The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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5-21-10 F


My thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. I look forward to your feedback on how the story is progressing.


At this point, I would like to create an epilogue and would appreciate your input on suggestions for what you would like to see in this snapshot of seven or eight years in the future for Lucius and Hermione Malfoy. I may not be able to cover it all, but if you have ideas, please share.

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Chapter Fifty


Danger


“Much of the school’s business is routine,” Hermione explained to Narcissa as the two women sat together at the Headmaster’s desk one unusually warm early spring afternoon. All the windows had been thrown open and birds sang in the vines clinging to the stones outside Lucius’ tower office where they worked.

It had been more than six weeks since the closing of the parchment emporium and the disappearance of the woman who had been poisoning the wizarding world against the Purebloods. The Ministry had announced the closure of the store and warned the populace that any parchment purchased from that one source had a chemical found to be unsafe as a skin irritant. Assurances of the safety of parchment from other sources helped to buoy up the inevitable drop in sales of the innocent merchants. No mention had been made of the conspiracy against the Purebloods; the Ministry didn’t want people to think their free will had been subverted on any level. That way lay disaster.

Crookshanks was sunning himself on the ledge of one of the opened windows, idly watching the birds jumping about on the vines, too lazy to do more than flick his tail as he watched the small creatures.

“However,” Hermione continued, “the work is detailed and needs to be done carefully. The students’ records are constantly updated with input from the professors, including exam scores, project work, any extracurricular achievements and, of course, all the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. grades. Many of the students will be going on to university and their records are of extreme importance.”

Lucius’ desk arrangement had been covered in particular detail as he considered the organization of his work area sacrosanct. Hermione was familiarizing Narcissa with the work, the schedules, and the supplies of the Headmaster’s office, adding the duties of Lucius’ administrative assistant to receptionist where Narcissa had started a month before. She was now taking over completely from Hermione.

“Usually Lucius only allows visitors with pre-set appointments to see him, but occasionally you’ll have to decide if an exception should be made, for example, the unexpected arrival of a school governor,” Hermione briskly lectured. “You will have to be the one making those decisions as you’ll now be both receptionist and assistant. If a parent comes without an appointment and the reason is good enough, they should be accommodated. If parents come just to see a Quidditch match and decide to ‘drop in’ on Lucius, he’s busy or not in at the moment. I’m sure you have experience making up polite fictions,” she said, standing and moving away from the desk to make way for Narcissa to study Lucius’ schedule on his calendar.

“I am never certain of my place with you, Hermione,” Narcissa half-smiled. “Are we friends now, or am I to be a necessary evil in your life?”

Hermione stopped and turned, balancing her increasingly ungainly front on her small frame, “What? I don’t understand.” Her face registered confusion and Narcissa took courage from the little witch’s reaction.

“I do have extensive experience in uttering polite fictions. I’m just not clear if your comment was merely fact or a gentle dig at me,” the lovely woman shrugged. “I am so pleased for you and Lucius, but I wonder if you truly see that. You have made Lucius a very happy man. Perhaps you can’t see it right now with all the disruptions in your new marriage – coming here and being sidetracked from your own research business – but both Severus and I love Lucius and we can see the difference in him.” Narcissa stood and faced Hermione with a question in her cobalt eyes.

Hermione retraced her path back to the desk and stood facing the tall, willowy woman, her expression troubled. “I didn’t mean any slur with my comment. I do feel a little unsettled in my relationships with you and Severus, but especially with Lucius. Here I stand, looking like a bloated puffskein talking to Aphrodite. How could Lucius really ever prefer short me to you or someone else tall and ethereally beautiful like you?”

Narcissa was quiet a minute thinking, and Hermione squirmed at her inspection. When she spoke, Hermione’s jaw dropped open. “Have you never looked at it from my perspective? You’re petite and curvy with a feminine shape most men slaver over, not tall and stick thin like me. My features have been called perfection, but is that what raises a man’s blood pressure or is it that more alluring, warm and cuddly, sexy look you have?

“In twenty plus years of marriage Lucius did come to care for me but he never made love to me on a public dance floor in worship or pined for weeks because we had an argument. He never even held hands with me in the hallway like he does with you. I mostly got avoidance, anger, or arousal, usually in that order of importance.” Narcissa smiled, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it does seem to me that Lucius has completely reversed those three items in your case.”

Hermione stuttered, “I’m not warm and cuddly, or alluring. He…he…holds my hand to keep me from falling if the stairs shift suddenly.” Hermione heard the inanity in her explanation and suddenly she smiled shyly. “Do you think he likes me?” Then she colored, “You know what I mean. Not just sex,” and she patted her tummy.

Narcissa’s lips quirked up to blurt, “Hermione, he -” then the soignée witch remembered she shouldn’t get in the middle of this couple’s marital issues. She took a short breath and said more circumspectly, “Lucius is very taken with you. I am sure of it.”

The small Gryffindor gazed off over Narcissa’s shoulder for a minute, suddenly sure where her husband had been for those two weeks if Narcissa was talking about him pining for her after an argument. She returned her big brown eyes to the dark blue ones in front of her. “Thank you,” was all she said, but the sincerity was heartfelt.

Just then the main door to the office opened and a young woman timidly poked her head inside. “Hello?” she said, then smiled, “Oh, hello. There was no one at the desk in the anteroom below.” The young woman ventured a few steps further into the room. “Is the Headmaster here? Or Mr. Snape?” she looked around the room expectantly as though both men might be standing behind the door or crouched in the kneehole of the main desk.

Hermione glanced at Narcissa, silently passing the assistant’s baton to the older witch with a quizzical eyebrow. Narcissa stepped forward and smiled, “May I help you? Neither Mr. Malfoy nor Mr. Snape is available right now.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed, “Neither of them are here at all?”

Narcissa kindly replied, “They’re both in Hogsmeade at the moment, on school business. Perhaps if you tell me what you need, I can help you. Oh! Don’t I know you?” Narcissa took a step closer to the woman just as Hermione gasped behind her.

“Narcissa, no!” but it was too late. The young woman withdrew her wand from her sleeve and jabbed it under the blonde witch’s chin.

“Both of you, take your wands and throw them down here at my feet. Now!” she pressed her wand deeper into the frightened blonde witch’s neck. Slowly the two captive witches pulled out their wands and tossed them onto the floor in front of the interloper.

“You’re the young woman from the counter of the parchment emporium,” exclaimed Hermione, and Narcissa said, “Now I remember. You helped me pick out the pretty green Slytherin paper. My husband made me throw it away. Ouch!” Snape’s spouse glared at the woman who had jabbed her more forcefully.

“Your husbands sent those Aurors after me, didn’t they? Don’t deny it. I saw three Aurors enter my building with some other men. I’m sure by now they’ve found my materials and the toxin vats and destroyed everything. I heard them talking together about how Malfoy and Snape discovered the poisoned parchment. I almost was caught, but they weren’t looking for a lowly clerk,” she sneered.

“You’re Cleopatra…um… Jane Grey?” asked Hermione. “I can’t remember, but I thought your name tag said another name.”

The woman laughed harshly, “I used my real name as a clerk. Cleopatra Jane Grey is the fake. The Egyptian Cleopatra lost her life due to politics and so did Lady Jane Grey. A fitting pseudonym for me. My real name is Desdemona Burbage.” When neither of the witches showed any recognition of the name, Desdemona shrilled, “My mother was Charity Burbage, the witch that your husbands happily watched tortured and murdered at the hands of that monster, Voldemort, without trying to save her. Without even caring.

“Oh yes,” the witch sneered. “I heard what they did to her. Stringing her up like a piece of meat while they toyed with her. Then they got bored with her crying,” the young woman spat. “She was murdered as though she were nothing. NOTHING!” The young woman caught a sob, swiftly repressed, “And then… that ugly, great snake…” Desdemona’s voice dropped to a forlorn whisper, “She was my mother.” Her eyes snapped to the two witches and went to slits and neither Hermione nor Narcissa moved a muscle until their captor slowly regained control of herself.

The woman gestured with the wand she held, “Both of you – go sit down over there in the visitor’s chairs in front of the desk.

“Voldemort was insane. They had no choice,” Narcissa stood in front of the young witch, wondering if Miss Burbage, too, was insane, but trying to reason with her anyway.

“Of course they had a choice. Did anyone force them to become Death Eaters? Now sit down or I’ll hang you from the ceiling.” Burbage waved forcefully toward the chairs, her wand shaking with her rage.

“Narcissa, come sit down,” Hermione murmured, never taking her eyes from the pointing tip of the out-of-control witch. She eased around the desk and joined Narcissa in the two visitors’ chairs.

“What do you want, Miss Burbage?” asked Hermione.

“I remember you,” the woman said. “You signed your name Malfoy when you paid for the parchment delivery to Hogwarts. You married the Death Eater. I saw it in the Daily Prophet, too. How fortunate that at the very end, when the war was lost, he changed sides and wasn’t held accountable for his crimes.” She turned to Narcissa, “How lucky that the other Purebloods in the Wizengamot let your entire family off from prosecution. And you sign your name Snape now. How cozy. We’ll all just sit here until your husbands return. Then we’ll see how happily they watch as their loved ones are tortured.

“I could have gone on for years, making the Purebloods as a group weaker and weaker with the covert parchment toxin. They were the foundation of Voldemort’s success. Even the ones who didn’t actively become Death Eaters secretly liked the idea of a pure magic world again. Don’t tell me they didn’t. And don’t talk to me of blood traitors. Everyone saw how easily they crumpled against that monstrosity, the Dark Lord. They did nothing but cower, letting innocent witches like my mother die horribly.”

The young witch gazed coldly at Hermione, the deranged, dead look in her eyes betraying her tenuous grasp on reality. “Did you like the way you began to hate your new husband, Mrs. Malfoy? I sent you that red-trimmed parchment; you know, the pretty parchment that you wrote the sweet thank you note on, to the store. It must have been quite uncomfortable for you, having increasing feelings of dislike no matter how hard he tried to be kind. Are his business interests drying up?” The woman began a slow pacing back and forth across the floor in front of the two hostage witches. “When are your husbands due back?”

Hermione didn’t answer the first questions, understanding correctly that they were rhetorical. Instead she spoke quietly, “They went into Hogsmeade as Narcissa said. They often stay for dinner there when they conclude their business with the stores. It may be several hours before they realize we’re missing and come looking for us.”

Desdemona pulled another side chair from against the wall and seated herself a few feet away, facing the two wives. “Then we have a wait, don’t we?” she said, her face contorting into a grotesque smile.

No one noticed a small, orange ball of fur as it quietly slipped off the window ledge.

Crookshanks carefully climbed out onto the clinging vines, backing down them until it reached the ground. Then it sped over the school grounds and out onto the path to Hogsmeade, not even stopping when a frightened squirrel was surprised into a frozen stance as the half-Kneazle shot past it.

~~~~~

In Hogsmeade, Severus and Lucius had just made themselves comfortable at a small table in a back corner of the dining room in the Three Broomsticks and were sipping firewhiskeys, glad to have the day’s work over with and each looking forward to some relaxing private time with their wives later. Setting up the accounts for the following year with all the Hogsmeade merchants who supplied the school was always an irritating ordeal as the storeowners perennially wanted to renegotiate each detail of their contracts.

A great deal of diplomacy needed to be expended in the pursuit of the new contracts and neither Snape nor Lucius enjoyed it. Snape disliked having to be diplomatic on principle and Lucius, although being courteous in pursuit of money was his normal operating procedure, saw no value in extending himself to be charming when there was no profit to be made personally. The two of them were thus grumpy and in a mood to find fault with the world.

Madam Rosmerta was pouring drinks from behind the bar, filling mugs and glasses for patrons and sending them to the tables with her wand. The two men had chosen a day when none of the students was allowed off the grounds and the noise level was more subdued than usual. Across the room the door to the outside opened and a couple entered. A swift streak of orange ghosted into the inn on their heels just before the door closed again.

The two weary wizards stretched out their legs under the table, sighing in relief. “I’ll be quite happy never to be Headmaster of Hogwarts again,” Lucius groused, his face feeling like it had frozen into the insincere smile he’s used all day. He scrubbed his fingers over his faint blond beard stubble, massaging his sore cheek muscles. “I want to get Hermione home to Wiltshire well before the babies are born. She’s scrubbing everything including my cane and crowding our cramped living space with baby clothes and nappies and the Gods only know what else. I’d be surprised if Hogsmeade has a single nappie left.”

“Narcissa says she’s nesting a bit early, but it’s probably because of twins, whatever any of that means. And I doubt the position of Headmaster will be offered to you again,” Snape replied. “Those School Governor arseholes in the Ministry have now grabbed onto the idea of young, cheaply paid professors with the zeal of flies on dung. Your salary was too high and the unspoken sentiment was you should have taken the position for nothing because you’re a billionaire.”

“What!” sputtered Lucius around a mouthful of liquor. “Why those sanctimonious, old goats!” Lucius’ eyes narrowed to slits and Snape complacently figured the greedy, gossipy School Governors would soon watch quite a few of their financial portfolio investments sink alarmingly in the near future. He didn’t care in the least. They had had the temerity to call Lucius’ morals toward minors into question with no reason but a few scurrilous newspaper articles concerning obviously adult companions, so they deserved what they got from the wily blond businessman. Severus offered a savvy smile across the table and Lucius’ simmering glower faded into a smooth, sly smile in return. They knew each other so well.

A comfortable silence descended between the two old friends as the cheerful atmosphere, subdued babble of other customers, and warmth of the fire relaxed the wizards into a near somnolence, each almost dozing with their eyelids at half-mast.

A few minutes later, Lucius’ eyes shot open as he stared at his friend across the small table. “Severus?”

“Hmmm?” came the sleepy reply.

“Are you…are you rubbing my leg?”

Now Snape’s eyes shot open. “What? Certainly not!”

“Then what…?” Lucius looked under the table and cursed, “It’s that damned, mangy familiar of Hermione’s under the table.” Lucius kicked out at the animal, but it jumped nimbly aside and began to yowl. When Lucius aimed his wand at the cat, it hissed and ran a few feet toward the door, then yowled again, louder.

“Still not much of a cat lover then, hmm, Lucius?” Snape asked, somewhat annoyed at Lucius’ assumption he was petting him under the table.

“No, we avoid each other completely,” growled the blond. Lucius watched as the feline raced for the main door, then backtracked just out of kicking range and yowled again. He repeated the maneuver and Rosmerta called over, “Lucius, follow your damn cat. It wants you to leave and I want it to leave, too.”

Lucius stood up so quickly he knocked over his chair. “Hermione!” he quavered, turning whiter than a ghost in a snowstorm. Snape caught up to Lucius as he lunged for the door and they both hurried out into the main street of Hogsmeade, seeing the orange half-Kneazle running toward Hogwarts. “Something’s wrong with Hermione. Do you think it’s the babies?” the blond fretted as they both followed the cat.

“I haven’t any idea, but I think it highly unlikely,” Snape opined. “Luna would have sent you an owl. Familiars are supposed to protect. If Hermione’s animal is here trying to get your help, something is seriously wrong that it can’t fix.” He gestured down the street, “Your cat is waiting for us to catch up.”

Lucius knelt on the street and called, “Crookshanks, come here. I’ll take us to Hermione.”

“We shouldn’t rush into Hogwarts not knowing what’s wrong or where the danger might be,” Snape cautioned, watching as the cat turned back and ran toward Lucius.

“Noted,” Lucius said, taking an unsteady breath and calming himself. The feline jumped into Lucius’ arms and he rose, grabbing onto Snape’s arm. “I’m taking us back to Hogwarts now!” The blond wizard swiftly Apparated the trio before Snape could offer a word in return.

It was dark and close in the space, smelling strongly of disinfectant and old, wet rags. Snape felt Lucius let go of his arm as he steadied himself, then his foot clattered in metal.

“Quiet,” shushed Lucius and he set down the cat.

“Lumos,” intoned Snape and his wand lit up the deep, narrow space. “What the fuck, Lucius! This is a broom cupboard,” the Halfblood snarled. “And my foot is in a mop bucket! Why couldn’t you Apparate us to my apartments?”

“I don’t know where the danger is,” Lucius shot back angrily. “Can you guarantee it isn’t in your apartments?” At Snape’s sullen glower, Lucius added, “This place is safe and hidden. Crookshanks can sneak out of here and let us know if the way is safe for us to follow him. Crookshanks?” Lucius opened the closet door a sliver and the cat slinked out, then sat in the hall waiting with unblinking eyes.

“I guess the hall is safe for us,” Lucius poked his head out and saw a couple of students who looked at him strangely, but walked on. The two wizards left the cupboard and instantly Crookshanks sped up the main stairs. Following closely behind, the trio climbed up to the entrance to the Headmaster’s office guarded by the gargoyle. Crookshanks sat down and offered a quiet meow, looking up at the gargoyle expectantly.

“Hermione’s in my office and she’s in some trouble or danger. If I barge in and there is danger, that won’t help her at all, but I can’t take any more time.” Lucius gazed at Snape for his opinion. The two slid into their warrior roles like an old, comfortable pair of slippers.

“Is there another way into the office?” Snape asked.

“Just the windows,” Lucius replied, remembering Hermione’s joke about teenage girls flying broomsticks into his domain. “One of us could use a broomstick and fly in through a window, but they’re all visible from the office.” Lucius looked down at the feline, “Crookshanks, is there someone else in there?”

The cat hissed, then sat quietly again.

“I’ll take that as a yes. So we have an intruder of some sort. More than one?” he looked down at the cat, but it just blinked.

“Probably only one, then.” The cat hissed again. “Definitely only one,” Lucius decided. “Probably armed only with their wand.”

“I’ll Accio a broomstick and fly just outside one of the windows to the side. Maybe I can see in that way,” Snape offered.

“No,” Lucius said urgently. “I have a better idea. Call Salazar Slytherin out of his portrait in the Headmaster’s office to his portrait in the Slytherin common room. He can tell you who or what is in the office and where everybody is.” No sooner had Lucius finished his sentence than Snape had Disapparated.

A couple of minutes later he reappeared looking shaken, “It’s the parchment poisoner - a young woman holding both Hermione and Narcissa at wandpoint. She took their wands and they are both sitting in visitors’ chairs in front of your desk. The woman is sitting too, facing them a few feet closer to the door. Salazar says he thinks she’s unhinged. She wants to torture our wives with us watching. Apparently she is the daughter of Charity Burbage and holds us responsible for her mother’s death. “An eye for an eye,” Snape ended.

Lucius pulled out his wand, “I can Apparate into the room in front of her and you can Apparate behind her near the door. I see that you can Apparate on school grounds,” Lucius smiled grimly.

“As can you,” Snape jabbed back. “The timing must be perfect,” he said and they were mentally transported back to their Death Eater days, sneaking up on victims. “Like the old days. I’ll take her out from behind while you disarm her wand.”

The two wizards stood together, wands out, swishing in time, ‘one, two, three!’ and they both Apparated into the Headmaster’s office, Lucius confronting a slender young woman with a wand resting in her lap, while Snape appeared behind her.

“No!” the unbalanced woman screamed at the failure of her plan. Lucius aimed his wand at the angry witch, but his wonky wand sputtered, choosing that dire moment to falter.

Seeing her chance, Desdemona hesitated only a second, then aimed her wand at Hermione. She yelled triumphantly, “Crucio!” unleashing the wicked incantation toward the little witch at the same moment Snape counter-cursed the woman.

Lucius saw the crazy witch raise her wand toward Hermione and without hesitation stepped in front of her, catching the full measure of the hex to protect his wife. He dropped like a stone, writhing in agony on the floor as the curse shot viciously through his nerve endings like lightning on metal.

At the same moment that she cursed Lucius and before Desdemona could even think to re-aim her wand at either Hermione or Narcissa, Snape’s curse hit her as he snapped his wand into her neck and barked, “Stupefy.” The fanatical young witch in turn dropped to the floor.

No one paid attention to the unconscious woman as they gathered around Lucius, trying to hold him down protectively as he thrashed uncontrollably in thrall to the Unforgivable curse. Snape ripped off his own belt and stuffed the leather between Lucius’ teeth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue, then held him as the intense convulsions wracked the blond’s body.

Hermione and Narcissa both tried to kneel down and hold Lucius, but Snape barked, “Stay back. He’s flailing and may hurt you. When Hermione started to disobey, Snape said quietly, “You don’t want him to damage you after he shielded you. You can’t want him to suffer knowing he’s hurt you.”

She backed up and sat on the chair again, beginning to sob as she watched the horrible curse increase in pitch, curling Lucius’ body into a succession of contortions, hearing his screams, muffled by Snape’s belt, as the pain escalated.

Snape’s strength was equal to most of the contractions, but occasionally a violent one wrenched the Lucius out of his arms. Each time Snape patiently pulled the blond’s shuddering body back against himself. All he could really do was smooth the pale hair out of Lucius’ begging eyes as the man writhed, keeping the belt in place between Lucius’ lips. “You stupid fool,” he whispered sadly, clutching him close, “you didn’t get that wand replaced, did you?”

Narcissa pulled her chair close to Hermione’s and held her gently, crooning, “It won’t last too long. Maybe three or four hours, slowly diminishing, but he’ll be insensible well before that. You’re seeing the worst now. Then he’ll come around with some residual pain for some days. A steaming hot bath will help him feel better. And massages. Those will help.”

“He saved me and our twins from that curse,” Hermione stuttered through her tears. “He knew, didn’t he. He knew what would happen to an unborn when a pregnant woman gets a Crucio.” She looked at Narcissa, then at Snape. Neither one said anything. “I read about it in one of the books on curses a few years ago. He saved the twins’ lives.” Hermione’s lips trembled with the gravity of what had almost happened.

Narcissa and Severus looked at each other. They knew saving the twins hadn’t been Lucius’ first concern. He’d acted instinctively to save his wife. His children were part of the package, but not the main reason the blond wizard had frantically thrown himself in front of the curse.

Narcissa smiled and Snape shrugged. Lucius’ marriage was not their worry. It did seem as though Lucius had found out completely what truly loving someone meant. Snape had no doubt Lucius would have stepped in front of an Avada Kedavra just as quickly; he couldn’t have known what curse the crazy witch was going to cast. Sighing, the dark-haired wizard pulled his friend more firmly into his arms as the convulsions continued to shiver and dance over the suffering man’s skin. Lucius was nearly comatose now; the nerve endings were temporarily going numb from the overload, but the muscle contortions would last for a few hours. His voice had gone hoarse from screaming and now faded to low moans. Then he mercifully lost consciousness.

Hermione jumped up and knelt by her husband, “Is he…he’s still alive?” She put her hand on Lucius’ chest to feel for herself that he was breathing and his heart was still beating. “Oh, thank the Gods!” She put her arms around Lucius, trying to hold his shoulders, but her lack of lap made it impossible to hold his twitching form. “I want him taken to our apartment, Severus. Please!”

“Let Narcissa help you with a Mobilicorpus, Hermione,” Snape said decisively. “She can bring him up to your rooms while you go ahead of her and prepare a hot bath. You’ll have to stay by him while he’s unconscious in the water, but the heat will help reduce the pain for him when he wakes up.” The dour wizard gazed dispassionately at the Stupefied body of the witch on the floor, then nudged her with his foot. “I don’t want to be gone if this one wakes up. I’ll send for the Aurors, but I want her locked up so she can’t escape.”

Hermione looked over at Narcissa who nodded and waved her wand intoning, “Mobilicorpus!” and Lucius’ form rose easily, multiple residual minor twitches shivering along his arms and legs jerking his unconscious body. Reassured, Hermione hurried to the door and opened it for Narcissa and between the two of them, Lucius was transported and tucked into a steaming bath in their apartment. Hermione pulled her dressing table chair into the bathroom and sat next to the tub, alternately wiping at her teary eyes and checking Lucius for any deeper damage.

Narcissa fetched Luna who checked the twitching blond wizard for any permanent damage and pronounced him physically unimpaired except for the temporary nerve glitches. Luna calmly laid out Lucius’ care for the next few hours, “The hot bath is very good, but he’ll need to be tucked into bed soon. It will be a few hours before he wakes up.”

The Mediwitch looked at Narcissa who had returned and was standing in the bathroom doorway. “Narcissa says this happened just a few minutes ago. If you will, rub this ointment into his limbs thoroughly. Use these gloves. It isn’t toxic at all, just sticky, but it is best done before he wakes up so the medicine has time to reduce the inflammation of the nerve endings and numb the worst of the pain.” Luna moved toward the door. “He’ll feel better, if fatigued, in a few hours and will be fine in a day or so. He may experience the occasional zing along his extremities, but that will be gone, too, in a few days.”

“Thank you, Luna. I’m so glad your training includes treating Crucios,” Hermione bent over her husband’s still form, gently sweeping his hair back from his face and blotting the dots of sweat from his forehead.

Luna smiled grimly, “My training didn’t include Crucios. I learned it on my own from Severus. He has an extensive knowledge of magical war injuries and disabilities. I wanted to be prepared, just in case.” More softly, she said, “I would like to know what happened, but I’ll wait.”

Hermione glanced up to answer her, but Luna was gone. She wiped away the last of her own tears and took a gulping breath, “Narcissa, can you help me move him to the bed?” This wasn’t the time to feel jealous of Lucius’ ex-wife seeing him nude. It wouldn’t be anything new for her after all.

“Of course, Hermione. I’ll raise him up from the water and you can running a drying spell, then I’ll move him to your bed.” Narcissa quickly suited actions to words and within a couple of minutes a somnolent Lucius was laid out on his bed, face up.

Narcissa averted her eyes and moved toward the bedroom door, “If you need me for anything more, don’t hesitate to send a house elf.” She bit her lip, then added, “ Hermione? Be sure you put extra ointment on his palms and fingertips, lips, the soles of his feet, and on his genitals. Those places have the most sensitive nerve endings and they’re the most painful later.”

Without waiting for an acknowledgement, she left the apartment, allowing Hermione privacy with her comatose husband. Narcissa had more experience than she needed to remember with a Crucio’d Lucius. She knew he would recover, but in this situation she was decidedly de trop; Hermione could tend him and he would prefer it that way.

Looking up and down the corridor and seeing no one, Narcissa Disapparated to her own apartments to await Severus. She could have Disapparated from the Burbage female, but couldn’t leave Hermione to face her alone. Snape had made it possible for his wife to Apparate in the school as a safety precaution the moment they’d moved in. Even with that, he had been adamant that a house elf accompany her when he wasn’t present.

Narcissa sighed; she’d hoped his overprotectiveness would ease, but with this latest scare she knew it would be a while before her freedom was restored. Then a glimmer of smile touched her soft lips. Severus loved her - her. She hugged that to herself. That was worth any temporary inconvenience.

Narcissa’s parting words brought home to Hermione just how harrowing it must have been for Narcissa during Voldemort’s two reigns of terror. How had she stood the horror? Just seeing Lucius on the floor screaming and writhing, unable to help him, was a waking nightmare.

~~~~~

Three hours later Snape appeared at Hermione and Lucius’ apartment, knocking at the door. When enjoined to enter, he found Hermione rubbing ointment on the soles of Lucius’ feet. The blond wizard was still unconscious, but his skin was bright and shiny with the ointment.

“I thought you might want to have the latest information,” the black-haired wizard said. “I’ve seen the crazy bint off in the custody of several Aurors. She’s Stupefied so she’ll wake up in a Ministry cell, but she regained consciousness for a brief spell while under my… care. She did say she wasn’t going to kill either of you. Just inflict some pain and fear. She didn’t know ahead of time you were pregnant. She also didn’t know the effect of a Cruciatus on a fetus and she says she’s sorry. I don’t think she was sorry about Lucius, but she seemed horrorstruck at almost having terminated your pregnancy.” Snape shrugged, “For what that’s worth.”

Hermione continued to rub the ointment through Lucius’ toes, “Shouldn’t she have recovered from your Stupefy completely by now?”

Snape’s eyebrows rose in wide-eyed innocence, “Somehow she was Stupefied and roused a few times before the Aurors managed to arrive. The Stupefies may have been interspersed with a couple of Stinging Hexes. I believe my wand hand slipped.”

Hermione chuckled weakly at Snape’s utter disregard for ethics in the face of his inimitable brand of justice. She shivered a little, understanding that his warning out by the lake about not hurting Lucius wasn’t mere bluster. “You were there, weren’t you – when her mother died.”

“Yes, we both were. As was Draco. It was… regrettable.” Snape’s focus turned inward for a moment, then he gazed impersonally at Hermione again. “The atrocities of war have indelibly stamped all of us, but,” he waved at Lucius’ supine, unconscious form, “our combat experience helped save you and Narcissa.” He shrugged, “The witch was lucky she only got a few Stinging Hexes.”

Perhaps they shouldn’t have left Snape with the unconscious witch, but Hermione couldn’t care too much.

“The arresting Aurors said she was a graduate of Beauxbatons because her mother taught at Hogwarts. That school said she was a top student who excelled at potions there. One of the best they’d ever had. The Aurors don’t know much more than that yet because Miss Burbage wasn’t one of our students, but she appears to be quite intelligent.” Snape waved away the topic of Desdemona Burbage with a flick of his hand. “ I also wanted to stop by and mention – before Lucius wakes up – that the instant he does you must assure him that you are fine and your unborn children are safe. It’s what he’ll need desperately to know, but he might not be able to talk too clearly at first. Convince him thoroughly that you are fine. Do you understand?” Snape addressed her somberly, his dark eyes holding hers.

“I understand,” she nodded. “I will. I don’t want him upset or hurt, Severus. Thank you for telling me. Both you and Narcissa are wonderful friends to him,” Hermione replied. In that moment she banished forever her distaste for the Snapes possibly hurting Lucius with their marriage. It was not important and now Hermione saw what Lucius probably always had – they truly loved him.

Snape turned to leave, but looked back at her and a warm smile lifted his face jolting Hermione with shock. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile at her in that relaxed fashion before. Had he ever really smiled at her at all? Did Narcissa see that sweet smile? Hermione blinked, a little dazed. He was rather devastating when he smiled.

“I think you have enough ointment on him now,” he said gently, grinning. “Don’t get it in his hair. That stuff is the very devil to wash off. Especially from… sensitive areas.” The wizard chuckled and left.

“Oh dear,” Hermione pursed her lips, peeking under the small towel she’d placed over Lucius’ middle to make him decent while he slept. “Oh dear,” she moaned again, seeing her meticulous handiwork - his privates were slathered in a thick layer of ointment. It did look a bit more viscous than when she’d applied it. She used the towel to try to remove the excess, but the ointment adhered firmly to his skin.

Hermione got all teary-eyed again at her blunder and that was what Lucius saw when he regained consciousness a few minutes later. “Hermione?” he croaked, peering up at her blotchy face. His voice was so hoarse it was hard to hear him. He raised one shaky hand, trying to touch her.

“Oh Lucius! You’re awake! Don’t talk,” she commanded. “Your voice needs to mend. But don’t worry, I’m fine, and safe, and the babies are safe and you saved us all and…and…oh, Lucius I was so afraid you were going to die,” she wailed, leaning over him and kissing his face all over through the ointment. When her lips threatened to stick to his cheek, she stopped.

After a few sniffles she collected herself and rambled on, “And Narcissa helped and we got you a hot bath and Luna said you’re physically fine – well, not fine right now, but healthy – and she gave me some ointment to put on you, but I put too much on your privates and Snape said it was the devil to wash off and I’m so sorry,” and she put her face in her hands and started crying again.

When she looked up again at his face, his eyes were closed, but a slight smile lit his features. His breathing was even and the twitches were almost gone, only the long muscles in his legs and arms showing the odd spasm every few minutes. Hermione realized he’d fallen into a normal sleep. She kissed his fuzzy cheek again and covered him with a sheet and blanket.

Gathering an extra blanket, Hermione got ready for bed, first scrubbing her sticky lips at the kitchen sink with industrial cleanser until she finally got the goo off. She settled on the faded red denim sofa in their living room, falling instantly asleep.

tbc...

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Don’t forget this chapter’s pics and responses -

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/68829.html

The responses and pics will be posted sometime tomorrow, Saturday.

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