Happy Traditions, everyone! Title: Unlikely Bedfellows, Part 2 Author:cmwinters Gift For: all fest participants! [original recipient] wanted hurt/comfort, D/s with spanking and femmedom, threesome, Eastern Europan Summer Solstice/Festival of St. John the Baptist, Saturnalia/Yule, Lammas/First Fruits, anything Jewish and/or anything Christian. Er, I tried. Pairing(s): Lucius/Hermione/Severus, Lucius/Severus Summary: Hermione finds herself in a strange alliance with the Malfoy family when it's discovered that Snape is alive and in desperate need of immediate medical attention Rating: NC-17 Warnings: BDSM, hurt/comfort, slightly dominant female, threesome, some homosexual themes although I wouldn't strictly call it "slash" Author's notes: I hope the beginning isn't too entirely boring. I tried to set it up for something plausible. The muse went on the warpath here. *stabs her with a rusty titanium spork*
"NEVER MIND THAT!" Malfoy bellowed, and yanked her to her knees, causing her to fall into the pool of blood, a fact that neither of them heeded. "You know where my sitting room is?" he asked but didn't wait for a response. "Take us there!"
"What?!" Things were moving entirely too fast. Snape was dead, Snape is alive, Snape was going to be laid out with the Order, Snape was going to be buried on Malfoy's family plot — how on earth did "go visiting the Malfoys" suddenly end up on her schedule.
"Narcissa is there, with a Healer for Draco. The wards will allow me in and anyone I bring with me. You'll have to Side-Along both of us with you. I HAVEN'T GOT A WAND!"
Hermione looked him full in the face, eyes wide. She only knew where his sitting room was by virtue of having been tortured there by his maniacal sister-in-law (who is lying dead in the antechamber whispered the detached voice in her head), and he wanted her to return there voluntarily?
A moment's hesitation and a glance at Snape decided her. Hogwarts' anti-Apparation wards prevented her from taking him to the Hospital Wing, or to St Mungo's, and every second of hesitation was one he couldn't spare. She grabbed Snape's blood-caked hand with her right hand, and Lucius' proffered hand with her left, closed her eyes, and Disapparated.
Moments later they arrived in the Malfoy sitting room, causing a vehement outburst from Narcissa, whom they'd nearly landed upon. Lucius reached out to steady his wife and once assured of her stability, stripped her of her wand. "Where's the Healer?" he demanded at once, and Narcissa recoiled slightly at his tone.
"Upstairs with Draco. Lucius, what's going . . . " she answered, only to find she was speaking to air. Lucius had Disapparated, presumably to "upstairs".
"Men!" she snorted in irritation, before a soft voice broke through her reverie and reminded her of the other two bodies in the room. She turned and appraised the situation. A filthy young woman with absolutely horrid hair and blood-stained robes was holding a wand to Severus Snape's heavily wounded neck, and singing.
"What are you doing!" Narcissa demanded and moved to swipe Hermione's hand away, mindful that she herself was now disarmed.
At a break in the song, Hermione looked up at Narcissa and replied simply, "he's alive," before resuming the song.
At that moment, Lucius reappeared and handed the wand back to his wife. The Healer appeared a split-second later, and a second after that, a drawn and worried-looking Draco.
"Oh, Merlin," the Healer breathed, taking in Snape's ashen complexion. "He's lost so much blood. Does anyone know what actually happened to him?"
"Voldemort set his snake on him," Hermione replied, ignoring that the other occupants of the room flinched. "He was bitten in the neck; I thought he'd bled to death. I'm almost positive she was poisonous."
The Healer blinked at Hermione. "'She' who?"
"Nagini!" Hermione blurted out. "Oh, the snake! The snake was poisonous. Er, I think. She nearly tore his neck out, anyway. Her name was Nagini."
"She was poisonous," Lucius confirmed and spun to his son. "The anti-venin; it's in the lab."
Draco nodded and raised his wand, but Lucius interrupted him. "Take the girl! She can help you bring more potions!"
Draco nodded again and grabbed Hermione's arm; she flinched and tried to pull away, which was fortuitous. Even though his grip was too tight for her to free herself, it caused a moment's hesitation, and in that moment they heard Narcissa's voice infused with a note of panic "Well don't leave him here on the floor, take him to the lying room!"
"Sorry," Draco breathed as they arrived in what Hermione was quite certain was the basement Harry and Ron had described to her. Her skin crawled with the implications but she had little time to think on it as Draco was hurling bottles her way. "Okay, Blood Replenishing, Bruise Healing, Murtlap . . . hmm, Shrinking Solution?" he pondered. "Anything else?"
"Right here," Draco said, holding up a mustard green crystal phial. He turned back to her. "You can walk up the stairs, or I can Apparate you," he offered, hands out to take the bottles he'd handed to her.
"No, I'll go with you," she said, even as loathe as she was to be Apparated about like this.
They arrived in a lavishly furnished and lavishly upholstered room. Hermione tried to make sense of what Narcissa had called in and realised with a start this was a room designated for childbirth, though it bore none of the sterility and coldness she'd expect from such a room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco handing the green vial to his father, and the action intruded into her daydream. Lucius, she noted, had handed the phial to the Healer. "Who made this?" the healer asked. "I think we have some at the Hospital from when Arthur Weasley was bit."
Lucius pointed to the body lying on the bed. "Severus made it. If I recall, he made the potion that treated Arthur Weasley, too," he said, rubbing his face.
The Healer scowled but took the bottle. "Nothing like sharing of knowledge to make sure everyone's prepared in a crisis," he muttered under his breath. He took out his wand and carefully sliced the snake bite back open, pouring the contents of the phial into the new wound.
In seconds, Snape was convulsing uncontrollably.
"What's happening!?" Narcissa gasped.
"BLAST!" the Healer hissed. "I have to go back and get that other treatment! Don't give him anything else until I return. Leave the protective enchantments down for me. And keep him warm!" he ordered before disappearing.
"It's got to be the anti-venin," Draco guessed, looking very concerned. "Some magical poisons are known to raise the body temperature, so a lot of anti-venins are prepared with febrifuges."
"But he's lost so much blood already," Hermione protested. "And he was so cold in the first place! It could kill him!"
Suddenly, from the adjacent room, came the sound of rushing water. They all turned to face it and saw steam billowing out the door of what Hermione assumed was an en suite lavatory. Narcissa looked at them all mildly. "What?" she asked with perfect innocence. "If he's in danger of freezing to death, then perhaps we should warm him up? He can be moved, just not given anything else, right?"
As she said this, Snape's body rose and floated toward the door as if on a gentle breeze. They all followed, and shortly stood in a loose half-circle at the black marble edge of what Hermione could tell was supposed to be a bathing tub, but would have functioned equally well as a competitive swimming pool.
"Draco, take over the spell," Narcissa commanded softly, interrupting Hermione's distracted musing. "Miss Granger, come with me," Narcissa continued, as Draco obeyed and Lucius moved toward Snape's neck and began the arduous process of unfastening the layers of the unconscious man's robes.
"Oh, um, right!" Hermione replied, feeling her cheeks heat faintly as she realised Narcissa had diplomatically given her a way out of seeing Snape in the altogether, which would have been entirely embarrassing for everyone, although Hermione wasn't sure who would be more embarrassed upon Snape's awakening; herself or him.
She followed Narcissa down what seemed like an endless hall, forcing her to wonder exactly how big this home was. It bore none of the tell-tale signs of magical expansion that the Weasley home had; everything was seamless and flowed flawlessly. She wondered how the Malfoys had come to be in possession of their manor home; she recalled hearing that normally such things came into possession of a family due to outstanding military service or as a personal reward from the sitting monarch rather than sheer financial dominance. Slytherin though they may be, the Malfoys didn't strike Hermione as the type to cooperate with Muggles for anything; her history had proven that they preferred to take such things by force.
Although, she mused, it could be noted that they are currently cooperating with me, and I've long since ceased to be useful to them.
She was seriously pondering getting while the getting was good when Narcissa turned to the side, entering a room as equally lavishly decorated as the one they'd just left, although in a different colour scheme. The lady of the manor padded over to an immense and ornately carved wardrobe that appeared to be crafted from a single trunk of oak, before looking Hermione up and down with a critical eye. Hermione flinched, but Narcissa seemed to take no notice of this. She turned back to the armoire and pulled a few items from it, including several robes which she held at eye level, gazing at the robes and at Hermione in turn.
"Hm," she sniffed. "I think the green suits your colouring better, but you may prefer the cream or the brown. The brown may actually be a better choice, given that Severus may be still bleeding. Our elf will have to get your measurements so we can get you clean undergarments. The bathroom is in there," she concluded, sweeping her arm elegantly in the direction of another en suite doorway.
"Erm. Madame Malfoy. . ." she began lamely.
Narcissa was paying her no mind, and had turned back to the armoire, from which she withdrew a lovely pair of silver and green argyle socks. "Dilly made these for Draco when he was younger but he said they were too 'witchy'. They've never been worn; you may have them, and we won't be offended if you change the colour."
"Erm . . ." Hermione hedged, clearing her throat. "Er, Madame Malfoy," she began again, even more lamely than before.
Narcissa looked up at her, her face a perfect countenance of modesty and meekness. "Please, my friends call me Narcissa and they call my husband Lucius. I cannot ask you to call my son by his given name, but it will make things much easier, don't you think? We're all Malfoys here. Well, except Severus . . .and you, of course, but you're not likely to walk about calling your own name, are you? Although if you're tired enough to talk to yourself, perhaps we need the healer to see you, too?" she said with a conspiratorial smile.
Hermione winced and looked down. "Yes, but . . ." She paused, took a deep breath, and steeled herself before looking Narcissa in the face. "I appreciate the offer, truly I do. But I, ah, am not terribly comfortable accepting your clothing . . . " she said, unwilling to admit that she was completely unwilling to strip naked in the Malfoy home.
It didn't matter; Narcissa followed her thought pattern. "Ah," she sighed resignedly, sitting herself elegantly in a chair across from the bed. She appeared to consider her words carefully before continuing. "I don't blame you. After all, your last 'visit' here could hardly be called pleasant. I won't patronise you by making excuses for that, but I would be doing myself and my family a disservice if I failed to point out that we were not entirely influential about the the activities of our home at the time. I know you are intelligent, and believe me when I tell you that this time, it IS different. Hospitality is a sacred obligation amongst the pure-bloods, and you have been invited here, as a guest of the family. Under such circumstances, we are obligated to protect you, even from the Dark Lord himself were such an occasion to arise. In fact, it is such a sacred obligation that had you been here as our guest in the first place, no one — not even the Dark Lord himself — would have dared lay a hand upon you or turn a wand against you. We would have been obliged to take up arms to protect you, and all our related families in turn would have followed suit — including my sister. You may have a blood oath on that, from me, from Lucius, or from Draco, if you prefer."
Hermione's eyes flew open at this announcement. A blood oath by Draco, if broken, would cause the immediate demise of him and his parents. One by either of his parents would cause the immediate demise of all their immediate blood relatives, which in Narcissa's case, included Andromeda and Draco. Hermione had no illusions about Narcissa's feelings for her surviving sister, but after she'd lied to Voldemort's face about Harry being alive in order to protect her son, it would hardly be prudent to immediately endanger his life. Even the offer of such an agreement was considered binding, although the offer alone wouldn't cause the magical demise if broken. Nonetheless, it was a profound statement.
"Thank you. Um, that won't be necessary," Hermione said, which was about the only thing she could have said without seeming overly suspicious. They've all had wands at varying times; clearly they could have injured me at any point if they wanted. I have been outnumbered since I got here, she reasoned to herself.
Narcissa smiled wanly and rose to leave. "I apologise for the behaviour of my family. I hope from this point forward we can move in a more mutually beneficial direction. I think a hot shower would do you a world of good," she said with a discrete nod to Hermione's filthy clothes and skin. "The healer should be back soon, and after that we'll all have lunch. By that point we should know, or be able to figure out, what we're going to do about Severus," she concluded, closing the door behind her.
Hermione nodded and stepped into the lavatory. The enormous tub was tempting, but she needed to be down the hall shortly, so she forewent the bath for a shower. Besides, she was absolutely covered in ash, dirt, and assorted bodily fluids. The steaming water felt heavenly, but it took three washes of her body and hair before she was satisfied at their cleanliness. She put some conditioner creme rinse in her hair by force of habit and hurriedly dried off. She wrinkled her nose at the old-fashioned girdle which had been laid out after she'd gotten in the shower, but it fit and was new, and she wasn't about to go parading about sans knickers and brassiere. The socks, however, were positively delicious; they felt like a blend of cashmere and silk.
As a gesture of goodwill — the Malfoys hadn't hurt her, after all, although they'd certainly had ample opportunity to do so, and it had seemed Narcissa was making a genuine effort to be hospitable and polite — she decided to keep the socks the colour they were and chose the green robe. She dragged a brush through her hair long enough to get the tangles out, and dashed back down the seemingly endless hall.
She arrived back in what Narcissa had called the lying room to find an unconscious Snape indeed lying on the bed. Lucius and the healer were involved in what seemed to be an increasingly volatile argument about Snape's condition.
"He cannot be given anything by mouth while he is unconscious!" the healer insisted, edging toward the door.
"Then how, precisely, do you expect us to get food and water in him?!" Lucius demanded with a fervour so intense that had it been aimed in her direction, Hermione would have quailed. Draco and Narcissa stood to Lucius' side, looking quite devastated.
"Um," Hermione chimed in, interrupting what looked to be a very vituperative rant by the healer. "Excuse me, I've been out of the room, but why can't he be given anything by mouth, exactly?" she asked in as demure and respectful a tone as she was capable of.
The healer looked at her with shocked disbelief. "I was given to understand you'd witnessed the attack, Miss. He nearly had his throat torn out by a poisonous magical snake."
Hermione looked carefully at Snape and chose her words carefully. "I did witness the attack, sir, but he's not bleeding now, and Mister Malfoy does have a very good point. Professor Snape is dangerously underweight as it is, and most of the healing potions must be given by mouth, so we need to figure out a compromise. Is it just the risk of choking, or is there a risk of infection or further injury?"
"Both. Choking is a big part of it, but yes, there is a risk of further injury."
"Is he intubated?"
It was the healer's turn to blink. "I beg your pardon?"
"Does he have a tube in his throat, to make sure he can breathe?"
Hermione felt every set of eyes turn on her in sheer disbelief. "What an absolutely barbaric question!" the healer spat, clearly incredibly affronted.
"Not really," Hermione replied with a frown. "If his throat swells because of the injury . . . oh, never mind. Anyway, can he have an NG tube?"
"A what?"
Hermione sighed. "An NG tube. It's . . . well, you know what a pipette is, right?" The healer nodded. "Well, you take the smallest pipette, and make it flexible, and you can pass it through the nose, down the throat and into the stomach."
The healer gawked at her. "What kind of a sadistic beast would do something like that!" he sputtered indignantly.
"No . . . wait," Lucius said, looking at her speculatively. "Tell me more about this envy tube?"
"No, NG. It's short for naso-gastric. You can give food, water and medicine via an NG tube . . . it's very small, so it shouldn't cause him any other injury, and it's very flexible, so it doesn't hurt."
The healer threw his hands up in disgust, muttered something about Muggles experimenting with magic, and stalked out of the room. Hermione watched him leave, her brow furrowed in concentration. He hadn't actually forbidden her to do it, she realised, and she turned back to the Malfoy family.
Narcissa and Draco looked a bit nauseated by the prospect, but Lucius was gazing at her with a calculating look. "How do you do this . . . thing?" he asked with clear interest.
"Well . . . I don't. But . . . my cousin is a Muggle nurse, and he can do it."
"Ah. But will he?" Lucius asked shrewdly.
Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a moment, staring at Snape's body. "I don't know," she confessed. "Since Professor Snape's . . . " she began before thinking better of what she was going to say. "Does he have an NHS number?" she rushed, hoping to cover the tracks of her previous line of questioning.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that is."
"Um. Well, you know, the Muggles have their own medical community," she said, wanting to say neither too much, or too little. "And, um, since about the late sixties, everyone in the country has been covered under state health coverage. But you would have to register with the Muggle authorities to be in the system."
"How often?" Narcissa asked.
"Hm?"
"How often do you have to register with the Muggle authorities?"
"Er, once; he was probably registered as a child. He should have been given a card at some point.
"Snape's father was a Muggle. If the coverage was mandatory, he's probably registered. Assuming for the moment he is, what does that have to do with your cousin performing this procedure?" Lucius questioned.
"Well, if he's got the number, then my cousin can do it. If he doesn't, my cousin can't."
"Why?"
"Because it's illegal, and he could be sued for malpractice!" Hermione spluttered.
Lucius smirked at her, although not unkindly. "Ah, yes, that is quite a pivotal point. Clearly, a wizard lying on his deathbed is going to sue a Muggle healer in the Muggle courts for treating him for a magical snake bite."
Hermione blushed. Once he put it that way. . . .
"Go get your cousin," he encouraged. "It's illegal to Apparate a Muggle into a wizarding home, but I'd bet good money you were planning to do that," he said with a wink.
Hermione shot him a reproachful glance but Disapparated, and Narcissa turned to Lucius. "Pity the girl's a Muggle-born. She'd have made quite a good Slytherin."
Lucius grinned. "Indeed."
Draco scowled.
* * *
Hermione returned with her cousin to find Lucius in the room with Snape alone. After a tense moment during which Lucius looked like he might protest what he apparently agreed was a barbaric and experimental procedure, the tube was placed, a small amount of water and anti-venin given via it, and Hermione took her cousin back to his office, which necessitated her Apparating him into the men's lavatory, as that had been his excuse for his absence.
As directed, she returned to the dining hall, for there was no other word for it. Draco sat at the table eating as quickly as polite behaviour would allow while Narcissa placidly watched him with a fond look on her face, leaving her own plate untouched. When Hermione stepped through the door, mother and son greeted her politely and a plate appeared at one of the open seats. Draco swallowed his food, took a gulp out of a pewter stein next to him, delicately wiped his face and stood, moving to the chair and pulling it out for her. Quite unsure of the time, or how long it had been since she'd eaten last, Hermione graciously took the proffered seat and began eating. But when Draco rose again a few moments later with a brief "excuse me" and left the room, it created an awkward situation for Hermione. Narcissa still hadn't touched her food, and while Hermione wasn't concerned for her own well being, given that her cousin had just left, she didn't like to eat in front of people.
"Um. Why aren't you eating?" Hermione asked, feeling even as she did as if the answer to the question were rightfully "none of your business". She had no intention of offending her hosts, and tried to make her voice as contrite as possible.
Narcissa started as if deep in thought. "Oh!" she replied after a short pause to reconsider the question she hadn't been paying attention to. "I'm waiting for Lucius. Please, go ahead," she insisted, waving her arm and indicating that Hermione should continue eating.
"Oh," Hermione replied, and her natural curiosity got the better of her. "Where is he?" she asked right before she put a fork of parsley-dusted roast potatoes in her mouth. BLAST! I shouldn't have asked! she admonished herself silently.
"He's upstairs with Severus; he can't be alone for a while. Draco's gone to relieve him," Narcissa explained, as if being interrogated by someone you despised a mere twenty-four hours before was perfectly normal behaviour in her home.
At that, Lucius came through the door, looking slightly off. Although he was as impeccably dressed as always, Hermione couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd only just gotten dressed, which she privately felt was absurd.
"How is he?" Narcissa asked with genuine concern etched across her face.
Lucius nodded and speared a piece of broiled chicken. "Resting easier. Still a bit feverish, but I think that's understandable. That tube was a good idea," he said, nodding in Hermione's direction. "With it, we were able to get some of the potions down him, and some water. We'll start with food in a few days," he concluded. He popped the chicken in his mouth and made a face before reaching for his own stein.
"He won't be happy about it when he wakes up," Hermione pointed out. "The tubes can be slightly uncomfortable."
Lucius swallowed and looked at her intently. "He'll be irritated about it for as long as it takes me to point it out that without it, he wouldn't be waking up at all."
"Then," Narcissa chimed in quietly, "I expect he'll be positively mutinous."
Lucius snickered and Hermione had to suppress a giggle, fearing that if she gave in to the impulse, she'd be hysterical within seconds. She could feel the stress of the last several years cascading down on her, and the tattered edges of her self-control were fraying.
"What are your plans?" Narcissa asked her, staving off the impending breakdown with a wan smile.
"Oh, well . . . um, I really haven't got any. I mean, I guess I was going to stay here and help you with Professor Snape."
"Ah," Lucius said regretfully. "I do so apologise, but I'm terribly afraid that wouldn't be at all appropriate."
Hermione tilted her head slightly in question. "Beg pardon?" she asked, truly confused.
Lucius set down his fork and folded his hands. "Miss Granger," he drawled formally, "Severus' condition is such that he must be kept warm at all times. However, his injuries are so severe that until he awakens, his temperature cannot be regulated with magic. The healer recommended skin contact as the most efficient method, and it would be entirely inappropriate to have you lying next to Severus in such a compromising state.
Hermione snorted. "Draco is!" she insisted, her voice sounding petulant even to her own ears. You know, perhaps isn't the best way for me to argue this point . . .
"Yes, he is," Lucius conceded. "But neither Narcissa or I are likely to accuse him of taking advantage of our son, and we all have a much closer relationship with him than do you. Surely you can see that it is less inappropriate for his godson to care for him in such a way than a reasonably random student from another house, against whom he supposedly fought, and one of another gender, at that?"
She scowled but she did see his point. But she hadn't come this far to back out now, and it wasn't as if her parents would make any such accusation. She bowed her head to gather her thoughts, and took a deep breath before looking up.
"As Professor Snape is unconscious," she began, "I think we can all assume my virtue, such as it is, can by any casual observer be assumed to safe. My parents certainly won't question, my activities as they are out of the country, and in any case, I am of age, both in this world and the Muggle world."
Lucius' head snapped up, regarding her with some alarm. "Out of the . . . ? Oh, yes. That's right . . .Severus did mention something about that."
Hermione's blood ran cold, and the impeding breakdown from only a few minutes previously coalesced tenfold. She suddenly felt as if she were looking through the wrong end of a telescope at Lucius Malfoy, and had to struggle to focus on his face and voice. "Professor Snape knew?" she said, her voice barely more than a squeak. She was glad her hands were already resting in her lap and she fingered her wand unconsciously.
"Mmmm," Lucius assented, poking suspiciously at a slice of glazed carrot, apparently oblivious to Hermione's emotional upheaval.
Narcissa's assurances of hospitality fled Hermione's mind. Never in her life had she been more certain she was going to faint. Never in her life was she more certain that to do so would be to put herself in imminent mortal peril. True, she was in danger just by being here, but at least she stood a chance at defending herself if she were conscious. She swallowed thickly. "When . . . when did he find out?"
"Oh, I dunno . . . must've been early, maybe mid-July?" he guessed, casting a questioning glance at Narcissa.
"It was a week after Draco got home," she corrected confidently — and delicately. "So that would have been the last week of June." A week after Snape killed Dumbledore hung unspoken between them, heavy and dark in the airy and open dining hall.
Lucius pondered that a moment. "Ah, yes, I guess that's right," he said to his wife then turned to Hermione. "Why? Surely, you realise they would be targeted by the Dark Lord as a way to get at Potter?"
Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. But I didn't send my parents out of the country until the third week of July . . .
A few moments passed and Narcissa cast her a calculating look "Where were you — this past year, I mean? Surely you know the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters were looking for you?"
Hermione started, taken aback by the abruptness of the question and the apparent non-sequitor. "Um . . . well, I was on the run with Harry and Ron."
"But where were you?" she pressed.
"Oh, different places. We moved around a lot," Hermione shrugged, growing uneasy with this additional line of questioning.
Because of course what she needed at precisely that moment was to be more uneasy than she already was.
"So you stayed with Muggles? At hotels? Where were you?" she demanded, her tone of voice making it clear she knew Hermione knew what she was asking, and she wasn't going to rest until she got the answer she wanted.
"Er . . ." she began, and cleared her throat. "We were . . . we were camping."
Narcissa placed such a theatrical look of horror on her face that Hermione was convinced it was staged. To what end, she had no idea.
"Camping! Outside? In a tent?!" Narcissa veritably shrieked, with all the arrogant disdain that several centuries worth of the finest Wizarding inbreeding could summon. She shot a look of pure disgust at Lucius, who was managing to look both uneasy with the conversation and suspicious of his wife's motives. Hermione was baffled. Clearly, Narcissa hadn't truly believed they'd spent the year in suites at the Bishopstrow. Why, then, this absurd interrogation?
Narcissa turned back to her, and sitting ramrod straight in her chair, she peered down her nose at Hermione. "And your friends . . . where were they sleeping?"
Hermione blinked and spoke very quietly, feeling like a recalcitrant child and feeling quite perturbed about that. "In the tent. With me."
Narcissa blanched quite elegantly, and then spoke in an exceedingly proper tone of voice. "You spent the last year wandering the wilds with naught but your two male friends as company, and slept in the same tent with them, every night?"
Hermione had a strange urge to shriek, flee the house or rage at her accuser. Instead, she nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Well, Lucius, that settles it!" she declared, and Hermione did grip her wand more tightly, half expecting an attack from the tone of Narcissa's voice. "Clearly, under such a respectable roof as ours, and under Healer's orders, no less, we cannot even begin to refuse this brave young woman's assistance!"
"Yes dear," Lucius sighed resignedly and turned his attention back to his food.
As soon as she was sure he wasn't watching, Narcissa flashed Hermione a conspiratorial smirk of victory.
Hermione couldn't help but smile back, but thought to herself, how in Merlin's name did I just become allies with Narcissa Malfoy, of all people?
Lucius cast a final scowl at his plate and pushed it away from him, and it promptly disappeared. "Not at all up to his usual standard, hm?" he said to Narcissa casually.
"Who?" Hermione asked. She somehow didn't think Draco was responsible for the cooking. His potions making skills weren't that advanced.
"Hm?" Lucius asked with eyebrows raised, clearly not understanding the question at first. "Oh. The elf," answered with a frown. "The meals are usually much better than that."
Hermione wanted to smack him. She'd thought the food was quite delicious, and she was quite used to elf-made cuisine. Although not so much over the last few months, she conceded to herself.
"Well, we did keep interrupting him," Narcissa pointed out, and as shocked as Hermione was, it was nothing to how astonished she was at what happened next.
"Yes, well, this is true," he agreed with a conciliatory nod.
Who are you, and what have you done with the Malfoy family?
"Miss Granger," Lucius began, interrupting her line of thought. "If you still feel compelled to sleep half-naked next to your erstwhile instructor until his condition stabilises," we can all alternate on twelve-hour shifts. It is not necessary for you to remain awake the entire time, but it is necessary that you remain with him, so if you bring anything to read or otherwise occupy you, it will need to be something that can be done from the bed. Draco has taken the first shift, and I will relieve him in just under twelve hours. I believe Narcissa had planned on relieving me. If you are absolutely certain that you wish to take on this responsibility, then you may relieve Narcissa," he offered, rising from the table.
"And do you want to lie next to him half-naked, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked, less out of rudeness than a need to establish the pragmatic aspect. This backfired horribly on her, of course.
"Not in these conditions, no," Lucius answered primly. "He's much more entertaining when he's awake." Hermione fought the urge to gawk at him and succeed. Mostly.
"LUCIUS!" Narcissa admonished, laughing.
"What?" he asked, looking completely affronted. "She asked a question, I answered it!"
"Lucius, please. Think of Severus!"
"Trust me, I am!" he admitted, and trotted out the door.
"Oh dear Merlin," Narcissa muttered, her face held in her hands. "Severus is going to be horrified!"
She took a few moments to compose herself before looking at Hermione. "I am so sorry. We are all overwhelmed and a little punch-drunk. But I do apologise for my husband's inappropriate remarks."
"Was not!" Lucius called from the other room. "And besides, I know you know I'm right!"
Narcissa raised her palm to her forehead in a long-suffering gesture and muttered under her breath, "Lucius, if Severus tries to curse you for this, don't expect me to defend you."
Hermione just stared at her hostess. What have I gotten myself into?