The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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Welcome and thank you to the new reviewers (waves). I’m so happy to hear from you. And, of course, all my regular reviewers light up my day with your faithful comments and insights. You’ve helped to refine, and in a few cases, reshape, the story, so it is now better than before.

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We're closing in on Hogwarts... soon.


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Chapter Thirty


On To Hogwarts


Lucius paced in Snape’s laboratory the very afternoon Severus allowed him back into the Snape home.

“Sit down and calm yourself,” Severus sighed, already feeling the effects of his comrade’s anxiety. “You’re making me bilious. What has you grousing like a goblin with an empty bank account?” Snape gently measured out an acid green liquid into his cauldron and began a slow, counter-clockwise stir.

“You keeping me away when I need answers didn’t help, but I don’t want to discuss that. I need to know - why haven’t you any reaction to being at Hogwarts as School Governor? Didn’t you feel beset by bad memories? Your experience was much more traumatic than mine.” He eyed the bright green liquid being poured into Snape’s pot with irritation. “Hermione actually fought in the battle so she understandably has the jitters and she’s not keen to return. It was a scene of horror, but I was mostly frantic to get Draco – and Narcissa – safely away. I don’t particularly like the place, but it’s worse for her. I hadn’t truly thought that part out.”

Lucius circled around the room in his erratic perambulations, then turned on his comrade, “But you! You nearly died. How do you cope with having to go there so often?”

Lucius was truly agitated and Snape leaned up against his lab table idly watching the distraught wizard as he stirred his mixture, until finally all the unsettled activity began to annoy him. “Can you at least let me finish counting my stirs before I have to recite my undoubtedly heroic efforts in surmounting of the horrors of Hogwarts?” One jaundiced, midnight eye kept watch on the blond while he continued counting under his breath.

Lucius glared at the sarcasm, but obediently sat down on a lab stool, merely tapping impatient fingers on the black marble counter top waiting for the stirring to end.

Several stirs later, Snape put down his long-handled spoon on the counter and settled onto a lab stool. “If I understand you, your real interest is in shielding Hermione from mental trauma when you ruthlessly pack her off to Hogwarts to complete our plan. Your interest in my welfare is only to the extent that it may help your case with your wife. Do I have that correctly? I ask, because it has never come up in conversation before.”

“Oh stuff it, Severus. It’s nauseating of you trying to wring any heartrending sympathy from me at this late date,” Lucius plunked his elbows inelegantly onto the counter top. “Wasn’t it enough that I saved your life? Just be thankful you have that AND my ex-wife and tell me what I want to know. I suppose you pretended to stir your stupid concoction until you could come up with a suitable dig.”

Snape relaxed and shrugged his shoulders, a wicked smile blooming on his face, making his eyes sparkle. He didn’t deny the accusation, which was true. “Ah well, it was worth a shot. Tell me, I almost had you there for a moment, didn’t I?”

“Certainly not,” Lucius tried for injured dignity, but then just grinned back. “You’re as transparent as the Bloody Baron from whom you learned your abysmal social skills. It’s very sad, Severus - there’s no subtlety to you at all these days. Even I can see through your pitiful little stratagems. Likely we are seeing the domesticating influence of Narcissa. She’s ironed out all the crafty twists of your psyche. Probably puts little green bows in your hair when no one’s around. You’re downright boring lately.”

The blond grew more fidgety again, “Just tell me how you got past returning to Hogwarts. Then you can finish making that stupid lime jello you like so much. The cauldron makes a horrible mold, by the way. It’s just a rounded lump. And I hope it’s not the same cauldron you make your poisons in.” At Snape’s long-suffering sigh, intimating Lucius was an idiot, the blond grumbled, “Hurry up, can’t you? I need to get home to finish packing.”

“Talk about boring,” Snape groused, but he went over to a shelf and removed a small chest. Inside were some bon bons, one of which he popped into his mouth. “So I assume you got little green bows in your hair at one time?”

Lucius made a heroic attempt to keep any color from flooding his cheeks and turned the subject. “You used bon bons to get past the memories of Hogwarts?” Lucius was incredulous.

“No,” Snape gloated, amused, “I missed lunch.” He saw Lucius pick up his cane and twist the end. “Oh, spare me the dramatics, you prat. You know your wand couldn’t hit Umbridge’s fat arse if she painted a target on it. Why don’t you give it up and get yourself a new wand?”

Suddenly, Lucius deflated and he sadly put down his cane. “I just want to protect my wife and you aren’t helping. Yes, I know I’ll have to replace my snakehead wand with a new one. Who knows what problems we’ll encounter at Hogwarts? I won’t have the same safeguards as I do at home and this menace is increasing in force. Dammit, why can’t we exist in harmony without some unpleasant new power attacking us?”

“WE were the unpleasant power last time, lackwit. As to how I overcame any aversion to Hogwarts, I went with Narcissa. We helped each other face what had happened to us there before and then let the bad memories go. It didn’t hurt that we made a few new memories in my old dungeon apartment. I don’t imagine you want the particulars, however.” The sardonic tilt of Snape’s head received only a withering look of vexation in return. “No, I thought not. I’m perfectly sure you can come up with some creative ways to take Hermione’s mind off her new abode without any suggestions from me.”

Snape rose from his stool, “Well, unless you’re in the mood for lime jello, I think you have what you came for.”

“Gods, Snape. Lime jello and bon bons? You’re going to develop a gut.” Lucius stood and pointed his cane at Snape’s midsection. “We’re already classed as dark vs. light. Let’s not invite comparisons of fat vs. slim, shall we?”

“I don’t think you need worry. Why don’t you pay more attention to married once vs. divorced – twice,” Snape skewered his friend, satisfied that he got the last word as Lucius merely sighed and raised his hand in acknowledgement of the hit, threw some floo powder into the hearth and disappeared.

~~~~~

Contemplating her return to Hogwarts was traumatic for Hermione even though she knew where she was going and why. Lucius and she had discussed whether or not it would be better for her to enter at night when she couldn’t see as much, or go in the daylight hours when she would be able to see it had been repaired and indeed, had some improvements. In the end, Hermione decided to go at night, minimizing the visual reminders of the horrific battle and the attendant death of so many friends.

On the night of their departure, Lucius ordered Barnabas, his stablemaster, who was doubling as his coachman this evening, to pole up his thestrals to his traveling coach while the house elves piled the shrunken luggage on the back, and only then did he discover what either Ron or Harry could have told him - Hermione wasn’t at all fond of flying in any form.

“If you’re unwilling to travel to Hogwarts by flying coach, how did you propose to get there at night?” Lucius asked in justifiable exasperation. "Were you going to Apparate in jumps for the entire distance? I didn’t know you had such knowledge of any intermediate points."

“I thought we could take the train. We always pulled in after dark. Then we could go on a thestral wagon the rest of the way.” Hermione stood, arms folded across her breasts, mutiny radiating from her rigid stance. Crookshanks was in his carrier at her feet, snoozing after his roast chicken dinner. His palate leaned toward more tasty, gamey flavors like his favorite fresh gopher, but he’d been corralled before he could escape into the estate for the evening. The roast chicken had been reluctantly accepted as a substitute.

The evening was mild, only the slightest breeze ruffling a few strands of Lucius’ fine hair as he faced off against his adamant mate. Stupidly, he had envisioned cuddling with his wife during the long trip, enjoying the soft skin she kept hidden beneath her skirts or at least nuzzling that sensitive spot just under her jaw. Maybe a taste or two as his fingers wound through those intriguing curls she’d tucked behind her ears, but his wistful plans were now crushed under the weight of his astonished affront.

“The train?” Lucius stared in disbelief. “A wagon? You expect me to go by the public train and be pulled to Hogwarts on a wagon?” The wizard was dumbfounded. He hadn’t traveled by the Hogwarts train since he was a student. An inelegant snort punctuated his feelings about her ridiculous suggestion. Him traveling on one of those thestrals wagons would happen the day the Loch Ness Monster showed up in his swimming pool and it was common knowledge Nessie preferred the Baltic Sea and got a bad rash from chlorine.

Lucius’ rude noise merely tightened Hermione’s lips and made her fists clench. She was not flying when an alternative was to hand. “I don’t see the problem,” she said stubbornly.

“Besides,” he bulled on, ignoring her pigheaded comment, “As Headmaster, I may be forced to take a couple of trips to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons during the year and I’ll want my coach and thestrals. I can’t Apparate over that much water and I don’t care to use a portkey that takes me somewhere I don’t control. Plus we’ll want to present Hogwarts as having just as much status as they do when they visit us.

“In any case, I refuse to lower myself to a wagon. My Gods, woman, next you’ll be serving me pre-made frozen meals.” He carefully didn’t mention that he’d had a couple of the strange dinners at the Snapes’ and considered them not even fit for trolls. He might be willing to try those odd trays in front of the fire, but those cardboard meals were never going to be served in his home.

Snape had tried to explain several Muggle inventions, including something called a telly. Lucius had listened for the first few minutes, but when he had grasped that it was a box showing plays, he lost interest. Lucius didn’t want to watch any more plays or operas or ballets for the rest of his life, if he could avoid it.

Those pre-made frozen meals might save the Snapes time for fun in the sack, so neither of them had to wash up, but Lucius had a plethora of elves to cook and clean. Snape’s lifestyle included two busy house elves, while Lucius had a small army. To Lucius cleaning was for elves or the lower wizarding orders. He had commented on Narcissa’s lack of manicure and had received the information that she did some of the dishwashing - another shock at how divergent their paths had become. Snape definitely had some twisted habits left over from his Muggle upbringing.

Lucius eyed his obdurate, evil-minded little spouse, calculating what he could do to avoid the crowded, common train and the crass, rough wagon without incurring an unnecessary debate, which he was not going to lose. He wondered how warily he had to tread to get her to Hogwarts in his coach. His two-week disappearing act was still a sore spot with the little witch, which they both avoided discussing, and he wasn’t interested in stirring her up again. He especially didn’t want her to know where he’d been. He liked his scalp attached to his skull just the way it was.

Lucius knew he and Hermione had significant differences in their lifestyles – witness some of the quite baffling, primitive Muggle chores chez Snape - but he fully expected Hermione, as his wife, to rise to his lofty level rather than him descending to her plebeian one.

Didn’t she understand he was the husband, the protector, the provider? She was the wife, the one who was supposed to make their home life complete, who added the comfortable touches and, the Gods willing, gave him children. A wife was supposed to look up to her husband and expect him to provide for her. They didn’t need public conveyances. He could do so much better for her.

He knew she didn’t see their marriage the way he did, though he had felt some softening of her attitude. She was his wife, but she still maintained her independence as though he were merely an unwanted complication in her life that she tried to ignore. He wanted to be more, to be necessary to her, not just a stud.

Lucius attempted what he saw as a compromise and made an offer that would work for both of them - if she would just let him provide for her. He took a breath and plunged in, ready to be shot down, “If you can’t bear flying, let me Stupefy you. I’ll take care of you, Hermione. I’ll bring you all the way into our new apartments at Hogwarts without you suffering a single qualm and Rennervate you there. I’ll even bring that orange rat in with us.” Lucius flicked his fingers at Crookshanks’ carrier.

Hermione gasped at the drastic solution to Lucius avoiding a trip on a public train and open wagon. Her mind began its familiar journey of seeing him as an unregenerate, selfish ponce, but this time she hesitated… and saw more. His offer had a subtext. Trust him totally. Put herself totally under his care. Let him provide for her. Narcissa’s words came back to Hermione from the conversation in the women’s bathroom at the nightclub,You refuse to give yourself over completely to him, to his care.

Was this what Narcissa meant by her words? Was she being pigheaded about a simple answer that Lucius promised he would carry out? Being Stupefied didn’t hurt. One just lost consciousness for a time. It did, however, require great confidence and trust in another.

Hermione gazed at Lucius for several minutes and Lucius stood still, gazing back with no discernible expression on his face, but he was rubbing his middle finger against his index finger on his right hand and Hermione knew his pride was at stake. He was unhappy and his temper was rising.

Abruptly, Hermione decided to trust her husband. She was married to him forever. How long was she going to keep him pigeonholed in his past? She certainly hadn’t kept him at arm’s length in bed. Her hypocrisy suddenly made her squirm and she dropped her arms from her recalcitrant stand and nodded, “All right. If you promise about Crookshanks. You can just let him out when we get there. He knows the grounds.” She put her hands together, intertwining her fingers, her agitation apparent.

Lucius blinked in amazement and a warm, tender feeling invaded his chest. It was like successfully getting a wild hippogriff to accept your hand. She was trusting him to take care of her while she was helpless. It wasn’t precisely what he had envisioned as marriage to a hellcat, but he decided he liked it better this way. She could be all kinds of feral in the bedroom and his to provide for at other times. Yes, he liked that quite a lot.

Neither of them acknowledged her capitulation for the watershed it was and Hermione merely asked, “What shall I do?”

The coach was standing ready and the thestrals were beginning to paw the ground with impatience at the delay. Barnabas was seated on the box, holding the animals in check with some effort as he waited quietly for the signal to start. Everyone on the estate had heard of the unusual marriage, but not the reasons for it. Barnabas tried not to appear interested in the conversation, but he was relieved that Mr. Malfoy had convinced his wife to go on the coach; the thestrals were getting cold.

Lucius opened the door and motioned for Hermione to enter, “You can sit on the seat and I’ll hold you and then just use my wand to Stupefy you. I’ll hold you all the time we’re flying, I promise.”

Hermione took a deep breath then allowed Lucius to hand her into the coach. She hadn’t been in it before and the interior surprised her. It had tiny orbs in a string around the ceiling reminding Hermione of Christmas lights, which lit the roomy space. The coach had been charmed inside to create an enlarged space like a small drawing room. Hermione walked slowly over to the smoke-colored sofa, gazing about her in wonder. Would she even know she was flying in this unique conveyance?

Lucius stepped in behind her, toting the cat carrier, and stood watching her as she slowly turned in a circle looking at the spacious interior. “Perhaps it isn’t what you envisioned?” he asked, stepping behind the sofa.

“My goodness, I never expected this. Is it an extension charm? What an unusual use.” She bit her lip, “Won’t the furniture roll around when we take off?”

Lucius raised his eyebrows at the ludicrous question, but said nothing. He wedged the carrier into a space behind the sofa and circled back to stand in front of it.

“Ah, no, I suppose you have everything attached.” She peeked behind the sofa to see that Crookshanks was still peacefully sleeping. “Do you have seat restraints for us at least?” The lovely space was welcome, but it provided its own drawbacks.

Lucius patiently explained, “You’ll barely feel the movement. This interior wizard space is not quite in the same plane of existence as the exterior of the coach – it’s what allows for the expansion. It’s the same principle I used for our apartment at Hogwarts. The wizard space only stretches so far, however, so one can’t make a palace out of an outhouse.”

Hermione sat down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa and self-consciously arranged her skirt as Lucius came to sit down beside her. She had never been in any transportation like this and felt a bit gauche. It must be very expensive; she’d never even heard of such luxury.

Lucius’ fine wool, trouser-clad knees were as high up as Hermione wanted to gaze for the moment. She was nervous and rather shy about letting him Stupefy her; she wondered if she even had to do it given this unusual method of flying. It was important for him to be given a chance to take care of her, though, so she finally met his concerned eyes and said, “I’m ready.”

Wordlessly, Lucius held out his arms and Hermione climbed into his lap, settling her head under his chin and holding onto his waist. His steady heartbeat under her cheek reassured her and his body heat lulled her into as calm a state of mind as she was able to achieve, knowing she was about to leave the ground far behind. She smiled as she felt the rumble of Lucius’ chest when he spoke to her.

“The trip will take a couple of hours,” Lucius said. “I don’t like to force the thestrals past what is easy for them. I’ll have to Stupefy you more than once, but I’ll make sure you’re barely coming awake before sending you under again. You’ll wake up in our private apartment in Hogwarts and I’ll make sure any drapes are drawn first. It will be soon enough for us to venture out tomorrow together. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Ummhmm,” Hermione nodded her agreement, already relaxing against her husband’s warmth. “And let Crookshanks out when we get there.”

Lucius felt her head nod up and down and pulled out his wand, “Hold still,” he warned, pointing his wand at Hermione’s temple. Gods, he hoped the stupid thing didn’t fizzle. It would be embarrassing after the drama of her trusting him.

“Stupefy!”

His soft, feminine, little bundle dropped bonelessly against him, completely knocked out. Lucius used his wand to signal Barnabas to go, then put it away and gathered his inert wife more closely to his chest, wishing it could be like this for them more often.

Regretfully, he gave up on the idea she might accept being Stupefied in the future just so he could cuddle. Instead, he determined to enjoy the unaccustomed harmony of their arrangement for the entire trip. A faint lurch told Lucius they were on their way.

Lucius sat holding Hermione for a while, then repositioned them with him lying on the sofa and her limp, little body lying on him. She was breathing slowly and evenly, her plush breasts cushioned on his chest in peaceful slumber. Lucius took the opportunity to run his fingers through the amazingly soft curls under his chin that had excited his interest from that first touch in the registry office.

He usually didn’t get much chance to indulge in sliding his fingers through the sweet tangle just to watch the curls spring back or twine over his hand. The fine strands never failed to elicit a sense of wonder in him for the way they had a life of their own. His own locks were so straight they could define the least distance from point A to point B. Hermione’s tresses were a miracle of movement. Lucius lowered his face into the scented mass of curls and used his palm to rub the pretty curls against his cheek.

~~~~

Hours later the coach came to a smooth, sliding halt at the front gates of Hogwarts, the thestrals stamping and shaking their heads, knowing they would soon be released into the Forbidden Forest to join the herd there for their well-earned rest.

Lucius gingerly set Hermione on the sofa, then reached behind it to retrieve Crookshanks who had awakened with the cessation of motion. Opening the carrier door, Lucius let the familiar out and eased open the coach door, watching as the half Kneazle scampered through to disappear into the Hogwarts grounds.

The blond wizard then gently picked up his unconscious wife, giving a last nuzzle, rubbing his face in her hair, and left the coach, swiftly carrying her through the gates into the main hall and up the stairs, striding down the hall toward the gargoyle guarding the private entrance to the Headmaster’s quarters.


tbc...


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