Eleven

Voldemort plus ten: 2008

The time: Saturday morning and the period up to Christmas

The Place: everywhere, but starting at Hermione's flat

Hermione watched Severus sleep. As he so often did, he had pushed his pillows off the bed and lay splayed out on his stomach, his hair unbound and all over the place. She wound a lock of it around her finger, gently, to avoid waking him. It was thick, coarse and straight, almost like a horse's tail. In fact, she thought, with the wrong shampoo and a following wind, he'd probably look like a Thelwell pony. She loved his hair. He sighed and shifted but settled again into immobility, so she got up and left him to sleep.

"Morning, Lucius," she said as she went to the bathroom.

Lucius was sitting with a cup of tea and a book, elegant bare feet crossed on the coffee table.

"Good morning, Hermione," he replied when she emerged. "Shall I make you some tea?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll have coffee," she said.

It struck her, while she was filling the cafetiere, that she had just had the most ridiculously banal exchange with Lucius Malfoy, of all people, and that it had felt entirely normal to find him, ex-Death Eater and ex-all-round nemesis #2, drinking tea in her armchair early on a Saturday morning. And her bed was occupied by her ex-professor, ex-bane-of-existence, Severus Snape. How life had changed in a mere few weeks. What, she wondered, had become of the Hermione Granger, ex-sidekick-of-Potter-and-Weasley, that she had been.

She sat down at the kitchen window and stared unseeing at the chilly day outside. "And what now?"

She didn't realise at first that she had spoken the thought aloud.

"What now, indeed," said Lucius from the doorway. "Well, there will be some work involved in setting up the business for your Prime Minister, and the three of us still have to liberate the Duchess, which won't be all that easy if you insist on our leaving no trace –"

"I do."

"We haven't left all the fun behind, you know," he continued, pulling the other chair to the little table and seating himself. Their knees brushed. "This is really a very small space you inhabit, Hermione."

"Yes, but it's mine."

"Just like Severus – he won't get rid of Spinner's End, even though he barely sets foot in the place. Where is he, by the way?"

"Still asleep. He was exhausted last night. I'm still too hyped to need much myself, yet."

"It's a remarkable show of trust, you know, that he should sleep so deeply in your presence, and without setting any protections."

"And in yours," she replied.

"It took him years, you know." Lucius sighed. "But I shouldn't be surprised, really. After all, it would be a sorry day for the Malfoys when a friend could feel secure in my house. Do you trust me, Hermione?"

"Of course I don't, Lucius," she deadpanned, rather taken aback to find that she was lying.

"Thank you, my dear," he said. "You do reassure me. Now, let us crank up your computer and continue our investigation of Muggle security systems."

*

"I think using a general burst of magic to sabotage the electronics is the best way to go," Hermione was arguing. "It'll look like a power cut, and it will give us a good few minutes' leeway to effect the swap."

They were heads together staring at the computer screen, Lucius' arm draped across the back of Hermione's chair, when Severus walked blearily into the kitchen. He stopped to watch for a minute before making his presence known. It was odd, he thought, that he should feel neither the jealous rage of his youth nor the cold contempt of later years, but instead a warm pleasure that the two people he cared for apparently liked each other.

"Look," she continued, lifting Lucius' hand off the mouse so she could take charge of it. "Given the placement of the staff quarters, it would take the quickest of them about six minutes to get there, and that's assuming they think an intruder is after the Duchess and not some of the more portable items."

"Why not just send everyone to sleep and use Disillusionment to fool the cameras?" asked Lucius.

"What, and ruin my James Bond moment?"

"Actually, you both have a point," Severus interjected.

"Good afternoon," said Lucius.

"Ha very funny," he replied, reaching for a mug and the coffee pot. "Hermione, I've told you about assaulting me when I'm carrying hot liquids."

"What do you mean?" she said, adding, "About us both having a point."

"Making sure the staff don't wake inopportunely will be necessary. There looks to be an emergency power supply for the security systems which will almost certainly set off the alarms, and I am not convinced that six minutes will be sufficient time for us effect the exchange. And effecting the exchange will necessitate the use of magic, so the security systems are definitely going to go haywire. We should remember to make sure that there is a major glitch in the electricity supply to the whole area if it is not to look as though there's been some funny business." He took a mouthful of coffee, grimacing. "Hermione, why can't you be thoroughly English and drink tea in the morning? But to continue, Hermione is absolutely right about leaving no trace at all – remember the PM is now alert to us, and besides which, there are certain people in the Auror section who would jump at the flimsiest excuse to flay you alive, Lucius, and probably wouldn't say no to having a go at me."

"And we must think about how devastated our Hermione would be if anything happened to us, wouldn't you, my dear?"

"No, it's quite all right, Lucius – I've already forged both of your wills in my favour."

"Slytherin wench! Snape, we did it – we finally corrupted a Gryffindor!"

"Is there no end to our brilliance, Malfoy?"

"Oooh, you are awful!" giggled Hermione.

"But you like us," Severus said, ruffling her hair. "Now, get out of the kitchen, the pair of you, and let me cook breafast."

*

The pile of papers on Arthur's desk never seemed to get any smaller, though Hermione found she was less obsessive about clearing it each day than she had been. She resettled the quill she was using to hold her hair in its untidy bun and deposited the papers that were ready for the Minister's signature. A quick glance at the diary confirmed that he was due back from the Wizengamot session in twenty minutes, which gave her time to whizz through the latest press releases before doling out his next batch of tasks. Life as the Minister's aide had become much easier as a result of the recent crisis, and she had no intention of letting him slip back into his old ways.

"Anything new from the PM's office, Matthew?" she asked the portrait of the frog-faced little man. She looked a little closer. "You don't look well, you know. What's up?"

"Boat race with the nymphs downstairs last night," he said, collapsing into his uncomfortable-looking chair. "Merlin's balls, but those girls can drink! Let me sleep, woman! And no, nothing new." He pulled his wig down over his eyes and began to snore gently.

The clock ticked, the fire crackled, and the quiet was punctuated by Matthew's grunts. Towards the end of the afternoon, there were generally few if any visitors to the Minister's office, so Hermione kicked off her shoes and curled into one of the large armchairs with her work. She forced herself to concentrate on honing the plausibility of the half-truths she was preparing for the Prophet, but her heart wasn't really in it. Two weeks back working full-time at the Ministry, and the one thing she was absolutely sure about with regard to her job was that she didn't want to do it any more. But what else could she do that would guarantee her freedom from boredom and distance from the stranglehold the Ministry had on her life? As yet, she didn't know, but whatever it was, she was determined to find it soon. She glanced at the clock and frowned. Arthur was late, and she had to speak to him before leaving for the evening. What she really wanted to be doing was working on the arithmantic component of the reproduction of properly-aged pigments in the forged painting.

She was just getting more creative with the truth than was her habit (I'm keeping bad company, she thought wryly) when Arthur finally walked through the door. He looked a little frazzled.

"Ah, Hermione – there's something I want your opinion on, if you don't mind," he said.

"Will it take long? We need to prioritise the week's tasks, and I have to get going," she replied, slipping her shoes back on and standing.

"Seeing Severus? Funny that you two should have become so close..." Arthur hurriedly switched off his avuncular mode in the face of her frown. "No, not long. I just want your opinion about something that came up in the Chamber today."

"Go on," said Hermione, knocking her papers into a neat stack on the desk.

"It's just that, well, seeing Malfoy after all this time, and thinking about things that have happened, and, well..."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Well, the Wizengamot doesn't like it much, but it's ten years since You-Know-Who was killed, and it feels like a milestone to me." He looked at her, seeking agreement. "And, well, I think that the Ministry ought to invite everyone who isn't actually in Azkaban to the V10 Yuletide ball – an amnesty, if you like, or a sign that we've moved on."

"Not that we have," said Hermione, thinking of how Lucius continued to be ostracised, and Severus barely accepted.

"You're right, of course," Arthur sighed. "But if we make the gesture, perhaps it'll get things moving in the right direction. What do you think, Hermione?"

She considered it for a moment.

"You're a good man, Arthur, and I think it's a good idea. Mind you, I don't know how many of the people who did well under Voldemort will come, and it might make for a tricky atmosphere, but if you really want my opinion, it ought to be attempted. Not that the Wizengamot will listen to me."

"They don't have to," said Arthur, taking his place at the desk. "In certain matters, I have the power to ride roughshod over them."

"It's certainly something that ought to be done on a regular basis," she said wryly. "I've been a bit hard on you lately, haven't I, Arthur?"

He squeezed her hand.

"You've changed, Hermione. Since taking up with Severus and spending time with Malfoy, you've changed, and it worries me, you know."

She squeezed back, before pulling up her own chair.

"I haven't changed. I've just got fed up with pretending to be something I'm not, with accepting the role that's been thrust upon me. And, just to give you a little warning – you know that question I asked the PM? I've been asking it of myself a lot lately, and I keep getting the same answer he gave. Just thought you ought to know," she finished, feeling a little guilty.

"I can't say I'm surprised," sighed Arthur. "Though I wish you could have found it out in other company – people more suited to you. Now, let's get through this quickly. I'd better get my money's worth while you're still here."

*

People more suited to me. The thought came back to Hermione a few days later, as she found herself in the middle of another row with Lucius. Once again, they had been making good progress with reproducing Rubens' pigments when Lucius lost his temper over a failure to correctly integrate her formulae and Severus' concoctions into the final Transfiguration. She had been working quietly on the next set of calculations, and analysing some flakes of paint. One part of the Transfiguration Room at the Manor was set aside for her and equipped with a comfortable desk and chair, good lighting, and bookshelves which were magically connected with the library so that she might change her selection without making the long trek there and back. It was a good place to work, and Lucius was an ideal study companion, quiet when necessary, available for discussion when he was not too absorbed in his own part of the endeavour, and generally good company. With Severus much occupied either in the Potions laboratory in the basement or with his duties at Number Ten, she was thrown together with him a good deal, which she found far from disagreeable.

Apart from sometimes.

Lucius did, after all, have an unpredictable and explosive temper. And it really, really got on her wick when he lost it just as she was coming to the most delicate parts of a complex problem, and made her lose the thread completely.

Hermione was also possessed of a temper, and little by little, Lucius was bringing it out of her.

Which was why, that particular evening, they were both yelling as loudly as they could, right into each other's faces. Eventually, they had to draw breath, and Hermione realised that Lucius was very close to her indeed. She was suddenly very conscious that she could feel his breath on her lips. And with her own consciousness of the fact came a change in his expression that made her want to step back, but she was already too near to her table to allow it.

She swallowed.

"Back off, Lucius," she said. "I'm going to go and work somewhere else until you can learn not to explode over every little setback."

"I don't think I want you to do that," he said, not moving. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

"Don't!" she said. "Don't even think about it. Now is not the time." Oh, shit – where did that come from?

"And when will be the time, Hermione?" he enquired.

"Don't hold your breath."

"Perish the thought," he replied, leaning infinitesimally closer to her.

She let loose a stinging hex just as Severus entered the room.

"What's going on here?" he said, frowning. "Lucius, are you annoying Hermione?"

"Just a little game, Severus. I promised Hermione that she could only have a kiss if she could land five curses, that's all."

"Oh! You... you... utter twat!" she gasped, rapidly landing three more stingers and another hex that he couldn't immediately identify, before slamming out of the room.

Severus gave Lucius a suspicious glare, the effect somewhat mitigated by what seemed to be an uncontrollable twitch of the lips.

"I suggest you tell me exactly what has been going on, and do it right now, before I feel obliged to add to the collection of welts Hermione has given you."

"She won't thank you for fighting her fights, you know," said Lucius, licking at the sore spot on the back of his hand. "Oh, stop looming, man – it's nothing at all."

Severus hitched himself up onto Hermione's desk and pointed Lucius to the chair, where he made himself comfortable, legs extended before him and ankles crossed.

"So – spill the beans. I thought you had too much respect for her to try the sort of cheap tricks I interrupted just now."

Lucius eyed the wand that was casually trained on his heart.

"Indeed I do." He raised a fingertip to delicately redirect the weapon. It moved unwaveringly back. "Oh, stop being all alpha-male at me, dear boy. I taught you the trick and I'm even better at it than you. And you can forget the eyebrow thing, too, since I watched you spend hours in front of a mirror holding the other one down when you were eleven."

Severus lowered his wand.

"Get on with it then."

"It's simple enough. I meant what I said before, Severus – the three of us do work well together, but world domination of any variety is never going to be as much fun without Hermione's full participation. All I needed was for her to start flinging a few hexes around and slamming doors. She's crossed a line, and I have no need to push her any further – she's lost her inhibitions about me, and she can start to feel less like a guest in this house."

Lucius smiled smugly.

"Mission accomplished."

"You might one day come to reconsider the wisdom of letting her get so close," smirked Severus. "She's a dab hand with jinxes and the like."

"Are you sure? That last one – I didn't feel any pain at all."

"Oh, you will, my friend – you will." Severus sauntered to the door, where he turned and permitted himself a grin. "Catch!" Conjuring a mirror, he tossed it to Lucius.

Hermione was not the only person who slammed doors in Malfoy Manor that night. And while there was a good deal more shouting and name-calling before Severus could restore calm, Lucius was proved to have been prescient concerning the outcome of his strategy. After all, it is a little difficult to retain one's remaining reservations about a man with a full head of candy-pink poodle curls.

*

Spending an inordinate amount of time and money on her appearance for the Yule Ball at the Ministry would seem to have been a worthwhile endeavour, if Severus' reaction was anything to go by. He had never been miserly in his – mostly unspoken – appreciation of her looks and her body, but she had to admit to herself that it was particularly gratifying to hear his indrawn breath and see his eyes widen when she emerged from her bedroom.

"You are... spectacular tonight, Hermione," he said. "Truly lovely."

She wouldn't have gone that far herself (ah, the benefits of having a man in thrall) but she was pleased with the bronze silk dress, cut high at the front but scooping low behind, which clung and swirled and flattered just as she had hoped it would. She had reluctantly enlisted Lavender's help with her hair and make-up, putting up with being patronised for the sake of results she could never have achieved on her own. Tonight, she was a queen with a crown of shining brown braids, sparkling eyes, and luscious, pouting, kissable lips.

She surveyed her consort.

"You look wonderful yourself, Severus. I'm so pleased to see you in all your buttons again!"

She ran her hands down the chest of his finely-cut frock coat, then up again to sweep his broad shoulders. His hair was severely tied back, emphasising his aquiline features. Not a handsome man, but, oh – so very.... She reached up to kiss him.

"Won't I smudge you?" he worried.

She waved her fingers spookily.

"It's maaaaaaagic! Lavender promised I could be trampled by a herd of rhinos and still come out looking perfect – she was even quite keen that I put it to the test, I think. So it's quite safe to kiss me. In fact, you might find that it's more dangerous not to."

"Wait a minute. I have something for you first."

He reached into his pocket and produced a small box, which he gave to her, an unexpected tremor in his fingers as they brushed hers. She hesitated slightly before opening it to reveal a pair of exquisite peridot earrings which caught the light and sparkled a deep, slightly acidic leaf green.

"Oh, Severus! They're perfect! Just perfect!"

It was the work of moments to step before the mirror and hook them into place. The expression of thanks took rather longer, and was a thorough road-test of the Brown-Weasley beauty charms.

"I'm half-inclined not to go at all, now," teased Hermione, picking up her stole and readying herself for Apparition.

"Just a minute," said Severus. "There's something else. It's from Lucius."

He produced another box. In it lay a delicate bracelet set with peridots to match the earrings. Hermione's mouth made a little 'oh', and she felt herself blush, but she didn't say anything until Severus had clasped the jewels around her wrist.

"Is he coming tonight, do you think?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't say. But he wanted to show you his... regard, I suppose, even if he decides not to face the kind of reaction he's likely to get."

"I wonder how many will respond to Arthur's invitation?"

"We'll see. I'll take you Side-Along, shall I?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Hackles down, Granger. It's customary at these formal affairs," he growled.

"And of course it gives the 'gentleman' a fine opportunity for a none-too-surreptitious grope. It's a good job I like you, Snape."

*

It was only to be expected that the whispers should run like wildfire when Hermione and Severus were announced together. Hermione just raised her chin a little and cast around in the throng for people she knew well but still wanted to talk to. After Severus had repulsed several unwelcome attempts to cosy up to the Minister's aide, Hermione admitted to him that it was very useful to have a thoroughly disagreeable person around, but since it was actually supposed to be a festive occasion, perhaps he could try acting a little less as though he had been invited to dinner by James Potter.

"Oh, speak of the devil," he muttered. "I'll go and find you a drink."

"Hello, Harry, Ginny," smiled Hermione, more amused than anything else at being abandoned in such a cavalier fashion. A hug, air-kissing, and some inane small-talk were punctuated by the arrival of Ron and Lavender. Ron stared at Hermione with ill-disguised astonishment.

"Blimey, Mione, you look gorgeous!" he said, oblivious to his wife's glare.

"Actually, it's all Lavender's doing, Ron. Thank you so much for finding the time, Lavender. You look fantastic yourself!" And so, in all her blonde glory, she did. "I'm telling everyone about you," Hermione continued. "When's your book coming out?"

"It isn't," Lavender pouted. "Apparently everyone much prefers to stick to the spells and routines their great-great-grandmothers used. We're looking for another publisher, but where Babble Books leads, the rest follow."

"Do you want me to try..."

"No, it's quite all right, Hermione. I'm sure Molly and I will find something."

"Well, let me know," Hermione shrugged. "There's no point having influence if you can't use it to help your friends from time to time."

"You wouldn't have said that before you started seeing Snape," accused Ron.

"No, I don't suppose I would, Ronald. Now, tell me about the children."

Fifteen minutes of duty-boredom later, she slipped away, but not before Harry had caught her by the hand.

"That was nice of you, Hermione. Thanks."

"It's okay. There may be little between us these days, but Ron was my friend for a long time – it counts for something." She looked at him doubtfully. "You don't blame me for drifting away, do you?"

"Course not. Times change, you know. And I think you can probably manage your own trolls these days. Come round for a meal some time. Bring Snape if you like. Yes, Ginny, I'm coming!"

Hermione wound her way through the colourfully-dressed witches and wizards, looking for the one dressed all in black. Arthur had done them all proud with this year's celebration. The Yuletide decorations sparkled and glittered like some cross between a Disney fairyland and a dragon's hoard. Music to suit a variety of tastes played in the different ballrooms, where people danced and swayed and laughed. The buffets overflowed with such an abundance of exotic delicacies that she thought even Slughorn might have been impressed. And indeed there was the old fraud, tucking comfits behind his moustache while he smarmed to whomever appeared to merit the effort.

She spotted most of her old school friends. There were the Patil twins, with... heavens, Finch-Fletchley and Zabini. Dean and Seamus dancing together to something mushy and romantic, ignoring the disapproving looks they were getting. Cho with a man she didn't recognise. Neville with his wife, Pomona Sprout's daughter, twenty years his senior and clearly besotted with him. Dennis Creevey taking photographs of everyone. Preferring to stay out of the camera's eye, Hermione turned to leave that particular chamber.

"Watch yourself, Granger," came a voice she hadn't heard for a very long time.

"Malfoy," she said neutrally.

"Saw you sloughing off your old acquaintance back there," he jibed.

"Been following me?"

"Now why would I do that?" He suddenly dropped his sarcastic pose and grinned charmingly in a way that reminded her all too strongly of his father. "Actually, I'm looking for Luna. She said she'd seen you, but she's probably got distracted by a Slibbering Whatchamacallit in the curtains or something."

"Luna's here? Oh, that's wonderful! I haven't seen her for so long. Did she come with you? What's she been doing?"

"Blimey, Granger, slow down. Yes, she's here. She's been doing research in the Americas for several years, funded by Harvard. Yes, she's with me. In fact," he said, looking self-conscious, "we got married last week." He pulled at his collar.

"But... but... that's fantastic! I just, um, good grief, Draco, have you told your father?"

"I'm trying to find him as well. Is he here?"

"How should I know?" she responded, blushing a little.

"How should you know? You mean you haven't bloody shagged him yet?" He rolled his eyes.

"Draco...! What on earth?" The blush deepened to crimson. "I'm with Severus!"

"Circe's tits, woman – how the hell...?" He guffawed. "My poor dad. For weeks I've been getting letters about Miss Granger this, Miss Granger that, then Hermione this and Hermione that. And you say you're unavailable? 'Cause of Snape? Priceless, Granger, priceless!" And he walked off, still laughing.

Shortly after that, Severus found her and asked her to dance. In the circle of his arms, her cheek resting against the warm black of his chest and her eyes closed, Hermione sought respite from the light, colour and noise, and from the thoughts that buzzed in her head. He seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk and simply held her, moving with her to the gentle rhythms of the music. Then, still without speaking, he took her by the hand and led her over to where the Ministry elves were serving champagne. They clinked glasses and drank a silent toast.

Something seemed to be happening at the doors. A hush was falling, spreading through the crowd. Hermione, not for the first time, wished she were taller. She couldn't see what the hell was going on.

The bronze-shod foot of the staff of office banged on the floor, echoing oddly in the now-silent room.

"Lucius Malfoy!" announced the voice of the chief usher.

Hermione registered the change in many people's expressions around her, and glanced up at Severus. She began to move.

Fortunately, Arthur was already there. Though Molly was looking sour, he extended a hand to Lucius which he, for once, deigned to shake.

"What a pleasure it is to see you, Mr Malfoy," Arthur was saying, looking round at the audience. "I'm glad you felt able to accept the invitation."

"My pleasure," said Lucius insincerely. "One could hardly refuse to attend such an auspicious occasion, or turn down to opportunity to – what was it? – 'heal the breaches in our society', now could one? Not and be counted a responsible citizen. Molly, how delightful," he said, bowing slightly to her.

An awkward silence fell.

Hermione had by now pushed her way to the front. She took a deep breath and braced herself.

"Lucius!" she said loudly, giving him a huge smile and walking towards him with her hands extended. He took them in his own and kissed her fingers.

"You look ravishing tonight, my dear."

"You've made quite the effort yourself," she replied, standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. She ignored the mutters this caused. "Arthur, don't get started on all the boring Ministry talk just yet, will you? I'm going to take Mr Malfoy away and make him dance with me. You can have him back when I've worn him out."

"That was bravely done, my dear," Lucius murmured to her as they left in search of something they could both bear to dance to. He patted her hand where it lay in the crook of his arm. "Ah, Severus, your lioness has kidnapped me. I trust you don't mind?"

"Would it make any difference if I did?"

"Well, I might start talking about cave-man sensibilities at inopportune moments," smirked Hermione.

"There you are," sighed Lucius, "my hands are tied. But then, we all have our little kinks.... Ouch! Hermione, I do believe this is my tune."

And, to the strains of "Call Me Irresponsible", he swept her giggling onto the dance floor.

*

Later on, when Severus was helping his friend field the "leeches, bloodsuckers, toadies and other assorted hangers-on" who had swiftly managed to overcome their moral outrage at Lucius' daring to show his face, Hermione went in search of a quiet corner. She had danced with each of them several times, enjoying both Severus' understated competence and Lucius' sometimes outrageous flair, and Harry had claimed her hand for a couple of dances, braving their disdain with a cheeky grin. Now she just wanted to take her heels off for a bit and get some cooler air.

Some clever party-planner had thought to construct a number of bowers and niches for tired or amorous party-goers, and eventually, after a fair few "Ooops, sorry!"s, Hermione found one that seemed unoccupied. She went in and flopped down on the couch, pulling off her elegant sandals and massaging her feet with a groan. Putting her feet up on the arm-rest, she lay back and allowed herself to relax, soothed by the midnight blue and silver décor.

"Hello, Hermione."

She screeched.

"Dear God! Luna! You scared me half to death!"

Luna was sitting on the floor in the darkest corner, dreamily examining a flower that phosphoresced faintly in her cupped hands.

"Pretty, isn't it? I found them in the Amazon basin. They're proving to have various medicinal uses, and curiously enough, Nargles can't abide them. How are you, Hermione? It's good to see you, though you look a little troubled, if you don't mind my saying so."

Hermione's racing heart calmed a little and she smiled. She'd forgotten how gently crackers and eerily perceptive Luna could be.

"It's good to see you, too, Luna – and I hear congratulations are in order!"

"Oh, yes, Draco's perfectly lovely, isn't he? He started off funding all my research, you know – quite the visionary, though you wouldn't really think it. So what's bothering you, Hermione?"

Bizarrely, although she hadn't seen Luna for about eight years, Hermione felt the urge to confide.

"Don't you want to tell me all about your work?"

"It'll wait. I think you need to talk now."

"I... it's difficult."

"There's always a simple solution, if you know how to look at things the right way."

*

They found her sitting on the hearth rug in the Minister's office, staring contemplatively into the flames. The firelight brought out bright highlights in her hair, and flushed her skin a becoming gold. Her eyes were dark when she looked up.

"We were concerned about you, Hermione," said Severus, crouching next to her. "Has someone upset you?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I just needed to think a bit, that's all. Would you sit down, both of you?"

She stood before them in the firelight as they took their places.

"Severus, Lucius – now pay attention."

"Yes, ma'am!" said Lucius, sitting bolt upright.

"Shut up, or I'll dock points," threatened Hermione. "Now I mean to take the bull by the horns here. I can't be doing with subtlety – it wastes too much time in important situations..."

"Dear me, Severus," interrupted Lucius. "A Gryffindor 'abandoning subtlety'? Shall we need armour, do you think?"

"Padding, at any rate," came the reply.

Hermione stuck out her tongue.

"Now, Severus – it is very clear that you... care for... me," she blushed. "Lucius – although you have in general behaved with propriety, I don't think I'm being too presumptuous in saying that you, too, have an interest."

He bowed his acknowledgement, while Severus, to Hermione's distress, started to look as though he was about to receive the worst news possible. She hurried on.

"I think the nature of my dilemma here would be most simply exlained by showing you something."

She drew her locket from where it was concealed by the high neckline of her dress.

"This is supposed to show the face of my true love, am I right? And indeed – here he is." She showed them both Severus' likeness, noting how he relaxed. She smiled at him. "If anything, it's even clearer than before. However..." she opened the locket to display both sides "...here he is as well." Just as clearly engraved was a lightly smirking portrait of Lucius.

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Well, you see my problem, don't you? I don't want to cause any pain, nor do I want to feel any myself, and I definitely don't want to be at the root of any rift in your friendship." She turned to the fire. "None of the conventional responses to this situation is even remotely satisfactory. However –" she turned back, to find that they had both stood up. She held a hand out to each of them, pleased to receive an answering grasp from both Severus' broad, strong hand and Lucius' cool, elegant fingers. "However, someone very wise and not at all conventional came up with a simple solution."

"My dear Hermione," began Lucius, running his hand up her bare arm and moving closer.

"Our dear Hermione," Severus corrected him, echoing his action and bringing up his other hand to tilt up her chin.

He kissed her deeply, moving closer still until her body was flush with his. She became aware that Lucius was behind her, one hand caressing her waist and hip throught the sheer fabric of her dress, the other on her shoulder as his lips moved on the side of her neck.

"I confess, Hermione," Severus admitted after a most satisfactory few minutes, "that we suspected your liking for Lucius went further than you were prepared to acknowledge, and we hoped..."

"You hoped." Her eyes narrowed. "You've been discussing this?"

"We hoped that your ties to bourgeois morality were sufficiently weak to allow all three of us to be happy," supplied Lucius. "Had you said nothing, nothing would have changed – but I believe none of us would have been truly content."

Hermione stepped away and looked at them both until they began to shuffle like nervous schoolboys.

"Well, I hardly think that Arthur's office is the place to discuss this any further. And such a serious matter requires very thorough investigation, I believe." She licked her lips. "Very thorough."

Matthew Jobberknoll was woken from his slumber by the crack of a triple Side-Along Apparition accompanied by a shriek as someone put his hand somewhere a trifle unexpected.

*

Hermione stretched, careful not to disturb the other occupants of the vast bed. To her left was Severus, his limbs sprawled untidily, to her right, Lucius, managing to look artfully arranged even when tousled and lightly snoring. She seemed to have worn them out. She herself felt perfectly refreshed, even if content to stay where she was, between her two – two! – lovers. She had never imagined, not even in her wildest dreams.... No, let's be honest, some of her dreams since getting to know the pair of them had actually been pretty wild, and given the circumstances she was rather more ready than usual to admit to them. In fact, given the circumstances, she was pretty sure she would be able to translate some of them into reality.

"What are you smirking about?" mumbled Severus.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Maybe not before the first cup of tea. Come here and be hugged, bad wench. And don't wriggle like that. I told you – not before the first cup of tea."

"Then for God's sake, let's have some bloody tea!" giggled Hermione.

"I prefer it with milk, to be honest," said Lucius, not bothering to open his eyes. "Merlin's knob, Severus, couldn't you have found us someone a little less frisky? I'm far too old for all this nocturnal activity."

But actions speak louder than words, and it was another hour before tea, together with a substantial breakfast, was summoned.

"Oh, Lucius, did Draco find you last night?" asked Hermione round a sausage.

"Draco was there?"

"Yes – and I think he had something rather important to tell you, something he rather wanted to get off his chest."

Pause.

"His chest, gentlemen. Minds on the subject, please."

"Well, he's not here at the Manor, or I'd know. So we must wait for him to contact us, in lieu of an address." Lucius speared a mushroom with some irritation.

"Why don't you just send your Patronus? They can find anyone."

Both men looked uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Nothing – it's just..."

"Severus, I can understand your reluctance, but..."

Lucius looked out of the window.

"Oh, honestly!"

Hermione sent her otter off in search of Malfoy junior. She noticed Severus' expression.

"What's wrong?"

"It's still an otter." He sounded disappointed. "A Patronus is supposed to change to match the object of one's affections."

"That sounds a little lacking in character," said Hermione. "I bet yours hasn't changed. Cast it – go on. No – go on. I promise I won't mind if it hasn't changed from, well, you know."

He complied with reluctance, but refused to look at it.

"Um, Severus?" said Hermione carefully. "Could you just take a peek? Is it the same?"

He gave it a nanosecond's attention.

"It is. Bugger."

"Lucius, do you know any really good resurrection spells? Because right now I'd like to bring back Dumbledore so I can invent a few new ways of killing him. Ahem. That creature's in your memory as a doe, isn't it, Severus?" she asked gently.

He nodded.

"Did you ever really look at it full on?"

Shrug.

"I think perhaps you should do so now, you know."

She wrapped her arms round him. Her voice shook as she said, "Be brave, Severus."

"It's... It's... You know, Hermione," he said conversationally, "I think I'd like to murder the old bastard a few more times myself."

Lucius, his shoulders already heaving with mirth, let rip a guffaw.

"A llama?! You mistook a llama for a doe?"

"Shut up, clever-clogs. Hermione, stop giggling. All right, then, Lucius, I've shown you mine, now you get to show me yours."

"The casting of a Patronus Charm was considered to be in rather poor taste in the Dark Lord's inner circle," said Lucius in lofty tones.

"Afraid, Lucius?"

"Not at all."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"You know you can trust us," said Hermione with a straight face.

"I think some things are best left a mystery, don't you?"

"Can't abide mysteries. Can you, Severus?"

"You might as well do it, Lucius You've seen what she's like when she wants to know something. And don't flounce. You're naked and in a rumpled bed – flouncing doesn't work."

"Very well – though I may have to murder you afterwards. Expecto Patronum!"

Pause.

Muffled giggling.

"Um, Lucius – was it by any chance at your suggestion that none of us was to use the Patronus charm?"

"Maybe."

Less muffled giggling.

"Shut up, Hermione."

*

Author Note:

A "Thelwell pony" is generally small, round, grumpy, and very hairy. For those unfortunate enough to have grown up not knowing the genius of Norman Thelwell, I direct you to the following web site: http://www.thelwell.org.uk/index.html

And particularly to the following cartoon: http://www.thelwell.org.uk/images/ponies/pages/Ponies8.htm the pony here, named Kipper, is clearly a Slytherin.