Beyond the Veil -- COMPLETE

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Updated 7-2-08

To answer some questions -

onduril – Hello! Hugs back. You just became a delightful delurker! Danke sehr! (High school and college German – sadly now mostly defunct.) Oh, yes, university seminars – useful for insomnia relief. Please don’t cut down your reviews. I love them just as they are LOL. I do love to write Lucius stories. He always surprises me with his varied reactions to clever Hermione. They duel with great flair.

pasen852 –Thanks for the definitions of stroppy. It is rather like ‘snarky’. Many fluid uses. I’m glad you like what is happening so far.

pittwitch – Yes, we’ve got us a bonafide inkling of wand-whacking in the offing – I hope.

Lady Dragonfly – Yup, I am a board-certified ramper-upper of UST for smut stories. And loving it.

helensgirl – You want to go on the rota…rota… the list for spanking? Ten years of Hermione hiding in the basement of the Ministry with her dusty artifacts isn’t much better than twelve years of prison for Lucius. Both of them have been shut away. Things will get better (but then you knew that, didn’t you? LOL)

mandigrrl – I’m happy you liked the last chapter and thrilled you’ve liked it all so far. Anticipation is half the fun in sex games.

Heidi191976 – LOL I’m sure Lucius wishes sweet, man-shrewd Margaret had kept her mouth shut, too. But in her soft, vacuous way, she actually did Lucius a grand favor. Margaret may have accomplished what Lucius couldn’t – brought Hermione’s sexual spirit alive again.

doodle – Perhaps it wasn’t Lucius whom Hermione had caged, so much as herself. I think that is coming to an end. And that sets Lucius free, too.

Malfoysplaymate – I would love your reaction to “Lucius and the Waif”. Lucius is more strict in that one. And Hermione and Lucius will definitely become ‘closer’. He now sees a light at the end of her tunnel (okay, couldn’t resist that horrible pun - sorry).

tambrathegreat – Hermione may surprise Lucius. In the meantime Lucius certainly rubbed Hermione’s nose in a bit of reality of the times for women. He’s seen more of it and now she’s better educated too. This helps them both understand their new life, especially what Hermione might have to look forward to without his protection.

Snape_Goddess – I do like those old words. I’ve seen them before and I too like pizzle. I think I saw it in a novel set during the reign of Tudors. Hermione is coming into her sexuality a bit late and she has a bad history with Lucius. He’s lucky she’s come as far as she has, hot lover or no. Hermione may be scared to let the lion out of his cage. She has no experience to deal with it and now the paintings have broadened her education, so she’s even more hesitant. SG, I have the feeling you would give away the store to Lucius after the first handshake.

Margaret, the harlot, is a sweet, but dim bulb who wanted to help Lucius. Actually she did help him. And Lucius doesn’t equate spanking with infidelity. He has weaseling/self-justification down to an art form; you know that [grin]. In his mind he has been protecting Hermione from his baser self (while enjoying the recreation). It would be quite different were it Hermione getting the spanks from someone else. That’s actually a positive step for him, being territorial. You want prints of the paintings? LOL, so do I. Moving ones.

sisterae – The honors are equally divided between the lovers for behaving poorly toward their spouse. This is always called the ‘period of adjustment’ in a marriage and major adjustments are called for here. But a bit of air clearing finally happened. Plus, in Lucius’ mind, the spanking was not infidelity in the technical sense. He’s all for the fine print if it relieves his conscience, which is very fluid in any case. He assumed being denied his choice of paintings time and again WAS him explaining his needs. She turned him down knowing she was choosing herself over him. He knew it too. She is now considering choosing him for a change. He’s happy.

This is very amusing – few have mentioned the paperwork in the study. I guess Lucius’ furtive avocation and Hermione’s reactions took center stage in the last chapter. Research is Hermione’s specialty.

meankitty69 – Yes, Margaret isn’t smart, but she knows men and wanted to help. I don’t think they would have progressed so far without her.

Lady Miya – Yes, quite a few secrets came to light in the last chapter. Sorry, can’t discuss the Master. Margaret, the courtesan, isn’t at all clever, but she does know what makes a man tick (and pant and slaver).

blue artemis – I think Hermione will be surprised by sex in another flavor besides vanilla, but perhaps so will Lucius.

Gryffindor_Slytherin – Lucius had been turned down on several paintings choices. He thought his desires were obvious to his wife and she ignored them. So he turned elsewhere, both to save her sensibilities and to get some relief for himself.

Jesse – Thank you, Jesse. This story took a long time to plot out with its twists of time.

LadyVoldemort87 – If you swatted Lucius for his transgression, it would only encourage him. You KNOW he likes it. I think he feels justified about his spanking spree in his mind, poor deluded man. Hermione’s been dragging her sexual feet on Lucius, they both know it, so her position isn’t so righteous. But it’s not quite over yet. Ahh, Lucius’ fixation with anal sex. He certainly needs to watch his backside in my stories. I always try to make him the dominant one and it always get twisted somehow. That Hermione’s a pistol. You know, I don’t remember any reviews vilifying me for Lucius and the purple vibrator in “The Wedding”. I don’t think your bated breath will turn you blue, Lady V.

Scary Bear Hair – Hermione is trying to stem the tide of her feelings, afraid of her miniscule worth to Lucius. The bordello setting really suits Lucius, I think. I really like Margaret myself, so featherbrained, so sweet, generous, and giving - her one talent is knowing men inside and out. You think Malfoy’s going to get his butt whomped? Really?

Muffy – I laughed; most discussed the bordello butt bashing. You asked about the “LOAN plot”. [High fives you!]

Citten – S’mores sound good to me. (For those who don’t know about the dessert, check the internet.) I AM called the Marshmallow, you know. That’s because I have no guts for any suspense. And I’m not much for the great outdoors (unless it comes with a five-star hotel). Yes, in this story the Malfoy family kept their forebears’ language, French, polished, making their children learn it. I’m not sure if Hermione knows it, or has even a schoolgirl’s knowledge.

Damiana – I’m slipping; two mistakes! Sheesh! I’ve corrected them. Thanks! Sorry, because you were correct, you won’t need a spanking from Lucius. A reward? (He says you don’t have to ask twice. He’ll be over tonight.) Your questions are fascinating and, of course, can’t answer them now.

Angelprince – That’s a very strong argument if logic held sway and I love the reasoning. Lucius, being a ‘dog’, doesn’t worry about logic unless it is used against him. I appreciate not getting my neck stretched. Saved by Luscious Lucius once again.

jami – Hi jami. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the story. We have a lot more to go.

Sheherazade – Yeah, when those two go at it, I almost need a fire hose to break them apart. But Hermione is still holding a bit back. I do hope the saliva didn’t get into your computer keys. The prophecy and the ‘weak’ will start unfolding soon. You asked if all the courtesans can enjoy getting spanked. I bet you can hear my answer already. OF COURSE, IF IT’S LUCIUS DOING THE HONORS!! Heh, heh. Maybe it’s Hermione who will be educated, maybe…Lucius.


So... last week our hero got caught red-handed, so to speak. Now what?


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Chapter Twenty-Eight


Communication in the Ministry


In the end, Hermione and Lucius decided to continue their vanilla sex while Hermione pondered how she felt about adding spanking to their physical repertoire. Lucius was content to wait some more, now that he was so close to gaining part of his heart’s desire. The sex with her was explosive in any case and what he proposed was merely a delicious icing on a supremely tasty cake. Lucius relaxed more in the bedroom after assuring his wife he wasn’t taking his more adventurous pleasures to the bordello anymore. He postponed acting on his choice of a painting, hoping he could use his turn for one of the spanking ones.

It had been a nasty few minutes at first when they got home, but then, out of nowhere, he’d done the impossible. He had never in his life been on his knees to a woman unless his face was between her legs and he hardly knew how it had happened this time. He’d been blithely assuring Hermione that he was through doing anything at the brothel except making money while his little witch sat quietly on the end of the bed watching him.

And then…oh Gods…it wasn’t a torrent or noisy wailing – those he could have coped with. But she had been trying so hard to not care and then those big, brown eyes had squeezed shut and two fat tears had rolled slowly down her pretty pink cheeks. It was a thunderbolt striking his chest. He’d dropped like a stone in front of her, wiping away those silently reproachful tear tracks and babbling his apology. He had shocked both of them.

The sex after that humiliating experience was incandescent, amazing Lucius with the glow of a new intimacy – one he was loath to examine too fully for fear it would ultimately hurt if it turned out to be transient.

When his breathing finally wound down from hurricane force and they were both tucked in for a post-coital rest, Lucius hastily excused his utterly foreign behavior silently to himself. The embarrassing and humbling experience had paid unexpected dividends and Lucius was not only a quick learner, he was never one to pass up an idea advantageous to himself. Musing that he could add apologies on his knees for disastrous mistakes to his repertoire, he allowed that he couldn’t really use the knee technique too often. He drifted off sated and relaxed.

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A few mornings later, Lucius announced, “I’ve made arrangements for us to visit the Ministry, most particularly the Veil. Everyone was most accommodating. I don’t know if the Veil is pulling the strings or this time period is just less secretive and defensive than ours, but no one seemed to care if we viewed the edifice. It’s Saturday so there will be a minimum of people working.”

Lucius gave Hermione the news over breakfast. He had made one vague attempt to interest his wife in some relaxed morning sex, but as usual she had shied away. Lucius was sanguine about his ultimate success in easing her into even more than merely doing the deed in the daylight, but he was in quite a good mood overall. He did wonder why she was so skittish about sex in the light, though. Maybe he would just ask her when he deemed it the right time. He was beginning to think there was something beyond shyness.

He smiled to himself about their recent bouts of lovemaking. He knew Hermione had feared he would instantly want to claim his concession through a painting choice and spank her firm, little rear, but he had promised she could ‘consider’ it. Once she had understood being upended over his knee wasn’t now premier on his sexual agenda, she had relaxed and let him sup hungrily on her feminine folds again and again before sending her into her own perfect storms using his lightning rod to masterful effect. If he weren’t mistaken, he even detected a softer, more relaxed, even slightly beckoning attitude toward him and not only in bed. Yes, he was content to wait.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Lucius. I just know that will help us somehow. I don’t suppose your wealth had anything to do with the Ministry’s graciousness?” Hermione winked at her husband. “Where exactly is the Ministry now?” Hermione sipped at her tea while gazing at his beautifully etched lips, which had totally annihilated her the night before. Her husband had truly amazing talents. She shifted a little in her seat, acknowledging her visceral reaction just to the idea of his tongue between her legs.

Hermione had been given a bad shock at the revelation at the bordello, but the worst part of the shock was her gut-wrenching fear that she had lost Lucius. At first she had been enraged, but her anger had curdled with the possibility that she had been replaced. That had scared her more than facing down the hellhounds.

When he had been so happy that she might consider spanking in some form, the relief that had rolled over her nearly made her swoon and as she had sat on their bed she had teared up a little; Lucius had actually apologized to her on his knees! She didn’t want to lose him and she had come close to doing just that. The thought still gave her palpitations. Maybe…maybe having sex in the daytime wouldn’t be as worrisome an idea as she had always thought. She felt absolutely wanton with her daring after so close a call and he had made generous amends. She just wished she were more sure of his attraction to her. Then the light wouldn’t be a problem.

“The best I can tell, it is still in the same place, but the ingress is different. Obviously there is no telephone entrance, so it is entirely by floo, except for one entrance through Gringotts Bank. I suspect the goblins allowed that entrance as a way to attract customers as they came through the bank. That entrance no longer exists in our time, but it’s a bit of peculiar history, isn’t it?” Lucius touched those masculine lips that had fascinated Hermione with a linen napkin, then laid it on the table and rose.

“Shall we go now?” he asked.

Hermione smiled, “The sooner we go to the Veil of Death, which I’m beginning to think of as the Veil of Life, the sooner we will discover more about why we are here. I think this is getting exciting, don’t you?” She rose from the table and accepted the outer garments Lucius accio’d for her. As she put on her bonnet, gloves, and cloak she added, “I would like to see where I used to work, if we have time. It was down in the lower level also.”

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The two of them apparated to Diagon Alley and entered the portal of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, immediately turning to one side and moving to a gilded archway just inside the main doors. He led Hermione through the arch to a small, circular room with a pretty floral display on a central table. Hermione looked around, then looked up at her husband.

Lucius said, “Wait.”

Within half a minute, the room began to pivot and the open archway closed as the walls turned. On the other side of the room another archway opened onto a short corridor with a lift. Hermione walked with Lucius to the lift, which opened to accept them. Entering the lift, they were swiftly dropped then careened sideways to the main Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, whereupon Lucius and Hermione found themselves in more familiar territory. They went immediately to the golden gates at the end of the Atrium and registered their wands, moving past it toward a series of lifts leading to the other levels.

As they passed, Hermione realized they were objects of some interest…well, at least Lucius was. As they passed, more than one witch turned to gaze after the tall, virile wizard, their expressions ranging from quiet appreciation and timid enjoyment, to bold curiosity and even avid, carnal speculation. A few met Hermione’s knowing eyes, looking her up and down and then dismissing her, returning to visually wander over the handsome wizard, drinking in the sight of his slim, muscled frame exquisitely revealed by the tailored blue coat and form-fitting buff breeches. The plain, almost severe style* suited his innate elegance. His neckcloth was tied to a nicety, neither too plain nor too ornate around his collar points, and his beaver hat** set off his pale locks, being set at a cocked angle on his head. It was a slight comfort to her that Lucius was not returning the feminine looks aimed at him. Hermione’s worries about losing the blond wizard to another woman surfaced again. She never noticed the male speculation directed her way – but Lucius did. He enfolded her little hand over his sleeve, keeping her close beside him as he selected a lift to take them to Level One and the Minister’s Office.

@Dept of Mysteries

Hermione watched her husband ply his various manipulative talents as they progressed through the Ministry’s administrative layers. Lucius was important enough as both a Pureblood, pedigreed Malfoy and as an immensely rich wizard to command attention by the governing officials. He was all affable bonhomie with the Minister, Grogan Stump, gracious but distant with the young male assistant who was surreptitiously sneaking peeks at Hermione as he guided them down to the Department of Mysteries, and all sparkling charm to the Guardian of the Department of Mysteries, a Miss Thornhill, who must have left her hundredth birthday behind long before, and who delighted in wearing fussy, lacy ruffles from the neck to the hem of her dress making her look like a low-class wedding cake.

Lucius smiled at the old witch and complimented the lemony color of her dress, which was about the only thing remotely attractive to his senses. She happily led him into the capacious hall where the Veil was standing, chatting nonstop about various parties she attended and hinting that Lucius was welcome to join her. Hermione trailed behind, forgotten in the shining light of her tall, handsome husband. She watched Lucius neatly get rid of the woman who had simpered girlishly at his gallant attentions, while she barely even registered Hermione’s presence. Then Lucius had warded the door against any intrusions.

The two Malfoys strode purposefully down an aisle toward the Veil and up onto the dais just as they remembered. They had nearly reached the base of the upper stage when Hermione suddenly flared up, greatly surprising herself, “You are such a conniving arsehole, Lucius.”

Lucius stopped on his way toward the Veil, “What? In what way?” What was she on about now?

“It was as though I was seeing three different Luciuses, all of whom were bent on a common goal.”

“And your point?”

“You’re using people – again. Is this consistent with your ‘new leaf’ policy?”

“Are you my conscience now? How quaint.” Lucius frowned at her unexpected attack, but he was more puzzled than anything. “Am I using people when I’m merely being social? You must think I have supernatural powers of persuasion. Of course, I persuaded you into bed, and that’s nearly a miracle so perhaps you are on to something.” Lucius gifted his wife with one of his sarcastic smiles raising one eyebrow in a provocative goad, knowing it was guaranteed to raise her blood pressure, but not understanding she would interpret it to mean she was a half-wit.

“I can’t be what doesn’t exist, Lucius. I’m not sure you really have a conscience, not a big enough one to bother you anyway.” Hermione hit back at the man who could make her feel like an underbred idiot with no more than a look.

Lucius stared at his wife for several moments, his face inscrutable in the darkened chamber. Hermione’s words had been a sharpened dart to his heart. “You have a tongue like an adder, my dear. I believe you can accomplish whatever needs to be done yourself. I think I’ll take my sociopathic self and go home.” He turned to leave the large chamber, but Hermione caught his arm and stopped him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Lucius. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t even believe it.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he said. “What I don’t understand is why.”

He was so confident, so faultlessly attractive, making anyone in his orbit want to please him, just like that Miss Thornhill who didn’t even know him. Hermione was teetering between anger and misery, “You just make me so mad sometimes with your superior attitude. You walk through this place like you’re a king and everyone seems to accept you at your own estimation. It’s always been like that. You had the same effect in our time. It just makes me angry that you’re so lethal with so little effort.” My Gods, why on earth was she saying all that to Lucius? She was saying things to him she hadn’t admitted even to herself. She felt like she was spilling out all her pent up vitriol in one large explosion.

Lucius half-heartedly dragged at the arm being firmly held by his wife, not wanting to hurt her, but needing separation to protect himself. She was always so prickly and easily antagonized and he could rarely seem to please her except in bed and even that was on her terms. He wasn’t normally prey to any sense of deficiency, but he was fast developing an inferiority complex around her. He hadn’t understood the depths of her inexplicable bouts of acrimony before, but her words were making things come clear. “Apparently I don’t have that same lethal effect on you.”

“Don’t you understand?” She shook his arm once, “It’s exactly the same for me. I think I hate you a bit for binding me with that same mesmerizing charm or charisma or whatever it is. It’s like “King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid”. You have some sort of desire for me, but you see me as a low-class witch. I have unique assets for you here, but I’m not an equal in your eyes, not like the Pureblood witches we’ve met. I’m never going to be an equal in your mind. Yet, even knowing that, I’m trapped by your magnetism, the same as everyone else.”

Lucius was completely flummoxed. Had he just been praised or vilified? He sat down in the first row seating and looked at his wife in frowning perplexity. She felt ‘caught’ by him somehow? “You’re saying you want me or like me, but you feel coerced into it? By my being merely myself? And so you hate me for making you want me? Are you perchance confusing the package with the contents? My exterior has always drawn attention. I’m attractive and people, especially women like to look at me. So what. Are they interested in the person inside? More importantly, are you? Or am I just a pretty bauble to you, too?”

Now Lucius was looking horrorstruck at his own admissions. How? Why? Where had those thoughts come from? He was babbling about feelings he hadn’t even consciously known he had, but Gods, they were true. He was afraid his wife only liked his looks, not him. Why was he telling her that?

Hermione was aghast at what she had unleashed between them. Why had she gone on and on, vilifying Lucius, spewing out feelings she was shocked to discover had been seething inside her unbeknownst to her conscious self? She thought she was the unattractive one who had accidentally been given a mate so far her superior in looks and magic she lived in constant fear that he would reject her soon, even though he had married her. She knew his first wife had been stunningly beautiful. And so was he. How could he not be disappointed in her?

She would be devastated if he left her, too. So she had been pushing him away before he could hurt her. Instead she had hurt him. Hermione started quietly crying as Lucius continued with his unanswerable questions.

“Am I a horrible person because I use the gifts I was given to go through life? Some people have a gift for persuasive speech, some are artistic, some are gifted at numbers. You’ve been given an amazing intelligence. Everyone has gifts or talents that they use to get through their lives. Yet if I’m not mistaken, I’m being blamed for using the gift of my appearance. Don’t most men and women use artificial aids to make themselves more attractive? If they become too handsome or pretty is that bad?

“Hermione, do you realize you constantly find ways to belittle me? Am I so bad, so utterly without redeeming features? You accepted me as your husband, but I think I’m the one who is considered somehow less. I don’t understand how you can claim that you feel unequal to me when you constantly tell me how awful I am.”

Hermione sat down beside Lucius and he put his arm around her when she buried her face in his chest, now crying in earnest.

“I am trying to turn over that new leaf you ridicule me with,” Lucius said ruefully, “but you make the job so nearly impossible I don’t know what to do. I’ve opened up a very personal physical secret to you and I thought we were finding ourselves closer. I guess I was wrong. To you I’m still a villain with legalized side benefits.” He could feel her shake her head in negation.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung, incoherently sobbing and soaking his waistcoat. “No,” she wailed. “You’re not a villain, you’re not. I’m scared. Of you, of myself. I don’t want to be hurt again. How can you care for me?”

“I think you have to care for yourself first, kitten. I can’t do that for you.” Lucius pulled his little witch onto his lap and let her cry, ignoring the flood of tears on his new gray brocade waistcoat as he rocked her. Wasn’t he the one who had been hurt? Yet here he was comforting her instead.

Abruptly he realized all this heartburning and antagonism had started when they got close to that damned arch. Lucius eyed the structure in suspicious distaste as he contemplated what had just happened.

By this time Hermione was openly crying, loud sniffs between wails making Lucius wonder what exactly she was scrubbing onto his tortured waistcoat. She reached up and wound her arms around his neck, moving on to ruining his neatly tied neckcloth and wilting his shirt points, hiding her face in his neck, “You’re right. You’re always right. I hate that, too.” Hermione cried harder and was wrapped tighter in her husband’s arms.

Lucius suddenly saw the funny side of their clash and chuckled at his petite mate who was professing to hate him as she nearly strangled him. At least now his neckcloth and shirt collar matched his waistcoat. All three of the garments were drenched.

“Kitten, that’s merely age. I’m many years older than you and I’ve been about the world a great deal more than you could have been, buried in the basement here at the Ministry as you were. All I’ve done is try to share my experience with you so perhaps you don’t have to make the same mistakes I have. If I’ve sounded didactic instead of helpful I apologize. One of the traits I do not have in abundance is humility. You’ll have to accept that failing in me. I don’t think I can overcome that character flaw at this late date.” He rocked her some more, “I wasn’t coerced into marrying you, Hermione. Never think that. Were you feeling coerced into marrying me?”

Hermione shook her head vehemently under Lucius’ chin, but kept her face hidden in his neckcloth. She was winding down and only a few hiccupping sobs still emerged from her slight frame. A great sigh left her lungs and she relaxed against her wizard’s chest, more at peace than she had ever been with him.

Lucius let them both just sit in silence for several minutes before finally putting forth a suspicion, “Hermione, I think we’ve been affected by our nearness to the Veil. Why did we erupt with our worst fears just as we came close to that psychoanalyzing piece of rock?”

“What worst fear did you erupt with?” Hermione asked in a small whisper.

“You didn’t notice? I’ve been worried that I’m just a piece of attractive meat to you, offering stability and safety and a few perks between the sheets, but not of much interest to you otherwise.”

“You were really worried that I didn’t care about you?” Hermione found it hard to believe that such a proud, self-confident, magnetically handsome man would truly be interested in her to the point where he would feel rejected. She looked up into his face, her perplexity obvious to her husband.

“Why is that so difficult for you to absorb?” Lucius frowned in exasperation.

“Look at you,” Hermione waved vaguely at his face and chest. “Now look at me!” Hermione sketched a hand over her body to emphasize her comparison.

“Are we back to that again? Sweet Guinevere, you don’t believe me at all no matter what I say, do you?” Lucius held her slightly away from his chest and surveyed Hermione, taking his time and scrutinizing her from her curly head to her tiny toes. “All right, I’ve looked at you. Would you care to tell me what I see? Obviously when I told you how attractive you were before, you thought I was a liar. Therefore, perhaps you can give me a hint about what exactly I am really seeing but lying about? I’m sure you have a much better idea than I.”

Hermione flushed with embarrassment and some annoyance. She hadn’t called him a liar, had she? Oh, well, maybe she had if one looked at her assertions a particular way. “How can you be happy with me as your wife after you were married to such a very beautiful woman?”

“My Gods, Hermione! Do you realize just how insulting that is to me? You must think I’m as false as Gilderoy Lockhart’s resume. You really want me to verbally compare you to my first wife? Will that appease you? Shall I start at the top and work my way down?”

Hermione recoiled from Lucius’ offer, “No! I don’t want…No!” She waved her hand frantically between them in negation. “I just feel as though next to you I’m as useless as a Squib, never able to function at your level, always feeling inadequate, weak, and powerless in the face of your looks, your wealth, your charisma, your magic abilities. How could I ever compete with all that?”

“We are not in a competition, kitten. I suppose I have a bit of occasional hubris, but it’s nothing you can’t easily nullify with your natural ability to prick my confidence balloon. You do that all too well, my dear. Whenever I believe my own press too much, your talent for pointing out my big, plodding clay feet brings me back to earth quite smartly. That is going to be very handy in our marriage.”

“But unfortunately, inside of me I believe your press, too. That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

“Then how can I convince you of what is a very simple concept to me? I am happy with you. You, Hermione Granger Malfoy, make me happy. Contented. Relaxed. Serene. Euphoric. Delighted. Captivated. Peaceful. Pleased. Satisfied. Gratified. Blissfu -” Lucius found a small hand pressing against his lips.

His wife looked up into Lucius’ face shyly, her big brown eyes glowing in wonder through her wet eyelashes as she asked in a small voice, “Really?”

“Really,” he whispered and covered her mouth with his. He felt her arms slide up his neck again and surround it as he concentrated on opening her lips to find her tongue with his. He cupped the back of her head in one hand, burying his fingers among her unruly curls and applying more pressure to his kiss. Lucius was getting lost as usual in Hermione’s kisses, his other hand wandering down the front of her to burrow into her cloak seeking some soft flesh to squeeze and stroke when without warning, he broke free of her lips, staring at her in astonishment, his hand frozen over one soft breast.

“Oh my Gods! Can it be that simple?” he whispered.

“What? What’s wrong?” Hermione lifted a hand and sifted her fingers through her spouse’s fine hair, trying to bring him back from his sudden abstraction. She hoped his hand would start moving again and wiggled a little to help him refocus.

“You said you feel weak next to me. Like a Squib. A Squib, Hermione. We need to ‘embrace the weak’. Who is considered ‘the weak’ in our community? In our time, the Squibs have been incredibly marginalized and shoved into lesser roles. Somehow I think the Squibs as a group are involved.”

“Oh, Lucius, that could be it!” At once a flowing feeling of pure contentment poured over them and they looked at each other in shock. Then they turned together to look at the Veil, which was standing immovable and ageless in its place on the stage, looking impervious as always.

“So,” Hermione said after a moment, “the Veil can translate words and send out emotions, but can’t help by communicating original information. I don’t think it can initiate anything, just react. I wonder if the ancients designed it with limitations so it wouldn’t have too much power. Allowing it to send emotional signals is dangerous enough. What if it sent me an emotion of hate toward you, or vice-versa?

“And,” she continued, “it obviously loosens tongues – or, well, I guess that is emotions, too.” Hermione frowned at the Veil, “I was spewing out my innermost worries like a Covent Garden flower girl selling posies before I knew I was going to say anything. So it enhances emotions that are already there. Thank the Gods it only enhanced my emotions to create a positive effect. I think I wanted to tell you my fears to be comforted. I only told you about all the things I’m overawed at. I never had the slightest desire to inform you that you can be an arrogant, egotistical arse sometimes. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Not especially,” Lucius murmured sardonically, his mobile mouth twisting as his silver eyes sparked with vexation at his sweet little bride - his feet of clay were being pointed out again. He gave up his twinge of irritation at her when he saw she was oblivious of his indignation and reluctantly focused back on their analysis. “I wonder if it has any effect at all on anyone who hasn’t gone through its arch? My bet is that only you and I have been somehow connected to it.”

“Hmmm, except that all the people we meet keep attributing different countries to where we came from. That must be the Veil’s work.”

Lucius nodded slowly, “I see that your experience analyzing all those dusty, arcane items the Ministry digs up is going to be an unexpected bonus for us in solving this conundrum we’re living. But I still think that the Veil is only working for us. It affects only the things that make life for us here easier, hence our translations and our multitudinous points of origin. I believe it is our speaking to the people, connecting them to us if you will, that allows the Veil to imbue them with all its geographic creativity.

“According to my new acquaintances, I’ve lived in South Africa, the Netherlands, and Montreal to name a few.” Lucius gazed thoughtfully at the arch, “Our true origin is being obfuscated. But I will admit that the groundwork for our presence was preset. Everyone knew we were coming. Or maybe they reacted to us like a switch turning on when we came near. Either that or the Veil just substituted us for the real heir. Poor sot. Of course, I’m not sure I’m not the real heir – this is getting very complicated. Well,” he said, indicating he wanted to rise, “I think we’re finished with our friend the Veil for today. It’s managed to make us fly at each other’s throats so we would clear the air – in a positive way,” Lucius said, notably sarcastic, “and now we can progress with its agenda, namely the Squibs.”

“Lucius,” Hermione bracketed his face with her small hands on his cheeks and stared into his silver eyes, willing him to focus on her.

“Yes?” The blond wizard cocked his head and an eyebrow rose in sardonic query, but he didn’t remove her palms from his face.

“I’m happy with you, too,” she said meeting his gaze squarely, then she lightly kissed him and left him completely speechless.

“So may we go see my old department now?” Hermione reluctantly got up from Lucius’ lap and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress and cloak, a bit embarrassed at her temerity, but feeling truly happy and amazingly calm. Her bonnet had been pushed back with her crying jag and hung from the ribbons around her neck. She pulled her bonnet back on, tucked her errant curls back under the headgear and retied the ribbons.

“Hmmm?” Lucius was luxuriating in the unexpected, but cherished gift he had just received., the catharsis of her words a gentle balm on his spirit. “Oh… yes, I suppose,” he rose and helped Hermione with her bonnet. Lucius threw one last peeved look over his shoulder at the massive arch as he guided Hermione back up the steps, knowing without being able to prove anything that the damned interfering mechanism had been playing matchmaker again.

He was certain he would have been able to take care of his problems with his wife on his own. Admittedly, he and Hermione had just reached a new level of happiness together, but he didn’t need any mind-reading, jumped-up, interfering ancient artifact nudging their relationship where it wanted them to go. Benevolence covered a multitude of sins as far as Lucius was concerned. He sent a focused thought to the edifice, From now on, stay out of my love life!, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he got a deep, rumbling laugh reverberating in his head.

“Lucius?” Hermione said.

“Keep walking,” he answered, hurrying her up the steps.

~~~~~

Oh my gosh,” Hermione exclaimed as they walked into the nearby Time Room, “It’s the same sparkling light as we fell through in the Veil. I think the light denotes time. We fell through time, just as we surmised.”

“Just as the Veil nudged us to surmise, you mean?” Lucius looked around the room at the dancing light shimmering from every corner, “Yes, it does look like the same type of light.” He shrugged, “So perhaps one mystery is solved.”

“Oh look, Lucius. See the small time turners? Just like the one I used. They’re little hourglasses with sand in them and I’d bet that the sand is crumbled pieces of the Veil’s arch, or at least it’s the same magical material.”


“That’s quite likely.” He was still annoyed with the sentient sentinel. Why on earth had the ancients created their time turner arch with a romantic streak?

Hermione saw Lucius was preoccupied with something that bothered him as he strolled just ahead of her so she decided to offer a distraction. “Maybe we can look through those paintings again tonight, Lucius,” Hermione whispered, a quiet twinkle in her warm brown eyes. She saw him slow and turn toward her, a question in his beautiful grays.

“Maybe something new?” she ventured and saw his pale eyes glow with some of that serene happiness he vowed she gave him.

“I would like that very much,” he answered, a quiet smile crinkling the laugh lines at the edges of his eyes, showing Hermione that she truly had made him happy. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to please him after all.

He offered, “Shall we visit where you work in the future?” At her happy nod, Lucius guided her back out of the Time Room with a hand at her back.

“It’s down this way, I think,” she said. “The area looks very similar. I hope the layout is still the same.” Hermione took Lucius’ arm and led him down a narrow corridor making a few turns until they came to a metal door studded with massive bolts. The impressive door opened easily to Hermione’s incantation and they walked through into a spacious room of many shelves and storage lockers with several desks punctuating the floor space at intervals.

“This is where you worked?” Lucius looked down at his wife in amazement. “Hermione, this is where the Unspeakables work.”

“I know,” she said simply. “That’s what I was. I examined the arcane and the unusual, trying to make sense of their uses or their origins. The spell I always used to open the door when I came to my job every day, worked. I guess the incantation hasn’t been changed in two hundred years.” Hermione sighed, “It was the perfect job for me. I don’t think I could do that job any more, though.”

“Why not?”

“It would be too lonely now. I guess I’ve rejoined the land of the living.”

“And the land of the shagging, thank the Gods,” Lucius chuckled. “But I suspect you could still do the work and not be the same person, hiding in the shadows.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because ever since you’ve been thrown into this reality, you’ve slowly reverted to your fierce, no-holds-barred, warrior-witch self. Haven’t you noticed?” Lucius gazed indulgently at his wife with an amused quirk of his lips, “Let me refresh your memory with the way my backside looked after you got through with it. In any case, you’re not alone any more. You’re a married woman with a husband to take care of.”

Hermione thought about Lucius’ observations and realized he was right. She giggled at the remembrance of his red, criss-crossed welts, drawing a glance of mock censure from the blond wizard. She had come out of her reclusive shell with a vengeance that night, but she had already started to behave more like her younger self before that. And when she’d been kidnapped it hadn’t crushed her; instead it had made her fiercely angry and bent on retaliation. Lucius was right – Hermione Jane Granger was firing on all cylinders again and it felt wonderful.

“I wonder if they would allow me to work here again?” Hermione mused aloud to herself.

“I suppose my money could get you a position here if you truly wish it,” Lucius answered. “It would separate you some from the other witches of our stratum of wizarding society,” he warned. “The wealthy don’t tend to have their wives work, but if you want the position, consider it yours. However, for now we need to work on the prophecy and the unraveling of the history which has crushed the wizarding world in our own time.”

“Is it yours, Lucius? Or ours?”

“What? Is what mine?”

“You said ‘my’ money not ‘our’ money. I’m not sure any of the riches you take for granted are truly mine. Do you see the Malfoy money as mine, too?”

“Hermione, everything the Malfoy name owns is yours. You are a Malfoy now. Forgive the poor choice of words. I’m learning to be a husband again and, in my admittedly rather autocratic way, I may refer to things as mine. But except for my wedding ring, which is mine to wear until the day I die, all else we share.”

Hermione hadn’t expected such an intimate answer to her worried question and she didn’t know quite how to respond so she merely nodded and wrapped her hands round his forearm, hugging it against her breasts and silently demonstrating her pleasure. Then she turned toward the center of the room.

“This was my desk,” Hermione motioned to one of the desks near the middle of the room. “And here is where I hid from the sheep when they swept the room with their device.” She walked over to a large metal, upright storage locker with a series of small air vents set into the door.

Lucius investigated the locker, seeing nothing inside beyond a few old broomsticks. “This locker was certainly lucky for both of us. You kept your life and I got a wife.” He smiled down at the petite witch as he closed the locker door.

“And I got a husband,” Hermione grinned. She stepped past Lucius and opened the locker door again, “Ah, I thought so! Look at those broomsticks! They must be nearly five hundred years old. That type of cording holding the twigs onto the broomstick dates from around the fourteen hundreds. Isn’t that amazing?”

Lucius saw that they would be in the Unspeakables’ Section until he was old, withered, and gray if he didn’t lead her out of the room instantly. “Come along, Hermione. I didn’t get permission to be in here. I don’t want us to make any more waves than we need to while we’re investigating our mystery.” He pulled on her arm, closing the locker door again and gently guiding her out of the massive metal door to the Section and firmly closing it.

Hermione looked back at the closed metal door longingly, but saw the sense in her husband’s words. “I really miss that,” she sighed. Maybe I will try to be hired on after all this other mess is cleared up.”

tbc...


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*http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/41/
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**http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/
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I suppose I could have cut the chapter into two, but it seemed better as one. Now some major cobwebs have been blown away in this fledgling marriage. Maybe they'll actually try to work on the prophecy now. We can only hope...

I adore your reviews. I added about three pages to this chapter alone in response to your comments.

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