The Wedding - COMPLETE

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Updated 4-17-07

Thanks to all of you, Lucius got a very good night's sleep. Now he faces the Minister of Magic.

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Chapter Twenty-Five


The Ministry


Morning came early for the Malfoys, especially Lucius, who had to finish putting together the parchments he wanted to carry to the Ministry. He had almost everything packed but he wanted to recheck his choices. He slipped from bed, making sure Hermione was wrapped securely in her blankets because she always seemed to feel the cold more than he did. Nasty little witch, pressing her icy feet on his nice warm butt. He smiled as he swallowed a quick breakfast and got to work in his study.


Hermione woke up and realized she had less than an hour before she needed to go with her husband to the Ministry. She jumped from bed and grabbed a quick shower, drying herself with a spell. After retrieving her clothes from Lucius’ closet, she dressed in a formal robe, asked an elf for a light breakfast, and finished up in her new bathroom, humming lightheartedly. Her food came and she gulped the fare down, brushed her teeth with her relocated toothbrush, and apparated to Lucius’ study, knocking on the door.


“Come in,” Lucius said, sliding the last parchments into their carrying case. He turned to see his wife dressed and ready except for her dress cloak. Lucius sent for an elf, asking him to bring their dress cloaks up to his study, and returned to closing his cases with spells.


Hermione gaped at her husband. He looked magnificent in his formal black robe; it was so beautifully fitted to his male physique that she could cheerfully look at him all day. The man totally redefined the word masculine with his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Hermione closed her mouth and surreptitiously checked herself for drool. Lucius had pulled his pale blond hair back into a tail with one of his black ribbons, this time velvet. She wanted to rip off his robe so badly she had to tuck her hands under her arms to keep from acting on her insane impulse. If he had asked her at that moment to use his black vibrator on him again she would have volunteered ecstatically. What on earth was wrong with her? She was suddenly nearly rabid with wanting sex, any kind of sex, with her husband.


He finished and turned to his wife, his icy silver eye color giving away his apprehension to her even though nothing unusual appeared on his face.


Hermione shook off her momentary madness, seeing Lucius was in a funk about his trip to see Arthur, and she went over and put her hands up on Lucius’ face pulling him down for a brief kiss. “You’ll be fine. You’ve made the Ministry more money in three months than they could ever have done by themselves.” She stepped back and flexed her two tiny biceps in a Mr. Universe pose, “Just remember you’re the husband of the magic world’s superheroine of the Light. That’ll keep your spirits up!” Hermione chortled at her husband’s disgusted look. At least he wasn’t looking so worried any more.


They put on their cloaks and bent to pick up the cases. Lucius gave Hermione a smaller one, while he carried a heavier one. He took hold of her hand and apparated them both to the front door of the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. When they arrived, Lucius took the smaller case from his wife and carried them both into the lobby, Hermione following him as they entered an elevator and rode to the floor holding the Minister’s office suite.


Hermione saw a few people she knew and waved, but didn’t stop to chat, instead keeping up Lucius’ steady pace toward Arthur’s office.


They were a little early, and the secretary asked them to sit in the outer office, while Arthur finished with his current appointment. Hermione looked around at the office, remembering it vaguely from previous meetings, but she had usually gone straight through, she hadn’t sat in the secretary’s office before. It was painted in rather boring beige tones with nondescript furniture; the only interesting feature was the representation of the four houses of Hogwarts represented by shields on one wall. There were several other smaller shields representing houses from other magical schools in other lands. All in all it was an interesting display that Hermione might have enjoyed studying if they had the time, but she needed to pay attention to Lucius now, not the office decorations.


She could see he wasn’t happy, although a stranger wouldn’t be able to detect it; Lucius had a rather good superficial face that he showed the world. She thought of it as his superbastard look. She’d certainly been on the receiving end of it enough through the years. Right now he was fuming that he was having to wait in an outer office, even though he was early. Arrogant and Lucius were synonymous terms and even in his current predicament his haughty attitude couldn’t be squelched. Hermione fretted when he was unhappy but she did get a bit of amusement sometimes from his inbred snobbishness.


“Would you like some tea, Lucius? I’m certain we can find some, if you’d like.” Hermione scooted up next to her husband and took one of his delightfully warm hands in hers. The man was a dynamo of heat and Hermione loved snuggling against him. Men always seemed to have more body heat than women; it just wasn’t fair.


“No thank you, my dear, I’d just like to go over some last minute ideas in my head before the meeting, if you don’t mind,” Lucius replied. He was remembering the last time he’d been escorted to this office and the completely surprising proposition Arthur had put forward, the one sitting next to him now, trying to give him some support with her cold, little hands. He gathered her hands into his and chafed them absently, recalling the initial shock he’d felt at basically being asked to choose between Azkaban and a smart-mouthed, Muggleborn little witch who had never shown him any respect as her better. But, he admitted, also a beautiful, young, brilliant witch whose mind fascinated him even as her politics and ancestry repelled him. He’d wondered forlornly if he was going to enter into another marriage made in hell. He could see plainly she wasn’t happy with the plan, and so he had viewed the marriage as just a different sort of punishment, and a rather diabolical one at that.


Lucius had arrived at his punishment by being what his father had crafted him to be. Lucius knew Voldemort had wondered about him sometimes, but couldn’t prove anything, and he was so valuable to the Death Eater camp with his genius for finances and his power gained from his dictatorial, vicious sire, that the Dark Lord left him alone. Lucius had learned as a babe at his father’s knee to hate Muggles. If he so much as mentioned talking to a Muggleborn at school, he soon learned with a solid caning what was acceptable. Muggles were to be stamped out; it must be done for the good of the magic world. No other opinion was allowed. Even too much affection toward his own family was discouraged. His father had termed any finer feelings a weakness and had nearly stamped it out in Lucius, substituting instead his own worship of the Malfoy Pureblood dynasty.


Lucius had been an especially bright child and had quickly learned the way to gain his father’s attention. He’d been only fifteen when he was initiated into the Death Eaters at the command of his father. Only after he got mired in the subversive group, did he start to think at all for himself and realize he was part of an extremely dangerous enterprise. In the ensuing years, Lucius had walked a tightrope. Disliking Muggles because of his training and heritage was easy; needing to prove himself occasionally to his Dark Lord was more difficult. A few of those proofs were burned in his mind forever, emerging at stressful moments like the present, to remind him just what his marriage and present circumstances were all about.


He wasn’t innocent by a long shot; he’d occasionally found a way to mitigate some poor soul’s torment if it didn’t endanger himself, but it wasn’t much against the other deeds the Death Eaters had been responsible for. Weighed against his family, the unlucky Muggles would have to lose. His own life was on the line, and when he’d married, those of his wife and son. He would always make the same decisions again, but they sometimes emerged to haunt him before he could lock them away in a dark corner of his mind again.


When Narcissa had seen the dark mark tattoo the first time, she’d nearly swooned. After that she couldn’t get far enough away from him. Her family had espoused a pureblood magical community to some extent, which appealed to Abraxas, but some members were more zealous than others. His father had made a poor choice of bride for him, indulging Lucius’ boyhood desire for the beautiful, pureblood witch. Lucius knew Snape had some of the same history, having to straddle sides and appearing to be in the Dark Lord’s camp. But Snape had avoided much of the worst, being rolled up in the school grounds most of the time.


Lucius looked up as the door to the inner office opened and Dolores Umbridge strode out in a huff. The secretary said, “Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy, you may go in now.” Lucius and Hermione waited until the unpleasant witch had passed through the outer door, slamming it, then they rose and walked through the open door into Arthur’s office.


Arthur came forward, looking harassed, but said kindly to Hermione, “How are you my dear?” He looked at Lucius with more reserve, “And you, Malfoy?” He motioned to two seats in front of his desk. “Please, be seated. Would you like some tea?”


Lucius took a seat, but Hermione asked, “Shall I stay while you and my husband talk or shall I leave?”


Arthur considered a moment, “Is there some place you would rather go while we talk?” He added, “That’s fine if you want to visit here at the Ministry.”


Hermione looked briefly at Lucius and made up her mind, “No, I’m fine here if that’s all right. What I know about finances could fit on the tip of my wand with room enough left over for Dolores Umbridge’s fat …” Hermione trailed off under Arthur’s reproving eye. “I can sit at the little table over by the window and read. I’ve brought a book. She held up her romance, the same book that Lucius had copied his outfit from for the Muggle club.


Lucius smiled slightly at the reminder of their evening, but sighed and lapsed back into his somber mood. He began opening his cases and setting the documents out on Arthur’s desk.


Hermione wasn’t fooled. He had frozen in place when Arthur had told her she could leave. He didn’t want her to leave him, but he’d never admit it. Stupid man. She settled herself at the little table at the far end of the room and soon lost herself in her book. There was nothing more she could do for her mate right now.


The buzz of voices carried on while Hermione paid absolutely no attention, only hearing snatches of conversation about price earnings ratios and stock splits and other nonsense that meant nothing to her. She managed to get through a fair portion of her book when the meeting finally broke up, Arthur reaching across his desk to shake Lucius’ hand. That surprised Hermione, as she knew Arthur cordially disliked her husband. She scrutinized her husband’s features and stance and saw that he was feeling more at ease. Good. Perhaps he had been worried that Arthur would send him to prison if his work wasn’t good enough. Hermione hadn’t thought of that before. Well, it was far too late now for Arthur to try to do that. It would be a transgression of their entire agreement anyway.


Hermione walked over to the desk and stood by her husband, waiting for the final goodbyes. She nodded to Arthur in farewell, and Lucius took her by the hand, leading her out of the offices into the corridor by the elevators. They soon zipped to street level and walked outside. “Well?” she asked. "Is everything in order? Does Arthur realize you’re fantastic now?”


Lucius looked down at his petite, partisan spouse, a little curl of warmth invading his chest at her support. “He seemed pleased, yes.” Lucius knew he’d done more than Arthur had expected and seeing the surprise in the other man’s eyes was a balm on his bitterness. “Would you like to go somewhere for lunch now? I’m famished.” Lucius gave his wife her choice, “We can go to the Leaky Cauldron if you like. Or anywhere else.”


“Oh, can we go to the Leaky Cauldron? I’d like that best. Then we can just sit back and relax.” Hermione was happy for her husband and felt like celebrating, but the old tavern was home ground and comfortable. She slipped her hand into his and he apparated them to the front door of the tavern. They no sooner walked in than the cook was approaching them with a big smile, “I’m glad to see you both here again. We were worried we’d lost your custom. Please,” he waved his hand to seats by the window, “be seated.”


Hermione and Lucius took seats, but further back in the room toward the corner to be less conspicuous to the other diners. Being singled out for special treatment wasn’t what they had wanted. Lucius motioned for a waitress and she came over to the table. He said, “Two ales, please,” and the waitress scurried off.


Hermione looked at Lucius in surprise, “I thought you always drank firewhiskey or scotch. And did you order the second ale for me?”


“Just for a small toast. You can have something else if you like. Shall I ask the waitress back?”


“No,” she said, “that’s all right. It’s not my favorite by a long shot, but I can drink a toast. You may have to carry me home, though. I think I’m a lightweight drinker.”


The ales arrived at their table and Lucius set one in front of his wife. “To a successful day, a successful quarter, and a successful marriage.” He clinked his stein to hers and quaffed a long swallow.


Hermione said, “Hear, hear,” and she sipped a bit from her stein. “Whew, this stuff is strong. Maybe I’d better have some lemonade, after all. I suspect if I finish this, you won’t be getting much of a lie-down.” She winked at her spouse and fondled his knee under the table.


Lucius reached over and removed the stein from his wife’s vicinity and her roving hand from climbing up his thigh. “Down, girl. I meant it when I said ‘lie-down’. You are about the cheapest drunk I think I’ve ever known. If you and Ginny were drinking at that lunch, am I going to have to compensate the restaurant for you mauling the busboys?”


“Not at all,” said Hermione cheekily, “the busboys were actually lining up at our table. They all went away happy so you don’t have to pay anyone.” She laughed at Lucius’ mock glare. They were both relieved and buoyant about the success of Lucius’ presentation. Just then Hermione’s stomach let out a loud growl, “Oops, I guess I’d better have something to eat. I’m getting ravenous.” She motioned the waitress over and they ordered their food, sitting companionably while they waited for it to be delivered. “I didn’t know you ate sandwiches. We never have them at home.” Hermione wrinkled her brow at his unusual order.


“Well, I decided I rather liked the roast beef sandwich you made us the other night. So I’m willing to eat one now and then. But I don’t want to see them on the menu every day.” Lucius cocked one eyebrow in Hermione’s direction, adding emphasis to his overbearing edict.


“Yes, Master.” Mocking sarcasm coated her words.


“I do like the sound of that. You may continue to call me Master. It has a nice obedient sound to it.”


Hermione laughed, “And you can call me Mistress… No, wait, that didn’t come out right.” She huffed in exasperation, “Forget it. If you want to be someone’s master, get a dog.”


“Oh, certainly, and I can just see how that would appeal to Crookshanks. Perhaps I could get a Mastiff. Then we would see some sport.” Lucius grinned at Hermione’s hiss of displeasure. A tiny kick landed on his shin, increasing his good humor. “We’ll be meeting Severus and Ginny at 5:30PM at the same stadium box we were in last time so we’ll need to leave around 5 PM ourselves. The crowds get bad as you saw, so we’ll need to build in a little time to fight our way up to them.” Lucius finished off his sandwich and pushed aside his plate. “If you would finish, we could get started on that lie-down. I’m exhausted.”


Hermione replied, “I’m tired, too. A lie-down it is.” She rose from the table and waited while Lucius paid the bill and tip, then they left the tavern and apparated home into Lucius’ bedroom. Hermione slipped off her cape, doffed her robes and underthings and jumped onto the bed, snuggling under the covers, hating the coolness of those satin sheets. They were exciting for sex, but lousy for warmth. On her next shopping trip, she was going to investigate some flannel sheets. My, she was tired.


Lucius watched his wife strip in record time and wondered why she got undressed faster for an afternoon lie-down than for him. He considered and realized he normally liked her to strip slowly for him, so she did it at a flobberworm’s pace because she knew he liked it.


On that cozy thought, he stripped off and slipped into bed beside his little witch. Gathering her in his warm arms, he quickly fell asleep. The intense strain of the meeting at the Ministry was over and he could relax. For the first time in months, he really believed he was going to be safe from Azkaban.


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For those of you who had a difficult week, I hope this update helped. Things seem to be going a bit better for Lucius and Hermione. I sincerely hope they go better for you, too.

Now...

Does everyone have their tickets for the Quidditch game in the next chapter? I understand it's going to be a fierce rivalry. I think we can all squeeze into the box with Lucius, Hermione, Severus and Ginny. Bundle up just in case...
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Reviews are ALWAYS welcome! (Thank you, everyone and thank you, new reviewers).
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