The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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6-11-10 F


Well, folks, this chapter has a lot of ends being tied up. We still have one more regular chapter and the epilogue to go yet. Thank you all for the many reviews you've gifted me with. I appreciate all your efforts and time taken to give me encouragement and feedback. Thank you!!

Onward...


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Chapter Fifty-Three


Home


Lucius made certain that everything went smoothly for Hermione in her last two months. She spent hours on her research company, trying to clear out projects before the birth, then, toward the end, kept Lucius up at night as she tossed and turned, never finding a comfortable position for more than half an hour at a time. The healer Lucius sent for said she would probably not last quite the full term, but any worries would be minimal – just those always associated with a multiple birth.

Narcissa, when told of her husband’s elevation to godfather, mentioned that Severus should only be godfather to one twin according to Pureblood etiquette. Each child should have its own godfather and godmother. Hermione solved the problem by asking Harry to be godfather to one twin, and Ginny and Narcissa to stand as godmothers. Hermione had been designated as godmother to Harry and Ginny’s unborn baby along with Ron as godfather, so only Lucius was left out of the mix. He didn’t mind at all, unequivocally stating that he would have his hands full with two new babies and at his age (he frowned ferociously at Hermione, who laughed) that was quite enough to be going on with.

Harry had his quiet discussion with Hermione, learning from her only that Lucius had surprised her with his interest and won her over perhaps more quickly than was wise. Hermione mendaciously owned she should have had a longer engagement to get used to Lucius’ ways, but she firmly averred she was ecstatically happy with a man who equaled her intellectual interests and could stand up to her strong personality. At that, Harry said a heartfelt ‘Amen’, adroitly dodged her grab for his hair and got a sock on the shoulder instead. He wryly acknowledged she had probably chosen well and finally wished her every happiness. They exchanged and accepted their future roles as godmother and godfather and everyone was pleased.

Narcissa was so enamored of her success as the Headmaster’s assistant that she had the idea to buy out the ‘Rainbow Parchments’ emporium from Desdemona Burbage and run it herself. The deranged witch was immured in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s for the foreseeable future and her business was nearly bankrupt due to the report of skin rashes from the parchment, but Narcissa wanted to try to save the pretty store. There was no chance that the business could continue with no one at the helm, otherwise.

Burbage’s solicitor was appointed her conservator and he thankfully sold the business to Narcissa for a sum that would pay for the woman’s private accommodations, special treatments, care, and nursing for many years to come. There was hope for the young witch, but extensive therapy would be needed to ease the overwhelming pain of her loss and its disastrous effect on her mind.

Ironically, it was Severus who was at first less than pleased with Narcissa becoming a businesswoman, but he discovered that his delicate flower of a wife had some inner fire of her own, stoked to a blaze by seeing Hermione’s business success, then her own success first at Hogwarts, then in her own business. He soon learned, just as Lucius had, that a firebrand of a spouse was extremely alluring in the bedroom, particularly when there was love involved. The dark-haired wizard released some of his iron control over Narcissa and found that his sex life was enriched by the sharing of power. He rather liked the occasional caning he got, too.

Severus’ acumen in potions was also put to use as Narcissa wheedled him into designing new inks with sparkles, invisibility, and glow-in-the-dark colors that were especially favored by children. Snape’s public guarantee that the parchment had been detoxed went a long way to bringing new customers to the store because everyone knew he was unmatched as a potions master. When the onus of the business inevitably wore off, both Snapes found themselves with a thriving livelihood that absorbed their mutual interests.

Severus’ time was so taken up with Narcissa’s emporium that he saw his way clear to shedding his post as Head of the School Governors, which he did thankfully. It had been a promotion offered in thanks for his work against Voldemort, but he no longer felt obliged to fill the job.

His last act as Head of the group he privately labeled as pompous, niggardly imbeciles was to appoint Neville Longbottom to the Hogwarts Headmaster’s position. Neville’s quiet competence, both as a teacher under fire in the past year’s challenge, and his organizational skills in sleuthing all the areas of the grounds and food supplies, had not gone unnoticed by Snape. The young man’s unruffled confidence, his valor in the past war, plus his very youth - which dictated a smaller salary - helped sway the parsimonious Governors into confirming his appointment. The capper was the Room of Requirement adamantly balked at anyone else being hired after its personal experience of negotiations with Neville.

Snape gloated silently; he had never cared enough to remold the gaggle of School Governors into an effective group, but he was pretty sure that should anyone go head to head with their new Headmaster, several of the worst idiots, besides suffering monetary losses from Lucius, would find themselves adroitly dismissed from their cushy positions. Neville appeared quiet, but he’d grown into a strong, able leader who wouldn’t put up with illogical edicts or shady personal ambition. Mr. Longbottom would be pruning that bunch of stunted growths before they knew what hit them.

As Severus saw it, Neville was an inspired choice all round ; his wife, Luna, was already a member of the staff, and therefore his life would center on the school. When Snape offered the position to Neville, the young wizard blinked once, then calmly accepted the post. “I imagine you never thought I would amount to anything, Mr. Snape.”

One black eyebrow rose as Severus countered, “On the contrary, had I thought that, I wouldn’t have bothered harassing you into trying harder. There were certainly enough students I let slide into obscurity without giving a damn. As a professor yourself, I think you understand the difference. One word of advice – don’t listen to the Headmasters’ portraits; they’ll bedevil you from dawn to dusk if you let them. Except mine, of course, which I disabled. I’d ignore Lucius’ portrait, too, when it’s hung. He’ll be too vain to disable his and he always wants to embroider a simple plan into a strategy for Armageddon. This new edict on all prior Headmasters having portraits in the office without having the grace to let us be dead first is extremely annoying.” The older wizard’s dark eyes fixed on Neville’s face, “Well, anyway, I’m quite positive you will become one of the finest Headmasters Hogwarts has ever seen. Of course, you will try very hard not to brand me a liar, won’t you?” Snape bent his patented scowl on the younger man, but this time Neville only smiled.

“I will do us both proud, Severus. Luna has invited you to tea. Will you come?” Snape went.

~~~~~

Lucius reluctantly retired his ailing wand to an honored place above their bedroom fireplace and Ollivander matched him to a new one. He recreated a snakehead for his new wand, but this time he had an emerald for one eye and a ruby for the other, denoting both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Draco privately thought his father’s sentimental gesture was somewhat mawkish, but it was obvious that the man was truly, deeply, finally in love; Draco supposed it was long past time for his father to have found a soulmate, just as his mother had in Severus. He would never admit it, but the change in his father almost made Draco feel a little mawkish himself; their relationship became much closer, and beyond their familial bond, a deep friendship blossomed between the two men. They had a great deal in common, after all.

~~~~~

As Hermione’s due date approached, Lucius was getting anxious watching his wife potter incessantly around the nursery, counting nappies and folding baby quilts and repositioning the baby toys that already threatened to overflow the spacious room. He knew he was mostly to blame for the quantities of items in the room and now felt even more guilty besides being the cause of the unplanned pregnancy in the first place. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had participated in the botched communication about the contraception, nevertheless his unaccustomed feelings of guilt made him irritable, and relations deteriorated into bickering at the dinner table. With neither of them sleeping well, tempers rose.

Hermione hadn’t been able to curb Lucius’ frequent trips to the toy store, the sporting goods shops, and Madam Malkin’s for suitable baby clothes and she was annoyed that Lucius was buying up all the things she wanted to buy for her babies. Before the situation blew up into a full-blown battle of wills, a compromise was suggested by a weary Draco, who sometimes felt he was dealing with two recalcitrant children. If Lucius offered to stop his shopping trips, then Hermione would rest and stay off her feet more. Both of the parents-to-be agreed, each secretly relieved to have the argument nipped in the bud and peace was restored for a whole week. Then Hermione’s water broke.



Hermione woke to a damp bed in the wee hours of the morning and knew instantly what had happened. “Lucius! Wake up.” She knew her husband had lost enough sleep to be difficult to wake, just as on their first day of marriage. No response. This time Hermione didn’t dare try to smack his bum, so she wiggled her nude, blooming body out of bed, grabbed her wand and muttered a quick-drying charm on the wet mattress and herself before waddling over to his side, raising the wand and intoning, “Erecto!” giggling a little as she did it. Her husband never needed that particular charm, except for now.

Lucius’ entire body was immediately involuntarily straightened out and snapped upright, standing him on the mattress and bringing him awake with a bellowed, “Accio wand!” His past life leaped into his consciousness as his first, instinctive action was to arm himself. Then he shook his head and looked around in confusion. “Hermione? Why are you standing there naked, getting cold? Your nipples are puckered. Did you charm me somehow?” He fielded his new wand absently as it flew through the air to him.

“You had better find a more efficient way for me to wake you when it’s your turn to care for the babies,” she responded, her words acerbic, but her eyes fastened in glowing pleasure on his stiffened staff. Hermione had adapted her habits to match Lucius’ preferred lack of nightwear, long since thanking a benevolent Goddess that his horrid, gift pajamas had been an anomaly.

“My turn?” Lucius echoed in dismay. Taking care of two wailing babies with wet nappies? He’d been shamelessly embellishing his abilities to Snape on changing nappies. That was what house elves were for. The blond frowned, “Why in Merlin’s scabby name did you wake… Hermione!” he breathed, wide-eyed, as she merely nodded. “Now? Right now?”

“Come along, Papa, we need to go to St. Mungo’s.” Light contractions had begun skating across her abdomen, pulling at her back muscles in short increments. Her face scrunched up and she rubbed at her naked belly, alarming the blond wizard.

“Oh my Gods,” Lucius scrambled out of bed and ran for the bureau, yanking out a nightgown and pulling it down over his wife’s nude body before running to their closet and returning with her robe and slippers and his clothes. He hopped around, thrusting his legs into his trousers, hurriedly buttoned up a white dress shirt with the buttonholes misaligned, dragged on shoes with no socks and then levitated the little overnight bag that was kept packed for this event to Hermione who was standing there, amused by the uncharacteristic, frantic behavior of her spouse. If she had ever entertained any doubts about his commitment to her and his children, they would have been set to rest with his agitated display.

She didn’t have time to point out that Lucius’ fly was open or his shoes untied. He scooped her up the minute she pulled on her robe and Disapparated, landing with her on the Ob/Gyn upper floor of the hospital and immediately looking around for someone to show them the private birthing room he’d planned and paid for. Hermione sat down in one of the visitors’ chairs.

“You there,” Lucius collared a nurse, “my wife is having twins now. Please fetch our Healer, Witticombe, and show us to her room. The name is Malfoy.” He glared at the young woman who merely leaned to one side and peered around the tall, imperious blond man with his hair sticking out all over and his shirt buttoned all wrong, to look at the very pregnant little witch sitting behind him.

“Mrs…uh, Malfoy, I assume?”

Hermione grabbed Lucius by the seat of his pants and pulled him aside, “Yes, Nurse. Thank you for any assistance you can provide. My water broke.”

“Your water broke? You didn’t tell me that!” Lucius sat down beside Hermione and held her hand, “Are you alright?”

The nurse took that opportunity to go fetch their Healer and find out what room they were in while the overwrought husband was sidetracked by his wife. She was going to mention to the hospital administrator that it would be a good idea to require childbirth lessons for husbands and definitely limit who got to Apparate onto the Ob/Gyn floor without going through Admissions.

Hermione was quickly settled into a fully appointed birthing room organized for a multiple birth and relaxed while her husband paced. “Lucius love, I think it will be a while. Why don’t you return to the house and tell Draco where we are?”

“I’m not leaving you,” he reproved, scandalized. He plowed elegant, unsteady fingers through his pale, messy hair, further harassing the locks and making tangled tufts stick out. “I know! I’ll send an owl.”

He ducked out of the room and Hermione sighed. How could the man run a billion Galleon empire and be such a disorganized mess during childbirth? Then she remembered that Narcissa had had a hard time; perhaps Lucius was frightened. Her heart melted and she gave him a big smile when he returned and started his pacing again. “Come sit with me, Lucius. I want you to hold my hand. I’m a little nervous,” she held out her hand and Lucius came over and sat on the side of the generous bed, angled up at the head for Hermione’s comfort. She truly was a little nervous, but saw that she would unhinge her husband if she betrayed too much anxiety. She sighed again.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. People have twins all the time.” Lucius attempted to reassure both of them, but he began to look terrified when Hermione sucked in a sudden breath as the very mild contractions took an upward leap.

“Oh,” she puffed, “that one was rather intense.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Lucius was running out the door again, bellowing for a nurse. Soon after that Hermione didn’t have time to worry about Lucius’ fears as the waves of contractions escalated quickly.

Healer Witticombe entered briskly with a nurse in tow, organized his paraphernalia and frowned down a frantic Lucius, telling him he could either leave or sit over in the corner. To avert a wizard war, Hermione begged to have Lucius hold her hand and he stepped to her side, grabbed her fingers and glared at the Healer.

“Oh very well, but you stay there. I need to concentrate,” the Healer shrugged. “Fathers,” he muttered under his breath.

Hermione’s moans changed to concerted grunts and pants. When a distraught Lucius opened his mouth, starting to berate the Healer for letting her suffer, Hermione reached up and caught a handful of his pale, mussed hair, which she yanked once, firmly. Lucius gazed in pained surprise at his tiny wife, all wet with perspiration and struggling with her contractions, but he sheepishly relented, dabbing the tail of his dress shirt over her face to dry it instead. Her distracted smile of thanks (plus the familiar hair-pulling) lightened his terror to manageable proportions and minutes later, when the contractions became closer together and she lit into him for fucking her into this mess, Lucius was even able to smile.

As the pain escalated, she lambasted him with a lengthy catalog of all his personality flaws, his persnickety attentions to his wardrobe - piece by cashmere piece, and her plans for blowing up that horrible main drawing room when she finished having his Malfoy spawn, “IF THEY WOULD EVER COME OUT!” she yelled after a particularly strong spasm. Lucius was absurdly happy her wicked tongue was in such fine form. It relieved him tremendously that she was doing fine.

It was only a short time later that she was able to push her two babies individually into the world, only five minutes apart. Tiny bellows of anger split the air, making their proud, exhausted mother grin. “Oh my,” she teased, tired, but jubilant, all her anger forgotten when the doctor held them up for her to see, “they’re yours alright. I’d recognize that ill-tempered roar anywhere.”

The nurse quickly measured, cleaned and wrapped the two babies, handing them both to Hermione to hold as the healer finished up. She placed them on the wide bed on either side of her, unwrapped each of her infants to be sure all fingers and toes were accounted for, then re-wrapped them. Lucius sat dazed on the edge of the bed watching his newborns trying to suck their tiny fists while they gazed blindly at the lights and movement.

“A boy and a girl,” he murmured, awestruck. Lucius dashed away some suspicious moisture from his eyes and gave Hermione one of his pure, beautiful, happy smiles. He gazed in rapture at his children for a moment, then owned, “I confess I was a little worried there for awhile, sprite, but I didn’t want to scare you with my concern,” he announced coolly, raising his chin.

His wife rolled her eyes at the outrageous understatement. “Thank you, Lucius, I do appreciate your tender care of me,” she said, sardonically amused as she looked more closely at her disheveled mate. “I hardly noticed your concern. Truly. You hid it very well, but maybe you should rebutton your shirt, darling, and quit flashing the nurse with your open fly.” Unfortunately, there was some truth in Hermione’s observation; as always, Lucius wasn’t wearing underwear.

Lucius looked down at his crumpled clothing and hissed. “Shite, I look like a perverted derelict!” He fixed his shirt and pants and shot a fleeting, reproachful peek at his wife, but his eyes soon strayed back to his babies like iron filings to a magnet. “They are beautiful, but so little. Are they healthy? I think Draco was a little bigger,” he mused, a touch of worry corrugating his brow again.

“The Healer pronounced them perfectly healthy. My goodness, they had to fit into my limited space and there were two of them in there. Be thankful that they weren’t any bigger. I certainly am,” Hermione shook her head, drawing Lucius’ attention to her matted curls.

A quick wand spell dried Hermione’s hair to its bouncy norm and Lucius grinned. “Better,” he beamed, caressing her tresses in approval. “May I hold one of my children?” he asked, his gray eyes glowing with happiness.

Wordlessly, Hermione offered up the nearest baby, his daughter. Lucius carefully cradled the little bundle in his arms, “Do you see? They both have pale blond fuzz on their heads. Hello, Circe Selene.”

Hermione figured if his daughter took after her father, she would certainly be quite the enchantress, so the name Circe would be apt. Malfoy tradition dictated Greek names for their progeny, but there was a large selection so Hermione hadn’t complained too much. They had each picked out names and since Lucius had chosen to name any daughters, she named their son. “Lucius, meet your new son, Tycho Leander.” Lucius grimaced a bit at ‘Leander’, knowing it meant ‘lion man’ and was a hint at Gryffindor, but then he shrugged philosophically. That House was now firmly part of his future, so it may as well be embraced.

They both smiled, happy with their precious babies. Hermione yawned, but wanted to deal with the godfather question before visitors descended on them. “I think Potter and his wife should be godparents to our daughter. It would be better to have Severus as godfather to our son. I think he would be more at ease with a boy. Yes?”

Lucius looked at his wife. “I would prefer to see Severus trying to be godfather to a doting goddaughter hanging on his ankle and serving him air tea; he needs softer things in his life and a tiny girl depending on him for love could be important to him. Besides, Narcissa will help him and she loves girly things, while you… don’t.”

Hermione frowned, but thought for a moment. Her daughter might want to shop when she got older and of all things, Hermione hated shopping. Having Narcissa as godmother for Circe really was a useful idea. Her husband was right about her own disinterest in the latest eyeliner or trends in footwear. She suddenly smiled and chortled, “Just think! Snape tying a ribbon in his goddaughter’s hair! Oh, Lucius this is going to be fun.”

“It will be good practice for when he becomes a grandfather to Draco’s children,” Lucius replied, lightly touching his daughter’s soft, downy cheek.

“Oh my Gods, I never thought of that.” Hermione laughed at the vision of Snape surrounded by miniature Malfoys. “I’m going to be entertained for years!”

The nurse bustled in and said, “Time to rest. The babies need to be fed, unless you’re going to breastfeed.” At Hermione’s nod, the nurse efficiently set the babies into place and showed Hermione the time-honored technique, then left the couple again.

“Yeouch, this will take some getting used to,” Hermione grumbled.

“It’s as well I did some preparatory work, desensitizing you,” Lucius joked, his fingers running through Hermione’s curls again, soothing them both. “Thank you for our beautiful babies,” he said and then wondered why Hermione abruptly began crying now after the pain was over. He was never going to understand females. Money was so much easier.

~~~~~

Three days later, Hermione and the babies were home again and over the next few weeks a routine of sorts was slowly established. Draco was found most days, absorbed with his half-siblings in the nursery, learning how to care for the babies. His mind wandered into the what-ifs again thinking how it would be to have his own children. That quiet, young witch, Astoria Greengrass, was a taking little thing. Draco cooed to his brother as he rocked baby Tycho to sleep.

Lucius had been backed into reluctantly learning the grosser, more disgusting intricacies of baby care by his indignant older son after his halfhearted excuses were summarily ignored. Draco baldly said his father should start out establishing important paternal ties from the cradle, and becoming familiar with both ends of his progeny was part of it.

Lucius had agreed with an air of martyrdom, but soon mastered the arts of the nappie change and spit-ups. He knew the house elves were laughing at him, but with both his wife and son applying pressure he’d been fairly caught. To his surprise Draco had been right – this hands-on stuff was very rewarding. He was sitting in the other rocker as his daughter nodded off to sleep in his arms. It was an education for both father and grown son, learning the day-to-day joys of babies and finding another bit of closeness to each other in the process.

~~~~~

“Father?” Draco hesitantly gained Lucius’ attention during one of their dual nursery duties.

“Hmm?” Lucius lifted Tycho to his shoulder for a burp. Instant success made the Senior Malfoy smile as he put the sleepy baby down for the night. Circe was already asleep in her cot.

“I…” Draco tried to organize his thoughts. “I’ve been wondering. If I weren’t a Pureblood, would I still be as important to you as Tycho and Circe? I’m not really a child of a love match like they are. So… I just wondered,” Draco trailed off as his father’s head snapped up, a look of disbelief in his face before it morphed into grief.

“Draco! My Gods!” Lucius strode over to his grown child and pulled him unabashedly into his arms. “My Gods,” he said again, “I love you so very much. You’ll always be my special first child.” Lucius was appalled that his firstborn could entertain thoughts of being less than his siblings. “When you were in danger during the last battle, my heart nearly failed thinking you might be dead. I’ve been a very poor father in the past. Stupid, blind, and tangled in the web of the Death Eaters when I was younger than you are now. But being a poor father doesn’t mean I don’t love you more than my own life. You think I only want you for the Pureblood pedigree?” Sire rocked son in his arms as Draco rested his head on his father’s shoulder. “I’m glad you asked, Draco. You can always ask me anything, son. I would want and love you if we found out Narcissa had Troll blood in her family tree.”

Draco snickered and stepped back, smiling at his dad. The idea of beautiful Narcissa having troll blood was ludicrous and the concept lightened the atmosphere.

Lucius dropped his arms, but he wasn’t finished, “I’d welcome a house elf if you brought one home to marry. I only want your happiness and to have the same kind of love I’ve found.”

“Well,” Draco teased, “our upstairs house elf, Tibby, is kind of cute.”

“Just be aware of the difference in your respective…um… sizes,” Lucius said. “And be careful of her if your choice is a virgin – I know whereof I speak.”

Draco gave a wide-eyed stare as a flush decorated his father’s cheeks. “You mean Hermione? Oh Gods, Father, really! Too much information.” Draco blushed, too, but he got the message. His father wasn’t keeping him around as the Pureblood future of the Malfoys. His tension faded and his heart swelled as the last worry about his father’s marriage and new family disappeared. His dad loved him unconditionally. Tacitly closing the subject by mutual consent, father and son went off in great good humor to ride the thestrals over Oxford at night, just as they used to do.

~~~~~

One month later, the precise amount of time Healer Witticombe had told Lucius to wait after healing Hermione’s slight birthing trauma, her eager husband entered their cozy bedroom with a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

“Tonight we can celebrate,” Lucius grinned. “That torturer, Witticombe, has declared you back to your pre-pregnancy health and your anatomy is completely repaired.” He added, “I did ask him not to reinstate your hymen, however.”

“Lucius! You didn’t!” Embarrassed color bloomed on Hermione’s cheeks, reddening them.

“No,” he agreed, chuckling, “I didn’t. I think he knew not to do that as a matter of course.” The blond sorcerer was in an excellent mood and teasing his starchy little wife was rare fun. “It wouldn’t serve any purpose other than to cause you unneeded pain. I do wonder if the Knockturn Alley brothels use the technique for their customers who want to breach a virgin.” Lucius liked pulling his tigress’ tail and waited expectantly for her outraged reaction.

Instead he got an alarmed expression, “Is that what you would really like, Lucius? Is that why you thought of it?”

Lucius groaned. Leave it to Hermione to come up with a twist on the conversation he never meant. When would he learn to keep his teasing innuendos to himself? Now he had to admit, “No, my dear. I was only plucking your puritanical strings. Virgins must be the most overrated commodity in sex to my mind. Frightened caterwauling and no finesse.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but Lucius heard his own comment and hurried to remove his foot from his mouth, “And no, I haven’t had a great deal of experience with them – exactly. You know the worst. I shouldn’t even have told you that much – those groupies were not your business. Let’s drop the subject. I’m sorry I brought it up with my ill-timed teasing.”

“So our celebration is off?” Hermione stifled her desire to ask if Narcissa was on his list of caterwauling virgins. She regretted jumping to such a stupid conclusion with her husband. She knew perfectly well he wasn’t the monster she had initially labeled him. He did have more adventurous tastes in sex than she had ever been familiar with, but those were definitely growing in fascination. He had been demanding, but also protective of her whenever he dabbled in a new form of sex she was unacquainted with, bringing her up to scratch slowly and carefully. And very lovingly.

Lucius blinked in surprise, “Our celebration? Ah, that’s what we started this bizarre conversation with, didn’t we.” Lucius popped the cork on the bottle and poured them both some of the golden liquid. “You can drink liquor again, not that wine was ever of much interest to you. You used to wrinkle your nose every time you took a sip at the dinner table when we were first married. I’ve always wondered why you drank it if you didn’t like it.” He began slipping off his shoes and tie. “You looked so pinched and long-suffering.”

Hermione accepted her glass of champagne and canted her head to one side, gazing in fascination at the bubbles dancing their way from the bottom of the glass to the top. “I did it because it seemed to please you. I see now I was entertaining you rather than pleasing you.” She cautiously sipped her drink and decided champagne was a little better than wine.

Lucius paused in undressing, only one sock left to go, and growled, “Dammit, you did please me. I loved the way your little nose wrinkled and pushed up your eyes to slits. You pursed your lips into a kiss shape and I thought you were adorable. Yes, I was entertained, but more, I was enthralled.” Then he groaned, “Obviously my forte is not emotional support. Severus says I sometimes hurt his feelings, and now I’m hurting yours. I suspect it’s a flaw that won’t disappear.” He sat sadly on the side of the bed, pulling the sock he’d removed through his fingers.

“Lucius,” Hermione put down her glass and sat beside him, “perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I don’t have exquisite sensibilities either. I’m blunt to a fault. Shall we agree that our two personalities complement each other, drink our champagne and get on with shagging each other senseless? I’m hornier than an old maid in a dildo factory. Snape can soothe his own feelings with Narcissa in a good spanking session, although I must say I’m surprised to hear he has any – feelings, I mean. I love you. You love me. Let’s fuck.”

“You know, there are times when your blunt attitude can be downright endearing.” Lucius set aside his sock, grabbed Hermione’s curly hair with both hands, and tumbled her under him on the bed. One of his rare, beautiful smiles that lately were appearing more often, lit his face as he gazed down on the love of his life.

“Mine!” he said.

“Show me,” she challenged.

He did, but it took all night.

tbc...


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