The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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Updated 3-5-10 F

My thanks to everyone who has given me input on the last chapter. I love hearing from you. Your reviews make my efforts all worthwhile. I hope you like this next chapter!

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Chapter Thirty-Nine


Perfume and Underwear


“I have some news that may help us,” Lucius said, settling onto a tall, wooden stool in Snape’s dungeon lab the following afternoon. He looked around the austere room, “Can’t you provide a chair here? These stools are hell on my back.”

“Get a truss,” Snape sniped. “What did you find out?”

“Trusses are for hernias. I don’t have a hernia,” Lucius said, exasperated.

“You will have worse if you don’t get on with it and tell me this news so I can finish my experiment,” Snape growled, nettled at Lucius’ tendency to meander all over before coming to his point.

Unabashed by the dark wizard’s lack of sympathy, Lucius announced, “Apparently the application of physical pain dissipates whatever antagonistic feelings build up in those affected by this Pureblood hatred. Temporarily anyway. I don’t think it’s a permanent solution or the problem wouldn’t still be growing.”

“Oh? How did you come by that information?” Snape’s head came up and his black eyes snapped with unholy glee, already understanding how Lucius had known.

“Well, Saint Severus - a man who would never think of spanking his own wife,” Lucius’ snotty tone was a reaction to the dark wizard’s gentle snickering across the counter, “Hermione confided over lunch that she was beginning to succumb to the same agent that affects others and she’d been imagining increasingly fantastic flights of ill-usage and cruelty by me towards her, which she knows on a conscious level is untrue -”

Snape’s attention was caught and he put down his stirring rod and the vial of pink liquid he had been dripping into his cauldron, “She is becoming subject to delusions? That’s what the internal reaction is? So it’s not merely an artificial anger. That’s interesting. It might explain why the students suddenly find you wildly attractive to the point of assault.”

A sour tightening of Lucius’ lips and vexed narrowing of his fine eyes were Snape’s reward for his insulting theory that any admiration Lucius got was purely artificial. In a better humor, Snape dug his barb in deeper, “ She’s certain that she’s being affected by something external and it’s not her normal antipathy towards you? I thought she saw you as a cross between Beezlebub and Stalin,” Snape remarked, hugely enjoying those pinched lips and irritated nail-drumming on the counter top. After his private, illuminating talk with Hermione by the lake, Severus knew she didn’t really feel that way, but it was always entertaining baiting his somewhat vain friend.

Lucius’ icy eyes narrowed to slits, then he unexpectedly smiled and his face relaxed, “Beezlebub may be quite accurate, but I don’t think she starting thinking of me as a stallion until more recently,” the blond wizard said smugly. “But that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

“Gahh!” Snape growled, instant aggravation at Lucius’ shallow obtuseness flushing his sallow cheeks with temper. “Shite, Lucius, when are you going to learn some basic Muggle history? Stalin, not stallion. You are without a doubt one of the most willfully ignorant wizards alive when it comes to the Muggle world.”

Lucius gazed with limpid innocence at his friend. Their squabbles over his lack of Muggle knowledge was one of their most entertaining pastimes and it never ceased to give Lucius a devilish thrill when he was able to twist one of Snape’s Muggle-based jabs into outraged indignation instead.

Severus for his part was never sure if Lucius truly didn’t know what the reference was, or merely acted ignorant to annoy him, but they never failed to use the opportunity to verbally bash each other in the provocative and amusing game they had long played.

Snape threw his hands up in disgust, signaling that Lucius’ ignorance had won that round. He got back to the important information Lucius was telling him. “Hermione is experiencing hallucinations or some sort of compulsions? That could help us. So what do you plan to do with this vital discovery?”

“Hermione says that any physical chastisement lessens her compulsion to think of ways to dismember me, entertaining as those fantasies probably are for her.” Lucius added, “We have a chance to pinpoint just how Hermione is affected, I think. Our lab rat, if you will.”

“Does she know you view her as vermin?” Snape picked up his stirring rod and vial and began dripping the pink concoction into the cauldron again.

“It was her idea,” Lucius replied, unperturbed. “And her analogy. And thank the Gods that we’ve discovered how to remove her hallucinogenic delusions. I shudder to imagine what she could have come up with to punish me for my illusory crimes if she had finally been swamped with her compulsions. That woman has a will to rival my own.

“What has me puzzled,” Lucius continued, his forehead crinkling at the odd anomaly, “is why you aren’t affected. If it is Purebloods that incite others to ill feelings or even violence, why aren’t you trying to disembowel me or injure Narcissa? Why aren’t you affected like Hermione feels toward me?” He asked, “You haven’t had any of those feelings, have you?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Snape replied, intrigued. Then he shrugged, “If Hermione’s ill will is dissipated through a spanking, perhaps the opposite is true. Every time I throw Narcissa over the back of the sofa, any buildup in me is watered down because I’m acting out my aggressions. Since Narcissa gets regularly walloped, I wouldn’t notice a problem. But I will make sure to keep myself free from any contamination.” A sly grin etched across his face. “Apparently I’ve been self-dosing enough to remain unaffected. And my being a Slytherin may water down the effect on me, too, if being a Slytherin enters into this at all. The only other possibility is that I haven’t been contaminated.”

“Well, I’m sure Narcissa will be thrilled to know she’s being of such inestimable help to you.” Lucius squirmed a little at knowing Severus was not only doing the same thing to his wife that Lucius was doing to his own, but that Lucius had for many years been the one doing it to Narcissa, who enjoyed that form of sex play immensely. The whole ‘comparing notes’ thing felt uncomfortable to him, as though he had pulled on a pair of trousers backward. The two men had Narcissa in common, but not Hermione. Lucius felt he was betraying his new wife somehow, talking about their private sex life.

He changed the subject, turning the conversation away from personal proclivities and soothing his uneasy conscience. The information had to be passed on and Hermione knew that. She hadn’t made any demurral at Lucius telling Snape of their discovery. The Senior Malfoy’s conscience shrank back to its normal, atrophied size and he sighed in relief.

“This whole production seems to be growing more vicious if Hermione’s reaction is any measure,” the blond wizard said. “Whoever is behind this is escalating, that or the artificial stimulus itself is cumulative without some form of physical outlet to subdue it. I had problems with people before, but no one wanted to do more than cut me out of a business deal or make an investment crumble.”

“Either that,” Snape rejoined, “or Hermione’s intimate relationship with you has magnified her reaction to you. We can’t tell at this point, so speculation is premature. Now, as delightful as you being given carte blanche for spanking your wife is, how does this further our objective here at Hogwarts? Do you suggest we spank every misbehaving child who isn’t a Pureblood? I can see the Daily Prophet headlines now,” Severus slashed the air above his head with his stirrer. “Two Slytherin administrators physically punish all non-Pureblood students for minor transgressions, while exempting the Purebloods from penalties.” Snape went back to dropping tiny dollops of the pink liquid into his cauldron and stirring.

“What are you brewing this time?” Lucius wondered idly, leaning over to peer into the heated cauldron. The pink liquid had some sort of iridescent quality that made the blond wizard curious.

“Perfume for my wife,” Snape answered, stirring counterclockwise.

“I don’t smell anything,” Lucius ventured, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“It’s designed only to please me,” Snape gave a playful swipe at Lucius’ nose to move his face back from the lip of the cauldron, amusing the blond. “No one else can smell it.”

“Rather stingy of you, old man, but you’re the potions expert.” Lucius lost interest in a perfume that no one could smell and slumped back on his uncomfortable stool again.

Snape hid a crafty smile as he stirred the evocative perfume designed to appeal to his primitive, erotic side and made for the bedroom. He needed Lucius to leave before he added the final touch; the scent’s power would probably cause him to poke a hole right through his trousers when he smelled it. Maybe at some future date, he might create some designed for Lucius, but for now, his invention was private.

He hadn’t quite told Lucius all the truth of the perfume. It was definitely an aphrodisiac, but a special one Narcissa wouldn’t be able to smell either. He was meant to wear it, to increase his stamina tenfold. He didn’t have any problems in the bedroom, but he liked to maintain absolute control over his wife for as long as he desired and sometimes their loveplay got too arousing, causing him to lose that iron control. Now, the more he sweated, the stronger the aphrodisiac would smell, turning him on while giving him mastery over his own body and propelling his performance to new heights. His wife might wind up a little wobbly on her legs after, but he’d bet there would be no complaints.

Lucius, quite oblivious to Snape’s licentious agenda, grinned with his own thought, “I have a solution to keeping the Daily Prophet off our tail. We could spank all the little buggers. I have no objection to swatting a few pimply backsides even if they’re Pureblood.” Then his face fell. “But I’m already tarred as a pervert. I can’t pursue the corporal punishment angle by spankings.”

The crestfallen blond sat drumming his nails some more. “What we need is some form of corporal discipline that isn’t spanking, but effects the same results. We need to lower the rising temperature of the student body against the Purebloods, while giving us time to search out the source of this miasma. Neither Hermione nor I think that she brought the problem with her from home. She’s certain her strange desire to hurt me stems from her time here.”

Lucius held up his long-fingered hand, palm out, “And before you call me a stallion again, much as the sobriquet fits, Hermione says this new hostility toward me is quite a different feeling than her previous hostility. She says it’s more irrational, more compulsive, and,” the blond paused for emphasis, “she says it definitely has an element of sexuality to it, as though her inhibitions were blunted. I think that’s why I’m getting so many pinches on my arse from those horny little female students. It’s not safe for me to walk down a hallway.” Lucius had been pinched by a few of the boys, too, but he didn’t hold that against them any more than the girls. He had been quite the experimenter in school himself.

Snape idly stirred for a few minutes and Lucius stayed quiet, understanding that the dark-haired wizard was turning over ideas in his fertile mind. Finally, Snape looked up, blinking as if emerging from some other reality.

“You still here?” his mellifluous tones belied his needle-sharp glance at the other wizard, who was waiting patiently for whatever had taken Snape’s concentration, engrossing his convoluted intellect. “I’m sorry you had to wait and sit on those little love bruises the students are gifting your butt,” Snape’s quirked lips contradicted his apparent sympathy about the pinches Lucius had endured. The dark-haired wizard abandoned his friendly jibe and offered up his musings. “We don’t know that it is the pain of the spankings per se affecting Hermione. It might very well be some other process slithering along in tandem with the physical duress.”

“I imagine you haven’t suffered a single grope, have you, or you wouldn’t think it was funny,” Lucius replied. “Those little bitc…uh, witches don’t always aim for the backside, you know. I was nearly gelded a time or two before I learned to protect myself.” Lucius tried to find a more comfortable position on the stool.

“Is that why you’re fidgeting so much? So little Lucy really does have a bruised bum?” sniggered Snape. “Don’t you have some ointment you can use?”

“Never mind my buttocks,” Lucius sniffed. “We were talking about the physical chastisement as a way to lower the effect of this hex or whatever it is. Yes, I do see the possibility that the spanking itself may not be the trigger.” The new avenue of thought intrigued Lucius. “But what else, for instance?”

“It might be as simple as a heightened heart rate, or some attendant fear or pleasure received from the physical spanking.” Snape put down the now empty vial, but went on stirring his concoction, continuing to think. “And all those things could be happening to me as the spanker as easily as to Hermione being spanked. We can’t separate our roles that way – hmmm, except perhaps for the fear. I don’t experience fear when I bend Narcissa over the back of the sofa.”

Severus’ mind played with the puzzle. The malaise could mimic his new scentless perfume, being caused by some potion, but how would a potion be spread throughout the wizarding world? Possibly airborne? It would dissipate in any open air so it would have to be introduced only in enclosed spaces. That needed precise measurements for each enclosed space’s volume of air to be at all effective. No, that didn’t seem workable.

Perhaps introduced in their food supply? How? What food? Was it something that could survive heat in cooking or had it to be only in raw foods? That would be more difficult – to inject millions of radishes and carrots which would be eaten raw. Maybe a product that one placed on one’s skin, like a lotion. But what skin product went across gender lines, affecting old, young, men, women, and children? Maybe a common, widely used soap? If so, why was it only now affecting everyone if it was a brand long in use?

A spell seemed more likely and much easier to infect multitudes. They had seen no evidence of any spells, but it didn’t preclude the possibility of some higher-level incantation. Something hypnotic that stumbled at physical pain could work. Hypnosis might very well be disrupted by pain. Snape frowned and looked across at his best and often most irritating friend. There was no way he would discuss his pink aphrodisiac in relation to their problem; he’d have to think more about some kind of skin product, though. No need to tell Lucius his conclusions about an airborne potion; it wasn’t feasible.

“We should think about including Mrs. Longbottom in our investigation,” said Snape. “As a qualified Medi-witch Luna has access to some detailed physiological and anatomical knowledge neither of us does. I propose we begin using our students as the lab rats, with Luna’s cooperation. We need to know what form this shroud over our world really takes and how it affects us. It’s beginning to look like this younger crowd is affected more violently than the population at large. The youth here have less learned, inner control than adults and as a result they let loose their artificial angers faster and more viciously. I also think they lose their reticence more easily, allowing for some of the inappropriate fondling that we’re being subjected to.”

“You, too? Really?” The blond grinned, his mood brightened by the vision of Snape fending off rabid female students hunting his goods in those fastidious, black robes. “I’ve taken to wearing a Quidditch cup,” he confided. “It doesn’t help my butt, though. Ah, well, I thought perhaps the student spanking bit was too good to be true,” Lucius’ smile turned naughty, getting a raised, disbelieving eyebrow from Snape.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to do any of that, you fake,” Severus gazed sardonically at his friend. “Not to anyone other than your wife. You talk like you think it would be fun, but I’ve seen you at some of the Dark Revels, remember. Your complexion was never at its best with that sickly, greenish cast,” he scoffed.

Lucius lost his smile and his face bleakly mirrored ancient anguish. “Perhaps it is time to have some of those memories Obliviated. I keep hoping those times would fade, but they don’t. They just… don’t.” The last few words were whispered as though the blond man spoke to himself, his memory replaying once again scenes of horror from his past that had crept out from the deep well of his psyche where he had stuffed them.

Snape heaved a great sigh, “No, they don’t. However, remembering them does serve a purpose, I feel. We wouldn’t be so ready to take on this new terror if we hadn’t seen firsthand where evil can take those who bow to it or let it catch hold.”

Lucius looked over at the other man who had survived so much worse throughout his life than Lucius himself ever had. Platinum hair cascaded over his shoulders as he physically shook himself free of the obscene past. He scrubbed his hands over his face as if to banish the vicious memories and took a few shaky breaths before regaining some calm. The familiar, monotonous clank of the stirring rod as Snape slowly mixed his potion soothed Lucius’ mind so he could regain some sense of control just as the mindless circular movement did the same for Severus. They had both been through Voldemort’s hell and understood each other’s anguish. Quiet reigned in the lab for a while.

The prideful blond brushed back some errant strands of his hair from his face and raised his chin. “So,” he said a bit more brightly. “To your plan. Shall you talk to Luna, or shall I? I assume you want to haul some of the miniature miscreants to her for testing when we are fairly certain they are in the throes of the hidden agent.”

“I’ll talk to Luna when the time is right. You tell Hermione what we are planning. If she wishes to participate, all the better. I’ll tell Narcissa,” Snape decided.

“Shall we tell Draco?” Lucius asked.

“It might be best. If he sees likely candidates among his scuffling students, he can send them to us for our experimenting. Neither of us will be in a position to watch the classrooms that closely, so Draco can help us there. He’s a Pureblood and if our hypothesis is correct, he’ll be purely a victim, not a coerced villain – not like your zombie wife.” Snape pursed his lips in thought, “We’ll include Neville, too. He’s married to Luna and he’s also a Pureblood professor, so he can send us students as well. That will preclude Luna having to keep a secret from her husband – never a good position for a spouse. She can tell him the particulars.”

“Very well, tell them. And Hermione is suffering under this compulsion. She’s been infected in some way, but she is not a zombie,” Lucius huffed.

As Lucius gathered his cane and got up to leave, Severus couldn’t resist saying, “Nevertheless, you’d better keep the flat of your hand busy on your wife. You don’t want a butter knife in your gut at the breakfast table.”

Lucius scowled at the dark git, then abruptly grinned, “I do have a wonderful excuse, don’t I? I won’t even have to work up a reason why she needs a spanking, not like some sourpusses I know.” Lucius snickered, “I know Narcissa always needs to be gently led into her submission with some inventive reason for the punishing loveplay.” The blond left his friend glowering at the door as he left, twirling his ever-present cane, a spring to his step. He had won that skirmish. Zombie, indeed!

~~~~

Three weeks later, not much had changed and the two wizards were no further forward in their quest to uncover the origin of the unrest plaguing the wizarding world. Not that many fights had broken out among the boys and some of the tussles were just normal, good-natured competitions, so it was difficult to trace any misbehavior to an artificial source.

Snape and Lucius were disappointed in the continued lack of possibilities; the girls continued to harass the men teachers and a few reports were coming in of brash behavior by the female students against some of the boys, but the two wizards figured they weren’t hearing everything that was going on, since most of the misbehavior was sexual in nature and the teen boys weren’t going to complain about getting fondled by the girls. Oddly, there was an increase in the number of clashes between girl students – more than normal and more than was showing up among the boys. Severus and Lucius were at a loss to explain the anomaly. It didn’t make sense.

In light of the limited clues, the two men had decided to postpone including Luna and Neville in their discussions for the moment, hoping events could be resolved without widening the circle of people who knew why Lucius had taken the Hogwarts Headmastership and under what circumstances.

~~~~~

Lucius wandered into Draco’s Potions classroom looking for a mild headache powder to relieve the pounding in his head from all the irritations of grasping little girls, belligerent or brown-nosing parents, and the proliferating, nagging details of running the school piled on top of his business problems.

He found Draco at his large, scarred professor’s desk in the Potions classroom stacking small, folded squares of parchment in a variety of colors - green, pink, yellow and blue. The highest stack was of green parchment. Crookshanks lounged on a tall cabinet full of small drawers nearby, his tail twitching as he watched Draco organizing the pieces of paper.

Lucius saw all the multicolored stacks, “Holy Hecate! You, too? I should have guessed. I wonder if all the professors are getting love notes?” Lucius came around the desk and pulled up a stool to sit beside his son. “That is what they are, aren’t they?”

Draco looked up at his father and grinned, “Every one. But they’re all rather weird. The general gist of the notes is that I’m hot, but if I don’t return their affection, they’ll hate me forever or they’ll get even somehow. One or two say they’ll tell my mother on me.” Draco smiled at the absurd threat.

“What?” groused Lucius, “they didn’t threaten to tell your father? Just your mother? I think I’m insulted.”

“Sorry, Father. You aren’t mentioned,” said Draco, amused. “A few go so far as to say they’ll kill me. It’s strange that not one of them says they’ll kill themselves, it’s always me and it’s tediously unimaginative. The least they could do is invent some original form of homicide. All I ever get is the threat of an Unforgiveable - when they learn how to cast one,” he sniggered. “What about you?”

“Mine are more of a mixed bag,” the older Malfoy shrugged. “Some of the notes just contain veiled death threats and those are probably from a few of the boys I’ve sent to detention, but more of them are like yours. I’m very attractive for an old man, blah, blah, but if I don’t give them my attention, I won’t be long for this world. Very juvenile.” Lucius chuckled, “No one said they’d tell my mother, though. Oh yes, and they say to be sure I don’t tell my wife. I think they’re afraid of Hermione.”

“Who isn’t?” Draco said. Father and son shared rueful smiles. “Hormonal little beasts. Imagine that - they still want in your trousers at your advanced age.” Draco chuckled at the ‘old man’ moniker.

“I suppose you can hope that you’re still sexually attractive at my age.” Lucius picked up a stack and opened a few to read. “Do any of them have names attached?”

“Not one. I suppose they think they’re safe if they don’t sign the notes. But some of the handwriting is so distinctive, it’s hard not to know exactly who wrote the love note-slash-death threat.” Draco held up a note. “This one has odd loops so big you could fly a hippogriff through them. Only one girl writes like that.” He held up another, “And this is my favorite – ‘I find the perfect symmetry of your philtrum very kissable, and the masculine, anatomical proportions of your scapulas very pleasing. You may find me in the Advanced Charms section of the library any night at eight o’clock. Failure to meet me constitutes a moral infraction and when I learn the Cruciatus, you will be punished.’ ”

“Obviously a Ravenclaw,” grinned Lucius, “how romantic.” He held up the pile he’d been reading, “I don’t think we’re in any danger beyond a few furtive pinches, but they certainly have some boring ideas on how you can please them. Most of your little fan clubettes don’t have any thoughts past stolen kisses after dark on the Quidditch field or wanting you to take off your shirt so they can see, and I quote, ‘your manly chest’. They’re very naïve and it would be rather sweet if they weren’t under this vicious compulsion. Even so, they’d probably pee their lacy knickers if you really did show up to any of these assignations.”

Draco glanced slyly up at his father, “Is that what Hermione wears? Lacy knickers?”

“I beg your pardon, how did we arrive at my wife’s knickers from your puerile love notes?” However, Lucius smiled and got a reminiscent look in his icy eyes. “Not that Hermione’s underwear is any of your business, but I picked out all her lingerie to suit myself. That’s all you need to know.”

Draco sat back in his chair, “Ah, then she’s wearing thongs.”

Lucius’ attention was diverted from his steamy memories and he frowned, “What makes you think I favor thongs?”

Draco grinned, “I notice you know what they are. Mother told me that you ordered a large selection of clothing for Hermione because she sabotaged your initial efforts to get her to select them. And the order included a number of thongs and negligees. Tsk, father, at your decrepit age I guess you need all the help you can get.”

Lucius eyed his son, his face now bland, but his temper was beginning to spark. Draco had lived with the older wizard for many years and he knew the signs - the slight smile and cold eyes, the sharp inhalation of breath and faint cocking of his head. And Lucius was starting to rub his fingers together. It was pure Slytherin fun to jab at his sire, but he wasn’t suicidal. Draco rose and nonchalantly moved around to the other side of the desk, ostensibly to pet Crookshanks.

Lucius’ voice dropped and his eyes narrowed in calculation, “How does your mother know what happens in my marriage?” He stood up, his chin rising with his temper, “May I assume Madam Malkin has indiscreet assistants?”

Draco laughed, his manner aboveboard, “No, Father. No one at Madam Malkin’s said a word to Mother. You may trace my knowledge directly back to your own darling wife. She told Mother about her aborted wardrobe and your ‘naughty additions’. Personally, I think she was bragging, but perhaps she was merely on a mission to find out if you had added the same lingerie to Mother’s wardrobe.”

Draco tried to tempt Crookshanks into batting at the folded parchment note in his hand, but when he playfully swiped at the cat’s whiskers, it hissed and rose, adroitly dodged Draco’s hand and lithely jumped down from the cabinet, departing through one of the small casement windows set in the wall to let in light from the courtyard.

Lucius idly thought good riddance to the departure of the furry, orange beast that was now aggravatingly allowed to drape itself on various surfaces in his own apartments. However, he was more focused on his wife’s indiscreet chatter. His growing anger was arrested mid-boil as he was struck by his son’s perceptive possibilities.

The elder Malfoy’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, “Now why would Hermione say anything so personal to Narcissa? Bragging?” Lucius flicked his hand in negation, “No, that would mean she was content with me as her husband and I don’t think she’s arrived at that point yet. She’s very independent and we’re still negotiating our relationship.” A gleam entered Lucius’ eyes, remembering some of their ‘negotiations’.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise at his father’s unusual confidences, but he sensibly remained quiet to hear more. Information was lifeblood to any Slytherin and Draco had never had such an intimate glimpse into his father’s private life before. It was…warming to be included as a full adult and treated as an equal. And he faintly began to see how his sire could still be considered attractive to the opposite sex, although the idea of his father having a sex life was not one he wanted to contemplate in any degree.



Lucius, unaware of his son’s dichotomy of feelings, murmured, “If she wanted to know how I handled Narcissa’s intimate apparel purchases, it might mean she was jealous.”

Lucius pondered that angle for a moment, then shook his head at his own surmise. “No, more likely she was trying to discover if she had to allow me the privilege of buying her that type of clothing at all. She has been remarkably resistant to accepting material things from me.”

“So,” said Draco, “are you content with her? You chose her, didn’t you? It was all over the Ministry that you found an old open marriage contract left over from her and Weasley years ago and you appropriated it. I never understood that. The idea that Hermione could be a financial asset is ludicrous. I’ve never heard that she had any connection to the money sources in the Ministry. Rumor had it that she didn’t go into your marriage happily, but you kept her segregated on the estate, so no one knew for sure if that was true or just bridal nerves. She looked nervous at the wedding ceremony, but Severus whisked me away before I could even say, ‘best wishes’.”

“Of course I am content in my marriage. I wouldn’t have married her otherwise.” Lucius hoped he wasn’t lying; he was trying hard to make Hermione contented – usually. Occasionally he had to wrestle his predatory nature under control, but more and more his little witch seemed to accept and even relish his predilection for pillage. She was certainly up to his weight in cunning.

“She’s quite different from Mother, isn’t she? I mean, you and Mother never fought and it… it disappointed you, didn’t it?” Draco was seeing his parents’ marriage from a slightly altered angle and it was quite an eye opener for the younger Malfoy.

“Your mother is a gentler, more timid soul than Hermione. She always needed reassurance she was behaving the way I wanted her to and I could never let loose with any acerbic comments without crushing her for days. Needless to say, she was miserable for a fair amount of our marriage. Severus is a much better match for her. He’s acerbic all the time to everyone so she doesn’t take it personally. It seems to work well for them.”

A grin split Lucius’ face as he expanded on Draco’s question, “Hermione’s certainly a firecracker – in all ways. I hope you’ll be lucky someday, just as I am. She makes me feel like a teenager again, and when she gets too lippy I get to-”

“Please, father,” Draco winced, “leave me some mystery. Knowing the particulars of your bedroom sport is not an ambition of mine. I’d like to maintain the fiction that I was found under a mandrake leaf, if you don’t mind.”

Lucius remembered whom he was talking to and a slight flush rode his cheeks. The elegant wizard shrugged in feigned nonchalance at his uncharacteristic enthusiasm, then recalled that he needed to ask, “Draco, I understand you and Hermione have reached a détente of sorts, if you wish to move back onto the estate?”

Draco heard the open-ended question and decided not to bring up the whole issue of him being ousted in the first place. Hermione had made him see that his father hadn’t had much choice and it gave Draco a good feeling to know his father was extending the option to return to the family home. “I probably shall when my year’s appointment here is finished. You and Hermione will move home again, too, I assume?”

“I’m here for one school year only. So, yes, we’ll move home in June.” Lucius ended the awkward moment by standing and asking, “I came for some headache medication. Have you any?”

Draco saw that his father wouldn’t elaborate any further on his odd, new marriage. Satisfied with the amount of information his father had already imparted, the younger man walked over to a tall cabinet filled with small drawers, opening one. “This should help,” he held out a small packet and Lucius took it, stuffing it into his robes. “Why didn’t you go to see Luna, Father? She has all types of medications.”

“My minor maladies are not her concern,” the Senior Malfoy responded briskly. “And I don’t want Hermione worried for nothing if I’m seen going to the infirmary wing.”

As Lucius turned toward the door, Draco mused aloud, “Hermione’s emotional well-being is now a priority for you? You really are committed to this marriage, aren’t you?”

Lucius turned at the classroom door and replied simply, “Marriage is always a commitment. Wedding vows are the foundation for trust between two people. If you don’t have trust, you really don’t have a marriage. Unfortunately, I have yet to earn Hermione’s trust, but I will.” Lucius smiled mischievously, “One way or another.” With a twitch of his robes, he slid out the door.

tbc...


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