes, her talk with Ginny after they’d built the snow castle, fantasies of both lust and intimacy, insecurities and, again and again, her love for him, their lovemaking and moments she cherished.

The wine glasses were still covered in misty condensation, no droplets had yet formed. His tour of her mind couldn’t have lasted more than one or two minutes therefore, although her subjective perception had told her it had gone on for hours.

He kissed her, wordlessly, and she returned to her chair.

‘If Severus agrees,’ he said, taking up his cutlery and cutting a piece off his squid, ‘I insist that you wait at least half a year before you stop taking the contraceptive potion. He’s a powerful wizard, his sperm may live for weeks, and I refuse to have a black-haired, hook-nosed Malfoy dangling from the family tree in addition to Draco’s ginger-coloured spawn.’

‘I hope you won’t mind frizzy-haired children. It runs in the family, and I’m afraid it’s a dominant gene.’

‘Children?’ He raised his brows, the warm smile he gave only her back on his lips. ‘I suggest we have a look at the prototype before we decide on further reproduction. Try the squid, it’s excellent. Practically melts in your mouth.’ He refilled the wineglasses. ‘How do you intend to tell Severus?’

‘I thought we ought to do that together. Apart from that, I’m sorry but I really don’t know how to go about such things. Is there any kind of etiquette for similar situations?’

A lesser wizard would have laughed at her, but Lucius merely frowned in concentration. ‘Interesting question. But I don’t think there is.’

‘Then we’ll just have to improvise, I suppose.’ She drank deeply from her glass. ‘Is there a particular reason why you aren’t telling me how you feel about my, uh, suggestion? I mean, you agreed, but do you like the thought?’

‘I find the thought... intriguing. Arousing. I shudder to think of the emotional implications, and I suppose that we’ll both have to offer Severus a look into our minds in order to convince him that he’s not being used.’

‘Uh-huh. Penetration on every possible level.’

His smile grew feral. ‘You’ll be surprised, my dear.’

~o~o~o~

The subject of their threesome with Severus wasn’t brought up again in the weeks to come. They had agreed to improvise, and Hermione was sure they’d both recognize the perfect moment once it had arrived.

It arrived on a rainy Saturday in late October. Ginny Floo-called her friend only a few minutes prior to their appointed meeting time to tell her that her feet were killing her, and that she was so tired that she wanted nothing but to lie down and give herself to Draco’s tender care. When Hermione turned away from the fireplace after wishing Ginny a nice evening, she almost ran into her husband who was standing behind her.

‘What a lucky coincidence,’ he murmured, taking her into his arms and nuzzling her ear. ‘Ginevra cancels your girls’ night, and Severus is going to arrive in half an hour...’

Suddenly feeling a little breathless, Hermione nodded. ‘You would tell me if you had changed your mind, wouldn’t you?’

‘If I had changed my mind, my darling, I doubt I would have brought up the subject. Just one question, the rest will be up to a combination of improvisation and sheer dumb luck: Our bed or a guest room?’

‘Our bed. The guest room might give him an entirely wrong impression. I’ll, erm, go and freshen up a bit.’

‘You do that.’ He smiled down at her. ‘He likes to see cleavage, and he likes the scent of roses.’

‘Oh.’ Hermione felt heat creeping up into her face. ‘Thanks for the hint.’

‘In case you change your mind, please make sure to mention the Quibbler. As will I, should the necessity arise. Give me ten minutes to test the waters.’

Hermione descended the stairs at a quarter past seven, dressed in simple robes of dark burgundy with matching underwear and flat, dark grey slippers which matched the single strand of almost black pearls around her neck. She’d done up her hair very loosely and dabbed a few drops of rosewater on strategically important pulse points. She was absolutely sure that she’d never felt so excited and so totally out of her depth at the same time.

The two wizards were sitting in the library and rose when she entered the room. She greeted Severus and gave her husband a peck on the cheek when he handed her a glass of Firewhisky.

‘To a historical moment,’ Severus said, raising his glass. ‘Thank you for joining us, Hermione.’

‘The pleasure is all mine.’ She took a sip. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? This is usually a males-only evening, so I wouldn’t want to intrude.’

‘You are being very considerate, my dear,’ Lucius said. ‘But I assure you that we both most warmly welcome your company.’ He lowered his eyelids a mere fraction.

So he had tested the waters and found them free of sharks. Hermione decided to try an opening gambit, so as to do a bit of testing herself. She quickly emptied her glass and signalled for Lucius to stay seated. ‘You never pour me enough,’ she said, rising from her armchair and approaching the large, oblong table on which bottles and glasses were arranged. After splashing a rather generous measure into her tumbler, she wandered over to Lucius’s reading table and picked up a small volume. ‘Severus, has Lucius already shown you his newest treasure?’

‘I think he meant to’ Severus replied

‘May I do the honours?’

‘Of course,’ Lucius said, crossing his legs as if preparing to watch a scene playing out on a stage.

Keeping the book behind her back, she went to stand directly in front of Severus. ‘Close your eyes.’ He cocked an eyebrow but did as she’d told him. Hermione bent down to take his hand and close it around the book’s spine, careful to make a little more contact than strictly necessary. She saw his nostrils flare when he caught a whiff of rosewater mixed with her own scent. ‘You may look now.’ Severus’s eyes lingered on her cleavage for a long moment before he dropped his gaze to the book in his hand.

‘Flamel’s treaty on Blood Magic? Where the hell did you...’ He shook his head. ‘I never thought I’d see this.’ The look of utter surprise he cast Lucius was answered by a finger pointing in Hermione’s direction.

‘I’d rather not say. It was slightly, er, illegal.’

Severus looked up at her and gave her one of his rare smiles. ‘You may trust me, Hermione. It will remain between the three of us.’

The three of them. Hermione didn’t know why, but she felt it was her cue. Bending down again and catching him completely by surprise, she kissed him lightly, brushing his lips with her tongue. Severus’s eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of game is this?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Not a game, Severus.’ She moved a little to the side, so Lucius had a better view, and kissed him again, longer this time, and felt his lips part slightly under hers. ‘It is... an invitation.’

‘Issued by both of us,’ Lucius remarked, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

If the purpose of Hermione’s kiss had been to bring a look of speechless surprise to Severus Snape’s face, she may have deemed herself successful. She smiled down at him, admiring how fast he regained control of his features.

‘An invitation,’ he repeated, his voice flat and expressionless.

‘Which you may, of course, decline,’ Lucius said. ‘But rest assured that, whatever you decide to say or do, it is going to remain between the three of us.’

Hermione felt that it was time to give the wizard more space and straightened up, briefly brushing his cheek with the back of her hand before she returned to her chair and sat down.

She took a sip of whisky – this definitely was a moment for a bit of Dutch courage – and silently studied the two men. Lucius was scrutinizing Severus with the merest hint of a smile playing around his lips. Severus was the very image of stillness. He could have been made of marble; his eyelids didn’t flicker, he didn’t even seem to be breathing. ‘Why,’ he finally said.

‘I want to be equally close to both of you, for a while,’ Hermione said, marvelling at the steadiness of her own voice.

‘Mmm-hm.’ His gaze flickered towards Lucius.

‘Yes,’ Lucius answered the unspoken question. ‘I told her about our mission to the Giants. Some of it,’ he added.

The tension between the three persons in the room increased; Hermione was unsure for how long she could bear it. But she kept her silence.

‘What about you?’ Severus leaned back and absentmindedly inhaled the fumes of whisky rising from his glass.

‘I... have to admit that the idea tempts me.’

Severus nodded. His lips quirked briefly. ‘And what then?’ He looked from Lucius to Hermione.

She shrugged. ‘We’ll have to see. Do you think there might be any emotional complications?’

‘Not as far as you and I are concerned, no. As for Lucius and myself... If it were to be only the two of us, there might be. With you participating it seems quite safe. As safe’ – he took a gulp of whisky – ‘as such a harebrained scheme can possibly be.’

He put down his glass and rose, his movements mirrored by Lucius.

Hermione felt her heart hammer against her ribs when both wizards stood before her, each extending a hand. She swallowed and downed the remaining contents of her glass in one go. A deep breath, and she took the proffered hands. Her left bearing the wedding band was resting between Severus’s fingers, she noticed.

~o~o~o~

Nothing, not even her wildest fantasies – and the ones she’d been nursing for some months now had been quite racy – could have prepared Hermione for the real thing.

The beginning, when they undressed each other, had seemed like a slow, exotic dance, the first exploring touches choreographed by caution and curiosity. Lucius had taken off her robes and stood behind her, caressing her breasts through the silk and lace of her bra, while she slowly peeled layer after layer from Severus’s body. Her hands had learned the lean lines of his body, her fingertips played with the sparse black hair on his chest.

While she had raised her arms and risen on tiptoes to kiss him, she’d heard Lucius divest himself in a rustle of silk and wool. He was naked when he pressed against her again and pushed her closer to Severus. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against Lucius’s chest, feeling his cock rub against the small of her back. The hands now teasing and stroking her breasts were definitely Severus’s. A flash of lust shot through her when the men embraced around her and finally kissed.

‘Bed, I think,’ Lucius murmured. He walked backwards and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Severus and Hermione approach him. His finger teased her clit, and he lipped at her breast before leaning forward to circle the tip of Severus’s cock with his tongue.

Eyes widening at the sight, Hermione put her right foot on the bed next to Lucius, in order to give him better access. Her hand encountered Severus’s when they both simultaneously grasped for the ribbon binding Lucius’s hair. She smiled and sneaked her left arm round his waist to maintain her balance, as she reached out with her right to cup his balls.

Lucius retrieved his hand just before she came. With a last sweeping lick, he let go of Severus’s cock and slid backwards on the bed, so that he wasn’t perching on the edge anymore, but sitting. ‘Come here,’ he said to Hermione, directing her to straddle his thighs with her back to him. ‘And now sit, like a good girl.’ His arms tightened around her ribcage when she lowered herself onto his cock.

Severus, who had been observing them with glittering eyes, knelt down. Moving his legs a little further apart, Lucius spread Hermione’s thighs wider. She groaned and gripped Severus’s shoulders when his tongue started to brush her clit. Lucius sat still, merely holding her in position and caressing her breasts, while Severus did his best to dive her crazy with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. She tried to move, but Lucius held her down, not allowing her to get the release she so badly wanted. ‘Not yet, my love,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘We want to make this last as long as possible, don’t we?’

She moaned and shook her head, and he chuckled.

With a wicked smile, Severus stopped and rose to his feet. He bent down to kiss first Lucius, then Hermione. ‘I think,’ he drawled, ‘the lady ought to earn her pleasure.’

‘By all means,’ Lucius agreed. He leaned forward, thus bringing Hermione’s mouth in contact with Severus’s cock. ‘Do oblige our friend, my dear.’

The movement had made her feel Lucius even deeper within her, and she whimpered. But he still didn’t allow her to move. ‘Damn you both,’ she growled and devoted her full attention to Severus’s cock, feeling Lucius’s hand creeping down and stroking her cunt. He made her come seconds after Severus, and then finally allowed her to move and bring about his own release.

They moved to lie on the bed, limbs entwined, in hazy contentment.

‘That was...’ Hermione sighed. ‘Unbelievable.’

But that, as it turned out, had only been the beginning.

~o~o~o~

During the small hours of the morning, all three of them sated and wrung out with pleasure and fatigue, they had agreed to have breakfast together. Severus had excused himself – although the bed was large, and the sheets had been changed by a bleary-eyed House Elf while the three indulged in a hot bath, he preferred to sleep in one of the guest rooms. Lucius and Hermione had returned to their bedroom for a last round of languid, sleepy love-making.

When Hermione woke up late in the morning, Lucius had already left. Swearing under her breath when she felt the soreness in muscles she hadn’t even known she possessed, she rather inelegantly scrambled out of bed, showered and dressed, and then gingerly descended to have breakfast. After last night’s activities, she was feeling slightly apprehensive about how things were going to develop between the three of them. Not that any of the participants had been less than willing, and Severus had been quite clear on his own feelings about their erotic adventure. But anticipating how one was going to feel after spending the night exchanging body fluids, and having to face each other after one had actually done so, were two very different things.

Severus was already sitting at the table, when she entered the breakfast salon. His plate and cutlery were still untouched, and he was drinking coffee with obvious relish.

Hermione gave him a peck on the cheek and squeezed his shoulder before sitting down opposite him. ‘Did you sleep well?’

He gave her a sardonic smile. ‘Like a stone. Unsurprisingly.’ Pouring coffee for both of them, he asked, ‘Lucius still primping?’

His movements lacked some of their habitual fluidity, but she chose not to comment on that. ‘I suppose so.’ She deeply inhaled the aroma before taking the first, live-saving sip. ‘Ah, that’s better.’ She drank again. ‘He didn’t dry his hair properly after our bath. I suppose he’ll have to cast a lot of de-tangling charms. Not that I’m one to talk,’ she added.

‘Well...’ He smirked. ‘Courtesy forbids me to comment on that. We are working on a new product line, though. It might interest you.’

They were discussing the merits of Potente Potions Ltd.’s entirely new concept of potions whose effects were intensified by charms infused into them, when Lucius entered the salon. He bade them both a good morning, briefly patted Severus’s shoulder and gave his wife a very chaste kiss on the lips. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he said, sitting down with a wince, ‘but I feel as if I’d been trampled by a herd of behemoths.’

The other two nodded sympathetically.

‘What a relief. I would be loathe to assume that it had something to do with age.’

‘I am sure there is no need to worry,’ Severus said politely, ‘It merely seems to be an effect of fucking each other senseless.’

‘Really, Severus.’ Lucius patted Hermione’s back until her coughing fit subsided. ‘Such frankness at the breakfast table...’ But his eyes were alight with mirth. ‘Are you all right, my dear?’

She nodded. ‘Fine, thank you. Since we’re obviously being so frank this morning – any regrets, either of you?’

Lucius merely shook his head, and Severus said, ‘No. No regrets. It was a...’ His half-lidded glance went from her to Lucius. ‘A most memorable night. And, as I am sure you’ll agree, not something we ought to repeat.’

‘A historical moment, to quote your words,’ Lucius said. ‘They cannot be replicated, because they only occur once in a lifetime. I quite agree.’

Hermione merely nodded. Historical moment, indeed. She’d managed to snaffle all of the poached eggs with Sauce Hollandaise for the first time ever.