Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Lucius wiped his lips with his napkin and rose from the table. Perfect timing. According to the wards, Severus and Hermione were just coming downstairs. He walked over to the open doorway and watched them approach, a prime position to observe the way they walked close enough to touch, with lingering touches at that.

'Excellent. They're like clockwork; they never miss their Sunday morning shag.'

"Good morning," he murmured, not even bothering to mask his expression. So much the better if it made that most becoming blush rise in Hermione's cheeks, and if it happened to break that infernal Occlumency-induced control of Severus's ... No such luck, there was only a brief flicker of anger in those dark eyes before it faded. The spoilsport had ruined the pleasure of Severus baiting.

At least he still had the power to embarrass Hermione, and if that failed there was still the thrill of the chase. And even if the unthinkable happened and he never managed to charm his way into her bed, one form of entertainment remained, even if they left him and Malfoy Manor behind. And such quality entertainment ...

Just thinking about it made his cock harden. Not a good thing in such tailored, close-fitting robes: voyeur though he was, Lucius did not like being watched in return. Unless it was by participants in the carnal act, of course, but that was a different matter!

But now it was time to make a hasty exit before he blushed under Severus and Hermione's scrutiny. Well, that and the supplier of his quality entertainment should be waiting for him. "I'll be in my study. Enjoy your breakfast."

Lucius had to restrain himself to a casual walk – as far as that was possible with a growing erection – even after the dining room door closed behind him. After all, they would hear it if he broke into a run. That might make Severus suspicious as to why he was in such a hurry. Additionally, it was hardly dignified.

The moment Lucius set foot inside his study, the painting standing on his desk blurred. It was a combined portrait-calendar, and the picture changed each month as soon as his proximity triggered it. Last month it had been of one of his prized albino peacocks strutting along the driveway. This time ...

Lucius swallowed hard. He tore his eyes away from the family portrait and staggered inside. Pushing the door shut behind him, he stumbled over to his desk and sank down on the dragonhide chair in front of it.

With a trembling finger he traced the contours of Narcissa's painted face. She smiled sadly at him and raised her own hand to press the shifting oil of it to his finger.

Immediately after her death – and the funeral – Lucius had spent his days languishing in front of her portrait until his calendar decided to save him from himself by selecting scenes without her. Until now ... Yet while the sight of her struck him like a blow, the grief was not as raw as it had been.

But to make up for that, the painted Draco beside her had turned his back on both the painted Lucius and the flesh-and-blood one. At least he hadn't stalked off this time, as had happened in every single painting of him since the fall of the Dark Lord. That meant there was some small progress ...

That was encouraging, since their conversation hadn't gone well at Draco's wedding reception. Draco had accepted his congratulations. But apart from that they hadn't talked, while Draco made a point of conversing with absolutely everyone except his estranged father. Even to the male Weasleys.

A small long-fingered hand pawed at his knee, only to snatch itself away and open and close a drawer on it. There was a strangled squeal. "Bad Tricksy touching Master unasked for!"

"I is here, Master," the elf added a moment later. What was it about the creatures that made them state the blindingly obvious?

Lucius drew his wand. "Concentrate on what I bid you to watch unseen," he commanded. Something that he'd repeated ad nauseam, but he did not want to subject himself to a mix-up.

He touched the tip of the wand to Tricksy's temple and slowly drew out the wisp of silver. It was only when he struggled to keep it on the end of his wand that he realised that he'd forgotten to Conjure a bottle for it.

"Idiot," he grumbled, before he flicked the memory into the air and quickly Transfigured a scrap of parchment into a delicate glass bottle. Lucius picked it up and held it under the memory as it floated back down, straight into the container. He didn't bother to seal it – he'd be watching it soon enough – only tapping it with his wand to make the glass Unbreakable.

"You may go. Oh, and remember that Hermione's parents are coming for lunch today."

Those huge green eyes widened. "Children of mud in the house! What would Tricksy's poor Mistress say?" the elf wailed. She clutched at her ears.

"Mistress would have been a perfect hostess, even to Muggles," Lucius snapped. "Now go, to the kitchen with you!"

Tricksy cracked away, still wailing.

Lucius gave the painted Narcissa another lingering glance before he rose to his feet and crossed to the wall of his study opposite the door. He rested his hand against the wooden panelling until he felt it give way a few seconds later, literally melting into nothing. Of course, to anyone else it would still be visible and perfectly solid, otherwise it would be a pretty pathetic secret room.

And pathetic could hardly describe the chamber beyond. By the end of his life, it should rival the size of his library, although at the moment it had a fair amount of expanding yet to do.

As always, Lucius paused to spare the time for an admiring inspection of his beautiful collection, the walls of the circular room lined with shelves full of glowing silver bottles, the gilded engravings labelling the shelves with names and dates.

Lucius walked to where his Pensieve stood in the centre of the room, the basin silver smooth as a mirror. That would change as soon as he tipped in the memory he carried. Then it would come to life, swirling gently until he dipped in. And such a pleasant dip it would be ...

He overturned the bottle and let the memory drift down, where it cast rippling eddies as it landed in the Pensieve. After placing the empty bottle into a pocket, Lucius rested his hands on the rim of the ornately carved marble and leaned down. His face touched the surface and he whirled into his own private paradise.

And there they were ... the room was dimly lit, but enough light was streaming under the curtains for Lucius to see what was going on. There were no blankets in the way either, thanks to his slight manipulation of the wards governing the temperature in their bedrooms. Not enough that they would overheat in bed, but so that it was comfortable with no bedclothes.

Lucius loosened his robes and unfastened his trousers, his eyes fixed on the couple entangled on the bed. No underwear made things so much easier, too, Lucius mused as he reached inside to draw his thickening cock out.

He watched as she slid down the slim male body to take his prick into her mouth, rapidly firming it from half-mast to fully erect.

There was a masculine groan, then she was pulled back up into a kiss, before he rolled them over and sank down to return the favour. How delicious she must taste ... Lucius licked his lips and stroked at his cock, savouring her moans at the caresses of that sharp, clever tongue.

They moved so that she knelt on the bed and he sank into her from behind. Lucius sidled to the left so that he could watch that slick prick pound into her wet cunt, fisting himself in time with their rhythm.

"Yes, Severus, give it to her!" He could almost fool himself into thinking that they followed his every whim as the pace increased. "Harder! Harder! Hard...unh!"

Afterwards, once rational thought returned, Lucius pondered again how disorienting it was to ejaculate nothing. Well, not nothing, as the mess to clean up would be inside his trousers in his physical body where it bent over the Pensieve.

Lucius watched them finish, Severus grunting something that might have been her name as Hermione cried out. They collapsed onto the bed, Severus rolling aside so that he didn't land on top of her. Lucius levered himself out of the Pensieve. It was more pain than pleasure to watch the tender aftermath of their lovemaking.

He stepped back from the Pensieve, grimacing at the way his flaccid cock clung to the sticky mess in his trousers.

"Evanesco. Much better."

Lucius dipped his wand into the Pensieve and scooped out the memory. With a flick of his wrist, he slid it into the bottle. He picked it up and walked over to the shelf nearest the door.

"Here we are, Severus Snape and Hermione Granger ... let's put you where you belong." He put it down at the end of the row of bottles. As he did so, the polished wood stretched slightly, along with the room itself.

"Thank Merlin for loopholes," Lucius murmured, looking down the shelf at his ever growing collection. Within the year it should match the size of the other shelves. It had been risky to put Tricksy to use, spying on Severus and Hermione while invisible, especially after Severus made him swear that wand oath, but ... definitely worth it. Thankfully house-elf magic and extracting a memory was indirect enough to circumvent the oath. Lucius smirked and stroked his most recent acquisition. Well worth it.

Although it would be even better if he could use the little-known charm to make it so that he experienced everything Severus or Hermione did. Sadly, that was impossible as the memory would have to be from one of them for it to work. Bribing a Knockturn Alley whore for her – or his – memories was more satisfying in that respect, but ... it was just not the same mentally. Lucius's own memories were better for that, only his only personal experience of Hermione was not one he cared to revisit.

Perhaps if he could somehow redo that disastrous night ... But that would take time. He wanted something more immediate.

That was it! Polyjuice. With one of Severus's hairs, he could have a most pleasant hour. Well, provided that Severus had no opportunity to catch him in the act, otherwise it would be far too risky. Ward him in with his potions? So long as he was occupied, he wouldn't even notice. As for gaining the necessary hair, a house-elf could easily take one.

He would have to be sure to spell himself clean of any taint of Polyjuice or the game would be up. And there was the difference in technique ... she might notice something and mention it to Severus later. Or get suspicious and Stun him until it wore off. That would be disastrous. But if he used his observations of Severus's style in the memories correctly, she wouldn't know differently.

He would have to Obliviate her afterwards regardless. He couldn't risk her saying something to Severus, even complimentary.

Yes, that would work. Not something he could do today, what with the parental visit, but tomorrow ... Still, he was getting ahead of himself: first he had to check his stock.

It was only when he left his hoard behind and opened the drawer warded to respond only to his touch that he froze, appalled, staring at the vials of Polyjuice.

"What am I thinking? I'm better than that. It's not who I am."

He closed the drawer and sat down heavily. A true Malfoy did not need to force himself on anyone. More to the point, he didn't want to. Using Polyjuice would be akin to drugging Hermione. Besides, while he wouldn't mind being part of a Severus and Hermione sandwich, he didn't really want to play the part of both Severus and himself in that encounter.

Lucius eyed the drawer thoughtfully. He wouldn't use it to trick his way into Hermione's bed, but surely it wouldn't be so wrong to steal a kiss? Yet even that would be better in his own skin.

* * *

Harridan Helen (he really had to break that habit before he slipped up to her face!) and Will were late for lunch. Something about an emergency appointment for a family friend. As a result, they were too hungry to talk much during the meal itself.

Which was just as well, as Lucius needed time to cool off. The murdering Muggles had roared up his drive in their wheels of death, colliding with one of his peacocks. The poor bird had never seen a car before, and as a result didn't move fast enough out of the way.

How they had failed to see a pure white large bird in time was beyond Lucius. At least they were truly sorry, being bird lovers themselves.

The only silver lining was that after the deceased peacock had hung sufficiently long, he would have a delicious roast.

"How's that memory restorative going, Severus?" Will asked.

Severus shook his head. "No progress. Although I might have a breakthrough if I could obtain some willingly shed Jobberknoll feathers, and not ones that merely drop off through moulting at that."

So that was his game, indirectly asking Lucius such a thing where he couldn't rub it in, not if he wanted to appear a gracious host. Not that there was anything to rub in, though. "I'll try, but there are some things even I can't get my birds to do."

"Pity," Severus muttered. "That means I am back to square one in all likelihood."

"And you, Hermione? How is the campaign going?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped at her mother's question. "Nowhere fast. If not for the fact that the Ministry is better under Kingsley, I'd think they'd hidden – or worse, destroyed – anything that I could use."

"Come now." Severus patted her hand. "You did get them to alter the addendum so that they didn't split every single sterile union apart."

"That was more Kingsley's doing. Just as he's the one who pardoned Filch on the technicality that he was a Squib. You did say he was already in the process of doing that when you asked him to."

"True. It does make a pleasant change to have a decent Minister."

Harr...Helen cleared her throat. "Anyway, why I ask is that, well, I did promise to look into Muggle methods that might help."

Hermione straightened in her chair. "You found something?"

"Perhaps. I know that the Wizened Amok..." Lucius mouthed Helen's mangling in disbelief. He met Severus's eyes and looked away quickly. Now was not the time to burst out laughing, although at least Severus also must be struggling to withhold it. "...won't take mere Muggles like us seriously, even with the regime change. But they'd surely listen to you!"

Hermione made an inquiring noise. Helen continued. "In vitro fertilisation. And it would help you, too, at least with the conception difficulty."

What did 'in glass' have to do with fertilisation? The question was on the tip of Lucius's tongue, but Hermione was speaking.

"Not me, Mum." Hermione looked guiltily away. "I ... I forgot to mention that Severus and Lucius sterilised themselves to stay with me."

"Hermione Jean..." Will growled, only for his wife to lay a hand on his arm.

"She's had a lot on her plate, remember," she hissed. Helen turned to Hermione, who still avoided her parents' disappointed stares. "But you should have told us."

"Maybe it's time I got you a Daily Prophet subscription," Hermione muttered. "I know. And I should come myself instead of sending an owl with a letter."

"Including when you invite us here." Will fixed her with a steely gaze when she finally looked up at him. "Anyway, Helen's idea is more than just for you. It could be used for any witch or wizard. Even those with miscarriage risks like you: simply use a surrogate, as adoption is apparently not on."

Lucius was thankful for that. He could make an exception for Hermione and her parents, but a Muggle child? That was one benefit of the addendum: magical children only. And Muggle-borns had their own parents. Besides, the necessary girls would have died anyway thanks – no, due, a death like that was not something to wish on anyone – to the plague.

He blinked as something Will had said registered: surrogate. From the context it sounded like it meant to have another woman carry the child, but that was impossible.

"Surrogates? What next, wizards as sperm donors, and witches as egg donors?" Hermione said doubtfully. "I don't know, Dad, that seems wrong. I'm surprised you're advocating something that would involve taking advantage of Muggles."

"But it wouldn't be, don't you see? Surrogates volunteer to be pregnant, if only for money. And users of sperm banks and egg donations want to have babies."

Lucius exchanged a completely flummoxed look with Severus. Good, at least that meant it wasn't pure-blood ignorance. 'A sperm what?'

"What does 'in glass' have to do with it, and what in the name of Merlin is a sperm bank?"

Will looked at Helen as if they were mentally deciding who got the short straw.

"They are Muggle fertility techniques, obviously," Hermione explained. "In vitro is where eggs and sperm are combined outside the woman's body. It got the name from the test tube it took place in, as far as I know. After that the fertilised egg is put back into the womb, where it hopefully successfully implants."

So that was what Will had meant by a surrogate ... the fertilised egg wouldn't be put back into the mother, but into a different woman.

'Ugh!'

At the dubious expression Lucius was unable to keep himself from showing, she continued. "It does work. It can take a few attempts, but it has helped many infertile Muggle couples."

"And sperm banks?" Severus prompted.

"Exactly what it sounds like. It's where the, er, deposits from sperm donors are kept until they're needed."

"What are sperm donors?" Lucius asked. He had a nasty feeling that he would like this even less than 'in glass'.

"Again, it's pretty self explanatory. As most wizards aren't part of the National Health Service, I guess it would have to be done anonymously – the less Confunding that needs to be done, the better."

Lucius stared at her. "Muggles have places where women with infertile husbands go to be impregnated by a stranger?"

"Yes."

Helen cleared her throat. "With anonymous sperm, it's frozen first, and they make sure it's clean from any diseases. It's also artificially inseminated or used with in vitro, so wipe that look off your face."

Lucius scowled. While Muggles were perhaps not quite as barbaric as he'd thought before Helen's expansion, that really wasn't saying much. For a wizard to do that would be to sire bastards. And worse ...

"Absolutely not. That's outrageous, no decent wizard or witch would stand for it. From what you say, donors are anonymous. Just imagine it, within two decades there would be half-blooded half-siblings unknowingly marrying!"

"That could be overcome by a genetic – familial, to you 'decent' wizards – comparison before marriage." Helen's voice was considerably frostier.

"Regardless, family is paramount to wizards! No one will stand for Muggles raising their child."

"Then use surrogates," Helen snapped.

"That's still out of the question! What about the statute of secrecy?"

"Surely no different to the parents of Muggle-borns finding out about magic," Will huffed. "Or is that beyond the pale too in your opinion?"

Lucius glared at his guests and opened his mouth to defend his honour. "I may have an unfortunate past, but I'm a different man now, you stupid...Ow!" He doubled over and clutched at his shin.

"Those are my parents you're talking to," Hermione hissed. "Keep a civil tongue in your head or it'll be Silencio next time."

She turned to her parents. "And this is the first Lucius – and Severus – have heard of these things. It is going to sound rather outlandish and, to be frank, against the grain. I can't say that I like it either."

"What's wrong with it? The only thing possibly immoral with it is 'playing God', and we are cheerfully agnostic or atheist, aren't we?"

"Even if the Muggles involved want children, it's still wrong. As it's girls that are needed, it would make most sense for sperm donation rather than egg donation. Severus's gender selection potion would mean that there would be no problems with 'unwanted' boys. Nothing too dubious with that.

"But a Compulsion Charm would have to be applied to make sure that the wizarding sperm is used before any Muggle sperm in the bank. That's nothing less than trickery," Hermione spat.

Will and Helen exchanged an uncomfortable glance. "Well, put like that, it's not very nice, but ..." They floundered for the right words.

"It's nothing new," Severus stated flatly. "Not right, by any means, but wizards have done far worse. The Wizengamot wouldn't bat an eyelid – at least, not about that aspect."

"I suppose it's better than what the addendum dictates," Hermione admitted. "But that's really not saying much." She sighed. "I suppose it's too much to hope that there's a solution out there that isn't a lesser evil."

"Judging by that look on your face, dear, we're going to lose you to your research this afternoon."

"Sorry." Hermione grimaced. "It's just if I want to get this in front of the Wizengamot tomorrow, I need to do my homework."

Lucius cleared his throat. "There's no need. The ministry archives won't have anything on these Muggle methods, I can guarantee that. They're unheard of." And barbaric to boot, although voicing that would only earn him another vicious kick. "Besides, the archives probably aren't open today."

He rose from the table. "Now for the tour of the house and grounds. I'm sure you can't wait to see my aviary."

* * *

"How did it go?"

Hermione slammed the front door behind her in answer. She grimaced and muttered an apology to the cringing door elf.

A brisk walk up the long driveway had done little to calm her down. She could still hear Fudge's derisive laughter echoing in her ears.

"Ah. That well." Lucius stood aside to let her storm into his study. He crossed over to his desk and picked up a small glass. "Here. You look like you need this."

Hermione glanced at the shot of Firewhisky but made no move to take it. "No thanks. Headache. Alcohol won't improve it; I'd kill for a cup of tea."

"Tricksy!" Lucius called. The house-elf instantly cracked into view and fixed a sickeningly adoring gaze on her master. "Hermione would like some tea."

Tricksy turned those large eyes onto Hermione as if just noticing her presence. The difference in expression was striking, from adoration to the sort of disgusted glower one would bestow at peacock doings after stepping in it.

Regardless, Tricksy did as she was asked without a word, leaving the tea leaves to steep before she vanished silently from sight.

It would be a while before the tea brewed. She might as well make use of that time by venting a little, even if it was only to Lucius ... Much as she wished Severus was there, he must still be busy in his lab.

"You were right that the Wizengamot had nothing about in vitro or sperm donation in their archives; I checked that this morning and afternoon before Kingsley managed to call a meeting at 6 o' clock.

"But they summoned someone from St Mungo's." One thing for sure, she had to find a way to get her hands on St Mungo's archives. "He knew of the Muggle methods. While that spared me from the torture of explaining it in terms that Fudge and his cronies would understand, it turns out that there's a reason why they have the stipulation about sex with only the father during the first trimester, and regularly at that," Hermione spat bitterly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid: I discounted that as irrelevant, as Muggle-borns exist perfectly well without it."

"I forgot about that," Lucius admitted. "I don't know the details, but I do know that it's what St Mungo's advised Narcissa and me to do before we managed to have Draco. But it didn't seem to help."

"From what the Healer the Wizengamot consulted had to say, use of a surrogate – and so also sperm donation – wouldn't work as even if the babies survived to term, they would probably be stillborn and guaranteed to be Squibs if they lived."

That was apparently all down to the connection between the mother and father, and the child. The bond, the Healer had said. Without a healthy bond, the magic of the child couldn't develop properly. It wasn't merely genetic but to do with the soul too.

"But in vitro might work?"

Hermione shook her head. "The conception is crucial. The Healer was mortified to say it, but it's all down to it being an expression of love: it has to be sex. Seems Dumbledore was right: love is the strongest magic."

"I suppose that's proof that even Severus's parents loved each other once."

Hermione nodded absently. "Love potions work, too," she murmured, thinking of Voldemort's case.

"What about Muggle-borns?"

She clenched her fists and started to pace furiously. "'Muggle-borns such as yourself are a fluke, a quirk of nature.'" Hermione mimicked. "I think Fudge really meant 'mistake'. Bastard. 'I think you will find that the results of your unnatural Muggle fertilisation technique are never magical.'"

A wordless snarl escaped Hermione. "Then that smug piece of outdated confectionary had the cheek to say: 'Next time you come before us, be sure to do your research.'"

"He'd better watch out for the next time you do go before them," Lucius murmured. "By the way, do you have a perfect memory?"

"No. Just as well too. One day I might forget the way that fuckwit and his friends laughed at me." Hermione stopped pacing when the glass cabinet opposite her began to shake. She forced herself to breathe deeply and tried to relax her tense muscles.

She jumped when Lucius's hands started to knead her shoulders.

"Relax," he murmured. "You'll make that headache worse. Let me make it better."

Lucius's touch in itself made her tense, but as he worked on the knots she found herself more at ease.

"Spitfire." Lucius's voice against her ear raised alarm bells. Hermione stiffened. Then she felt his lips on her neck. She jerked away and turned to face him in the same motion that put some safe distance between them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"I'm sorry. I can't help myself." He closed that so-called safe distance with a single stride. Then his lips were on hers.

Hermione's luck held. Before she had a chance to so much as draw in a shocked breath, Severus spoke from the doorway.

"I should have insisted that you swear an Unbreakable Vow, friend."

Hermione shoved herself away from Lucius. Too late. Far too late. Severus's voice was deadly calm.

"A fidelity charm, too," he stated, his eyes fixed on her.

"It's not what it looks like!" Hermione protested. She felt like she'd been winded by a near-fatal drop, matching the pain in his shattered gaze.

"If that's so, there won't be any problem with you coming to join me in bed. Be there by midnight ... or I will not forgive this betrayal." He stalked away.

Hermione forced her trembling limbs to move and staggered after him. She caught his arm, forcing him to stop or drag her behind him. "Severus. Severus! Wait, you don't..."

He halted and shrugged her off. "By midnight," Severus thundered, his fury breaking through the calm before the storm. For a moment he stood there with his back to her, shoulders rising and falling with gasping breaths as he struggled for control. "You have five hours to make your choice, surely adequate for any flighty female."

"Severus, don't be ridiculous ... I love you."

He ignored her, deaf to her calls as he stormed upstairs.

Hermione fell to her knees. It felt like she couldn't breathe.

"He's a fool, walking away from you," Lucius murmured from behind her.

Her eyes narrowed. This was Lucius's doing. His fault. She rose to her feet and turned to face Lucius. There was a glint of triumph in his eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. She saw red.

CRACK.

Lucius staggered back, clutching at his cheek where she'd backhanded him. A trickle of blood emerged from the corner of his mouth.

Hermione drew her wand, her grip firm and her aim unwavering. "Stay away from me!" she shrieked. Without even thinking a spell, he was blasted across the hall.

She sprinted after Severus. He had to listen to her. He had to.

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, JunoMagic and Septentrion for betaing.