Whatever answer she may have expected, that was not it. At all. He'd gone to Zeus because their brother had won her? Did she have such a reputation then that she seemed to be so unattainable? That was both incredibly sad, that she seemed so remote, and incredibly flattering, that he considered her to be such a prize that he wanted something similar. Either that or he was impressed by the bedraggled bird act. And if that was the case, Hera would have disappointed him if she were willing to discuss what actually happened that night.
The came his confession. Because even if he had gone to Zeus first, he still could have come to her. Hera still would have given him the benefit of her counsel and experience. He was her brother, after all. In some ways, Zeus was less of a sibling to her. He hadn't shared the dark prison of their father's stomach that the rest of them had. That she'd shared with Hades. He'd been there, with her, all those years, through all that pain and restriction.
Because she was feeling so sentimental towards her younger brother, she didn't sugar-coat her reply. Not that she would have anyway. Hera tended to be blunt when she was being honest. Occasionally duplicity served her better, but she wouldn't disrespect the unexpected sweetness of Hades' confession by speaking out of both sides of her mouth.
“Of course I would not have approved,” she told him. Her words were matter-of-fact, but they were softened by the gentle tone she used. “I would not wish Demeter as a mother-in-law on anyone I cared for. She was always far too controlling of that girl. She denied every suitor that came forward, and some where more than acceptable. She simply did not want to give up her control of her daughter, and what husband should have to put up with that sort of behavior? Look at how she still manipulates Persephone. It is ludicrous, really.”
Then her voice became a little firmer as she stated, “I would not have let you marry Persephone. I would have offered you Ilithyia.”