The Taming of the Shrew - Wizard Style - COMPLETE

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Updated 7-18-09 Sat


For this chapter, Lucius is trying to establish a way to communicate – through his formal dinnertime. (no lemons this chapter - sorry).

Answers to Reviews -


Diamond-Helen – If the mini-cooper were available as an inducement, I don’t think the line to marry Lucius would get any longer than it already has – I can’t see the end back there as it is. Lucius and Severus go together like oil and vinegar; they make a great combo, but don’t disappear into each other.

Aleysiasnape – Lucius is discovering his role as master may also go the way of the chartreuse horklump – extinct LOL. Snape and Lucius goad each other as best of friends often do.

BeaBibliophile – The plan has to wait yet awhile. Sorry, Bea. Oh, I do like the interplay between Snape and Lucius, so yin and yang. Definitely an old married couple as Hermione notes later - have you been reading over my shoulder? Woo hoo, picked up two new words: vesicant (ugh), and vesperine (knew Vespers but not the adjectival form). Lucius isn’t used to house pets and his robes show orange fur something awful. Hermione’s Muggle invasion began with the car, but pretty much ends with the laptop, which you never hear about again (unless Lucius discovers porn…hmm…nah. Maybe next story).

Ravenna – I must admit the zombie line is my favorite in the story. Lucius? Raking zen rocks? Maybe for some much-needed serenity about now. This story IS about a shrew.

lemonade8 – Hermione is chosen for a couple of reasons, which will appear later. I’m happy you like the story so far.

magalena - Lucius is so very often ‘up to something’ isn’t he. Hermione is thrust into living the high life and it’s not always a pleasure. Her car gives her a little escape (luckily the Malfoy estate is huge).

HarryGinny4eva – We see more of the real side of Lucius with Severus. He doesn’t need to present a front to the man who knows him better than anyone – except perhaps Narcissa. And you have it perfectly. Lucius doesn’t mind Severus’ marriage but he’s envious of their happiness. Hermione angry is a force of nature. Poor Lucius has stirred up a hurricane. This is a battle of wills between titans. (You know I always have happy endings, right?) I hope you can enjoy the fireworks knowing it will all work out. The good sex will come soon – sort of.

angeles – I glad you like humor, because I especially like writing it. To me Lucius has a sharp, if rather inciting sense of humor.

Rainie – Oh, Rainie, I don’t mean to drive you insane, but a bit of jockeying in their new marriage, including their wedding night has to come first. Severus can be himself with Lucius just as Lucius can relax his snobbish front with Snape (who wouldn’t stand for it, anyway).

jw - The zombie line is my favorite, too. In Hermione’s case, though, Lucius has a lack of confidence because he wants a good marriage and he’s embroiled in one that has started out very poorly, plus he had to send Draco away for the nonce. The plan must be important. It does sound like Crookshanks is having a great time baiting Lucius, stealing into his room and leaving ‘presents'.

Chyara – Is the pace that is going slow for you the plan, or the sex, or just too much Lucius and Hermione dialogue? You didn’t say.

VoraciousReader zeets20@hotmail.com - I suspect Snape’s quite capable of ‘volcanic passion’ under those bleak, black robes of his, don’t you? Would he settle for less after his horrific past? Hermione is independent and starting her own business involving research seemed a natural.

Shechosedown – Laughing – I had to keep the chemistry between Snape and Lucius to their hetero bounds in this fic; it was a heroic and difficult effort. So far, Lucius IS more at ease with Severus. We have a ‘Shrew’ situation here, but you do know that will change over time, right? There is probably a fine line between ‘bitchy/childish’ and ‘fiery/opinionated’, but Hermione has no sympathy for Lucius at this point and is feeling put upon and angry. You have a bit more tussle coming before the ‘wizard-style taming’ occurs. She’s no one’s doormat and he still thinks his status should give him the sole reins in the family. Snape has warned him, but Lucius is old-fashioned that way. (It turned out Hermione was right; Lucius had made it difficult for Crookshanks to get into the mansion by stopping up the conservatory catdoors.)

Pittwitch – Lucius probably has a lot of experience ‘relaxing’ himself. Snape and Lucius are two of a kind as far as conniving goes. Let me know how you view Severus and Narcissa together when they start interacting in the fic.

Katiekrm – Hermione isn’t kowtowing to Lucius in any manageable form. He’s stumped; his experience is all with submissive women or ones he doesn’t care about. It’s forever with Hermione, however. He has to find his way a bit with her.

Jesse – You’ll have to be anxious for one more chapter before things heat up. Hermione is sooo out of her league with a sexual Lucius. Yeah, at least she has her car LOL.

blue artemis – If anyone can find a way to bring a Muggle laptop onto the estate and have it work, it will be Hermione, but with wi-fi traveling through the air, maybe there is no problem. We’ll leave that for her to figure out. Lucius is pinning some of his hopes on that ‘good morning, you hit my butt’ kiss.

Rini – I think there was surprise at the SS/NM pairing, but no real brickbats (from anyone who wrote a review, anyway). Lucius is being bombarded first with a new wife who doesn’t behave as he thinks she should, then learns she has a Muggle auto taking up his barn. Poor man, his life is changing rapidly and he hasn’t the control he thinks should be his by right. Lucius married Hermione partly because of the plan, but it fell into the hopes that Snape and Narcissa thought would be good for him. Draco isn’t in the mansion and won’t be for a long time. But he’s family and Hermione will have to come to terms with him sooner or later (and vice versa).

Lilbitbord – I think the Gringott’s goblins had something to do with Hermione taking ownership of the Mini-Cooper on the estate. Oooh, yes, Lucius will let Hermione out when he’s ready. In the meantime, Hermione will find ways to make her enforced presence known.

Jillianspuzzlebox – I hope this quote from chapter 3 will help you understand Lucius’ stance on blood purity. To him, Hermione and their future children are actually a move forward for his family. I don’t see him having any trouble loving all his children equally. He’s more likely to be overindulgent. What do you think?

In Ch. 3 Lucius says, “My Pureblood way of life and the status derived from it have gone the way of the chartreuse horklump - extinct. Why do you think my family has prospered for these millennia? Because we see our rarified blood as something precious in and of itself? Of course not! It has always been because that rarefied blood translated into status and power. We didn’t give a sow’s tit about the purity of the blood itself. In these times, that same blood purity is dragging us down. I am in a position to have it both ways. Draco can continue with the Pureblood fairytale and I can bring a new plebeian patina to the fortunes of the Malfoys.”

Snapes_Goddess – In other stories I’ve had Lucius and Crookshanks get along. I just wanted to change it up for this fic (it’s probably more realistic, anyway). Hermione and Lucius still have a ways to go before they stop arguing. For me, the Snape-Narcissa marriage turned out to be fun to write. Sigh – I’d choose Lucius to come to life from his character (with my slant on him, of course). Funny you should mention a Hogwarts debating team…

Scary Bear Hair – Hermione can match wits – and barbs – with him easily. He’s not used to that. And Hermione suspected Lucius of ‘disappearing’ her cat and it turned out she wasn’t far wrong. At this point her cat means more to her than Lucius does, plus she doesn’t trust him. Lucius isn’t afraid of Crookshanks. He views the animal as a dirty creature let loose in his home full of heirlooms. And yes to the cat hair on Lucius’ robes. Wow, you never saw the two wizards as friends? I suppose that’s canon – but I never think of them as anything else LOL. Narcissa will show up in a few chapters. The plan will be revealed later – after much sex.

ccrawley – I’m so glad you’re having fun with the story! You’re welcome!


Some smut next chapter.



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Chapter Seven

Clothes Make the Woman



Hermione had managed to hide out in her rooms for three days of dinners on trays, but Lucius now formally requested her presence at all future dinners. She came into the chandelier-lit dining room on this first evening meal with her new husband, nervously scanning the long, highly polished table, wondering where she should sit among the twenty or so chairs standing sentinel around it. Seeing two place settings at the far end, she started down the room, but at that moment Lucius Apparated behind her and took her elbow, escorting her to a chair at the right of the one at the head of the table.

A little frisson traveled up her arm from her elbow. Hermione frowned. No! She wasn’t going to be drawn into his sensuous web. As she sucked in a shaky breath, an odd scent drifted to her heightened senses and she wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?”

“It’s the candles on the dining table. I suppose they should be replaced with unscented ones for eating. I’ve pleased myself with them as I usually ate alone, but I’ll have them changed. It is called Eastern Spice. You don’t care for the scent?” Lucius asked politely as he led her to a chair.

“Not particularly,” Hermione answered honestly. “It makes my nose tickle rather like an irritating pollen.”

“Then I’ll have all the candles changed. Is there a scent you’d like?” Lucius doused the flames of the candles, consigning his longstanding personal fancy to history without too much of a pang. He hoped to replace the Eastern Spice scent with hers soon.

Hermione shrugged, “Not really. Perhaps unscented will be best for now.”

Lucius nodded and also mentally threw out his bottle of Eastern Spice cologne. He could try a dab of the pine-scented one for his first night with her. It had a headier base of enticement charm, but maybe he’d need that anyway. Perhaps she didn’t like smells or cologne. He’d have to find out.

He drew out the chair and handed Hermione into it, pushing it in for her, making her wobble a bit as the movement surprised her. “Normally,” Lucius lectured, “the mistress of the house sits at the foot of the table, but as it is just we two, I’ll forgo tradition and seat you at the honored right side.” He took the chair at the head of the table.

“Do we have to eat here? The table is long enough to seat the entire Wizengamot and all their Pureblood cronies,” Hermione snipped, “and that’s quite a group.”

“I’ve entertained the Wizengamot and my friends all together here before,” Lucius replied unperturbed.

“I’m sure you have.” Her eyes narrowed at the soigné wizard, “Was that before or after Voldemort’s time?”

Lucius gazed at his wife, his manner losing some of its warmth, “After. Perhaps I’ll invite them all to meet you,” he added, needling her as she seemed to want to do to him. “You can arrange the dinner and all the invitations for the event. It will, after all, be one of your duties as my wife.”

“Uh, no thank you,” she said absently, her attention arrested as she gazed in deep dismay at the setting of utensils before her. She could never arrange such a posh party. She didn’t even know what to do with the setting in front of her. Three forks on the left and one at the top of her plate. A spoon at the top of the plate and another on the right with three knives. At least she knew the little plate with its own knife must be the butter plate and knife. The proliferation of stemware was thoroughly bewildering – how many glasses did one need for a meal?

Hermione looked at Lucius to see what was expected of her and got an expectant stare, which finally turned frigid. Did he think she knew what to do? Was she supposed to begin the meal somehow? There was no food!

After seating Hermione and himself, Lucius waited courteously for her to ring the bell for the first course. He’d missed lunch to close a financial deal that had taken forever to finish with the skittish investors – more of the proliferating nastiness - and he was now starving and his positive mood was fraying at the edges. It had further deteriorated with Hermione’s not so subtle dig at his political bent.

When Hermione merely sat there looking at him apprehensively as though he were going to jump her at any minute, Lucius said shortly, “My dear, we’re only going to have dinner, I’m not going to throw you down on the table top.” Hunger was making his temper flare and he jabbed unkindly, “At least not until the end of the week.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm, “You… you… have sex in here?” She looked wildly at the table imagining all sorts of inappropriate behavior, mostly consisting of missionary sex among the forks. Her experience of sexual activities was severely limited, but her fear was all too real. Who knew what the dissolute rich did in their homes?

Lucius blinked at her naïveté then frowned and flung at the little witch, “Of course. It’s where I deflower all my virgins – although you still have several weeks of grace left before I start inviting all my friends round to have you on the table. I usually tell them to line up in alphabetical order, but if you have a preference tell me ahead of time, so it doesn’t look like you’re playing favorites.

“My Gods,” he bit when he saw the alarmed doubt still rampant in Hermione’s face after his ludicrous sally, “what kind of beast do you think I am? We won’t have sex in the formal dining room. Do your parents screw on their dining table?” The famished wizard snidely remarked, “Why would you ever think I would use my formal dining table for any purpose but eating off it?” forgetting that he had intimated that very thing not a minute before.

Lucius suddenly remembered an incident in the first year of his previous marriage when he and Narcissa had sneaked into this ornate room while his mother was still alive; he actually had eaten off the table – but it was Narcissa who was the meal. Lucius colored up and made Hermione even more worried and not a little angry.

“You don’t have to bait me, Lucius. How should I know what vicious Death Eaters do for fun? Oh, hang on a minute, I do know what they do. They torture innocent females.”

“It was a war, Hermione,” her husband said wearily, trying not to remember the murders both Voldemort and Bellatrix had committed in that main drawing room. “Did you consider yourself innocent? I would have said you were right in the middle of the whole mess and causing mayhem of your own, bringing down the Dark Lord. Am I wrong and you were merely a sweet, innocent bystander unjustly drawn into the fray?”

Hermione mulishly primmed her lips, saying nothing. What could she say? She glared ferociously at the blond wizard, indignant at his description of her fighting for the freedom of the wizarding world against the repugnant overlord. She was reluctantly intrigued by glimpses of a forceful, sharp intellect, but his history of animosity against her kind still riled her on a primitive level.

Hermione knew her new husband had all the power here; she sensed it seething as it was held ruthlessly in check and it gave her a perverse pleasure to watch him attempting to control what she was sure was his true, vicious nature. Teasing a dragon in his den wasn’t a smart thing to do, but she was terribly tempted.

Lucius clenched his teeth in an attempt to keep from snapping at the young woman, took a huge breath and began more calmly, “Shall we try to close that unsettling chapter of our mutual history and look forward rather than back?” He wanted to eat, not fight. “I’ve seen what happens to you when you let the past intrude on your mind. I know this house may have horrible memories for you, but you should try to let go of whatever you can. It can’t be healthy for you to relive those events over and over. I know. Some of my Death Eater days I would like to forget. Unless I decide to be obliviated, and I’ve contemplated it, I’ll have to find a way to live with what I’ve done in the past.”

“But that’s the difference,” Hermione leaned forward earnestly. “You did those things. I had them done to me. The feeling of being completely helpless to protect myself was a corrosive that ate away at my confidence until I had to have help to cope. I’ve managed to piece together my battered psyche, but apparently if the trauma is too close to the original event, I still have trouble.”

Lucius nodded, “And I was to blame for that. I apologize for my thoughtless lack of consideration. It was not done on purpose.” When Hermione gave a brief answering nod, he continued, “I suspect your trauma is not so different from mine. Being under the thumb of the Dark Lord was a constant feeling of helplessness. However, I take your point. Well,” Lucius leaned back in his chair, “enough of dark subjects. If you wish to discuss this again, we will. Later. For now, I’d like to eat and we can discuss more pleasant subjects, like marital relations.”

“You said I could have a week before we, um…,” Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance at her thready voice. She sounded like she was frightened of the wizard when it was merely… distaste at the idea of being intimate with him. Although he did kiss as though he’d invented it and he made a very attractive picture in his formal suit, his tall, masculine frame enhancing the sharp black and white of his evening wear. No one could deny the man was striking. She felt a little breathless and firmly put it down to fear.

“Yes, I said one week. And at the end of the week, I am not going to consummate the marriage here on the dining room table so you may relax and enjoy the meal.” Lucius smiled mirthlessly at her groundless misgivings, making her feel the fool. In the next second though, he slid a vaguely disdainful glance at Hermione’s apparel and couldn’t help remarking, “I would like to send an assistant from Madam Malkin’s to your apartments to take your measurements. You will need a whole wardrobe if that is the extent of your evening wear.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” Hermione had decided to wear her most conservative dress to dinner to try to fit in; Lucius’ opinion of her wardrobe stung.

“It’s a casual day dress, it’s the wrong material for evening wear and worst, it’s in a color I wouldn’t shame a corpse with. It looks like you’re dressed in ashes. Why would you choose such a somber hue? It deadens your skin from its pretty porcelain to waxy yellow.”

Hermione flared, “The man who wears fluorescent, writhing snakes on his pajamas dares to judge my wardrobe? My ash gray dress is haute couture next to those horrors.”

Lucius raised a haughty eyebrow, “Those pajamas were given to me by Draco when he was ten. They are a cherished gift…that I never wore until I needed to cover up for you. I normally don’t bother with nightwear. I’ll return to my normal nudity from now on.”

Ignoring Hermione’s shocked stare, Lucius added, “You can ring the bell anytime. I’m ravenous and I’d appreciate being served sometime before the next Ice Age.” He snapped his napkin, unfurling it from its meticulous folds, made it into a triangle and spread it in his lap. He was so hungry the table candles were starting to look tasty. If she didn’t ring that damned bell soon he might be tempted to have her on the table for dinner instead. The idea was beginning to grow on him even as his fuse shortened.

Hermione’s eyes flashed with her rising anger at his insensitive comments after they had managed to converse with a little amity…uh… huh? What? He…he thought she had pretty skin? Completely distracted, Hermione avoided Lucius’ eyes and looked around her place setting to find a tiny silver bell at her elbow. She shook it vigorously a couple of times and silvery chimes rang like a clarion throughout the room.

“No need to alert the Ministry we’re being served, one small flick will suffice. You slung that bell like an alcoholic town crier,” Lucius said testily, out of charity with the witch for wearing what looked like a knitted potato sack – and yet now he did want to put her on the table – for dessert.

He didn’t want to discuss marital relations, he wanted to do them. He was deprived, that was all. She shouldn’t look so edible, but he knew his desire had been slowly coming to a boil with the prospect of having his own wife at his beck and call. Why had he caved at the lost look in her eyes at breakfast and given her a week’s grace before he came to her bed? Apparently he hadn’t been thinking very well with either head.

“Lucius, if you don’t want me to make mistakes, don’t set me up to fail. Ring the stupid bell yourself next time.” Hermione put her own napkin on her lap and watched as the first course appeared at her place. She was quite hungry, having snacked her lunch at her desk while she ran some numbers for one of her reports.

First there was the subtle clearing of a masculine throat when she failed to scrape her spoon correctly on the bowl, but when Hermione picked up a fork to start on the lovely salad, she nearly dropped it again when Lucius barked, “Not that fork. The outside fork. Always start with the outside fork. Have you no table manners at all?”

Well, their brief détente was well and truly over, she fumed. “It’s not too late to rescind the marriage contract,” Hermione said, treacly acid dripping in her words. “We’ve not consummated this farce of a marriage yet.” Her voice slid into outright censure and her eyes narrowed in a rather good imitation of his forbidding visage, “If I’m required to navigate this minefield of utensils and their uses, please provide a schematic so I can study the layout. For now, I’m hungry and I don’t need you berating me at every bite.” Hermione defiantly used the fork she had selected and proceeded to enjoy her salad, a glowering Lucius grumbling under his breath about the ungrateful lower classes.

Hermione began to find the meal more amusing when she discovered that many of the utensils she misused made her new husband frantic. As the meal continued she started to feel sorry for the urbane wizard who was seeing his cherished, traditional etiquette demolished with, she admitted, some deliberate sabotaging of the fussy rules that even she knew were wrong.

The highlight of the meal for her was when she tucked her napkin into the top of her dress and plopped both elbows onto the table as she ate. The look on the blond wizard’s face was priceless – she was actually a little concerned he’d pop a blood vessel the way his pupils dilated and his cheeks turned red.

The napkin necklace was more than Lucius could take and his voice told her she was dancing on his last nerve. “Hermione,” he growled, very slowly and very low, his voice producing a shivery sensation that tightened secret places she didn’t want to think of, “If you don’t remove that napkin and take your elbows off the table immediately you will be taking your meals standing up for the next week. Do you remember at the Registry Office when I wondered how you would behave when I put you over my lap? I think you’re about to find out.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed and took the napkin out of the neckline of her dress. Putting her arms back down off the table she taunted, “I was merely covering up this dress you hate so much. My concern was all for you, dearest.”

Lucius sat still, assessing the little witch’s unerring stab at one of his Achilles heels. He was a snob. He knew it. He delighted in it. His little wife was courting his wrath by making the traditional, social mealtime into a travesty, lampooning his cherished values. There was no reason to change the manners of a lifetime just to accommodate one annoying, bratty, mocking… feminine, attractive, sexually appealing… hmm…well… possibly a slight loosening of his formal etiquette at the dinner table when it was only the two of them would be permissible. He and Snape did have an agenda after all. And alienating her before he got her in bed wasn’t good tactics, either.

Accepting Hermione’s endearment, ‘dearest,’ as his due and making her lips prim up once again, annoyed at the failure of her jab, Lucius nodded regally at his wife, “I only wish to acclimatize you to the table manners you will need to display when we are among my peers,” he explained. “Elbows on the table at a society dinner is akin to carrying a “We Love Lancelot” sign in the King Arthur’s Day parade. It’s just not done.” He addressed his broccoli, slicing a piece off and delivering it delicately to his mouth as he lifted a disapproving eyebrow.

“Oh dear, and would my St. Gryffindor Slaying the Slytherin Dragon poster insult your peers, do you think?” she asked, all innocence. “Perhaps I shouldn’t hang it in the main entry hall after all. In any case, I have no sympathy for Sir Lancelot. He should have kept his lance in his hose.”

Hermione pressed her slim hand to her chest drawing Lucius’ eyes to the bounty he now owned and would become familiar with in one week. He gritted his teeth at her sarcasm and also at the strong twitch in his trousers smashing his lance down one pant leg with no way for him to stand and readjust himself. Sweet hell, when was the last time Narcissa had made him hard at the dinner table? He hadn’t had to worry how he was arrayed in his trousers for years. He used his knife and fork and began eating again, desperately thinking of an investment he was pondering on broomsticks with multi-gear stirrups to try to relax the large lump currently throbbing against his thigh.

Hermione watched Lucius refocus on his dinner, only a faint frown marring his brow, and she quit baiting her husband. He really was too easy. Perhaps he had a point. If she had to attend any of the society dinners she had only read about in the Daily Prophet she wouldn’t like to embarrass herself; she didn’t care about Lucius’ feelings, but she had some pride of her own. She’d been shanghaied into this new life and she would try to conquer it as she always did with any challenge. She refused to give the man sitting across from her, correcting her every breath, the idea she was a cipher in this marriage.

One would think the whole social structure of the wizarding world was crumbling to hear Lucius expound on all her deficiencies at table by the end of the meal. Her spirited defense of her table manners left both of them with indigestion, but when she offered, Lucius refused her idea of returning to eating in her room, insisting that she eat all future evening meals with him.

Overall, their first dinner together was an interesting view of the world of the very rich, which nevertheless Hermione thought stilted and overly formal when it was just the two of them there at the table.

Even the personal gesture of seating her, pushing her chair in for her before seating himself, made Hermione feel awkward. It was difficult enough receiving the old-fashioned courtesies from a man who ignited a squirmy feeling in her belly when she looked at him. Trying to make dinner conversation and measure up to his level of cosmopolitan intelligence, wit, and humor, without all the time knowing she was going to have to sleep with him soon was worse. The whole situation made her upset and snippy, rather than trying to emulate his good manners.

She did learn one important lesson at dinner. When her husband had reached the end of his patience and explosion was imminent, he would give her one caution. “Be still,” was all he said, but the menace behind those two low-voiced words were enough to silence her rejoinders for a while until he simmered down.

Oddly, as her reprieve week wore on, those two words became a sort of Holy Grail for Hermione. She would push with a variety of querulous and combative comments until she got those words and then was satisfied she had got under his skin. Unfortunately, as her courage increased, she heeded his warning advice less.

Lucius could already tell that a painful reckoning was building in her future if she couldn’t keep her surly remarks to a minimum. One didn’t twist a Slytherin’s tail with impunity. But Gryffindors were ever known for their incautious natures and that thought put a grim smile on the Pureblood wizard’s face.

After dinner, when she was sure she was dismissed, Hermione spent the rest of the evening in her sitting room studying the fine points of table manners from a slim volume she found in the main mansion library. She would be better prepared next time she sat down to eat with the platinum-haired, etiquette monitor. The assistant from Madam Malkin’s was another issue, which she took up with Lucius the next morning.

~~~~~

Hermione knocked on the door of the study and heard, “Come,” peremptorily from within. She boldly opened the dark green, painted door with the gold-trimmed lever and sailed in, coming to a halt several steps inside. Her shocked brown eyes had trouble understanding what they were seeing. She’d been in there before but hadn’t processed the room in its entirety because the room had been wrapped in late afternoon rain shadows; plus, she’d been worried for her pet and prepared for a major fight with her husband. Crookshanks had come home, just like Lucius said it would.

She remembered the desk and the little statuette but the room this morning was a revelation. It radiated light from three tall, beveled glass windows in ornate, lead-soldered designs, along the outside wall, and a huge skylight above. Had she really threatened to break one of those windows? She finally looked for her husband and found Lucius at his desk at the far end of the large room facing her like before, his back to those magnificent windows.

“Hermione,” he cocked his head sideways in mute question, “did you require something?” One honey-color eyebrow rose, “Something the elves cannot provide?” Lucius stood up politely and circled the desk to come closer to his wife who was still entranced by the radiant room. It would be too much to ask, he knew, that she had decided to set aside his promise of a week’s respite and get started on their consummation immediately, so he waited patiently for her to finish staring at his study.

He was justly proud of the place where he conducted his financial empire. Many of his new business associates gained confidence in his abilities when confronted with the splendor of his working domain. The room was a beautiful, restful space with several easy chairs flanking the long, matching sofa near the fireplace where Severus had lain. A low table served the sofa and chairs. The bar on the wall nearby allowed him to serve his guests their choice of libation without having elves popping in and out.

Lucius’ desk was large and made of a dark oak as was the wainscoting around the room, but the dark décor was more than set off by the light that poured into the room from outside and the embossed, ivory wallpaper. Numerous orbs and some decorative lamps dotted all over the room would dispel the shadows if needed. Hermione saw that his study was a reflection of his bedroom suite. He must like the look if he chose to live in it both waking and sleeping.

Plank flooring rubbed to a high shine ran under several Kirman rugs, which provided the room with a warm kaleidoscope of color for the otherwise stark colors of the room. Only the easy chairs and sofa provided any other splash of color, being solid green leather. Lucius liked the Kirman rugs, which had intricate multicolor patterns that entertained his eye while he thought through new plans or mulled over a prospectus.

On the wall where Hermione had entered were cubbyholes from floor to ceiling packed with parchments all rolled neatly and tucked into the small spaces. She realized Lucius didn’t have to rise from his desk to summon any of the parchments, he merely had to accio whichever one he wanted. It was a sumptuous room, but still retained a consciousness that important work got done there.

“Hermione?” Lucius said again as he took her elbow and led her to one of the green leather chairs, seating her and settling in another. “Would you care for a drink?” He gestured to the bar on the wall. Lucius made a mental note - he had to remember to have the elves replenish his supply of nuts. Severus had picked through the lot and removed all his favorites.

Hermione saw the green leather pieces were longtime inhabitants of the room. They were slightly shabby in a timeless, old wealth sort of way. She sat hesitantly on the edge of one seat and faced the wizard who was now her husband, as he made himself more comfortable in another of the green chairs.

“No, thank you.” She inhaled and launched into her reason for visiting his study again, “Lucius, I want to know precisely what this assistant from Madam Malkin’s is going to do and what she will want from me. I’m not happy going into this knowing nothing. An owl arrived after lunch saying someone would be out tomorrow at ten. You set the appointment up, Lucius. What did you tell them? What do you want from her? If I am going to be chatelaine of this pile, I don’t want you to keep making decisions on my behalf without consulting me.”

Lucius was startled at the questions. What else would a dressmaker want from a client than fittings and discussions of styles and fabrics? He sat up more alertly in the leather chair and tried to understand why Hermione would waste his time asking such obvious questions. He gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was using her query as an excuse to see him. Not a chance. A glance at her hands informed him that she was agitated; she was clutching the chair arms, denting the leather. How odd.

“She will be consulting with you about the whole new wardrobe I ordered. Was there anything else?” Lucius tried to be polite, but he had hoped to get through a convoluted prospectus before lunch and it didn’t look like that was going to happen now.

“Will you vet all my decisions or will I be allowed to make my own choices? You didn’t like the dress I wore at dinner. Are you going to be the final arbiter of my clothing? If so, then you entertain the assistant while I do something more important with my time.”

“If I choose your clothing, all you will have is a vast array of filmy, see-through negligees cut up to your navel and a thong or two.” He smiled seductively, his icy eyes half-closed as though he were envisioning her with one of those items on.

“Be serious, please. I need an answer.”

“I am serious. I haven’t let you off the estate yet and if I have the choosing of your clothing, you’ll not be going anywhere for a long time but between our bedrooms.” He looked more closely at his new mate, “Would you like me to look over your choices?” It occurred to him she was quite capable of telling any shop assistant where the woman could shove her fabrics. What did Hermione really want from him?

"No. If you don’t think I can choose suitable clothing, then you choose for me and I’ll decide if I’m willing to wear it.”

“The assistant can help you with those decisions. I don’t understand what you are asking me to do,” Lucius spread his hands in front of him before settling them negligently back on the arms of his chair.

“It’s the ‘whole new wardrobe’ idea you have. What constitutes a whole wardrobe? A few dresses, slacks, some underwear? Or will I be selecting skiing apparel, swimsuits, formal evening dresses, cheerleading outfits, snow parkas, Quidditch jerseys, what? I don’t want to be sold items I’ll never use. I’m going into this uninformed. I haven’t a clue what your set does for entertainment or recreation.” Hermione scooted back in her chair and found her feet didn’t quite touch the floor.

“I imagine you’ll insist on wearing slacks occasionally,” Lucius grimaced. He liked skirts on females both for admiring their legs and for ease of access. “The cheerleading outfit sounds amusing – we could role play with you as head cheerleader and me as the winning Quidditch captain,” Lucius raised his eyebrows expectantly, a slight smile dancing in his wintry eyes. All he got from his wife was a slight shake of her head and a long-suffering sigh. “So you’ve never played a part during sex?” he asked.

“What I have and haven’t done isn’t your concern,” an edge of disquietude at his offer colored her voice. “Just give me a list of clothing I’ll need to have made. I’ll let you get back to your finances,” Hermione pushed forward and eased down from her chair. She quickly walked toward the door and was almost there when Lucius’ low voice washed over her, “Soon, Hermione. And think about the role-playing. I can be an excellent pirate captain rather than a Quidditch captain if that’s what will float your boat. I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

Hermione scurried out of the study and closed the door very quietly. As she walked down the hall she wondered what Lucius would look like with a pirate’s blousy shirt and tight pantaloons. She frowned. Why couldn’t she be the pirate captain? She bit her lip at the unsettling thought and walked faster, only breathing more easily as she entered and closed the door to her sitting room.

~~~~

The ‘get together’ as Lucius liked to refer to it, loomed closer and closer until there was only one day left. Hermione had already had a taste of being in the same bed as her new husband but the idea still spooked her badly. The thought of entering his bedroom knowing what they were going to do made her all twitchy inside. She worried she was going to throw up from nerves.

She shakily giggled to herself – she supposed it could have been worse, as the platinum-haired prat had pointed out. She could have been matched with Gregory Goyle, but she would have run rings around him, controlling him instead of him controlling her. She knew she couldn’t have borne being married to such a lump.

Next to all the other horrible options – Fenrir Greyback and his fetid breath touched an icy finger to her spine - she assured herself that coupling with a wickedly attractive male like Lucius was almost romantic. But still she was unnerved by her advancing fate. She felt every second tick by in despair.

tbc...


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I’m torn – several of you are impatient to know what Lucius and Snape have planned and, of course, that’s the main plot, but I’ve designed the story to initially have Lucius and Hermione coming to terms with their hasty marriage in these early days. So – sadly – there are a few chapters of smut to get through first before we get to the place where Lucius decides it’s politic to tell Hermione his plans. I guess I could cut out those smut chapters if there is overwhelming desire for the plan to unfold immediately. Let me know...

Meanwhile don't forget to check out the accompanying pics for this chapter at:

http://labibliographe.livejournal.com/46194.html

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