Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Five nights after her nightmare, Hermione had another. She had the same feeling of déjà vu, but just like the previous time, she couldn't remember what the nightmare was about. She just jerked awake, half gasping, half sobbing. Trembling like a leaf.

Unlike last time, she didn't have to get out of bed for comfort. Severus pulled her closer, even as she twisted around in order to burrow into his arms.

"Nightmare?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Hermione nodded against his shoulder.

Severus stroked her back, her breathing gradually slowing to normal as he did so. "Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Can't remember." It bothered her more than anything else that this basilisk-of-the-night melted away as soon as she awoke; disturbing her own and Severus's sleep for nothing.

"Need any..." The rest of Severus's question was lost in a jaw-cracking yawn. "Dreamless Sleep?" he continued.

"Don't think so. Last time, it didn't come back again. Not in the same night."

"If you're sure." He pressed his lips against the side of her neck, sending an entirely different sort of shiver through her body.

She felt him pull back slightly, hair brushing against her shoulder as if he was cocking his head. A moment later, Severus touched his mouth back to her neck. He nipped gently, lips quirked into ... what? A smile? A smirk?

Hermione pushed him onto his back, hands trailing down his chest to his waist in the darkness to find his pyjama bottoms. One rested on the elastic, the other slipped inside to explore, fingers stroking down his treasure line.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head. He gently brought her head down to his, their noses clashing for a moment until they tilted their heads to the side.

"Want you," she breathed against his lips.

His reply was muffled by her kiss as her hand closed around his hardening erection. His hips jerked, pushing his twitching penis further into her grasp.

Their kiss deepened as she thrust her tongue between his parted lips. Groaning his appreciation, his tongue parried her attack.

Severus tugged her nightie up to rest at her waist while she freed his erection from his pyjama bottoms.

Before she could move to straddle him, his hand was between her legs, thumb resting on her clit as his fingers tested the growing wetness slightly lower down. Much as she wanted to brush his hand out of the way and lower herself onto his hardness, she just wasn't quite ready yet.

A ragged gasp escaped her. If Severus kept that up, she would be very ready soon. By now he knew how to please her – and he was putting that knowledge to good use. Within moments she was bucking into the swirling, flicking pressure of his thumb, his fingers not thick enough inside her.

'Want more. Need more.'

With a guttural growl, she tugged his hand away. One hand positioning his penis, she straddled his hips and sank down on him. Her eyes rolled back, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Severus gripped her hips as she began to move, thrusting up as she let gravity pull her down.

Harder.

Faster.

Circling her hips in a figure of eight motion. Rising and falling, again and again.

The silk of his pyjamas against the back of her thighs, damp with sweat.

His right hand slipping from her hip to rest above where they were joined. Fingers flicking over her clitoris.

Her insides pulsed around him, triggering his ejaculation.

She felt more than heard the low, shuddering groan of his release as she cried out her own.

When she came back to herself, she was slumped on his chest, her throat throbbing with each breath she took. His softening penis slipped from her still-clenching internal walls. Hermione rolled to the side, but stayed snuggled up to him.

* * *

Long after Severus had fallen asleep in the aftermath of making love (leaving her to clean them both up, the man), Hermione lay awake.

Damn Draco. Not that it was his fault that he needed to find a bride, but did he have to set his sights on one of her only surviving friends?

After the emotional upheavals the first few days after her marriage, Hermione was reluctant to ask it of anyone else. It would be worse than her own situation, as unlike Lucius, Draco wanted a real marriage.

'How can I ask this of Ginny? Of Harry? Even with that stupid overprotective stunt he pulled, he doesn't deserve this.'

Hermione knew that she hadn't had an easy time since she awoke in St. Mungo's over a month earlier, but at least she hadn't been in a pre-existing relationship. Not one that she could remember, anyway. Nor one that she cared to resume.

But Ginny and Harry had more between them than Hermione had ever felt for Ron (as far as she knew). That, and Ginny had probably fallen ill after Hermione had, so hadn't lost as many of her memories.

Even if Draco didn't get his way, Ginny and Harry would have to accept an intruder into their lives, into their bed. Presuming that her parents and five older brothers let such a young unmarried couple spend any time alone ... Hermione wasn't sure which situation was worse; to share a bed long before the intrusion or to deal with the intruder at the same time as the upheavals of the first time with a loved one.

Hermione pinched herself. Either she keep her thoughts on the matter at hand, or she should do her best to stop thinking and go back to sleep. Considering the sort of meeting she had ahead of her in far too few hours, sleep sounded like a very good idea.

"If a far fetched one," she grumbled under her breath, punching her pillow and settling her head into the newly formed hollow.

Sleep was a long time coming, even with Severus's comforting presence by her side.

* * *

Hermione, eyelids tightly shut, used her wand to clean Ginny's spluttered Firewhisky from her face.

Perhaps the Leaky Cauldron hadn't been the best meeting place, but it was neutral ground, and they had privacy in the parlour Hermione had hired. The topic of conversation also warranted a stiff drink. Just preferably not sprayed all over her.

"Sorry, Hermione, but don't tell me things like that when I'm drinking," Ginny rasped, slowly recovering from her own exposure to Firewhisky in the wrong places.

Getting Firewhisky into one's eyes was undoubtedly unpleasant, so Hermione was inclined to agree. It was just as well that she'd blinked in time.

Ginny set her glass down with an unsteady hand. "Draco Malfoy wants to marry me? And he's got you to propose for him?"

"Yes... No! I'm not proposing, all I'm doing is finding out what you think about this."

"What I think?" Ginny snorted. "Harry would have a fit. It'd be worth telling him just to see the reaction." She cast a suspicious look at Hermione. "You're not behind this, are you? This isn't some scheme to get back at Harry, is it?"

"No!" Hermione bristled, scrabbling for the reins of her temper before she lost it. "Contrary to popular belief, not everything revolves around Harry."

"I'll believe you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Ginny might have left 'thousands wouldn't' unsaid, but the doubtful tone of her voice was enough.

"But just because he saved the ferret's life doesn't mean he wants him as the other man in our marriage!"

Hermione sighed heavily, her breath whistling through clenched teeth. This wasn't going well. "Draco's changed."

"Really?" Ginny raised a sceptical eyebrow, then frowned in thought. "But then he did seem oddly restrained at your wedding."

"He's been estranged from his father for months. Something to do with Lucius's allegiance to Voldemort endangering their family. He's also changed his tune about Muggle-borns."

Ginny propped her head on her hands. "It sounds too good to be true."

"I know. But it's true. Severus would have told me if it wasn't."

"By the way, exactly how much of that glow on your wedding dress was down to Severus?" Ginny waggled her eyebrows.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm. "I like him. I like him very much," she admitted. "But what's that got to do with the matter at hand?"

Ginny ignored her. "Do you remember a certain late night talk we had, at Grimmauld Place? When objects of crushes came up?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. But perhaps she could turn this twist of the conversation to her advantage ...

"And you said there was no one," Ginny continued, "were you fibbing?"

"Would I?" Hermione kept a straight face, resisting the urge to smirk. "But do you remember what you said?"

Ginny flushed crimson. "I should've kept my big mouth shut," she muttered. "I hoped you'd forgotten that bit."

"Is it still the case, though? You said you fancied Harry, yes ... but you also named others. Including Draco."

"Only in body! His personality is repulsive. Was, I mean." Ginny heaved an exasperated sigh. "Oh, all right. I'll give Mal... Draco a chance. If you give Harry a chance. Not of the same sort, of course!"

Hermione looked away.

Ginny touched the back of her hand. "He's really sorry about what he did."

"I know." She bit her lip. "This whole mess with the law is going to get worse before it gets better."

"I've a nasty feeling you're right." Ginny shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Can you afford to fall out with a friend in times like these?"

Hermione grimaced. Much as her injured pride objected, Ginny had a point. "Fine. He's forgiven."

"Good. Harry's been moping."

"Anything but that." Hermione raised her glass, clinking it to Ginny's in a toast.

A magically refilled (and drained) drink later, a slightly inebriated Ginny asked: "What's it like, being married to two men?"

"If anyone else asks, it's too early to tell. For your ears only, that applies too, but ..." She double-checked the Silencing Charm and leaned closer to Ginny. "I'm married to Lucius in name only."

"Apart from the one night making it legal?"

Hermione nodded, carefully steering her thoughts away from that night. Maybe one day she'd be able to think back and not feel as if she'd been doused in icy water, but that wouldn't be anytime soon.

"I did wonder if it was something like that. It's not as if you were friendly with Malfoy, while you were with Snape. I can remember that much; I fell ill months after you." Ginny cocked her head to the side quizzically. "Come to that ... you forgot about being Snape's friend. So why ..."

"Why did I marry him?" Much as Hermione wished she could simply snap that she didn't have to justify that to anyone, Ginny deserved some sort of answer. And had done nothing to warrant snarling at. "Whatever I saw in him in the first place is still there, and it's more than enough for friendship."

"And he's your intellectual equal or maybe better. I'm not even going to bother asking why you didn't start things up again with Ron. I saw the cracks long before you did."

"Oh?"

"At least Snape doesn't seem to take you for granted; Ron always did." Ginny shook herself. "Anyway, we're getting away from the topic at hand. Even if Lucius is only your show husband, you still have to put up with two men, even if you're friendly with one of them. How do you manage?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Lucius has been civil enough. Understanding, even.

"I'm such a hypocrite. Asking this of you when I'm not doing it myself." She buried her head in her hands.

Ginny leaned forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, you can't take the credit for coming up with this mess. It's not your fault."

Hermione almost gave herself whiplash with the speed she jerked her head up. "Saddling you with Draco is!" 'Great job of putting in a good word for your step-son, Hermione ...'

"Don't be stupid! I'm giving him a chance, not marrying him right off." Ginny scoffed, shaking Hermione's shoulder gently. "He's still got to prove himself to Harry and me. And if not him, it'd have to be someone else. At least Draco's gorgeous."

"If you say so," Hermione muttered. Ginny ignored her.

"It's true that Harry would prefer someone like Neville, not that he wants to share me at all. But Neville's marrying Hannah Abbott. And ... he's a dear, but I don't fancy Neville even if he were single."

Ginny shook Hermione's shoulder again. "Anyway, you're assuming that Lucius Malfoy is going to keep his word. What happens if he changes his mind? You'll be in the same dragon cave as everyone else."

"He won't."

Ginny snorted. "He's a Malfoy. They're not called 'bad faith' for nothing!"

"I meant that Severus would kill him if he did, actually. I know Lucius is a slippery customer. But I think he's unlikely to break his word. He's still grieving for Narcissa, apart from anything else. And even if he wasn't, I'm not exactly his type."

"But you are his wife. With this law, he's not going to be able to have mistresses, is he?"

Hermione blinked. It hadn't occurred to her that Lucius would want mistresses. Rather short-sighted of her, really, as he was unlikely to want to be celibate for the rest of his life.

"There's not enough women to go around, I mean. And there's the public image, too. If I know anything about Malfoys, Lucius married you for your status."

"That was the impression I got, yes. This is something I should have thought about ... Not that I can do anything right now." Hermione mentally shook herself. "What you said about Malfoys ... I hope you won't hold that against Draco."

"Nah, I meant it when I said I'd give him a chance. If you say he's changed, I'll trust that."

"Thank you." Hermione checked her watch. "I'd better get moving."

Ginny pouted. "Just one more glass? My treat."

"I'd rather not be any more intoxicated for a meeting with the Minister! It's my first step in my campaign against this legal mess."

"You mean to tell me that after a morning arranging a match dictated by that 'legal mess', you're going to spend the afternoon doing what you can to tear the law to pieces?" Ginny covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to stifle her laughter. And failing.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

"Hermione. I was wondering when you'd turn up." Kingsley stood up to take Hermione's hand and give her a warm handshake. "Have a seat."

He smiled half-heartedly at her as she sank into the chair opposite his desk. They'd been on friendly enough terms after that traumatic flight with Voldemort on their tail. But he suspected that this was not a social call.

"Before you ask, I can't do anything about the polyandry law. I'm subject to the dictations of the Wizengamot as much as anyone."

"I thought as much." Hermione shrugged. "It was worth a try, though."

"I take it you are going to campaign against this?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "It's outrageous. It takes away the right of witches to marry whomever they please. No one else seems to be taking a stand."

'That's my girl,' Kingsley thought, smiling internally. "I'm not about to stand in your way. But I can't publicly side with you, either."

"I realise your hands are tied. The Wizengamot makes the law, and the Ministry enforces it. By extension, so do you."

"Exactly." Kingsley looked down at his clasped hands, eyeing his brand new wedding ring. He'd married Rolanda Hooch sooner than he'd originally intended, and was negotiating with her to pick a suitable second husband in order to set an example for the public.

"I can give you some advice, off the record." He drew his wand, checking the privacy wards, once, twice, and recasting them before continuing to speak. "Attempts to abolish the law won't work. There needs to be a viable alternative. A better means to repopulate our world. If you can come up with that, the Wizengamot should be all ears." Kingsley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "What I can't do is provide funding."

"Are you forgetting who you married me to?" Hermione smirked.

Kingsley laughed heartily. "I'm impressed. You've been married to the man for less than a week and you've already wrangled your own key to the Malfoy Gringotts vault." He sat up straighter as he suddenly remembered something. "Er, have your husbands mentioned the fact that you can't set foot inside Gringotts without ending up in Azkaban?"

Hermione stiffened. "Severus did mention that I was banned for life, but not anything about Azkaban." That sounded a little like ticked-off-female to Kingsley, if he was any judge.

"Oops. I hope I haven't just landed him on the sofa tonight."

"No, it wasn't a bed banishing offence, and he has his uses," Hermione muttered. She flushed, clearing her throat, looking at Kingsley as if she'd suddenly realised exactly who she was talking to.

Kingsley took pity on her and changed the subject. "It's almost time for my next meeting, I'm sorry to say. Is there anything I can do to help that is within my power?"

"Can you grant me access to the Ministry and the Wizengamot's records?"

Kingsley stroked his chin thoughtfully, his stubble scraping across his fingertips. "You already have access to most Ministry records as a privilege accompanying your Order of Merlin. I can grant you access to everything, including the Wizengamot's archives ... if you sign a confidentiality contract."

"How am I meant to use any information I find if I have to keep it to myself?" Hermione spluttered.

"You can share it with anyone else who has signed the contract. And with the Wizengamot, of course, in the event that you find something that could change the law." Kingsley reached into his desk and extracted two copies of the Top Secret Research contract. "Severus has already signed one. I must be mad to supply one for Lucius Malfoy, but these things were drawn up by goblins from Gringotts. If anyone can find a loophole, they deserve to."

He rummaged around inside his desk again and extracted a Soul Selling Quill. It was nothing of the sort, of course, but signing one's name in one's own blood once had certain convenient superstitions attached. Kingsley offered the magical black quill to Hermione.

She eyed the quill in distaste, but took it without complaining. While she read through the contract, Kingsley got up and moved to the fireplace. Flinging in a handful of Floo powder, he knelt down.

"Malfoy Manor," he called as he poked his head into the green flames. Kingsley kept his eyes shut as he felt the disconcerting whirling rush in his head while the rest of his body was still stationary. It would not do to be sick upon arrival. He really didn't want to think about the logistics, either, of what would happen to the vomit en route. The addition of soot could be the very least of the problems. Ugh. He did his best to shake the disturbing thoughts from his head. And regretted it, as the movement made him all the more queasy.

At least Floo travel didn't take long. His nausea eased seconds later, and he opened his eyes to the austere length of the hallway in Malfoy Manor.

"Lucius Malfoy!" Kingsley yelled.

"You called?" Lucius drawled, poking his head out of the nearest doorway. "Why have you seen fit to honour me with your presence, Shacklebolt?"

"Your charming wife has twisted my arm into increasing your access to the Ministerial archives. If you want it, come through into my office." He pulled his head back into the whirl of Floo travel.

In the time it took for Kingsley to regain his control over his stomach, stand up and back away from the fireplace, Lucius had come through, radiating suspicion.

"Just sign on the dotted line." Kingsley gestured to the parchment on his desk, next to where Hermione had just finished signing her name and was now flexing her right hand, wincing.

To his grim delight, the sight of the tightly worded contract combined with the Soul Selling Quill changed Lucius's expression from merely wary to looking as though he'd just bitten into a maggoty apple.

"I knew there would be a catch."

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