Sweetly

As always, my regards to JK Rowling for allowing us to revel in her world.

And my profound thanks to my betas, Leigh-Anne and GinnyW!

28. SWEETLY

Hermione climbed the stairs ahead of Professor Snape, and thus was the first to see who waited for them in the Entry Hall.

Professor Snape's soft, "Fuck," revealed the moment when he saw as well.

Professor Dumbledore stood, clearly expecting them, and twinkling for all he was worth, though Hermione saw in an instant that as had often been the case recently, the twinkle seemed all surface and little substance.

"Ah, Severus," he said jovially. "I thought I might catch you on your way out."

Hermione sensed Professor Snape's gait slowing beside her, and the expression on his face was just as misleading as Professor Dumbledore's. He appeared to have the same relaxed sneer he wore most of the time around the Headmaster, but she saw a quick throb of pulse at his throat (and wondered why she should note such a thing) and knew he was caught off guard.

"Albus." He nodded and took Hermione's arm as if to guide her.

"If you don't mind, I think I might walk a bit of the way with you. It's a lovely day, isn't it? I spend too much time cooped up in my office, I fear."

And with that, the three of them were through the front doors and walking down the steps together, genially.

"Alas, I'm never invited to tea at the Malfoy's, and I do suspect that it's my loss. I wonder what kind of biscuits Narcissa will have. The Black girls always received the most delicious lemon biscuits from home."

Hermione felt Professor Snape's arm turn to marble under her fingers, and she squeezed it silently.

"Tea at the Malfoy's can be a disarming experience," he agreed, genially, "as long as one is careful to check for poison before sipping."

Professor Dumbledore's laughter filled the air around them. "I'm sure you'll both have a delightful time." At that, he aimed his twinkle full bore at Hermione. "Do give Narcissa my best regards, Miss..." He broke off and tried again. "Hermione."

"I will," she responded nervously.

"Did you have anything in particular to share, Albus?" Professor Snape spat, there clearly being a limit to how much geniality he could muster.

"No, have a lovely time," the Headmaster responded, sucking on a sherbet lemon. "Oh, and if you'll just allow me..."

Hermione felt her cloak billow and a strange, gentle suction swirl around both she and Professor Snape.

"All gone, now." Professor Dumbledore beamed. "Cat hair."

XX

Fucking hell.

Snape's mind raced.

Albus knew about the tea, how?

And of course, that wasn't the issue at all. In fact, Albus should know about the tea.

The issue was much worse, was appalling and unprecedented.

Snape hadn't told him about the tea.

He hadn't told him anything.

He hadn't reported in after the last summoning to the Dark Lord.

And Albus knew it.

And his mind raced.

Fucking hell. What had he been thinking? What the hell had he--

"Professor, I have to stop in at the greenhouses," Miss Granger said, her tone worried. "We have time, don't we?"

He looked down into her eyes, and it came back to him in a wave.

He hadn't gone to Albus to report, because he'd gone to her.

He'd entered the castle with no thought except to go to her.

He'd gone in full Death Eater mode.

He'd found her worried, as if she actually cared what happened to him.

He'd suggested that she prove it.

She had hit him.

He hadn't gone to Albus.

No fucking wonder Albus looked at him with suspicion.

No fucking wonder.

She tugged his arm lightly, and he allowed her to. He allowed her to go to the greenhouses...why the greenhouses?...while his mind raced. How else had he slipped? He hadn't reported in to his superior, for fuck's sake. What else had he missed?

He watched her bend over the charmed cutting garden and, with her wand, neatly cut a handful of silver jonquils. She rose, and with a bit more wand waving, charmed them in a stasis spell and bound them in white ribbons.

The eyes she turned up to him were concerned; she put her hand on his arm and led him back toward the path that would take them to the Apparition point outside the grounds.

Fucking hell.

XX

They Apparated straight into Malfoy Manor.

Apparating at best was disconcerting, but arriving in what she could only think of as an enemy's home was worse.

And so, she suddenly found herself standing in a black marble Apparition Foyer clinging to Professor Snape with a bouquet of out-of-season flowers, off-balance, and being stared down by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The black marble had been chosen with care to provide the perfect dramatic backdrop for Malfoy beauty.

Both faces melted into the most gracious of welcomes.

He wore dark charcoal robes; hers were silver-grey. They were both tall and elegant with long white-blond hair that hung past their shoulders. And they were so beautiful.

She flickered her eyes away...were either of them capable of Legilimency?...as an unwanted image of revels flashed across her mind.

No wonder they had been the Dark Lord's favorites.

"Severus," Narcissa cooed, leaning forward to give Professor Snape kisses on either side of his face. Then she turned to Hermione and held out her hands. "And your blushing bride."

She recognized the scent from the invitation. Narcissa's scent was as lovely as her face, and then...it was gone. Vanished. Hermione glanced at Professor Snape. His eyes told her nothing, but she was sure he'd done that.

Hermione stepped forward with a smile and offered the bouquet. "Madam Malfoy."

And she felt herself twinkling.

Narcissa looked startled as she accepted the flowers.

"Narcissus argenteus," Hermione explained with a sweet smile. At least, she hoped it was sweet. She was aiming for sweet. "I saw them and thought of you."

"Lucius, aren't they lovely?" Narcissa lifted them to her nose and inhaled, seeming delighted. "And please, you must call me Narcissa, and I must call you Hermione if we are to become friends."

Friends?

And then Lucius Malfoy bent over her hand and brushed his lips across her fingertips in greeting, and she willed every cell in her body to submit with grace... even as she felt his eyes drag up her body centimeter by centimeter as he slowly rose and smiled into her eyes. "Interesting rings."

"The Ministry ring is hideous, isn't it?" she asked, "but I'm stuck with it, I'm afraid." She touched the emerald. "This one, however, I hope to wear for a very long time."

He merely arched his eyebrows.

She didn't allow herself to look for Professor Snape's reaction.

"Come with me, Hermione," Narcissa said, taking her hand. "I thought we'd have tea in the sitting room. I'm sure the men will want to retreat to Lucius's study."

"On the contrary." Professor Snape's silken voice behind them sent relief coursing through her.

"Surely, Severus, you haven't developed a tolerance for female nattering," Narcissa cooed.

"Hardly. But I seem to have developed a recent fondness for tea."

Narcissa's sitting room was stunning, and to Hermione's great surprise, a deep shade of rose. Simply by entering the room, Narcissa's icy beauty took on an astonishing warmth. She couldn't have chosen a better colour for herself, and Hermione felt at once totally out of her realm, not to mention totally lacking in femininity.

She also felt a sense of wonder that anyone should devote so much attention to showing themselves off.

She noted the lovely Regency work table, rosewood with inlaid ebony, against the far wall...a table not unlike the one at the V&A that her own grandmother had donated before her birth.

And the gold-framed mirror hanging over it.

The charmed mirror? No doubt.

She looked away with a chill, knowing she'd not look directly at it again.

A small arrangement of deep pink roses centered the tea table. Narcissa held the silver jonquils over the roses and released them. With a gentle wave of her wand she performed a spell that sent them nestling here and there in the bouquet, resulting in a perfect counterpoint to the unrelenting pink.

"How sweet," she said, eyeing it thoughtfully, then turning her attention to Hermione. "I've never... Nobody has ever associated my name with the flowers."

"It's a beautiful name." Hermione sat in a dainty chair. "We aren't all so fortunate."

"No one told me you were such a sweet girl," Narcissa replied, taking her own seat, leaving the men to perch uncomfortably on chairs clearly not intended for comfort.

Narcissa poured the tea and offered a cup to Hermione.

Which was promptly intercepted by Professor Snape, who sniffed it, before passing it along.

"Severus!" Narcissa exclaimed.

Lucius choked back a snort of amusement.

"No offense, but I can't be too careful," Professor Snape drawled, and Hermione was stunned by his bluntness. Until he added, "It seems my wife isn't popular with house-elves."

This time Lucius didn't hold his laughter back, and even Narcissa smirked.

Hermione aimed a glare at her husband, who blithely ignored it as he offered her the cup. "It's safe," he reassured her.

Hermione took it with as much aplomb as she could manage, added milk, stirred, and then left it sitting on the table. She'd lost any appetite she'd had for tea.

She noticed Professor Snape sip his, grimace, and put it beside hers.

Quickly, to cover his rudeness, she said, "Professor Dumbledore asked me to send you his regards. He said he has fond memories of your lemon biscuits."

"I'm sure," drawled Lucius Malfoy with ill grace, "he has only to mention them to Dobby and he can have his fill."

Oooh, that still smarts, does it? This time it was Hermione who hid a smirk.

Narcissa spoke up quickly this time; it seemed the role of the women to keep peace. "We'd hoped Draco could join us today, but alas, Professor Dumbledore didn't consider this an important enough occasion to excuse his absence from Hogwarts." She offered Hermione the biscuits. "I hope Draco has accepted your marriage with grace," she said smoothly. "We have raised him to be a gentleman."

A gentleman? Is that what they called it? "He has accepted my marriage with all the grace of the gentleman that he is."

The silence in the room intensified as three people pondered her meaning and Hermione avoided everyone's eyes. She took a small bite of lemon biscuit. They were quite nice; she must ask Dobby for some. Then, deciding to meet fire with fire, she added, "But I'm sure Draco is quite happy. It's not as if he really wanted to marry me." She met Lucius Malfoy's grey gaze across the table without blinking.

"And Severus did?" he responded, eyes gleaming.

Narcissa flinched.

Professor Snape froze.

Hermione smiled prettily. "I don't think he had a choice."

"Lucius," Professor Snape snarled, "don't you have some brandy to offer me, before my child bride further emasculates me?"

But she had the distinct feeling that he was pleased.

And it didn't seem fair that men got brandy while she was stuck with truly horrid tea.

And this time when he said "child bride," it didn't sound like he was complaining.

She watched the two men leave and felt a dull pang as the door closed and Professor Snape was gone.

"Well then," Narcissa said, "we can settle down to witch talk." She glanced at Hermione's flat stomach. "I suppose it's too early for you to be showing, but I hear you and Severus have happy news?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione stared from her own body to Narcissa, astounded.

"Oh, good news does fly quickly, my dear. Draco owled me when he sent his regrets for tea."

"But...why would he owl such a thing? It's not even true!"

Narcissa's elegant eyebrows managed to rise without wrinkling her brow. "Well, I suppose it might be a false rumour?"

"Extremely," Hermione responded, confused, and planned to hex a certain Slytherin swot for spreading it.

"Well, never fret, that will happen soon enough," Narcissa soothed, as if soothing were in order, for Merlin's sake. She reached for a white leather album on the table and began flipping through the pages of magical photos. "I thought it might be amusing for you to see some pictures of Severus when we were all young together."

Hermione kept her expression properly schooled to polite interest. "But surely you still are. Young, I mean?" She met the older witch's eyes and smiled.

Narcissa's own smile was thin-lipped. She found the picture she was looking for, and her eyes gleamed with triumph. "I've always been particularly fond of this one."

She offered the album to Hermione, turning it so that she could see.

Narcissa seemed entirely too pleased with herself. Hermione finally lowered her eyes to the photograph.

It was a stunning contrast of light and dark, of beauty and drama.

The picture had clearly been taken at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Narcissa lounged on one of the ostentatious green sofas, leaning against Lucius. They were so incredibly young but filled with confidence and almost too beautiful and elegant for their surroundings.

It was no wonder that it took her longer to shift her attention to the other couple on the sofa, a couple as dark as the Malfoys were light. Her heart caught in her throat. Professor Snape. Oh, god, he was younger than she was now, but still with that soft sneer curling his lips as he let one languid hand curl around the bare neck of the beautiful black-haired witch sitting beside him, leaning into his body, practically purring.

Hermione found herself transfixed by his hand, his fingers, delicately stroking that graceful throat as the girl arched into the sensation, her own face half-sneer, half-lust...

Hermione felt a quick stab.

Desire, sexual awareness, and experience simply sparked between them. It was so palpable that it was still evident two decades later.

The young witch in the photograph turned her head to glance up at her young lover, her lips parted in sultry invitation...

The girl's movement exposed the back of her head.

And the heavy coil of glossy black hair.

With a wand shoved through at a diagonal, holding it securely in place.

Bellatrix Black.

"I knew someone once who..."

She fought for calm, fought not to show how bloody hard it was to breathe. She fought not to raise her eyes to Narcissa's, knowing what the older witch was waiting to see.

And then she did it. She met Narcissa's eager gaze and said, her voice smooth and steady, "She was so beautiful."

Narcissa blinked. This was obviously not the reaction she expected.

"How sad," Hermione said evenly, "that life has been so unkind to her." And she knew they were now both thinking of the cadaverous woman with skull-like features who had broken out of Azkaban and was now at large.

"Yes," Narcissa said crisply, taking the album back. "But then," she added, her voice cold with thinly-veiled threat, "life isn't through with any of us, yet."

Hermione reached behind her head and yanked the charmed comb out of her hair and let her hair come tumbling down.

She tucked her wand up her sleeve and reached for a lemon biscuit.

XX

"Interesting," the Dark Lord said softly. "Very interesssting."

What the bloody hell was that about?

Severus and Lucius sat in leather wing chairs on either side of the Dark Lord, a large charmed mirror Levitating before them so that they could view the actions in Narcissa's sitting room.

Actions such as Miss Granger sitting as regally as a queen, smiling with something that could almost be mistaken for warmth if one didn't actually know Miss Granger.

And now, as she yanked his mother's comb from her hair and sent it spilling down around her shoulders in a wild, tangled mane.

Her eyes burned in her face, and he noted the slightest tremble in her fingers as she tucked her wand into her sleeve.

What the bloody hell had Narcissa said?

The album. A photo album. Pictures...

Bella.

Yet, despite it all, Miss Granger still seemed wrapped in a polite calm. She continued to make small talk, her posture as perfect and effortless as Minerva only wished hers was.

He couldn't tear his eyes from her and, luckily, didn't need to. The Dark Lord would assume he was simply worried that his young wife would embarrass him.

Lucius, too, was fascinated. While that should bother him, and did, at this point he just wanted her to survive for a few more minutes, and then they could take their leave.

"She seems... shaken, Severusss. What type of seduction have you used to have her so smitten with you so quickly?" The Dark Lord sounded truly intrigued. "A potion?"

"I'm struck that you think I'd need a potion to inspire such an affection from my young bride. Truly struck." He fought to calm his pulse. "I believe it's known as Stockholm Syndrome."

The Dark Lord barked with laughter.

Lucius merely looked put out. He didn't like being left out of jokes, but liked lowering himself to ask for explanation even less.

"She doesn't seem like she's broken, Severus," Lucius drawled in a voice that was everything rich and seductive that his son's was not. "Tsk, tsk, I expected better from you after all your boasts."

"You don't think she's broken?" Snape snapped. "Then perhaps you have no idea that she loathes you completely...that even being in your home goes against her every instinct...and yet she's here because I demanded it."

Lucius adjusted his position in his chair and stretched his long legs out before him. "I suppose that exquisitely seductive gown she's wearing could cover a multitude of bruises," he said.

Severus didn't dignify his statement with a response.

Bella.

How had he not seen this coming?

And suddenly, the sick feeling was there again. What the hell else had he missed?

"The problem with you, Lucius," the Dark Lord remarked softly, "is you don't realize that the most effective bruises don't show."

XX

Narcissa offered a silver-wrapped package across the table. "I know you'll appreciate that I saved this to give you in private," she said. "Just a little bride-gift."

"Too pretty to open." But it was too much to hope that she could actually put off opening the thing until Narcissa's...and the Dark Lord's...eyes weren't on her. Hermione touched her wand to the pretty silk ribbon, and it slithered out of its bow and to the floor.

The lid levitated, and the box lay open in her lap.

A red negligee with gold cord at the shoulders.

See-through.

Gaudy.

Horrid.

"Gryffindor colors," Narcissa said sweetly.

"I've never had anything like it," Hermione responded with enthusiasm and brutal honesty.

"Ah, I'm glad you like it."

"Indeed."

"Severus always liked Bella in red."

Hermione felt she had choices.

She could continue the farce.

She could continue the game.

But since she'd already decided against that, she had a myriad of ways to end it, some quite diabolically pleasing.

But somewhere in this house, Professor Snape waited for her to finish with poise.

He'd brought her here...blast his black-hearted soul to hell...brought her into this nest of beautiful vipers.

His friends.

But he'd told her his expectations, and she'd be buggered if she didn't meet them.

So she drew on her training, and even though she felt the desire to hex and destroy shimmering in her fingertips, she focused on the teapot...

And watched it explode and shower the room in porcelain shards.

One of which hit the gold-framed mirror on the wall.

Which promptly shattered as well.

How is that for a bit of wandless magic, Professor?

Then she managed to look as shocked and perplexed as Narcissa.

XX

"Very interessting."

The mirror before them now only reflected back their images. A flick of fingers, and it disappeared.

"I believe," the Dark Lord continued, "your little bride has had enough tea today, Severus. Don't you agree?"

Relief coursed through him. "Indeed."

"Lucius," the Dark Lord said silkily. "Please escort Madam Snape back to Hogwarts."

"But, my Lord..." Snape began.

"I live to serve," Lucius responded, bowing with a smirk.

With a pop he was gone.

Leaving Severus and the Dark Lord alone.