The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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1-29-10 F


Thank you all for the great reviews. Champagne and chocolates for everyone. I hope there are a few of you who like Draco because he's joining the story at this point as a bit more of a regular, if still secondary.


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Chapter Thirty-Four

Draco



“So you found your way into my father’s trousers?” Draco sneered as he sauntered into the Headmaster’s office four days later, to find Hermione seated at her husband’s big desk poring over some red-trimmed parchment, a pretty, red quill stuck precariously through her curls. The two of them had, by dint of extra effort, managed not to be anywhere near each other except at meals in the Great Hall. “And apparently, you’re attending to personal correspondence on company time. Tsk, Granger,” Draco sneered at the frivolous, decorative parchment.

Hermione looked up at the sound to track the tall, slim blond wizard as he strolled up to the desk where he leaned against the side and crossed his arms insolently.

She dropped her eyes pointedly to Draco’s crotch, “Your father’s a bigger man than you’ll ever be. And I didn’t have to find my way into his trousers; Lucius drew me a detailed map,” she smiled nastily, “with his tongue.” Hermione stacked the parchment and put it at the side of the desk, no trace of guilt on her face. It was after office hours and she could do as she wished.

Draco flushed with anger, “And vulgar, too. What was father thinking to make you a Malfoy? Oh, I remember now. As a member or of the Golden Trio, you’re supposed to open Ministry doors. You’re just a convenient tool for some plan or other of Father’s and Severus’ - apparently with side benefits. I understand you’re living together in Dumbledore’s old apartments. I hope my father has widowerhood in his future when he tires of you.”

“Try all you want to kill me, Draco, but if in the future I ever see you so much as sneeze on any of your potential half brothers or sisters, they’ll be mourning at your wake.”

Draco’s eyes widened in shock, “I would NEVER! They’ll be Malfoys. You’re only connected by marriage; they would be family. Gods, Halfblood Malfoys. What next?” He lifted his chin, the tiniest bit of golden stubble adorning it after a long day.

Both the faint stubble and the haughty, raised chin reminded Hermione of Lucius and she was quietly amused in spite of herself. “We’re nearly the same age, so I think you have a ways to go before you get to toss logs on my funeral pyre.”

“I only wished you were dead, I wouldn’t try to cause it,” Draco’s ire increased at the witch’s insensitive, jocular remarks. “You’ll never take the place of my mother. You probably wish I were dead, or at least living somewhere far away. Well, you got your fondest wish. With father’s penchant for prurience, the manor will be overrun with little Halfbloods in no time.”

“Is this what all your animosity is about? You’re jealous of me? For taking your mother’s place? And possibly making children to usurp your place? How utterly ridiculous. You know I had no say in marrying your father. You even helped him do it. And I’m not in the least interested in stepping into Narcissa’s shoes. Do you really think Lucius chose me to become the Pureblood social maven your mother was? You can’t think he would be so incredibly stupid. And I can’t imagine he’s going to stop being your father if he has any more children. Sweet Guinevere, Draco, your mother’s only ever been a floo away if you need her to wipe your arse. Now she’s even closer.”

“What do you mean?” Draco glared at the little witch who had been his nemesis from his first year at Hogwarts.

“She and Severus moved into his dungeon apartments here late last night. I suppose you know about the assault on your mother. I was there when some old biddy slapped her. It wasn’t anything life-threatening, but obviously it upset Narcissa.” Hermione didn’t elaborate on the tense atmosphere in the wizarding world. She didn’t know how much Lucius had told his son, or if the younger man had experienced any of the growing conflagration himself.

“I know about Mother,” he said sullenly. “Father told me. Why didn’t you do something to protect her?”

“It was over quickly with no warning beforehand - neither of us could have avoided what happened. Then the witch Disapparated before we could stop her.” She saw Draco open his mouth and hastily added, “And no, I haven’t any idea who the woman is.” Hermione shrugged, “I think Snape wants your mother safe and he believes she will be more protected here.” Her mouth quirked up with a bit of cynical irony, “I do think he’s happier being able to keep an eye on Lucius’ performance as Headmaster, anyway. Living here will give him better control over Lucius’ more grandiose view of his responsibilities. That should be fun to watch.”

Draco’s mouth twisted up into a wry grin as he acknowledged the differences between the two men, one spare and stoic and the other haughty and flamboyant, but both of them sneaky and iron-willed.

Seeing his grin, the curly-haired witch dragged the conversation back to their aversion to one another. “You must know I had nothing to do with orchestrating this marriage between your father and me. You did more to ensure that than I by standing up at the ceremony. It’s bad enough that I’m now nominally your stepmother.” Draco’s wince echoed her own feelings on that subject, so she let his uncomplimentary response go.

Instead, Hermione pasted a saccharine smile on her face, “So doesum wantums mummy andums dada to get back together?” she taunted in a baby voice, infuriating the younger version of her husband whose faint grin snapped into a frown. “Well, get over it,” she scolded. “Can’t you see that both of them are much happier now than they ever were with each other? They’re good friends now. You should be happy they’re happy.

“And I don’t wish you were far away,” she said mendaciously. “Your father and mother love you, Hecate knows why, so if you moved far away they would both be miserable. I don’t care about your feelings, but I do care about Lucius’.” Hermione suddenly shut up. What had she just said?

Draco froze in shock, “I thought that it was a marriage of convenience for you both. You care about him?”

Hermione’s brown eyes narrowed, “Did he tell you all about our wedding? Did he say that?”

“No,” Draco said, “All that was mentioned was some sort of open contract negotiations. I thought Father married you with an eye to some Ministry contracts. Mother didn’t give any specifics, either. I couldn’t understand why Father would do that.” His plaintive voice betrayed the chaotic confusion his sire’s action had muddled in his mind.

A niggle of compassion wound its way into Hermione’s next words, “Your father was divorced by his wife of many years and then, when his ex-wife married his best friend, he had to choose if he wanted to keep his best friend of even more years or turn his back on both of them. You probably knew your parents were never a love match, but still, the adjustment must have been painful for your father, facing the possibility of losing them both. He doesn’t appear to me to have a large circle of friends.” Hermione sat at the Headmaster’s desk and pondered for herself just what Lucius must have felt at the sudden change in his life.

“I…I…,” Draco sat on the edge of the desk dispiritedly, “I didn’t think of any of that. I was very angry at the divorce. After everything we’d all been through, it seemed as though my only remaining stability in a world where my place had always been assured was gone.” He shrugged, “I blamed Father for losing Mother, but when she married Severus, I didn’t like that, either. He’s a Halfblood, for the Gods’ sakes. Then Father marries you, a Mu -”

Hermione lunged forward up from her chair faster than a ferret at a hippogriff farm and her wand whipped up. Draco found the point pressed under his chin, forcing his head up as she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked – hard.

“We need to come to an agreement here and now, stepson,” she said in a low, fierce tone, twisting the wand into his gullet a bit more firmly, “You will never refer to me with that racist name ever again. If that word passes your lips in my hearing one more time, you won’t have lips.” A harder poke made Draco swallow at the pain, “do we understand each other?”

The blond young man stared into the determined chocolate eyes of a witch he had spent years struggling against in school both academically and in other, less innocent operations as Voldemort had pulled his strings. Those eyes staring back told him she was deadly serious. He understood his days of trying to intimidate her were at an end and abruptly he smiled. It wasn’t a sneer. To her utter shock, it was a ghost of his father’s beautiful, serene smile, the one Hermione rarely saw, and only when Lucius was purely happy.

When she saw that smile, her hand dropped away from poking Draco’s throat with her wand and she disentangled her fingers from his hair. Hermione cocked her head, assessing Draco’s reaction as he slowly reached up to massage the dent in his skin and the abused follicles on his head. Strangely, his smile softened even more and tentatively, Hermione smiled back. He had the Malfoy soft, platinum hair and the same mesmerizing, gray eyes as his sire, but to Hermione he was a pale imitation of the virile man she was married to. The patina of years gave Lucius a sensual vibrancy Draco had yet to achieve. The Malfoy charm was in full force, however, and Hermione was puzzled.

Draco stood up from lounging against the desktop. “You really care about my father, don’t you? Otherwise, I wouldn’t be worth your time trying to alter my vocabulary,” he said astutely. “I’ve never been worth your time before, so it must be my father. Draco flicked his fingers toward her wand, “You’re even starting to behave like him, although I suppose you always had a bad temper of your own. I must say it’s rather spooky.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she wondered when Lucius had threatened someone with his wand in Draco’s presence. She bit her lip; maybe she’d rather not know. She did know that Lucius had once gone after Harry with his wand, but Dobby had stopped him.

Draco shook his head in bemusement, “I don’t promise that I’ll get used to the idea immediately - from my point of view, it’s extremely off-putting - but if you’re truly interested in making my father happy, then I can learn to live with a new stepmother. Hell,” he sniggered, “if I can adjust to Severus as a stepfather, I can do anything.” Then abruptly he sobered, his pale, piercing eyes registering an inner sorrow that gave Hermione’s heart a pang.

“What?” she asked.

“Perhaps I’m telling tales and I think…,” he shook his head, “No, I know that I don’t want to cause trouble between you and my father, but at this point you should know your new husband basically banished me from our estate ‘until further notice’ as he put it.”

He saw Hermione was dismayed that Lucius would choose her over his son and Draco felt a little better, knowing she hadn’t been the instigator of his removal from the mansion. He hadn’t been sure before. “I see now that he was protecting you from me, just as Snape protects Mother – from everyone,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “You didn’t know, I take it.”

“Lucius turned you out of the estate? I thought you just chose to live somewhere else. Is that what you meant when you said I got my fondest wish? I didn’t know, Draco. I’m sorry. I admit I was relieved you weren’t there, but I didn’t question your absence. Where have you been, then?”

“Our family owns several properties. I’ve been living in a penthouse in one of them. It’s actually been quite interesting being on my own, but I do miss the thestrals and the pool.” A self-conscious, one-sided grin brushed his lips then faded, “I rather miss Father, too. Sometimes we rode the thestrals together after dark over Oxford. It’s beautiful at night with the lights.” He confided wistfully, “I still see him in business meetings, but after being booted from the estate, it’s not quite the same. I thought it was your doing. Now I see it was Father’s.”

“No, I had no idea.” She saw Draco’s shoulders sag and sought to reassure him of his place in his father’s affections. “Draco, you were not asked to leave your home because of the possibility of more children replacing you. If you were in your father’s place with a new wife and he was antagonistic to her, would you want them to live together?” She wanted Draco to understand his father’s hard choice. “Or would you protect her until you could manage a reconciliation? I’m certain Lucius didn’t intend for your living elsewhere to be more than temporary.”

“If Father was as rude to any bride of mine as I certainly would have been to you, yes, I would have protected her first, while trying for a future harmony between the three of us. I see what you are saying. I suppose he had no choice.” Draco grinned weakly, “I’m not sure who would have survived, you or I, but I do see Father didn’t want the constant warfare. And he did have that plan, whatever it was, with Snape. Father is notorious for his complicated schemes. They are usually business related, though.”

The two old antagonists sat in silence for a few moments, feeling their way toward a new, hesitant détente of amicability after so many years of poisonous dislike.

“So,” Draco smiled engagingly, tossing off the air of gloom that their old memories and recent acrimony had brought on, “will you tell Father that I’ve been given your seal of approval and I am no longer a danger to you?” He laughed when Hermione’s eyebrow rose in cynical disbelief that he had ever been dangerous to her.

“All right,” Draco conceded with a shrug, “you may word it however you wish. But I would like to have access to my home again, if you don’t mind. Merlin knows there’s enough room for an army in there.” He swept a hand over his forehead in a nervous gesture, trying ineffectively to keep his fine, platinum hair from falling over his brow. The shiny strands immediately drifted back down into their accustomed place, giving the young man the rakish look the female Hogwarts students wouldn’t be able to help but find attractive. Hermione almost felt sorry for him. It was going to be like hounds after a stag with him playing Actaeon, especially given their suspicions of the artificial lack of inhibitions and animosity they expected to show up in the student ranks.

“I can do that,” Hermione smiled diffidently, “it will be Lucius’ decision, though. If his only concern was our disaffection for each other, you may be flying on your thestrals again soon. Oh! Except you now have to teach Potions for the entire school year and we’re stuck here, too.” The little witch eyed Draco speculatively, wondering again how much her husband had told him about the plan Snape and Lucius had concocted. He didn’t seem to know any specifics.

“How are you involved in this plan that Severus and Father have?” Draco suddenly asked, belatedly putting some of the events together. “I know that the Malfoy investments are in dangerous flux because of inexplicable behavior by other investors. There is some sort of invisible tide of bad feeling beginning to flow over the Purebloods, slowly suffocating us, not only in financial ways, but in our social circles and just in general. I’ve certainly felt it.”

“As a member of the Golden Trio,” Hermione gave Draco the same lie Lucius had first told her, “I’m supposed to open some financial doors at the Ministry. As for their plan, I’m only a helper in small ways,” she hedged. “There isn’t any grand design to their idea, so much as just coming here and observing the students in a closed atmosphere to see if the Purebloods have more trouble with others than anyone else this year.”

Hermione was fairly certain that neither Lucius nor Snape had offered up the information to Draco that Hermione was present to offset Lucius’ purported tendencies to molest the female students. The assertion was so unfair; it shouldn’t have to be spread around any more than necessary. And if she had any knowledge of teen females, it would be Draco drawing a lot of the juvenile feminine attention now. That was a definite positive for her husband.

Even Luna could come in for some catty behavior from the teen witches; Neville had grown up into a tall, quietly handsome man who would attract his share of groupies. Hermione suddenly worried that the school would become a nest of hormonal muggers. When had teenagers ever needed artificial stimulus for crushing on attractive people?

“I have to finish inventorying the potions cupboard before the students arrive tomorrow night,” Draco stepped away from the desk and twitched his robes into place, sending another jolt of similarity between son and father through Hermione. Lucius always did that twitch thing just before he left for his meetings. She wondered when her husband would be back from his never-ending duties. Talking to Draco made her miss Lucius, which reminded her that she wanted to check her husband’s handwriting against the margin notes of her research books.

Draco, unaware of Hermione’s abstraction said, “The stores look well-stocked, but just to be on the safe side, I want to double-check the supplies. I should be doing that now. I only stopped in to see Father for permission to purchase anything I see is in low supply. Would you let him know?” At Hermione’s preoccupied nod, Draco walked back to the door with the long-limbed, gliding grace typical of the Malfoys, waved and left.

Hermione hurried to her cubbyhole to retrieve one of her new books with the margin notes and then sat back at the Headmaster’s desk, pulling one of Lucius’ parchments to her. A quick comparison showed the research books had indeed been written in the margins by Lucius and not his mother as she had thought. A very pensive Hermione returned to her cubbyhole to replace her book.

Neither Hermione nor Draco had remembered the portraits on the wall in the Headmaster’s office listening to every word spoken.

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The information about Hermione’s and Draco’s conversation was transmitted to Lucius with a certain gleeful relish the next morning as he sat at his desk in the Headmaster’s office. Several of the gossipy, old Headmasters’ portraits dropped heavy hints that they knew some interesting information, but played coy with Lucius until his temper frayed and he threatened to throw green paint over all their portraits. Then, to many grumbles of ‘prissy tattler,’ old Headmistress Dilys Derwent’s portrait ruined their game and passed on the meeting between Hermione and Draco and especially the words of his wife that she cared about his feelings - maybe about him?

Lucius was incredibly relieved to know that his wife and his son had declared a peace between them and now Hermione knew he had told Draco to move out so she wouldn’t be any more upset than she had to be over a forced marriage. Ah well. The plan was important enough to temporarily alienate Draco somewhat. It was his Pureblood future, too.

He had only told Draco that he was bringing Hermione home as his new wife, having no inkling at the time that Draco would be embroiled in the plan at Hogwarts as the Potions professor right along with them. Asking Draco to leave had made him heartsick, but the alternative would have been worse if he had tried to make those two co-exist at the same time Hermione learned to live with a new husband not of her choice.

That Draco had been unhappy with the marriage was an understatement leavened only by his suspicion that his father was using the witch for reasons of his own. Snape had prevailed upon Draco to witness the wedding ceremony, keeping it ‘all in the family’ as much as possible if Hermione cut up stiff about her vows.

Draco had understood that his father expected imminent death threats from both sides if he remained living at the estate, so the younger man had decamped. Lucius knew Draco wondered at the time if Hermione had sabotaged him somehow, but Lucius realized convincing him had to be a chore for another day. Now he didn’t have to carry that upsetting burden anymore, thank the Gods.

Apparently Hermione had not passed on the part where the Ministry thought he was a pervert and for that Lucius was thankful. He didn’t want those nosy portraits hearing that information – their likenesses might be hanging in other places, too, and they’d already proven what gossips they were. He’d have to alert her to the ever-present ears all over the castle. She wasn’t thinking in terms of subterfuge.

The students would be arriving that evening and he needed to prepare for his welcoming speech and memorize the names of his staff better. Lucius attacked his workload in a buoyant mood; he now had one less anxiety to live with, knowing that his son and his wife were no longer at odds.

~~~~~

“What do you think of these robes?” Lucius came out of their bedroom’s wardrobe that evening dressed in a flamboyant, dark blue velvet robe with silver spangles in crescent moon shapes all over it. He twitched it into place and Hermione smothered a grin. There was that twitchy thing again. Like father like son.

“It’s not quite Halloween yet, Lucius, but if you’re going to wear that, you’ll need the pointy hat that goes with it.” Now Hermione didn’t try to hide her grin at the clichéd outfit her husband was draped in, although the dark blue looked wonderful on him.

“Too much, you think? Ah well, perhaps you’re right.” Lucius wandered back into the wardrobe. Hermione could see he was rather crestfallen about her reaction, but there was no way she was going to approve him standing at the head of the Great Hall looking like a refuge from a Disney cartoon.

“Just wear your normal, formal black robes,” she called. “The black makes you look quite elegant and commanding. You want the students to look up to you, not ask you for your autograph.”

“Not amusing, Hermione,” came Lucius’ voice from the depths of the closet, but he emerged a few minutes later, wearing a resplendent black velvet robe trimmed in sable with silver snakes holding the front of the robe together over one of his white dress shirts and a tie in Slytherin green and gray. Black wool trousers and well-shined black shoes completed his attire.

“Where did you get that spangled affair, anyway?” Hermione asked, mutely relieved her opinion had been accepted.

Lucius looked a bit sheepish, “Actually it was from a fancy costume party I attended several years ago.” Then a satisfied smile lit his face, “At least it still fits. I was just hoping to get some more use out of it. Old Dumbledore always had outrageous robes and McGonagall always favored her plaids.” Lucius flicked a microscopic piece of lint from his shoulder. “I guess my era will be known for restrained elegance.”

“Your ‘era’ will be all of one school year long,” his wife pointed out with a sarcasm Lucius thought unnecessary. “And frankly, most of the girls aren’t going to be noticing your clothes so much as your face and those killer shoulders. Do make sure you shave. I don’t want you emulating Dumbledore with a beard. Uck!”

“Unless it keeps the little horrors from bothering me,” he retorted. “Then you’ll have to become used to a long, scratchy blond beard between your legs.” Lucius grinned as his wife scrunched up her face in a moue of disgust. It was more and more enjoyable crossing swords with his doughty little witch when she wasn’t trying to be hurtful and he didn’t lose his temper. “For tonight I’m clean-shaven,” he ran his wand around his chin displaying his smooth cheeks. “You like my shoulders?” His eyes gleamed with silvery light at the approval of his lady.

Hermione smiled to see the simple pleasure her compliment gave her handsome husband, but merely nodded and rose from her vanity where she had been waiting for Lucius to finish dressing. Her clothing consisted of a black sleeveless sheath covered by a form-fitting, dark red robe trimmed in gold piping along the shoulders and down the front. It declared her a Gryffindor. She didn’t want her background lost in the blinding light of her husband’s Slytherin pedigree, but she also reasoned that if the Purebloods and Slytherins both were being hounded, as an acknowledged Gryffindor, she could remain out of the fray and be better able to observe their microcosm.

Lucius proudly held out his elbow, reminding her of the very first morning he showed her to her new rooms in the Malfoy mansion, “Shall we?”


tbc...

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Well, what do you think of Draco's confrontation with Hermione?
Will he be an asset to Lucius' and Severus' plan? And do you think Hermione should have let Lucius wear the spangled robe or were his formal black robes a better choice? Please review or rate and give me some feedback on our newest 'cast' member. There must be at least a couple of Draco fans out there LOL.

Pics at:

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/60997.html

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