Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione yawned widely. It had been a long day, made all the longer by her repressed anger. Tempting as it had been to burst into the men's toilets to set Ronald and Severus straight, that only would have caused a scene. Not something she wanted on her wedding day. The way it had been taken over as a Ministry propaganda tool was bad enough.

No, Ron was someone else's problem now – whoever he found as a wife. As for Severus ... he could learn his lesson in private.

Malfoy Manor was a welcome respite from the crowded Ministry hall. By the time they had thanked the most important guests for coming, it was so late that it was early.

Lucius had produced a Portkey to spirit them away before the rabble of parasitic paparazzi could descend. 'I could have kissed him.'

The Portkey deposited them in the entrance hall. Lucius tossed the chipped champagne flute that had served as their escape route to Dilly the door-elf.

"First of all we should check if the curse breaking worked." Lucius nodded at where Hermione's hand was still intertwined with Severus's to touch the Portkey.

Severus let go of her, but kept his hand hovering near hers. While it was endearing for him to be so protective, Hermione also experienced a fresh surge of irritation. But she suppressed that, too. Her poor pillow would end up deaf by the time she was free to scream into it tonight.

"Well?" Lucius asked. His voice drawled expectantly.

Right. She closed her eyes in an effort to heighten her other senses, but there was nothing to detect. No icy hand clutched her insides this time.

"It seems to have worked, although you'll forgive me if I don't want to set foot into the drawing room to truly test it out right now."

"Excellent." Lucius had to stifle a yawn. "I suppose it's high time I showed you to your rooms."

Severus took her hand again, and they followed Lucius upstairs through a maze of dimly lit corridors. Soft snores came from ancestral Malfoy portraits, any disapproval of her presence masked by painted sleep.

Luckily her dress was no longer glowing, otherwise the portraits would complain about the light. But the fabric had dimmed as soon as they'd arrived at Malfoy Manor. Hermione suspected that the illumination spell Ginny had used required proximity to the caster to remain active.

Lucius turned into yet another corridor, but stopped beside the first door. "Here we are." He gestured to the door, and to the next one. "Adjoining rooms. If you're sure that you don't want your own wings?"

Hermione nodded slightly at Severus's querying glance. "Absolutely certain," he said. "That wouldn't be married life as either of us expect it to be."

At that, Hermione had to force down another flicker of anger. What did Severus know of her expectations? They'd never been discussed.

"I suppose it would be a jarring change from cosy Spinner's End," Lucius murmured. He covered his mouth delicately as he yawned again. "I'll bid you good night." He made as if to step towards Hermione, but flinched. Watching closely, Hermione was unsurprised to see his eyes flicker towards his ring, rather than at Severus. His gaze only lingered for a second, before he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor.

She exchanged a look with Severus, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips when they both raised an eyebrow at the same time. Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, as she remembered that she was angry with him. This time it was no use trying to suppress her anger, as it simmered past boiling point. She let go of his hand and glared up at him.

"Hermione?" Severus looked utterly baffled, almost as clueless as Ron at his worst. That just fanned the flames of her annoyance all the more.

"If you expect us not to share rooms during our married life, I might as well go to bed now. See you in the morning." Then she yanked the door open, flounced inside and closed the door in his face before he could say a word.

The room was spacious without overwhelming her, the walls pale green while the carpet was predictably silvery. Hermione thought that she wouldn't be surprised if that was the colour scheme for most of the rooms.

There were no bags cluttering up the floor, presumably because the house-elves had unpacked as well as transported their belongings. But there was also no Crookshanks. A sinking feeling in her stomach, Hermione opened the nearest cupboard. As she suspected, it was full of Severus's clothes. She made a mental note to drag him out on a clothes shopping expedition at some point: he definitely needed a bit more variety in his wardrobe.

She turned away from the cupboard when there was a knock at the adjoining door.

"Hermione, either your cat is in my room, or you made your dramatic exit into the wrong one." His voice was muffled by the door, but she could all-too-clearly hear the laughter that followed the clatter of wardrobe doors opening. "I'm not really into cross-dressing, dear."

Red-cheeked, she walked across the thick carpet to open the adjoining door. At least Severus had the sense not to smirk, although his eyes shone with suppressed mirth.

Before Hermione could go through the adjoining door, Severus deftly caught hold of her. He dipped her in his arms, bent over and kissed her. She let him, even kissed back, although her anger lent a bruising force to them on her part.

He set her back on her feet. Hermione was breathing hard, her heart pounding.

"I'm still angry with you."

"I know," he said, and had the nerve to smirk at her. He bent to kiss her again.

She reluctantly pushed him away. "I'm not in the mood," she stated, and stepped towards the door.

Severus frowned, then nodded. "I suppose we're too tired for that step." He put his hands on her shoulders. "And you're too angry," he murmured, fingers working on her tense muscles. "But the point of having separate rooms is so that we have our own space. Notice that they are adjoining rooms? We won't be living separate lives."

"I know. But you should have talked to me about it first." She shrugged him off. "Good night," she said firmly, and stepped through into her room. She turned to close the door.

"Allow me." Severus shut the door before she could. Not that she could blame him. It had to hurt his feelings to have a door closed in his face, and for her to attempt to do so twice in one night ... She winced. 'I'll make it up to him tomorrow.'

She turned to her new room, lit by candles on wall sconces. The décor was much the same as Severus's, from the green walls to the silver carpet. One wall was taken up by a window, currently blocked from view by curtains of deep green velvet. Looking at the room, it seemed to be a mirror of the one she'd just been in, although she hadn't noticed the door next to the bed, across the room from the adjoining door. A peek through it revealed an en suite bathroom, with a bath more than big enough for two people.

Hermione turned to the bed. A king size four-poster (with velvet curtains of the same shade as those on the window) for one person ... typically extravagant for this house. Although, she supposed that it was intended for two occasionally, as that was the whole point of adjoining rooms for a married couple.

Crookshanks had made himself at home, curled up on the green and silver chequered quilt. Hermione yawned again at the sight of him. She ached to join him in slumber.

But first she needed to get out of her increasingly uncomfortable wedding finery. For a moment, she struggled to reach for the zip on the back before her tired brain recalled that it wasn't a Muggle dress. No zip. No buttons, either. Ginny had dealt with it that morning. 'Perhaps I should have paid a little more attention to how she did it. She didn't say anything, though. Maybe she assumed that I knew how to take it off? Argh! Even if I crawl back to Severus for help, he'd likely be just as clueless as me.'

A muttered 'Finite Incantatem' had no effect whatsoever. As good as she was with charms, she didn't want to try to cut it off herself unless she had no other choice.

"Oh, help," she muttered, along with a few choice swear words.

"Missy wants help?" a voice squeaked from behind her.

Hermione spun around, automatically looking down – it did sound like a house-elf, after all. It was, with a pointy nose and matching ears. Hermione thought that it looked rather similar to poor Dobby, but different, somehow. A female, maybe? It was always so difficult to tell with house-elves.

Large green eyes blinked up at her. "Master sends Tricksy to new Mistress."

"Lucius sent you? How ... kind ... of him." Much as Hermione didn't want the service – slavery! – of a house-elf, she really did need help to undress if she wanted to keep her wedding dress intact.

"Master always kind to Mistress." The elf sounded insulted at the implication that her precious master could be anything other than kind, at least to the Mistress of the house. "What can Tricksy do for Missy?"

"Could you help me out of this dress, please?"

The elf snapped her fingers, and the closure at the back of the bodice finally opened.

"Thank you. Oh, you don't need to..."

"Tricksy is a good personal house-elf." The elf was using her magic to peel the dress and underclothes off Hermione, a nightie floating out of a cupboard, ready to slide on to her.

"Missy is pretty," Tricksy commented, before snapping her fingers again. The nightie slid over Hermione's head, muffling the elf's squeaking voice. Hermione thought that it added something like 'Although not as pretty as my poor Mistress', but couldn't be sure. She said nothing more by the time Hermione's head was free of the clingy cotton.

Crookshanks hissed from the bed. His yellow eyes were fixed on Tricksy, narrowed into a baleful glare. He tensed as if to pounce, his tail flicking from side to side.

"Crooks, no!" Hermione grabbed hold of his collar. He growled and swatted at her, but kept his claws retracted. "What's got into you? House-elves are not prey."

She turned back to the elf, most of her concentration on restraining her struggling cat. "Sorry, he's usually very well behaved."

"Tricksy will leave Missy to sleep now." Tricksy turned away, but didn't vanish immediately. She was muttering something under her breath. The only word Hermione could catch was 'Mudblood'. She felt her heart sink. Just like Kreacher ....

There was a crack and the house-elf was gone. Hermione crawled into bed and put out the candles with a wave of her wand. Crookshanks snuggled up to her, his warm weight and purrs reassuring.

Hermione sighed. She needed to put her thoughts aside in order to sleep. Severus being overprotective and her guilt over her reaction to that could wait. Harry ... well, that would be dealt with soon enough. He knew she wanted to talk to him, she'd told him at the reception in no uncertain terms. He might even have an inkling about why she wanted a word, although this being Harry, maybe not. Did he know how difficult it had been for her to look the remaining Weasleys in the eye?

She took several deep breaths and determinedly pushed Harry out of her mind. Sleep was still a while in coming.

* * *

It was still dark when some inconsiderate person knocking on the door awoke Severus. He rolled out of bed, his wand levelled at the door, his heart hammering. Then his mind caught up with his reflexes, thankfully before he hexed anything. That was the adjoining door. 'Hermione. She needs me. Why?'

"Lumos." He squinted in the light cast by his wand, but at least it lit less of the room than relighting the candles would.

He swiftly crossed the room and opened the door. Hermione had her own wand, also lit, but her hand was trembling so much that the light wavered.

Had the Dark atmosphere somehow returned? That would explain why she trembled like a leaf. Severus pulled her into his arms, but his touch didn't stop her shivers.

"What's wrong?"

"Nightmare." Her voice was muffled against his chest.

He stroked her back with his free hand. "Come to bed."

The adjoining door closed – Severus had no wish to be clawed by a cat misguidedly trying to defend the honour of its mistress – they curled up together, nested like spoons, Hermione in the curve of his body.

"What was the nightmare about?"

She just shook her head, her hair brushing against his chest.

"It might help to talk about it," he suggested.

"I ... can't actually remember. It's stupid, I should go."

In answer, Severus tightened his arms around her waist. "I have nightmares like that. But the feeling stays with you, even if the specifics of the dream do not."

"It still makes me feel ridiculous," she grumbled, but laid her hands on top of his.

After a while, just as Severus was about to drop off to sleep, she spoke up again. "While I can't remember what it was about, it felt familiar, somehow. As if I'd dreamt it before. I woke up suddenly, quite, um, upset ... but I felt exhausted, as if I'd been running."

"Hmm," he grunted. "Why didn't your cat comfort you? Not that I'm complaining, just wondering."

"I literally jerked awake. Crooks vanished under the bed and wouldn't come out. He sulks when his sleep is disturbed."

'Understandable.'

Oops. Judging by the way Hermione had just stiffened, he'd managed to say that thought aloud.

She tugged at his hands. "If you want me to go..."

"No. It's just been a very long day. Sleep?"

"If I can," she muttered.

"Shall I get you a dose of Dreamless Sleep?"

"Please."

By the time Severus got back from his hunt through the medicine cupboard in the bathroom, Hermione was snoring softly. 'Typical.'

He set the vial of Dreamless Sleep down on the bedside table, just in case it would be useful again. Then he climbed into bed next to his bride and pulled her close.

* * *

It was light when Severus's sleep was disturbed again. This time, the door to his room from the corridor clicked open. Severus did two things on snapping awake. He pulled the quilt up to Hermione's throat, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. Only a fool would sleep with a wand under a pillow, due to the potential of sparks.

Lucius stood in the doorway, his eyebrows raised at the sight before him. Did he expect them to sleep in separate beds, or did he not expect to have a wand aimed at him? No matter.

"Go away. Knock next time, too. Just because you are the master of this house does not give you the right to barge in like this."

"Apologies," Lucius sneered. "Come down when you want breakfast. I won't send an elf with food today, since there are things we need to talk about." He closed the door with exaggerated care.

Quite why they couldn't talk after eating breakfast separately was beyond Severus. Perhaps Lucius wanted to be sociable over meals? He shuddered at the recollection of his parents arguing over meals. No, meals were for eating, not for discussing serious matters.

He replaced his wand on the bedside table, noting the time as he did so. It was high time for breakfast. The pangs of hunger he felt made that quite clear. It was time to wake the young woman drooling on his pillow.

It was only when he leant close to her in order to wake her up with an embrace that Severus noticed Hermione's state of undress. Thankfully under the covers, where Lucius hadn't been able to see, but Severus could certainly feel it. He was most ... interested to discover that her nightgown had ridden up to her waist.

The only thing between them where she still lay spooned against him was his new silk pyjama bottoms, his sole concession so far to married life, and a wedding present from Hermione's parents. During their week living in close proximity in Spinner's End, Hermione had informed him that the pyjamas were far more attractive than his old nightshirts.

Nuzzling his nose against her hair, he inhaled deeply. Yes, she was a bit sweaty after her disturbed night, but she still smelled good to him. Very natural, very feminine, very ... very Hermione.

Severus explored the warm, smooth skin exposed under Hermione's nightgown. The soft, slight curve of her stomach. One hand went beneath the nightgown, drawn to explore higher up, while the other one found the coarse curls. And slipped even lower.

'Merlin.'

He found the nub of her clitoris, circled it ... pressed lightly. His fingers slid down, bent on exploring further.

'So soft. So wet.'

Severus removed his hand to smell and then taste the moisture on his fingers. 'Mmm.'

He went back, dipped his fingers into her wetness and spread it.

It was wrong, she was asleep, couldn't give consent ... he should stop. But he couldn't, not when her breath hitched like that, not when she moaned, even in her sleep.

But then he realised that he was grinding his erection into her arse, the flimsy fabric of his pyjamas no protection from the spot of moisture on the tip of his cock, particularly not if he carried on like that. He pulled back, guiltily removing his hand too, only for her to grab hold of his wrist. And brought his hand back between her legs.

"You might as well finish what you start," she said, her voice breathy with sleep and ... arousal, if he wasn't mistaken.

She guided his hand, until he picked up enough of her preferred movements and rhythm. Back and forth, quick flicks of his fingers, a gradual circling motion. Her hips shifting, pressing herself against his hardness, then against his fingers and back again.

Her heavy breathing, almost in synchronisation with his own.

Gasps, moans, groans ... pleas to 'finish, dammit!'.

He cupped a breast in one hand, squeezed it gently, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb.

But still not enough, according to her drawn out hiss of his name.

He kept up his attentions on her breast, and shifted his hand to plunge a finger, then another inside her, his thumb busy on her clitoris.

Nearly enough ... he could feel her inner muscles contract around his fingers. He curved them upwards and beckoned in a come-hither motion. The way she arched upwards let him know that he had the right spot. He kept up the movements.

At last Hermione gasped, her head fell back against his shoulder. If he hadn't moved his head in time, she might have hit his nose.

Severus could feel her vaginal muscles twitch around his fingers, faster than the dull throb in his penis. He winced, removing his hand from her breast and withdrawing it from her nightgown in order to pull his pyjamas down to free himself. As well as bring himself off.

He was getting close, his own head thrown back, when he almost choked.

Hermione's hand had joined his own on his cock.

He looked down at her, wide-eyed. She'd pulled his other arm away from – and out of – herself, and had twisted around to face him.

"You don't have to do this," he tried to say, but only managed to gurgle incoherently.

"I want to," she whispered, somehow understanding him. She leant forwards to kiss him, even as she replaced his hand with her other one.

Her movements were a little hesitant, but she repeated the same moves of his hand with growing confidence.

He flung his head back again, his eyes rolling back in his head. And then...

"Oh God!"

The touch of her lips on his glans, and the flicker of her tongue.

After he caught his breath, and cast a rather embarrassed Cleansing Charm on her face, he embraced her.

"I can last longer," Severus assured her. "It's just been quite some time since I've had any touch but my own."

* * *

Lucius sipped his tea. He had half a mind to order the house-elf serving his breakfast to fetch the Firewhisky, but it was far too early for that. Unless he resisted whenever the urge to drink struck him, he'd end up as a pathetic alcoholic. Well, apart from a couple of fingers of Ogden's Best at night. That was perfectly safe, even beneficial to the upkeep of a healthy body.

But these ... feelings were not. His sleep was disturbed, and not just due to the void Narcissa's death had left in his life. No, this was something else. Jealousy, gnawing at his insides, even when he couldn't see Severus and Hermione.

At least he'd managed to keep either of them from noticing. Although for how much longer? They had both seen through the cracks in his mask when grief overwhelmed him. Lucius grimaced, his fingers twisting his new ring. The humiliation of his feelings bared, even if Severus and his bride were the only ones to see.

That mortification would be nothing compared to what he would feel if they discovered his jealousy. Bad enough if they thought that he was jealous of their happiness; their pity would be a bitter pill to swallow. Even worse if they thought that he was jealous of Severus, that he desired a Mudblood. 'Never.' Yes, she'd looked radiant in her wedding dress, even beautiful, but of course still not a patch on Narcissa.

'Liar,' a treacherous voice in his head declared. 'The moment you saw her, your heart leapt. Whatever would Narcissa think?'

"Shut up," he hissed, before his cheeks burnt with the realisation that he was arguing with himself. Then the cup in his hand shattered, spilling hot tea over his lap. Further embarrassment mingled with pain, but at least it distracted him from his internal squabble.

The elf cleared up the mess and repaired the cup. "I is sorry, Master, and I is going to iron my hands because I is a bad elf."

"Don't bother," Lucius ordered, after he cast a Cooling Charm on his lap. "Just bring me more tea."

It was an hour since he'd mentioned to Severus that they needed to talk. An hour since he'd caught them in bed together. He really should have expected it, but the sight of them like that was like a blow to the gut. It didn't take much to imagine what was delaying them. Lucius closed his eyes and dragged a hand over his face.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Lucius looked up. Severus stood in the doorway, his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"We can talk after you've eaten. You must be hungry," he murmured and offered them a tight smile. It was either that or wince.

* * *

"Is that today's Prophet?" Severus asked when he had washed down his full English breakfast with coffee. He pointed at the paper folded on the table in front of Lucius.

"Yes. It's part of why I need to talk to you." Lucius turned to Hermione, careful not to look at Severus. "I apologise in advance for my lack of tact, but there's no particularly delicate way to say this. When will you be ready to consummate this 'marriage' of ours?"

Hermione bristled despite his apology. "Wait your turn," she said tartly.

Lucius dropped his teacup. It smashed on the floor, broken for the second time that morning. He gaped, eyes flicking between Hermione and Severus.

"What? You haven't ... I knew you hadn't last night, it was rather late ... I have no idea why you didn't do it after the Muggle ceremony a week ago, but I know you didn't. But, this morning, surely you did ..." He made some rather obscene motions with his hands, words failing him.

Severus glared at him. Well, Lucius supposed he had been rather crude.

"But ... but ... What in Merlin's name were you doing before you came down for breakfast?" Lucius spluttered.

"None of your business," Severus snapped.

Hermione was frowning at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"By what?" Lucius asked, slumped in his chair.

"You said you 'knew' we hadn't done anything else last night or before it. How?"

"Read this." He passed her the Prophet.

Severus leant over to read it with her. Lucius knew by the way their faces darkened that they'd found the pertinent part.

"How the hell do they know that we haven't consummated our unions?" Hermione demanded. Lucius just motioned for her to read on.

"I see. From the marriage certificate. But how?"

Lucius gave her a puzzled look. How did she not know? "They are a matter of public record."

"No, I meant how do they know about the lack of consummation from the certificate? It's just a piece of parchment!"

"A piece of enchanted parchment signed in blood," stated Severus. "I imagine that has something to do with it."

"Indeed." Lucius nodded. "When consummated, the signatures change colour. I don't know the specifics of the magic involved, but it will be all too obvious to any prying eyes that our names are still signed in blood, not silver or gold."

Hermione blinked. "Why silver or gold?"

Ah. She had to ask that question. Lucius got the distinct feeling that she would not like the answer. "It's better than the alternative. In the old days, the sheets would be checked."

"For bloodstains? You mean that the colour ink changes to reveals whether or not the bride was a virgin?"

Lucius nodded again. She was definitely angry, he could feel the magic pouring off her, almost taste it as an electric tang in the air.

"That's outrageous! Things like that shouldn't be a matter of public record. Nor should whether or not the marriage was consummated."

The remaining crockery smashed, pelting them with shards if not for the timely intervention of Severus's Shielding Charm.

'Like mother, like daughter. Heaven help me.'

"Sorry," Hermione muttered. "Not your fault."

'Maybe not quite the same. The Harridan didn't apologise.'

"The fact of the matter is that if we don't consummate soon, it leaves the way open for other wizards to challenge these unions. To challenge Severus and me to duels. If we lose, then the marriages are annulled, and you will have no choice but to marry the victors."

"No," Hermione gasped. Severus drew her close, lips to her ear, whispering some sort of comfort to her.

"But we have some time. It's been a while since the Prophet spread the news. If anyone was going to challenge us immediately, Owls would have started to arrive by now."

There was a tap at the window. An owl seemed to glare inside, and rapped again on the window.

It seemed that he had spoken too soon.

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