Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Harry stepped foot inside Malfoy Manor for what he hoped was the last time. Snape had met him at the gates, leading the way up the long drive in near silence. His attempts to make friendly small talk with Hermione's new husband had been acknowledged with curt monosyllables.

Even after all that had happened, Snape still looked at him like he was an idiot. But then Snape never had said 'thank you' for all that Harry had done to make sure that he stayed a free man. Git.

At least there was no sign of Malfoy. For Hermione's sake, he'd do his best to tolerate Snape, but Malfoy? Not a chance.

Snape opened one of the doors lining the corridor and held it open. He gestured for Harry to walk inside. The door swung shut as soon as he'd stepped into the small study, narrowly missing him. How charming ... At least Snape hadn't followed him. He'd be able to see Hermione alone.

Hermione stood with her back to him in front of a bookshelf. She didn't turn to face him, although she must have heard him come in. For an awkward moment he wondered if he should clear his throat, say hello, or give her a hug. Come to that, why wasn't she hugging him? That was her usual greeting.

'Something's wrong. Since when has she signed letters to me as 'HJG'? It's always been 'love from Hermione' before.'

"Sit down." Her voice was cold and clipped. It was almost as if it were Snape talking to him, not Hermione.

"What's..." he started to ask what was wrong, but she cut him off.

"Just sit down." She still wouldn't look at him.

This time, Harry did as she asked and took a seat to her left. At least he could see her face in profile now – not that it made him feel any better. Hermione didn't look happy. What he could see of her forehead was creased in a frown and her arms were crossed.

"You visited me when I was recovering in St. Mungo's. Do you remember what you said, when I asked whether anyone I knew had died?" she asked quietly, almost conversationally.

Harry swallowed hard.

"It has been over a month, should I refresh your memory?"

Finally she turned to face him. He flinched: scratch unhappy, she looked furious. The sort of expression that had always been reserved for Ron, now aimed solely at him.

"You lied. Why?"

Harry realised that he'd half raised his hands to his ears, to cover them if she began yelling. But her voice was still quiet. Deadly quiet, in fact. It was somehow even worse than if she shouted.

He gulped, not trusting his voice. He'd rather not stammer or squeak if he could help it.

"Well? Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"

He leaned back in his chair, pressing himself against the padded back.

"You still need me to make your excuses for you?" Her lip curled. "Let me guess, you were trying to protect me. As I was in St. Mungo's at the time, I obviously wasn't fit to be told. Am I getting warm?"

Harry nodded hesitantly.

Hermione dragged a hand over her face. "Ignoring the fact that you had no right to decide that, you didn't tell me when I was out of hospital. Why? And don't say that you had no opportunity, you could've told me after that stupid duel."

When he felt that he could trust his voice, he spoke up. "You had that horrible law on your plate. And you were busy organising your weddings."

"Not good enough," Hermione snapped, her glacial cool cracking.

"I-I th-thought Snape would tell you..."

Again, Hermione cut him off. This time she crossed the space between them, grabbed the arms of his chair and brought her head down so that she was almost nose to nose with him. Furious brown eyes glared into his own.

"He didn't know who died, apart from those at Hogwarts. Helping to invent the cure rather kept him busy, imagine that."

As soon as it had overcome her, the red hot anger cooled. Hermione pushed herself back onto her feet and once more turned away from Harry, her shoulders slumped.

"Do you have any idea how I felt last week when I learned about Luna and Mrs Weasley's deaths?" Her voice didn't sound cold this time, just sad. Defeated, almost.

"I cared about them, too." Harry wondered if he should get up and give her a hug. It looked like she needed one. Hesitantly, he stood up.

"You didn't have mortification on top of your grief. Harry, my parents brought me up to send my condolences in the event of deaths of friends and family. And of acquaintances, come to that."

Tentatively, Harry reached out to put an arm around Hermione. The moment he touched her shoulder, she spun around. Her hand stopped just beside his cheek. She'd almost slapped him.

She slowly lowered her hand. "Just get out of my sight."

Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Hermione couldn't mean ... Surely she wouldn't destroy their friendship over this?

"Go." She gave him a surprisingly gentle shove. "Before I lose my temper and do something I might regret."

"But ... you're not – you can't – you wouldn't!"

"Contemplate never seeing you again? I won't lie, it did occur to me. But I have had a week to cool off a little."

In his relief, Harry did hug her. She allowed him a few seconds, standing stiffly in his arms, then shoved him away.

"That said, if I see you again anytime soon, I won't be responsible for my actions."

'Not as bad as it could be ... at least we're still friends.'

She drew her wand. "Run."

'Erm ... spoke too soon. I don't think she's bluffing.'

It was just as well that Harry took her seriously, as he'd just slammed the door behind him when he heard a spell impact the wood. Then he felt the heat of it when his collar was grabbed and he was slammed back against the door.

When the stars from hitting his head had cleared, he was nose to nose with Snape. A very scary sight, although Hermione's rage was still worse.

"Upset my wife again, Potter, and you will regret it. Clear?"

"Perfectly," Harry muttered. He didn't intend to upset Hermione again if he could help it, but he'd say anything to stop Snape throwing him against the door again. Whatever Hermione's hex had been, it made the wood uncomfortably hot. And knocking his head against the door like that made his head thump.

"Good." Snape let him go. "I trust you can find your way to the gates?"

"Yes." At least he wasn't being kicked out of the front door. 'Come to think of it ...' Harry walked fast down the corridor to the exit. No need to present a tempting target to Snape.

* * *

Severus sat on the edge of his bed, hands gripping his knees and his eyes fixed on the door adjoining his room to Hermione's.

She... They were not in there. Lucius had suggested using a guestroom further down the corridor: neutral ground.

His fingers clenched tighter on his knees until his knuckles whitened and his ring dug into his leg.

The woman he cared for – no, the woman he loved; he might as well admit that now, if only to himself. Yes, the woman he loved. In the arms of another. In the bed of another. Or soon would be. Time had passed slowly for him, but according to his Muggle clock on the bedside table, it had only been five minutes since Hermione had reluctantly pried herself from his embrace to do her duty.

Jealousy, that familiar blight of his schooldays, burned once again. Every breath he took seemed to make that internal fire burn hotter.

He took a deep breath, trying to put a damper on that raging jealousy. It could be worse. At least this way, she was his. He only had to share her with Lucius once. 'But even one fucking time was too much.'

Releasing his grip on his knees, he reached up to run his hands over his face. This irrational jealousy would get him nowhere, other than angry with his hapless friend, and undeservedly so at that.

Occupied as he had been with Hermione, Severus was well aware that Lucius was still grieving over the loss of Narcissa. The thought that Lucius would enjoy bedding Hermione – he winced – was frankly laughable. Not because Hermione was not attractive, but because his friend would probably struggle with guilt. But that knowledge didn't make Severus feel much better.

Severus kneaded the bridge of his nose. He really should stop moping about and do something constructive, but ... there was no chance that he would be able to concentrate. Not when right at this moment Lucius was...

'What was that?'

He tilted his head, straining to hear. Although muffled by the closed door, he could hear the door to the guestroom open and footsteps padding down the corridor. He frowned, and glanced again at his clock. Surely they couldn't have finished so soon?

The footsteps approached his door, followed by a knock. Hermione wouldn't do that, surely? The knock repeated, louder this time. Come to think of it, hadn't he asked Lucius to do exactly that yesterday morning, instead of barging in?

"Come in," he called, rising to his feet. In his current frame of mind, he didn't want to see Lucius, but it might be something important.

As he suspected, it was Lucius. He was still clad head-to-toe in his dressing gown, despite there still being daylight. In Lucius's defence, Severus supposed that he was dressed (or undressed, even) for a bedroom environment.

"I think we can skip the pleasantries. Neither of us are in the mood for them." Lucius did not look happy. Perhaps he couldn't move past his grief, so couldn't do his duty? "She can't relax enough. She's too tense, nothing I can do helps."

"Lubricant?" Severus spat.

"For the love of... Is it too much to ask that she enjoy this? Lubricant will not magically relax her enough for that."

Glaring at Lucius, Severus snapped: "I may be a possessive man, but I'm no monster. Of course it would be better if she can experience some pleasure. But surely you have no problems when it comes to pleasing a woman?"

"Ordinarily, no. But it seems my touch does nothing for her," Lucius reluctantly admitted, his face twisted into a grimace. "Perhaps if she were more relaxed, it would be a different story."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I presume you know that while Calming Draught would relax her..."

"It would be one extreme to another." Lucius nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know that. I had something else in mind ..."

* * *

Severus followed Lucius into the guestroom. Or rather, into an antechamber, where Lucius took off his concealing dressing gown, revealing his finely embroidered nightshirt. Severus was almost expecting to see lace, but perhaps that would have been too much even for Lucius. Instead, it was a mixture of satin and silk.

In the guestroom itself, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, her knees hugged against her body. She looked up at him with a mixture of misery and embarrassment. Like Lucius, she was also wearing her nightclothes. Had they not got far enough to take them off, or was Lucius that old fashioned?

'Or perhaps they are simply not comfortable enough to bare their skin?' Not that Severus was at ease with that thought either, but if it helped ... He took a deep breath.

Hermione's jaw dropped, her wide eyes following his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt. Baring his chest a little more with each twist of his fingers.

Once unbuttoned, he took the shirt off entirely, letting it drop to the floor as he toed his slippers off, keeping his trousers on.

Severus looked pointedly at Hermione and Lucius, who were both staring at him as if he were a madman. "Well, don't stand on ceremony. Clothes off, you two."

He climbed onto the bed behind Hermione and sat back against the headboard, pulling Hermione with him so that her back rested against his chest.

"The inherent formality in clothing won't help anyone relax. Clothes off. Now." Severus touched the hem of Hermione's nightgown, but decided that it would be best if she took it off herself.

Lucius turned away, tugging his nightshirt over his head, his backside pale in the daylight from the window.

Perhaps as Lucius had intended, Hermione took advantage of the lack of his eyes on her to undress. Once naked, she leant back against Severus, a soft moan escaping her at the contact of skin to skin. As Severus had hoped, her tense muscles relaxed a little.

But only a little. She tensed up again when Lucius turned back and was unable to keep his eyes straying. From the heat of her skin, she might have been blushing, too. Well, if that was how Lucius wanted to play it ... Lazily, Severus looked him up and down.

'Been enjoying the house-elves' cooking and the Old Ogden's a bit too much, eh?' Severus curled his lip, his gaze lingering on the developing paunch. In all fairness, it was barely rounded, but still noticeable when compared to Severus's lean body.

Lucius raised his chin and proceeded to strut over to the bed. Severus had to stifle a snigger; the way Lucius's erect cock waggled about in the process looked quite ridiculous. But at least it seemed to help Hermione get over her embarrassment, as she relaxed a bit. She also had to stifle laughter by the way her shoulders shook slightly.

When Lucius clambered onto the bed as well, crouched on his knees in front of them, Hermione tensed up again. Severus ran his hands from her shoulders to her hands, gently massaging her as he went. Perhaps it would also help if he whispered something in her ear, but ... words failed him. This situation was uncomfortable for them all.

"I'm sorry," Hermione croaked. "I've made this worse, dragging Severus into this mess too."

Leaning forwards, Lucius put a finger on her lips. "Don't be. Severus wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be."

Not entirely true, but Hermione didn't need to know that. Severus wasn't sure what was worse: imagining what was happening or witnessing it. Regardless, she needed him. That was all that mattered.

He dropped his head, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. Hermione turned her head to kiss him, then laid her head onto his shoulder.

When Lucius caressed her, she tensed up a little, but slowly relaxed under their stroking hands. Lucius followed Severus's lead, his hands tracing after wherever Severus touched. Until Severus cupped one of her breasts, then Lucius didn't wait until he'd ceased his attentions, instead gently grasped her other breast. He stroked his thumb over her areola, mirroring Severus's actions.

Hermione shuddered, inhaling sharply as her nipples peaked. She arched her back, pressing herself further into his hand. Into their hands, Severus corrected himself. He grimaced at the flicker of fresh jealousy accompanying that thought. So far, he'd been able to focus on Hermione's needs. But now ...

He breathed deeply, trying to force his jealousy back down to nag at his subconscious. And failed when Lucius leant forwards to kiss Hermione. Severus couldn't look away, his stomach roiling at the sight of that sleek blond head and Hermione's brown curls so close together.

Severus gritted his teeth. Now was not the time to be ruled by his emotions. He had to pull himself together and think logically. Hermione was Lucius's wife too, at least for this encounter. It would be akin to treating her like a prostitute if Lucius didn't kiss her.

He kept up his attentions on her breast and reached down with his free hand. The idea was that Hermione should be able to enjoy this, after all, not merely be aroused enough to be physically comfortable.

She moaned as he began to finger her clitoris, using his knowledge from yesterday to bring her closer and closer to orgasm. The flesh around his eyes tightened at the muffled nature of her moan; she was still lip-locked with Lucius.

Severus felt Lucius's hand brush his own as it descended past it. He could feel Hermione's back tense again at Lucius's intimate explorations, so he stepped up his attentions on her clit. If she had to be tense, it would be in the best possible way.

Lucius shifted, propping himself up on one arm, his hand pressed against the headboard, and his head opposite Hermione's, almost on Severus's shoulder, his hair brushing against Severus's skin. Now lying between Hermione's legs, Lucius pressed closer, one hand positioning his cock, and thrust inside.

Hermione cried out, her hips jerking and her clit throbbing against Severus's fingers as she came. Lucius groaned and held still, presumably for fear of ejaculating too soon for his pride.

The thought of Hermione's internal muscles clenching around the other man made Severus feel as if his heart was aflame. Then, to his mortification, he felt his cock twitch. No. He could not be growing aroused. He was not. But denial was no good when the evidence of his arousal was pressing against Hermione's lower back.

'It's simply my proximity to Hermione, and the fact that I know what it feels like to be inside her. A completely normal physical reaction, nothing to be ashamed of. It's not as if I'm enjoying Lucius taking my wife!'

Certainly not, if his growing discomfort was anything to go by. He could feel every thrust Lucius made, both through the bed and with the way Hermione's body moved back to press against his. Severus could also feel her breast jiggle in his hand. He resumed his attentions on her clit, trying to distract himself.

Then Hermione grabbed hold of his hand, tugging it away from her breast to hold it tightly, her fingers intertwined with his. Her other hand was on Lucius's back, fingers twitching as if she wanted to dig her nails in, but didn't dare to.

Severus could feel Lucius's thrusts speeding up. He closed his eyes, unwilling to watch. True, if his eyes were open he wouldn't be able to see much, but he would be able to see Lucius's muscles tense and release.

It was bad enough to hear Lucius grunt and feel the bed – and Hermione – shake one last time, without seeing it. Then he felt Hermione's breath hitch. Her grip tightened on his hand, and once again, her clitoris pulsed against his fingers as she came for the second time.

He opened his eyes when he heard Lucius shift away, heralded by a sickening wet pop as Lucius withdrew his penis.

Severus was distracted from his discomfort when he noticed Hermione's shoulders were shaking. He felt a drop of water land on his hand. He frowned down at it for a moment, before he realised that she was crying.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. Lucius hesitantly touched her shoulder, only to draw back when she flinched.

She just sobbed harder when Severus tried to ask what was wrong. He exchanged a helpless look with Lucius.

"It's been a long day." 'Long month, really.' "I'll take her back to our rooms. Lucius ..." Severus paused, trying to find the right words. 'Thank you' lodged in his throat. He settled on merely squeezing his friend's shoulder, doing his best not to wince at the sweat, or rather cause thereof.

Lucius nodded. "I'll see you later. Tomorrow, most likely."

* * *

After Severus had taken Hermione away, Lucius donned his nightshirt and dressing gown. There was no need for more clothes when he didn't intend to set foot outside.

In the corridor, he paused outside Severus's room, but decided not to poke his nose in. If his experience of women was anything to judge by, Hermione was overwhelmed. Furthermore, if his touch made her flinch, his presence would probably be unwelcome. Best to enquire of her wellbeing tomorrow.

He wandered towards his own room, but on reaching the main staircase, decided to assuage his battered pride with a finger or two of Firewhisky. The lights in the corridor downstairs flickered on as he approached, the fire in his study licking at the logs as soon as he stepped inside.

Lucius rummaged around in his drinks cabinet, found a fresh bottle and poured a finger. Or two. Or three. Perhaps another for luck. He swirled it around the glass, watching the amber liquid lap at the crystal.

At least with Severus present, his touch had done something for Hermione. Proof that he was still capable of pleasing a woman.

He took a sip, savouring the burn on his tongue.

And he had done the decent thing, fetching Severus. It had been unexpectedly enjoyable, too. Perhaps it might be precedent for more?

Lucius spluttered. No, he had not just thought that. Quite besides breaking his word that it would be one time only, the implication was that he wanted more of Hermione. No, no, no. Impossible.

She was attractive enough, true, and to be fair, a delight to bed when relaxed enough. But she wasn't Narcissa. It hadn't been easy for him to do his duty and consummate the marriage. Frankly, it had felt as if he was betraying Narcissa, his new wedding ring an unwelcome weight on his finger. But to take it off and return to his old one? Unthinkable. Most certainly not the done thing, what would society think?

But try as he might to deny it, it was no use lying to himself. He wanted more of Hermione already. Explaining the need as an unfortunate side-effect of the aphrodisiac he'd used held no water, as it was a purely physical potion. And, looking down, he could see it had since worn off.

'Well, tough luck. I can't have more. I gave Severus my word. Regardless, I doubt she wants more of me, if those tears were anything to go by.'

He took a large mouthful, swirling it around his mouth. If only he could drink away his troubles. But that would only lead to health problems. Resolutely, he turned away. And choked. Eyes watering, he staggered over to the door. He ran his fingers over the damaged wood.

Wasn't this the room where Hermione had met with Potter? What had she done to the unfortunate young man?

Lucius sighed. Did she have to damage the door, and why hadn't she or the house-elves repaired it? An attempted Reparo later, and it was evident that the damage was permanent. It seemed that it was time to have words with her about the respect one's own home should be afforded.

But perhaps a reminder of the dangers of her temper was a good thing to have around.

'Yes,' he thought, taking another swig of Old Ogden's. 'A healthy dose of respect for it, too. Tears are only one way of expressing emotion. Best keep my head down.'

He certainly didn't envy Severus the task of comforting her. Narcissa had been bad enough during her emotional upheavals. But a spitfire like Hermione? Lucius hissed between his teeth and shook his head. Poor Severus.

AN: Many thanks to septentrion and JunoMagic for betaing, and to Kribu for alpha reading.