The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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4-23-10 F

Three different scenes are covered in this chapter. I'm glad the Sorting Hat's cantankerous personality entertained; you'll get another small dose of it below.

Thank you, all my wonderful reviewers!! Hugs to each of you!

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Chapter Forty-Six

Some Revelations

A couple of weeks later, Hermione sat slumped on a wooden chair at the far end of the Great Hall behind the raised staff platform. She had pulled the chair to the side near the windows where light poured onto the stones of the floor, warming them. It was a bright, clear day and the view was glorious with purple crags in the distance and the weak winter sunlight sparkling on the loch. The little witch saw none of it as she sat quietly weeping.

A sharp noise pierced the vast reaches of the Great Hall, empty at this time of day. Hermione turned her head to peer around the edge of the dais at the disruption and saw her husband closing the door behind him as he strode down the center aisle toward her.

Hermione sucked in a furious gasp of anger laced with tears, seeing the miserable cur – always so elegant, so lofty and above it all, so…so… she jumped up and ran full tilt at the blond wizard who slowed in astonishment.

“Hermione?” he stopped. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing in here? Have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

“I hate you!” she wailed, sobbing as if her heart would break as she crashed into his solid chest. Hermione burst into fresh tears as she burrowed into Lucius’ front, burying her sodden face in his freshly ironed white dress shirt and wiping her tears on his brand-new silk tie.

He put his hands on her shaking shoulders only to be firmly rebuffed.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat.



Silence. “Very well,” he said. His hands dropped to his sides.

She shivered, “I’m all over nerves.”

When Lucius merely stood still absorbing the wet and letting Hermione clutch at him, she said peevishly, “Hold me, you great gowk!”

Lucius raised a silent eyebrow, but pulled her firmly into his arms, waiting for her next illogical command.

“I HATE you!” she moaned again.

Lucius looked down at her curly tresses digging into his chest, “Yes, I can see that clearly.”

“You’ve ruined me!” she averred dramatically.

“Numerous times, if memory serves,” Lucius’ mouth quirked up in amusement.

“You think this is funny?” her voice rose several decibels and she glared up at the man holding and rocking her a little.

“I’m not precisely certain what your misery is in aid of, Hermione, so I can’t say yet whether it is funny or not, now can I?” Lucius smiled down at his wife, “But the circumstances remind me of your reaction to me at the Registry Office on our wedding day. You hated me on that day and apparently you hate me today, too. It would seem I haven’t progressed much. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“I do hate you,” she iterated and buried her face in his chest again, but her crying jag ended abruptly as she snuggled into his warmth, inhaling his male scent.

“My dear, I think we’ve already established that to both our satisfactions,” Lucius sighed. “You hate me and you’ve taken your revenge by ruining my new silk tie.”

“Oh, blow your tie. If it’s ruined you can use it to tie me up later. This is important.”

Lucius stayed silent, letting his wife run her course with her diatribe. She was safely nestled in his arms so it couldn’t be anything too dire – he hoped. He grinned at his little witch’s naïveté. As if he would use his good ties for playing at bondage when he had perfectly adequate silk ropes for that.

“I thought you had protected me, but it was all a rotten trick. How could you usurp my right to choose? I’m so disappointed in you. Your deceit hurts, Lucius.”

“I’m the cause of all this anguish? What have I done? Protected you how? Deceived you? How?” Lucius’ smile faded.

“I’m up the stick, you...you Slytherin, as if you didn’t know. I suppose you’re gloating about it to Snape.” Hermione tried to take a step back, but her arms were convulsively clutched by a riveted Lucius.

“How did you find out?” Lucius bit his lip and quickly regrouped, “You’re pregnant?” He leaned down to stare into her face. Seeing her arrested look, he craftily went on the attack to distract from his unguarded question, “And that’s a revolting dysphemism for the fecund state, which I don’t care to hear from your lips again.”

Hermione eyed her self-crowned lord and master, suddenly suspicious; his odd question, first asking her how she found out was jarring her bullshit radar. His feinting with the criticism of her slang ‘up the stick’ she accurately labeled as diversionary tactics and ignored. “You don’t seem as surprised as you should be,” she mused, narrowly gazing at his abrupt poker face. Her suspicions flared to new heights.

“You must have expected this announcement sometime?” she queried.

Lucius colored and shifted under his wife’s sharp perusal, “Well…”

“Yes? Well…what?”

Lucius made the decision on the spot not to explain about the Sorting Hat’s involvement. “Well,” he hedged, “your breasts have become somewhat tender and you’ve fallen asleep a few times unexpectedly. Those are both classic signs of pregnancy.”

“Hmm,” she said, not convinced her husband wasn’t being his shifty self somehow. Then a slightly watery smile appeared to transform her face and completely muddle Lucius. His serpentine self-interest never failed to entertain her even when she was certain he was evading a simple truth for his own twisted reasons. She was never going to be bored by this man in two lifetimes – irritated, angry, and sometimes disappointed, but never bored. She loved him. A shaft of pure joy shot through her as she realized he belonged to her, slippery conscience and all. It didn’t mean he would be allowed to run roughshod over her with his talent for guileful mental gymnastics, but he suited her unequivocally.

Lucius saw the smile and he returned it with a wary half-smile of his own, while his piercing, gray eyes searched his wife’s face for a clue to just what was going through her keen mind. It was always pure fun to try to keep a step ahead of her; he knew she wasn’t accepting his explanation totally and he loved that about her. He would never be able to wrestle her into any sort of true submission, mental or physical, if he had infinity to do it, unlike Narcissa who was no competition at all; that she seemed to enjoy their occasional matching of wits, too, exhilarated him no end.

A sharp tug in his heart made the blond wizard grin internally at his immense luck. Hermione wasn’t of the Pureblood patrician class he was used to, but she was perfect for him. And a baby! The Sorting Hat’s bombshell was true. Life was good.

“How did I deceive you?” he asked, puzzled. “I never made any secret of hoping for more children.”

“You took the decision from me. How could you?” she accused, her love swamped by his perfidy; she began to feel weepy again.

“I most emphatically did not,” Lucius said, shocked. “You made that choice yourself!” Lucius looked around at the great hall with its echoing expanse. “We need to take this discussion to our apartment.” Lucius folded Hermione into his embrace and Apparated them to their living room, settling her on their sofa and firmly holding her hands.

“You accepted me into your bedroom, Hermione – stark naked. I don’t know how much more up front - literally - I could have been. You could have said at any time, ‘Lucius, I would like to wait a bit before we have children’. You certainly haven’t been tongue-tied about anything else, not with those unending flaming arrows shooting from your mouth and singeing my ego.”

Hermione glared at her husband, annoyed that he might have a vague point and denying it to herself all in one swoop. “I thought I was protected by that contraceptive spell you shot at me in the Registry Office while I was on the floor,” she shot back, stung. “You talked about getting me pregnant later and swished your wand, saying it was sorted. I thought it was very powerful spell because it zinged right through me. But your spell didn’t work.”

“WHAT?” Lucius burst out, dismayed. “I never put a contraceptive spell on you. I thought when I showed up at your door naked you accepted that you might conceive.” Hard gray eyes rebuked and his tone roughened, I’ve been spilling myself into you for months. You’ve never said a word about wishing to be protected from pregnancy.” He pulled her closer and circled her rigid little shoulders with his arm to be certain she wouldn’t leave until they hashed out this new miscommunication.

“Then what spell did you zap me with? I distinctly felt the energy from your wand hit me. It went right through my guts.”

Oh,” Lucius’ face turned pink and he coughed. “I…well…as you may know, the Dark Lord took my wand and it was nearly demolished in his fight with Potter.” Lucius briefly closed his eyes in resignation then looked down at the weepy feminine whirlwind in his embrace, “I wanted to keep my, er, damaged wand for sentimental reasons so I fixed the shattered pieces myself. It doesn’t always work right and I was swishing it to make it stop sputtering that day.”

“Sputtering?” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she abruptly hid her face in Lucius’ chest again; her shoulders started shaking.

“Now what?” he said in some exasperation. “You weren’t in any danger. My wand sometimes doesn’t work very well any more. That’s all.” Suddenly suspicious he pulled his wife’s face away from his chest. “You little witch!” he growled. “You’re laughing at me.”

Pulled away from Lucius’ muffling and rather damp shirtfront, Hermione’s giggles were obvious. “Oh, my, the elegant, sophisticated, Mr. Billionaire Malfoy, Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of Pureblood society, has a wonky wand.” She went off into peals of laughter. “Oooh, poor Snakey,” she crooned.

His initial affront turned into a simple, relieved smile, “I guess we each assumed we knew the truth when in actuality neither of us had a clue.” Lucius drew Hermione onto his lap, “Sometimes I fear our communication isn’t what it should be and I wish it could be better. I thought you were resigned if not ecstatic that children would be part of our marriage. You did mention you would get a bigger vehicle for transporting our babies. I suppose I leaped to the conclusion you had accepted the possibility. If you hadn’t decided that, why did you not speak up when I initiated the sexual side of our marriage?”

“I told you – I thought I was protected. You’re a premier wizard; there was no reason to think your contraceptive spell wouldn’t be meticulous. Anyway, at that point how was I to know you would take my wishes for anything into account? They didn’t count at the Registry Office,” Hermione said a little tartly. “This is all your fault,” she huffed in a pout, trying hard to retrieve her lovely snit.

“Well, I certainly hope so – OW!” Lucius replied and got his hair yanked for his insensitive joke, crudely claiming his paternity.

Hermione had been so focused on her own reactions she hadn’t given a thought to his. Giving up on her fading sense of ill usage, she asked with some trepidation, “How do you feel about being a father again?”

“I know I mentioned it just before we said our vows, but it may have slipped your mind between my charred robes and your diatribe on my great age,” Lucius replied, disgruntled, rubbing his scalp ostentatiously. Before Hermione could say anything, Lucius hurried to put one long, manicured finger over her lips. “I always wanted more children. I was an only child and I didn’t want that for Draco.” His head tilted a bit and an impish smile broke free, “I suppose it’s a bit late for him to care now.”

“Well, he’s going to catch up in a hurry,” the little witch declared, her fears swamping her again, “Luna said I’m having twins.”

“TWINS?” Lucius bellowed. He saw his wife’s lower lip tremble, then she was off again, weeping buckets against his soggy shirt. “My Gods - twins?” Lucius held her, petting her soft curls as she snuggled against him, twining her arms around his waist. “Twins?” he whispered, trying to visualize himself as a father of two babies at once - at his age. Then his guts froze, worrying that his tiny wife would suffer the same way that Narcissa had, being ill and in danger from the pregnancy. If Hermione was having twins, was that twice as bad? Lucius’ face drained of color, making him even more pale.

He began rocking his bawling mate, dimly coming out of his funk to understand what had her so overset. It was quite a heavy responsibility to one who hadn’t had children before. It was something of a shock even to him. He desperately hoped her unhappiness wasn’t because she was carrying his children. He hoped her health was not now at risk. He didn’t ask her; he would ask Luna later. For now she needed coddling and he wrapped her more securely against his heart. He couldn’t lose her – not now when he had found love for the first time. He wouldn’t allow it!

After a brief bout of angst, Hermione’s tears dried up again abruptly and she let loose a huge sigh, the burst of warm air skittering along her husband’s ribs over his wet shirt, as she rested her cheek against his heart, comforted by the steady rhythm of it. Lucius ‘Pervert’ Malfoy had truly fathered babies on her. It was still something of a weird fantastical vagary, but his very solidity soothed her insecurities.

She hated not being well versed in any subject, but motherhood was a vast mystery. All she could do was model her actions on her mother and hope for the best. Surreptitiously she wiped her nose on his ruined tie and decided her efforts couldn’t be any worse than Lucius’ previous poor showing as a father.

Lucius sat holding the petite mother-to-be for several moments as the realization sank into them both - they would be parents together. As the moments ticked on, a slightly fatuous smile bloomed on Lucius’ face and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t keep from grinning.

“Hermione, no matter how it happened, please know that I am overjoyed.” He lifted her chin to look down at her better, “If you aren’t, I am sorry, but I truly am elated.”

“I won’t hide that it is a shock,” she said honestly. “I’m scared to be someone’s mother and frankly worried that we won’t have the same views on raising children.”

“Oh, I expect we’ll clash occasionally, but if you feel incompetent to be a mother-”

Hermione jerked in his arms, “I never said that.” She saw the crafty cast in his eyes before he lowered his lids and she poked him in his damp chest, “Quit trying to manipulate me, you Slytherin swine.”

Lucius looked up, a little chagrined, but not particularly repentant, “An odd sort of animal, but perhaps accurate. You were sinking into unnecessary gloom. This is a joyous thing, love. You’ll learn as we go along.” Then he sighed.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s just that I suppose it might put a stop to any more rough sex for a while.” It had been a major reason he’d been content to go along with more of the warm, cuddly sex of the past couple of weeks after the Sorting Hat had given him the news of her pregnancy. He hadn’t been entirely sure the Hat wasn’t lying to him, but he didn’t want to take chances with such a vital possibility.

Then Hermione exploded his world once again, “Why must the rough sex always mean that I am the one getting spanked? You have a short memory.”

For once, Lucius was speechless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So Granger is finally pregnant. It took you long enough. I expected you would have been more potent than that. Or was she dosing herself with contraceptive charms? It can’t have been her life’s ambition to spawn another Malfoy.”

Lucius’ lips thinned into a parody of a smile, “Thank you for your kind wishes on my impending fatherhood and she is now a Malfoy, just as Narcissa is now a Snape. I’m thinking the intense acrimony of our first few months of marriage interfered with Hermione’s reproductive abilities.”

“You keep telling yourself that, old man,” Snape’s lips curled up at his friend’s tightened expression. Then he relented, “Well, you’ve certainly made up for lost time since you’ve been here at Hogwarts. You and Hermione are almost never at meals in the Great Hall. Not much question what’s keeping the two of you preoccupied in your apartment. And,” shrugged Snape, “your wife’s new last name is noted, as is Narcissa’s.” A slight upturning of Severus’ mobile mouth was all that gave away his deep pleasure in Narcissa’s new last name and a quick glance at the father-to-be reassured Severus that Lucius wasn’t interested in his ex-wife; the blond’s next words confirmed it.

Lucius groused, “Don’t worry, I shan’t ask you to play fond godfather and dandle the infants on your knee. I’d be afraid you’d pop one into your cauldron for some arcane potion.”

“Infants?”

“Twins,” said Lucius proudly. He was still a little worried about Hermione’s health, but Luna had assured him that his wife was in perfect health and would not have the same complication that had afflicted Narcissa.

“Oh…my…Goddess,” Snape stared at his friend, astounded.

“Not so very old then, am I? Besides,” Lucius smiled more normally, his narrowed eyes alerting Snape to a joke he wasn’t going to like, “after Draco has my grandchildren, you’ll be up to your enormous nose in baby bums when Narcissa insists on childminding. Don’t imagine you’ll be allowed to disappear into your lab. If you do, you’ll make Cissy unhappy and I know you don’t like to do that. Poor Severus – death by nappies,” Lucius purred, drinking in the rare look of terror on his friend’s face. “I can see it now, a baby cot in the corner of the lab so you can watch over your newest step-grandchild while Narcissa gets her hair done. Better start brushing up on how to feed and burp babies.”

“That will never happen.” Snape controlled a shudder. “Burp? Why can’t the little buggers burp themselves? What is so difficult about passing gas?” Snape rallied and gamely fought back, “A small Stupefy should take care of any annoying infant noises if Narcissa decides to leave Draco’s get with me.” A sudden, shocked inhalation by the blond wizard told Snape he’d struck a nerve with his bedeviling taunt, but he was disappointed when Lucius exhaled and merely nodded, gracing him with a pitying smile.

“Ah, excellent try, Severus, but futile. We both know a Stupefy is never used on anyone under five safely. If you’re the author of any damage to Narcissa’s grandchildren, you’ll be divorced so fast the handprints on her butt won’t have time to fade. So!” Lucius clapped Snape on his shoulder with spurious solicitude, “Let me know when you need lessons on changing nappies and I’ll be glad to oblige. For now, I need to do some research on what forms of sex I can indulge in with a petite wife pregnant with twins.” Both men carefully skirted the issue of what Lucius had done for sex with Narcissa while she was pregnant. Lucius had no interest in remembering and Snape didn’t want to know.

The dark-haired wizard, uncomfortably aware that Lucius’ idle digs might have an unpleasant truth hiding in them, was happy to have the subject changed, although he didn’t believe for a moment that Lucius had ever come closer to a soiled nappie than informing a house elf to do it. “I don’t suppose you can send in your question about pregnancy perversions to the Aunt Blabby column of the Daily Prophet, can you?” Snape’s black eyes laughed as he retaliated smartly, “You can sign it, ‘Anxious for Anal’. In all seriousness, Lucius, why don’t you ask Pomfrey? Send her an owl.”

“Oh, of course I’m going to ask Madam Pomfrey which deviant acts I can perform on my pregnant wife,” Lucius snarled sarcastically, his good mood evaporating at Snape’s caustic rejoinders. “I’ll just send a detailed description of all my perverted desires to her on the beach at Venice or wherever she is. Besides, she’s not a Healer. She’s only a Mediwitch.”

Snape scoffed, “There isn’t anything that woman hasn’t seen and attended to while serving at Hogwarts, including a few pregnancies. I don’t think there was much the students didn’t try, so I should think her knowledge of creative sex and its pitfalls is probably vast. You wouldn’t believe what one of the sixth year boys tried to do with a Pygmy Puff.” Snape’s face registered his distaste. “That was messy.”

“You are likening my unborn children to Pygmy Puffs?” Lucius grumped testily. “How did you make that ridiculous leap?”

“No need to be snippy. You asked me, remember. I’m not a gynecologist, although in another life…” Snape trailed off, his mind obviously no longer on Lucius’ problem.

“Snape, you lech, pay attention. Quit mentally delving into a sea of female crotches,” Lucius growled. “I should never have let Narcissa marry you.”

“You had nothing to say about it. And I wasn’t contemplating an unending supply of female groins. I was thinking I could have been a damned fine Healer.” Snape shrugged, “Why should I think of other women’s crotches when I have a superb example of the feminine sexual organ at home?”

“Yes, yes,” Lucius sniped, “I haven’t the least desire to hear you laud your wife’s pussy.”

“No, you want to discuss what you can still do with your wife’s pussy. Totally different, of course,” Snape sniffed in disdain. “I assume you aren’t planning on any truly deviant, dangerous intimacies.”

“No, of course not,” answered the blond, affronted.

“If you only want information on the common forms of creative sex, asking Madame Pomfrey isn’t a bad option. After all, you aren’t requiring her to deliver Hermione. However, if you can’t ask Madam Pomfrey and don’t wish to ask Mrs. Longbottom, perhaps you can read up on it in your vast family library. As I remember, some of the tomes relate to the less banal sexual activities. Are they still glamoured to look like old farming almanacs on the back wall? Maybe they can enlighten you about what you may or may not do.” Snape’s lips curved in a mocking smile, “You wanted more children, Lucius. Isn’t cutting back on the whips and chains a little, worth it?”

Lucius bridled in irritation. “I don’t use whips. Well, not for a long time. You know I never used one on Narcissa,” he glared, “and I hope you aren’t doing so.”

“My sex life isn’t your concern, but I would never damage my wife. She can call a halt to anything I do or suggest.”

It was no answer and Lucius knew it, but it wasn’t his place any more to have an opinion on what Narcissa enjoyed in the bedroom or anywhere else. Nor did he care particularly as long as her husband wasn’t torturing her against her will. He dropped his faint interest in his ex-wife’s welfare to think about what Snape had said. Should he floo to his home and do a little research? It would take some dirty, sooty travel, but wouldn’t his wife be proud of him for studying up on a subject like she did. He snorted inelegantly. Not likely, once she knew that his mind was purely on kinky sex.

Lucius’ attention was yanked back to his friend when Snape asked quietly, “So you’ve decided that I am not to be trusted as a godfather to your twins?”

The blond wizard winced, “I’ve just stepped on your feelings again, haven’t I? Severus, I do want you for godfather if you’ll take on the position.”

“And Hermione is okay with this? She isn’t going to want Potter or one of the Weasley brood instead?”

“Absolutely. Then it’s decided?”

Snape nodded. “But no nappies, Lucius.”

“Fine,” Lucius agreed. He and Snape shook hands and hooded smiles were exchanged. Both men knew that Narcissa would be the one actually organizing birthday cards and presents and the other minutiae of Snape’s being a godfather. Lucius hadn’t informed Hermione of his decision, but she would just have to live with it. It was done. She could choose the godmother. Somehow, Lucius thought she wouldn’t choose Narcissa.

~~~~~~~~

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” the Sorting Hat fumed, watching Lucius pacing in the reception area outside his office as he went back and forth in agitation two days later. The blond wizard had pulled the Hat out of his main office again to keep the nosy portraits out of the discussion. The Hat had only that day learned about the widespread problem with the Purebloods. “You could have used my input months ago.”

“I assumed you knew, but had nothing to contribute! You sit up on the top of the bookcase and hear everything here in the office. And you bragged about your Legilimency skills. Why didn’t you know?”

“Do you think I monitor every idiotic conversation that takes place here?” The Hat scrunched its face and mimicked in falsetto, “ ‘The toilet on the third floor is stopped up, the greenhouses need more manure, little Johnny got in little Sara’s knickers and her parents want him expelled’. After a millennium of trivia I’d have gone mad if I paid attention to all of it.

“I only routinely sit on the heads of the first years, and they had none of that information. And you never talked about it in the Headmaster’s office where I would naturally perk up and notice a special meeting – those are usually more juicy. Of course no one thought to tell me there was a problem,” the Hat berated Lucius. “I’m only a Hat.”

Lucius realized all the group’s discussions had taken place in Draco’s classroom and groaned. So much could have been averted. “You sat on Hermione’s head and on mine. We both knew,” Lucius accused the old leather.

The Hat chortled meanly, “Sorry. I was so entertained by the x-rated activities you both have been indulging in, I must have missed the boring item of Purebloods getting what they deserve.”

Lucius’ hands clenched into fists as he fought the impulse to throw the wretched headgear out the window.

“I admit,” said the Hat, unconcerned that Lucius’ face had turned mottled with rage, “that with all the old Headmasters’ portraits gabbing all the time, I rarely tune in to their chatter. Hmm, wait. Hermione and Draco mentioned something about Purebloods being persecuted some way, but I only figured it was politics swinging against the Purebloods for a change. Beyond thinking it was karma I didn’t care. Anyway, that’s unimportant. You need to find out what is causing the odd behavior in the students.”

“Thank you for that concise regurgitating of the painfully obvious,” Lucius snarled, incensed. Hadn’t they been trying desperately to figure that very thing out for months? Every test they had run had turned up nothing. Gods he was tired of this whole mess. So damned tired.

“A little more humility and a little less boorish ostracism would go a long way in this discussion,” the Hat rejoined, clearly relishing the wizard’s choler. “I’ve half a mind not to tell you how to proceed.”

“If you have any information on how to avert this growing divisiveness in the wizarding world, tell me,” Lucius snapped at the ancient magical artifact, his small store of patience eroded with the knowledge that the answer could have been much closer to being solved long ago. “The way things are going, you’ll be sitting on fewer heads each year until no little Purebloods will show up to be selected at all. They’ll all be in hiding. That will mean nearly no Slytherins.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” the Hat jabbed. The irascible Hat saw it was going to get pummeled again so it rushed on, “Alright, alright, I see the problem. I can pinpoint the toxin and where and how it is influencing the brain, but I can’t tell you how it is administered. Have you asked the Room of Requirement?”

Lucius’ anger subsided as he was jolted by that idea. Somewhat mollified, he replied, “No. The Room can talk?”

“You’re standing here talking to a Hat and you ask such a stupid question? Of course it can talk. It just doesn’t care to, mostly. So few people use it for anything but sex these days.” The Hat tsked at the perverted populace of Hogwarts.

“What could it do for us?” Lucius quit his pacing and sat down at his desk facing the Hat. He didn’t feel guilty for enjoying the Room of Requirement for sex, but perhaps he’d keep any more sex games in his own apartment. He didn’t think Hermione was going to appreciate the Room’s sentience when she found out.

“It can remove the effects of the toxin from any student in there if you ask it to do that. But if you don’t know where the toxin is coming from, the students will just be re-infected. However, the Room can also sense any exterior points on their bodies where the toxin was originally introduced. Obviously it didn’t originate in the brain. That’s a closed system. Likely the toxin flowed into the brain through the blood stream, but I don’t know how it got there. Once the drug hits the brain, it settles there and fades from the blood stream. I should warn you - the Room can be accommodating or it can be difficult. Don’t try your bombastic approach with it or it might not help you at all.”

Lucius tucked those revelatory pieces of information away, then went on to his personal quarrel with the obnoxious headgear, “And now you are going to explain why you didn’t see fit to mention that Hermione is carrying twins. You must have known! If you can count to two, you knew there were two little extra brain waves, not just one.”

“Ah, so Hermione has been to see a professional,” the Hat nodded smugly. “Twins’ heads are quite entertaining to sit on. They’re alike and yet not. I remember the Patil twins-”

“If you don’t get to the point,” Lucius growled, impatiently, “I’m going to issue a proclamation that hatpins are required apparel for all First Years entering Hogwarts.”

The anticipatory gleam in the disagreeable wizard’s wintry eyes made the Hat wince. “Well! You don’t have to be cruel. And after I was so obliging about the Room of Requirement, too! I did have a reason for bringing up the Patil twins. They were sorted into two different houses, and somehow,” the Hat purred maliciously, “I don’t see you as the father of a Gryffindor…or maybe even…hmmm.”

The arrow hit home and Lucius realized he’d been annoying an entity that could sort his unborn children into, ugh, Hufflepuff if it wanted. My Gods, he shivered, Hermione will laugh at me until Doomsday if our children aren’t sorted into Slytherin. Hufflepuffs! I couldn’t bear it!

The wily wizard drew himself up to his full height and looked down on the scabrous, amoral, noxious piece of hide. “I take your meaning, you ornery husk. I don’t suppose an occasional rubbing with Narcissa’s Rejuvenating Sea Siren’s Oil applied by the house elves would be refused if offered?”

“Did Snape make it for her?” the Hat asked, its interest firmly caught. Those sea sirens had the best cosmetics for looking good out in the drying, saltwater elements and if Snape made the oil, the quality would be impeccable.

“I believe so, yes.”

“In that case,” the Hat’s lip curled up in triumph, “we have a deal. Once a month. You inform the elves. They don’t listen to me.” The Sorting Hat preened and sighed with pleasure. “I’ve been getting a bit creaky. I do believe your children have Slytherin in their future – IF the oil keeps coming.”

Lucius knew he’d made a deal with the devil that could blow up in his face if Hermione heard about it. “You understand that any loose talk about our little arrangement could result in an accidental application of lye instead of the oil. Just so we are clear.”

“Oh, yes, we’re clear. I want my first treatment today.” The Hat knew the fancy Slytherin snob would never jeopardize the chances of his offspring going to any but his House.

The two combatants smiled at each other with great good will and total insincerity.


tbc...

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Calling all brave lurkers - there must be something you liked about the story so far. May I know what it is?


Don’t forget this chapter’s pics and responses, and for this chapter, a discussion of invented Pureblood genetics for this story -

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/67384.html


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