The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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1-18-10 M

Many apologies to my readers for being late with this next chapter. I had a sudden chance to accompany my husband on a business trip/mini-vacation to Southern California where my son lives. I had only a few hours notice and didn't take my computer on this whirlwind holiday, so there was no way to let you know of the delay.


Remember, this new chapter's pics and all my responses to your thoughtful reviews are found on my LiveJournal at:

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Onward...

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Chapter Thirty-Two


Shopping


Lucius opened his front door two hours later, grumbling, “Who hired those teachers? I’m not sure all of them are even shaving yet. Snape said it was a young lot, but not children! That meeting was like talking to a gaggle of garden gnomes. Clueless! Absolutely clueless!”

Lucius walked into the living area after hanging up his robes to see Hermione wasn’t alone. His wintry eyes settled on the visitor in bemused hauteur, “Miss Lovegood. Good morning. What brings you to Hogwarts?” The blond wizard displayed no embarrassment for his unkind comments about his new teaching staff as he waited for explanations.

Hermione stood up from the sofa where she and Luna had been sitting, enjoying some tea. She smiled a bit ruefully, “Lucius, Luna is now Mrs. Neville Longbottom and Neville, as I’m sure you know now from your meeting, is one of the new teachers. Luna is our new Head Medi-witch. Madam Pomfrey retired. Luna says Madam is now basking on a beach in southern France. Luna came by your office to check in and I brought her up here for some tea.”

Lucius cocked his head, assessing his new teacher’s wife and his new Medi-witch, then nodded in greeting, “Neville should be quite good as the Herbology teacher with his knowledge. He’s also at least a couple of years older than most of the staff. It is more a matter of maintaining order in the classroom that concerns me with all the new teachers. Neville – forgive me for alluding to unpleasant memories – is more battle-hardened and that experience should help him with the students.” He heard Hermione’s quiet inhalation at the reminder and shot her a look that apologized for his reference.

His gaze returned to Luna, “Thank you for taking the post of Medi-witch, Mrs. Longbottom.” Lucius half-smiled; it wasn’t his best effort, but it was apparent to all in the room his worries weren’t aimed at her. “You’re a level-headed Ravenclaw, so you should be able to stand up to this year’s crop of unruly and mischievous students. I hadn’t realized we needed a new Medi-witch, but having you means one less headache. If you need any supplies or anything else, please let either Hermione or me know. I’m as new to my position as you are to yours. I hope we will both acquit ourselves well here.”

Luna studied Lucius for a moment as though she were looking through him, making him wonder if he’d inadvertently said anything to tip her off about the plan and their problems. Then the intense moment faded away and she smiled and stood up, and in her dreamy manner said, “No apologies needed, Mr. Malfoy. Neville will do well, both in the classroom and however you may need him to help with the…other. We both can help, I think. Such distress…” She drifted toward the front door saying, “Thank you, Hermione, for the lovely tea. Best wishes on your marriage. You, too, Mr. Malfoy. You two do have a lively harmony.”

Lucius blinked at the odd turn of phrase and turned to watch the young witch slip out the door, then looked at his wife, “You told her about the problems we’re here to combat?”

“I didn’t, no. I said nothing about that. She’s quite unusually perceptive, though, Lucius. Her unique slant on life may help us, as she said. Her acumen is weird sometimes, but also spookily spot on.” Hermione shrugged and changed the subject, “So you don’t think much of the new crop of teachers? Is there anyone else teaching this year that I know?”

Lucius grimaced and sat down on the sofa, checking to see if any tea remained in the pot. He poured himself some in Hermione’s cup and sipped while he decided how to break the news that had jolted him when he had entered the staff meeting two hours before. “Apparently Snape has been quite busy recruiting teachers who might be of use this year for our special ‘project’. Longbottom certainly knows his plants. He might be able to assess our school grounds for any obscure botanical dangers that have been imported.”

Just then a faint tapping sounded beyond the closed drape of the kitchen area window. “Excuse me,” Lucius said in his courteous manner and went to open the window for a muddy, bedraggled, little owl that offered him a shaky, stick-thin leg with a damp note attached.

“Oh, the poor owl,” Hermione rose from the sofa. “It looks like it got caught in a bad storm. I’ll take care of it while you read your note.” Hermione took the owl on her arm and went to the ancient bell rope to summon a house elf. One appeared immediately and Hermione petted the owl’s wet feathers, soothing it, then handed it to the elf, who gently folded the little bird in its arms and disapparated with the creature.

Lucius growled at the note and Hermione went back to peer over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

Lucius handed her the message and stepped a few prudent feet away waiting for her reaction.

Her head came up and she screeched, “Draco? Here? No! If he comes here, I’m leaving.”

“I know you and he aren’t best friends, but he’s already here,” Lucius placated, holding up an admonitory hand meant to quiet her mumbled expletives. It wasn’t in the wizard’s plans to lose his wife’s company for several reasons, foremost being what had happened earlier in the morning when they had christened Dumbledore’s bed. He expected to have a warm, inviting, occupied bed at night when he finished his duties.

“It was what I was about to tell you when the owl arrived. I should have had this note last night, but I was en route here with you and the owl apparently got into some bad weather. Snape’s note does say that it wasn’t his idea.” Now the blond wizard groused along with his wife, “For all the good that does.”

Then Lucius sighed, “Narcissa doesn’t know you and Draco are still oil and water. She thought he could help me here. It was her idea to have him fill in for the position of Potions, which was vacated when our teacher got a better offer from Durmstrang last week. I was going to do Potions myself with occasional relief from Snape. At least I’m relieved of that one burden. I never cared for the subject with its smells and slimy ingredients.”

Hermione mulishly folded her arms and glared at the handsome git who had sired such an annoying prat. “If he calls me Mudblood once, just once, I’ll hex his balls off. Tell him that, Lucius.” At his weary nod, Hermione softened, seeing that he was still worn down from the stress of his ailing finances and the many extra, thankless loads he was taking on as Headmaster. She went to him and touched the side of his face, “I won’t add to your worries. I’ll take care of him myself.”

“Thank you,” Lucius snorted inelegantly at her unsatisfying attempt to relieve his worries. One expressive blond eyebrow hiked up his forehead cynically as he rejoined, “That’s entirely what I’m afraid of, but Draco is an adult and can fight his own battles. Just remember I would like grandchildren someday.”

“And if Draco doesn’t work out, I can take the Potions class,” Hermione offered in an effort to take the worry out of Lucius’ eyes.

He smiled at her generous offer, knowing that taking charge of any class during this miasma of unrest would test anyone to the limit. “Are you ready for the walk around the Hall and the grounds?”

~~~~

Weak sunlight filtered down onto their uncovered heads through the branches of the nearly leafless trees as they traversed the Hogwarts grounds. A sharp wind coming off the lake cut through their cloaks, making them cling together as they strolled. Hermione’s mind wasn’t on the discomfort, however.

“Lucius, it’s as though the battle never happened. The grounds and the castle are immaculate. It’s all rather spooky in a way, knowing life goes on and the children here now won’t know any of the horrors we suffered through.” Lucius and Hermione had walked all through the main corridors of the school, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, then wandered out the front door and into the grounds.

Lucius could feel her trembling through the small fingers clutching his elbow, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other, meandering over the main site of the battle and stifling her faint instinct to curl into a ball on the ground.

“Do you want to continue? We don’t have to do this all in one day,” Lucius looked down at her strained face.

Hermione gazed up at the man who likely was suffering some bad memories right along with her, “Surprisingly, I think I should have done this long ago. It’s been a bête noire for me for years, an insurmountable fear I couldn’t seem to get past. The healer suggested several times that I come here, but I couldn’t make myself. Now that I’m here, I see she was right. The school is completely restored and I like the additional trees and bushes planted, plus the new wainscoting along some of the hallways inside.” She smiled for the first time since they began their trek, “How is this place affecting you?”

“As Snape told me he did, I am creating new memories here to replace the old, unpleasant ones. I think living and working here for this school year will be more and more comfortable for me. This morning alone made quite an impression on me,” he teased.

“New memories…” Hermione murmured with a faint, secret smile, but said nothing more.

Lucius was silent, knowing he was partly responsible for her generation living through the monster that was Voldemort. He had been so sure the Dark Lord could return wizarding society to its ancient, venerable roots, but now he wondered why he had even wanted that. His friendship with Snape, a Halfblood, and his few years of relative peace before this new menace appeared, had shown him that his views had been dangerously parochial, stunting the very world he’d been fighting to save. He’d allowed a deranged villain like Voldemort to contaminate their world more viciously than any Muggle or Muggleborn had ever done. The blond Pureblood walked quietly by his wife’s side, both of them lost in sad remembrance of the dark years.

Their walk took them in a roundabout way down to the edge of the lake itself, its sunlit surface rippling in the cold breeze. Clean fresh air, high, puffy, white clouds scudding by, and a variety of pleasant birdsong were all soothing to the two souls trying to accept a horrific past and move on.

Finally, Hermione signaled she had seen enough and they returned to their apartment. As they entered their private refuge from the students soon to inhabit the school, Hermione turned to her husband and said simply, “Thank you.”

Lucius merely nodded and pulled the ancient bell rope for the elves to produce lunch, which was a quiet affair. Neither of the Malfoys felt much like talking. Numerous ghosts were supping with them at the table.

After lunch, Lucius left to confer with his Heads of House over after-hours patrol duty assignments and Hermione reluctantly flooed Narcissa, even less enthused now to go with the woman who had let Draco into Hermione’s new cage, cornered as she was in Hogwarts.

Hermione wondered briefly if the woman had done it on purpose, but reluctantly concluded that the fond mother wouldn’t have wanted Draco anywhere near a witch who would like nothing better than to carve her precious son into flobberworm meal. So Narcissa truly hadn’t known. Why Draco had chosen to live at Hogwarts when he knew Hermione had to live there, too, was a separate mystery.

And while the little witch wouldn’t put it past Snape to collude with Draco against her, somehow she didn’t think he would do something that could have unhappy repercussions against Narcissa. Snape wasn’t Hermione’s biggest fan, but any rancor he felt was more a generalized, irascible attitude left over from their shared past and her juvenile, irritating support for the dunderheads in his class rather than a deep-seated personal grudge.

~~~~~

At Narcissa’s cheery greeting, meeting Hermione in front of Madam Malkin's, and the older witch's obvious happiness that Draco could work with his father, Hermione kept her own counsel on her antipathy for the junior Malfoy. It didn’t serve any purpose to make the elegant blonde woman upset and what was done was done. Time would tell if Draco kept enough of his body parts to foist a new generation of Malfoys on the world in due course. Hermione’s heart thumped to remember that she might be providing those descendants just as quickly as Draco.

The two witches strolled, supply list in Hermione’s hand, along Diagon Alley toward Flourish and Blott’s where Hermione’s spirits picked up. “I just love the smell of books, don’t you?” she smiled at the blonde witch whose perfect features wrinkled in confusion.

“Smell? That sort of dusty, gluey smell?”

Hermione’s smile faded, but she didn’t try to convince the other woman of the scent that never failed to make Hermione think of hours of quiet, intense enjoyment tucked away in book stacks reading. “Well, we can buy the second year workbooks for the Divination class. It was not my favorite class and I skipped it after a short while, so I’m not familiar with the curriculum.” She looked her question at Narcissa.

Narcissa gazed back owlishly, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to know anything. I managed to not take the class at all. It was optional when I was at Hogwarts.”

Hermione sighed, “The store probably knows which workbook it is. I’ll ask,” and she stepped over to the counter, soon completing the order for the delivery of 300 new workbooks to the school. Moving back to Narcissa who had stayed by the front door, she announced, “Done. Now we need to find the drapers for sheets and pillowcases. Then we need to get those candles and quills and parchment bundles ordered.” Hermione stopped at the door and frowned in thought. “I’d like to stop by the Spa and Salts Shoppe if we have time. I need some more bath salts.” She didn’t add that Lucius had dumped most of them into their bath. That was need to know only and Narcissa didn’t need to know.

“Oh, I love bath salts. I have several different scents. Which type do you like?” Narcissa smiled engagingly at Hermione as if the little witch had offered her a free spa day at Madam Athena’s Temple of Bewitching Beauty.

Narcissa was always so superficial in her pleasures, Hermione couldn’t understand what a convoluted mind like Snape’s saw in his wife, but he was truly in love with her and Snape was Lucius’ friend, so Hermione made the best of Narcissa’s simple enthusiasms.

“My depleted bath salts were Muggle, but I prefer an herbal aroma, rather green, a bit floral.” She set out for their next store at a determined clip, dragging Narcissa along in her wake without taking into account the stilettos the older witch had on.

“Please, Hermione,” Narcissa implored, “I can’t walk so swiftly as you, not with these heels and my narrow skirt. May we go a bit slower?”

Hermione bit her lip, castigating herself for unknowingly causing this sweet, unaffected woman problems and admitting to herself that her behavior was just the slightest affected by a niggle of jealousy. She turned and impulsively reached for Narcissa’s hand, squeezing it, “I am sorry. I don’t think, sometimes. We’ll go more slowly. After all, we have the entire afternoon, don’t we?” Hermione gave her companion a sincere, rueful smile and the two women tacitly understood that a portion of the barrier between them between them had dropped.

Narcissa wholly understood the younger witch’s ambivalence about being friends with her husband’s first wife. Social issues and relationships were meat and drink to Narcissa, but it had been uncomfortable trying always to be pleasant when the animosity coming from Hermione never seemed to let up. Suddenly the angry fog had lifted and Narcissa could only hope it was permanent. She squeezed Hermione’s hand in return and they both walked on more slowly.

Hermione broke the awkward silence in the conversation, “Lucius’ mother must have been quite the scholar.”

“Lucius’ mother?” Narcissa said incredulously. “Except for her gardening magazines, I don’t think I ever saw her reading.”

“But… but I was given her rooms and the bookshelves are filled with all kinds of wonderful research works, many with intelligent notes in the margins. Are you sure?”

Narcissa gazed at her replacement kindly, “Lucius must have stocked them for you. He’s quite good at details like that.”

“But they were in place the first morning I woke up in the mansion. When did he have a chance to choose all those books, if I hadn’t even agreed to marry him yet?”

“Excuse me,” Narcissa said timidly, “but wasn’t your other choice three years in prison?”

“Yes, but he didn’t seem all that interested in me personally. My value to him was my Ministry Gryffindor connections. He said he’d been frozen out of financial deal after deal and wanted egress into the Ministry opportunities.” Hermione couldn’t equate the beautiful selection of books with her husband’s disinterest in her.

“Well,” Narcissa thought, “either he wanted to make it up to you for taking over your marriage contract,” she looked at Hermione and they both scrunched up their faces in disbelief, “No, I guess not,” she laughed. “Or, he just did something nice for you.”

They both laughed then, too, but Hermione was a little uneasy at the possibility that Lucius had done something so thoughtful – and never laid claim to it for personal gain. Was he setting her up to do some free research for him? Hermione didn’t want to be beholden to him for anything she couldn’t pay for herself. It hadn’t occurred to her that the margin notes might be Lucius’ because the books were in her very feminine sitting room. And she certainly wasn’t comparing penmanships when she got those inflammatory notes from him. At the first opportunity, she would look though the parchments in Lucius’ Hogwarts office and match the handwriting of the margin notes in the books. If Lucius was responsible for stocking her sitting room with books, it raised many more questions than it solved.

“Have you talked about children with Lucius?” Narcissa held up her hand before Hermione could tell her it was not her concern, “I only ask because it was something he had wanted badly, but I wasn’t able to give him any more. I do want him to be a father again if it’s possible. I hope you haven’t decided against the idea because of the rocky beginning of your marriage.” She looked at Hermione with a trace of sadness in her eyes, “I do love him, you know. Just not the way I love Severus. I want Lucius to have his heart’s desire.” She added, “I know you understand; you must feel the same way about your Harry and Ron.”

“His heart’s desire?” Hermione echoed faintly. How did she feel about Narcissa still loving Lucius? He was her husband now, not the blonde witch’s. A shaft of pure, emerald green jealousy shot through Hermione, stabbing her to the heart, but she stomped on the sensation. Her husband brought out the primitive side of her and Hermione was still astounded by that.

But she continued to worry a little. If Narcissa was still so close to Lucius, where would Hermione ever fit into his life? She didn’t want to be useful, the idea that she was Mrs. Malfoy merely because of Ministry connections and the School Governors misconceptions with no intrinsic worth as a woman or as a desirable companion made her both angry and heartsore.

“Lucius said he has to be master and his is the final decision if we disagree on something,” Hermione blurted. “That doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

“Oh, my, Hermione,” Narcissa laughed, “of course he wants to be the final arbiter in decisions affecting his family. You are up against hundreds of years of Malfoy dynastic entitlement for everything important to his inheritance. But your reputation is for extreme intelligence, isn’t it? If you care about an idea, don’t let it get to the point where it is a conflict between you. You can be very creative, I’m sure, at avoiding direct confrontations while doing just as you please. Women have been doing that for thousands of years.”

Narcissa’s pragmatic words chilled Hermione. A lifetime of furtive end runs around her clever husband was not what she wanted for her marriage. She sighed and put away that problem for more immediate tasks. The chandler’s was next on their list and Hermione was hoping to finish that bit of shopping quickly. She wasn’t sanguine about it, though. Candles came in so many shapes and functions that Narcissa might linger over the decisions even if the list specifically named the uniform size to purchase.

The two women entered the Candlemakers, to be confronted with a bouquet of aromas from several lit candles near the entrance. “Scented candles are nice,” said Narcissa, “but after years of Lucius’ stinky candles, I don’t have much interest in them,” the willowy witch confided, surprising and relieving Hermione. Maybe they could dispense with this order quickly.

Hermione marched up to the counter at the rear of the store with Narcissa trailing her. “Susan! I didn’t know you were working here. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Hermione! Hello! Yes, I started working here two weeks ago. I’ve only just returned from uni in Australia. This was always the family business, but with all the losses in my family I just wanted to get away and…” Susan looked beyond Hermione and her voice faded. Then her expression chilled.

Hermione looked behind her and saw Narcissa had come halfway up the aisle and was looking at some fat multi-day candles. “Oh! Susan Bones, may I present -”

“I know who she is,” Susan hissed. “You’re with her?” Susan’s attention shifted to the older witch and she nodded distantly, “Mrs. Malfoy, was there something you wanted?” she said, just as Narcissa came within a few feet of the counter.

Hermione stood still, a little shocked at Susan’s behavior, treating gentle Narcissa like a leper. Hermione admitted to herself that she, too, viewed the beautiful witch mistrustfully, but it couldn’t be for the same reason. Susan wasn’t married to Narcissa’s ex.

Hermione broke in, “Um, Susan, Narcissa isn’t married to Lucius Malfoy any more. She is Mrs. Severus Snape now.”

Susan stared, “Not married… to… she’s married to Professor Snape? Our Professor Snape?”

Narcissa came to the counter and held out her hand, “He is Head of the School Governors now.” She smiled at Susan who was a bit nonplussed by the strange marriage. “Your family were Hufflepuffs, I believe?”

Susan took the offered hand in a sort of fog, limply shaking it once, then abruptly letting go and surreptitiously sliding her hand down to her side behind the counter to wipe her fingers on her skirt. She frowned, a little dazed, but jerked back to business when Hermione began reciting her order of candles.

“I’m here to order candles for the school year for Hogwarts. I’ll need a thousand, white beeswax, fifteen centimeter, regular candles to be sent to the school as soon as possible. Payment upon delivery.”

“Are you working at Hogwarts now, Hermione?” Susan asked cautiously.

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied, smiling rather grimly. “I’m the Headmaster’s wife.” Hermione signed the invoice that Susan placed on the counter.

“Oh! Oh my! I didn’t know you were married. Well. Best wishes. Whom did you marry?” Susan asked as she retrieved the invoice and looked down at the signature. “Malfoy? Malfoy?” Susan looked up at Hermione, then down at the invoice again. “You married Draco? Isn’t he too young to be a Headmaster?” Susan glanced between her two customers. Then her assumption was shattered even more unpleasantly.

Hermione blushed, “Well, no. That is, yes, Draco would be too young. I’m, um, married to Lucius Malfoy.” Seeing Susan’s face go white with shock, Hermione hurried on, “It was something of a surprise to me, too. You might even say whirlwind. One day I was single. The next I was married.” The little witch joked weakly to her old school friend who now looked appalled.

“I see,” said Susan, her stance tightening up with disapproval. “I’ll have the candles sent within the week. I hope that will be acceptable?” she asked, her expression and voice frozen with animosity.

“Perfectly,” sighed Hermione. “Thank you.” She turned from the counter, tucking her copy of the invoice into her robes, and marched out of the store with her chin up, but her lips wobbling a little, a somber Narcissa in her wake.

Narcissa walked at her side for a few minutes, finally breaking the brittle silence, “Was she a good friend of yours? I’m sorry if the Malfoy name has cost you a friend. Even after all this time, some families still retain their hard feelings.”

“In Susan’s case most of her family was killed,” returned Hermione tartly. She forged on, not paying much attention to her destination as Narcissa tried to keep up in her high heels.

“I know. Her family was nearly decimated. Only a couple of great aunts left. So many were harmed. I almost lost Draco and my marriage was destroyed,” the blonde witch reminded her young companion quietly. “I lost my sister, Bellatrix, not that I mourn her for a second, but I wasn’t unscathed, either.”

Hermione slowed down in silent acknowledgement of Narcissa’s words, but she was upset at having re-discovered Susan only to lose her permanently. Hermione didn’t have too many friends due to her long hours spent establishing her research company. The loss of one who could have been a friend hurt. She had always liked Susan, but could understand the young woman’s rejection of her as a member of the enemy camp now.

Ron hadn’t answered any of her owls, either, after her marriage was announced in the Daily Prophet. Harry had offered felicitations at the end of a long missive that basically asked if she had gone mental. Ginny’s postscript on Harry’s letter came closest, wondering if Hermione had been forced into the union. All Hermione could do was write back that she was fine. What use was creating undying enmity between the people she loved and her new mate for life? Hermione trudged on, oblivious of her path through the busy thoroughfare.


tbc...


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Remember to see the pics for this chapter and read my responses to your reviews at -

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/59950.html

And I would love to hear from you with a review and/or a rating.

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