Happy Traditions, everyone! Title: Unlikely Bedfellows, Part 7 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*
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 A couple of weeks after the NEWT celebration party, Hermione received an urgent summons by owl from Narcissa. She knew there was another party planned for later in the month, and assumed that it had something to do with the coordination, and Apparated straight away to Malfoy Manor.
Doddy brought her to the master suite, where a harassed-looking Narcissa was rifling hurriedly through the armoire. Another elf Hermione hadn't yet met was bouncing from foot to foot looking quite harried. "Mistress should let Dilly help," the elf squeaked in protest.
"Oh, FINE!" Narcissa, snapped in exasperation. She spied Hermione in the doorway and strode over to her. "Oh, Hermione, thank Merlin you're here!" she declared with relief. "You are coming to the party, right?" she asked with a worried expression.
"Erm, I was planning on it, yes," Hermione replied, rather concerned about the urgency of the question.
"Oh thank goodness. Please, may I ask you an enormous favour?"
"I guess . . ." Hermione said, not wanting to commit herself without knowing the terms in advance.
"This party; it's for family only so it's going to be an entirely witch and wizard gathering. But I can't be there, and Andromeda can't be there — our cousin in Italy is very ill and we're leaving immediately. Could you possibly stand for me?"
Hermione blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon? 'Stand for' you? I'm sorry, I don't know what that entails."
"You'd have to welcome the guests and make sure they're taken care of and if anyone is too inebriated to leave, you'd show them to a room and, well, you'd act as the hostess and basically do everything I would do as the lady of the house. There are toasts and traditions that have to be followed but don't worry about that, Lucius will lead. Make sure the decorations are done properly and the preparations are made and display the gifts, and you'd have to be ready early, before any guests arrive, so you'll probably need to stay the night before. It sounds like a lot, but it's really not. We've been hosting this party for years and the elves know what to do and they're preparing the meal. It's honestly more ceremonial. You'll be a bit in the spotlight, but it's not that bad."
Narcissa was right, Hermione thought, it did sound like a lot.
Narcissa sensed Hermione's hesitation. "It's a necessary part of the party; without someone to stand for me, we'd have to cancel it, and it's in three days. I actually don't have anyone else I can ask."
"Um," Hermione began, "who's going to be there?"
"Well, Lucius' family, of course, and the Greengrasses, and the Weasleys and the Longbottoms have all accepted. I think the Macmillans and the Bulstrodes may be coming, and I think your friend Harry Potter. Severus and his cousins have been invited but I don't know if they're attending or not. The rest of my family is going to be in Italy."
Hm Hermione thought. Well, that doesn't sound so bad. "All right," she said, with poorly disguised apprehension.
Narcissa looked at her sharply. "You do realise that your attendance at this party at our invite effectively announces that the Malfoy family considers you a member, correct?"
Hermione blinked. She hadn't known that. "It's not 'official'," Narcissa continued, "not the way a Ministry binding ceremony would, but . . . everyone at the party will know that I asked you to take my position, because the magic of the house wouldn't allow you to do so otherwise. I would expect some of the guests to be a little surprised, given our past history, but no one is going to speak against it or challenge you or anything. It's just . . . when you walk in with Lucius, I would expect to see some wide eyes."
"Er, okay. Um . . . what does that mean for me?" Hermione asked. Favour and unofficial adoption or otherwise, she was not severing her ties with any of her Muggle family.
"Nothing," Narcissa assured her. "You'll just be able to claim all the privilege that I would for the night, and honestly, we're a prominent and affluent family. Accepting is likely to elevate your standing in the community, but you don't lose anything."
Hermione couldn't help but think there was something more to it than that, but she didn't see a graceful way out. "All right," she agreed. "I'll do it. But I'm going to have to go home and make some arrangements for the extra time here."
Narcissa smiled warmly. "Of course, and thank you so much. I know you'll take good care of my guests. And since I won't see you again before then, Happy Christmas, Hermione."
"Happy Christmas to you to, and to Andromeda and Teddy. And give my regards to your cousin," Hermione said before leaving.
As the door closed behind her, Lucius stepped out of the bathroom. "Did she go for it?" he asked his wife, who was gazing at the closed door with a triumphant expression.
"You know, I do believe she did," Narcissa replied.
"Excellent," Lucius said with a conspiratorial grin. "Although, I'm quite sure Severus will be quite furious."
Narcissa scowled. "Well Severus can just go bugger himself," she snorted.
"Ah, no, my dear. I'd far rather do it for him."
"I'm sorry I'll miss it," she said, enveloping her husband in an embrace. "You may have to show me in a Pensieve when I return. Are you sure she'll do it?"
"I think she can be persuaded," he demurred. "Besides, I'll, ah, give her some encouragement. Severus is not the only competent brewer, you know."
She grinned.
* * *
Hermione Apparated to the edge of the Malfoy property and hurried up the walk, taking no notice whatsoever of the fairies in the hedges. She had spent quite some time in Twillfit & Tattings trying to find the perfect set of robes, had a fresh new bottle of Sleek-Eazy and had spent a small fortune on cosmetics and accessories. To say she was nervous would be the very definition of understatement.
Much to her surprise (and relief), Lucius was at the door, supervising the placement of some mistletoe. "I'm glad you've arrived early," he said to her, abandoning the decorations to the much-relieved elves. "There are a few things we need to discuss." He smiled warmly at her look of distress. "Nothing untoward, I promise. There are just some certain traditions that will need to be upheld. Would you rather go over them now or later?"
"Um . . . how many things?" she asked, uncertain. Of course, once Narcissa had propositioned her, Hermione had read everything she could on traditional wizarding celebrations, but there was some conflicting information. That didn't bother her nearly as much as the obviously missing information did, though. And she'd only had three days.
"Not many. The traditional toasts, where we will sit, and the like. Relax. I'll be with you the entire time."
She took a deep breath, nodded, and scurried off to get ready.
Many hours later, clad in ivory silk dress robes with her hair pinned into an elegant chignon, she descended the steps. She just hoped she could pull it off with a modicum of the grace that Narcissa normally bore like a second skin.
Lucius was at the base of the staircase, dressed in elegantly embroidered robes. He eyed her appreciatively, and his eyes lit with approval . . . and something else Hermione couldn't quite identify but it set her blood to racing.
"You look absolutely stunning, my dear," he said, offering her his arm. She took it, and he smiled at her, slightly repositioning them so that his left arm and her right were joined at their crooked elbows, and he rested his right hand possessively over her elbow. He inclined his head and leaned forward, and she stiffened.
"Oh God, I'm going to fall!" she protested.
"No," he said with complete confidence. "You will not. I always step off from this position with my right foot leading."
She adjusted her stance, and this time when he leaned, she was able to work with him much to her relief.
"See?" he praised. "Piece of cake. We'll walk into the ballroom like this and be at the head of the receiving line." Good naturedly, he led them down that exact path and as she grew more used to his gait, she was able to relax into it. It helped that he proceeded in a stately manner, but she still marvelled at how he managed to manoeuvre them into position at the head of the (as yet imaginary) receiving line, which was in the lee of an evergreen tree decorated with candles and what appeared to be real icicles.
He reached over to the table and offered her one of the goblets and raised his own to hers. "Relax," he suggested in a serious but soothing voice. "You are here because we have asked you to be. You are effectively being announced as a member of the family. Act like you belong here, because you do, and no one will dare question you."
She nodded. He schooled her on the series of toasts that they'd give, and by the fourth one, she was much more relaxed and smiled at him. "I appreciate being invited to the party at all, Lucius, and I'm flattered by the honour you and Narcissa, and Draco, have bestowed upon me. And I'm very grateful for your guidance."
"You'll be fine," he assured her, his grey eyes twinkling with confidence. "I would not have recommended you, Narcissa would not have asked you, and Draco would not have accepted you if we thought you ill-suited for the task. Now, do you dance?"
"A little."
"It is customary for the Lord and Lady of the Manor to open the festivities with a dance."
"What about the others?"
"They'll join in after a suitable amount of time has passed." Her dismayed expression alarmed him. "What's wrong?"
"How many dances?"
"The opening dance and the closing dance for sure, and then if anyone dedicates one later, although this will probably not happen unless someone's feeling mischievous and dedicates one to Narcissa."
"What about with the others?"
"No one will ask you," he said, taking a long pull from his drink. "No one will ask either of us."
Initially, he mistook her relieved expression for one of unhappiness. "That isn't a problem, is it?" he asked her warily.
"No! It's just . . . I had this horrible vision of being passed around from dancer to dancer the entire evening! And . . . just . . . no!"
"Divination not your strong subject, then?" he chuckled with a wink at her. She frowned at him, obviously wondering if he were mocking her. "You're here in Narcissa's stead, Hermione. Can you imagine someone asking my wife to a dance at a party in which I was in attendance?"
Her eyes flew open and she blanched. "Not really," she murmured.
"No," he conceded. "'Not really'. Even Draco will not ask you to dance, because you are single, and the Greengrasses are going to be in attendance. But normally, he would dance with his mother."
"Okay," she replied, breathing a sigh of relief. At that moment, a chime sounded.
"And speaking of the Greengrasses," he opined, rising from his seat and offering her his hand, "I do believe that would be the first of our guests arriving."
Showtime, Hermione thought.
As it turned out, Hermione had plenty of time to get her feet under her. The Greengrasses arrived fully twenty minutes before the next guest, which was Severus, and despite his assistance in returning her parents' memories, he'd been so horrible before and since that she wasn't feeling overly inclined to impress him. In fact, she saw him approach before Lucius did, and stiffened such that he became alarmed and turned to her. "What's wrong?" he whispered.
She flicked her eyes toward end of the ballroom without really looking the object of her dismay. "Snape's coming," she replied.
"You don't wish to see him?" Lucius asked, eyebrow cocked.
"It's not that . . . it's just . . . he's been so horrible. And I don't feel like putting up with his nastiness this evening, when I'm already trying to do this right," she pouted.
He leveled a measuring glance at her before replying. "So don't put up with it," he advised.
"What?"
"He verbally abuses you because you allow him to do so, thereby giving him the impression that you condone it. Retaliate, and he'll stop."
"I couldn't do that!" she protested, horrified that he'd suggest such a thing.
"You don't have to be abusive, just let him know you won't tolerate him targeting you. You're a fully qualified adult witch; he holds no authority over you other than what the two of you perceive he does. If he thinks he can get the upper hand by verbally berating you, or by projecting authority over you, he will. Put him in his place; you'll notice he doesn't speak that way to anyone in my family, because he knows he can't get away with it," Lucius insisted.
She only had a few seconds to consider that before Severus was within earshot. "Good evening, Miss Granger," he sneered at her derisively. "I must admit I am quite shocked to see you at a gathering traditionally aimed at the wizarding aristocracy."
"Professor," she greeted coolly, not really bothering to look at him, and utterly ignoring the hand he'd raised to take hers.
He noticed the tone of her voice and his brow furrowed slightly before his eyebrows narrowed in distaste at the slight. "Is there something bothering you, Miss Granger?" he hissed under his breath.
She spun on him. "Let's get something straight, Professor," she asserted. "While I am, and will remain, perfectly grateful for your invaluable assistance in returning my parents' memories to them, it does not make up for your beastly behaviour this entire summer, and quite frankly, you haven't grovelled nearly enough to earn my favour. So let's not insult anyone's intelligence by acting as if we are congenial, because everyone here and everyone coming knows we are not."
He blinked at her before bowing slightly and taking his leave.
Lucius beamed in approval. "Couldn't have said it better myself, Hermione!"
An hour later found Hermione calmly greeting the still-arriving guests. A stern-looking woman whom Hermione didn't know approached them.
"May I present Katherine MacMillan," Lucius greeted. "Katherine, so lovely you could join us. I trust you recognise Hermione Granger?"
The woman appraised her frankly. "Aren't you Harry Potter's friend?"
"I am, yes."
"No I don't recognise you, you look completely different than you did in the Prophet!"
Hermione and Lucius both snorted. "Well, you see, I've eaten, and bathed, and not been in a battle in the last half-hour, so I'll take that as a compliment!" she said with a grin. Beside her, Lucius chuckled.
Katherine scowled at Lucius and turned back to Hermione. "No, but even in your school pictures — you look entirely different."
"Ah, yes, well . . ." Hermione hedged, "when I was in school, I chose to focus on my studies and not attracting the attention of my classmates. Had I succeeded, it would have been disruptive to the learning process."
Katherine smiled broadly. "I do so LOVE a pragmatic woman, dear! You tell them!" Then she turned a forbidding gaze on Lucius. "Lucius! You watch out, now. She could be a handful!"
"I'm sure I'll manage," he said silkily.
Before Hermione could consider that, Augusta and Neville Longbottom walked up. "Oh Neville, I'm so glad to see you," Hermione declared.
"Ah, Sir Longbottom," Lucius teased with an appreciative smile. Hermione, Neville, Augusta, and the two people behind Neville (who Hermione assumed were Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid) quirked their eyebrows at his choice of moniker. "First-Degree Knight of the Snake-Slaying Order." They all laughed. "Normally a wizard is complimented on his spell-work. You, however, are to be complimented on your sword-work. And while his head was on fire, no less!" he pointed out.
Neville blushed as scarlet as his House colours. To cover his embarrassment, he turned to his erstwhile classmate. "How are your parents, Hermione?"
"OH! Um . . ." Hermione cringed inwardly, feeling awkward. "They're, um, they're all right. They're not here today, but . . . they're okay. Professor Snape went with me to retrieve them and was able to — er — do something about the spells I cast." Why of all people does Neville have to ask me that?
Neville appeared oblivious to her discomfort. " Oh, is he here? Professor Snape?"
Hermione looked around with a frown. "Um, somewhere. I saw him earlier. Why?"
"I wanted to apologise to him."
Neville thinks he needs to apologise to Snape?! Hermione wondered incredulously. " . . . For . . . ?"
"Well, you know, Oliver and I were bringing people into the Great Hall. And by that time I was so overwhelmed and scatterbrained that I just didn't think about him because I hadn't seen him in a while. I was really horrified when I found out he'd been left for dead, and then he was even alive. If I'd thought about it, he'd have gotten help sooner!"
"Oh, Neville!" Hermione gushed, feeling a warmth for her friend and his incredible personality. "It wasn't your fault. Sometimes I think about that time and I can't even remember in what order things happened. I'm honestly surprised any of us managed to walk in a straight line. Don't worry about it," she insisted, laying a hand on his arm. "Besides, it may have been better that way. You know how he is. At least he was able to convalesce in private. If you'd found him and brought him back to the castle, I'm sure it would have been a spectacle."
"I'd still like to apologise to him," Neville insisted. He could be quite determined when he put his mind to something. It was one of his most admirable traits.
"Well, he's around," Hermione said with a smile.
As the Longbottoms walked off, Lucius leaned in to her. "Actually, I'm not sure Severus would have recovered at all, if Longbottom had found him and brought him to the castle."
Hermione looked at him, quite disturbed by this idea. "Why?"
"I am convinced, and Severus agrees, that the turning point in his recovery was when we administered him the potion with the fern-flower juice. The Ministry would never have allowed him to have that; it's a Class A non-tradeable substance."
She was gobsmacked by this. "What? Why?"
"I'll explain later," he said quietly, with an eye toward the approaching mass of red hair.
"So why does the Ministry . . ."
"I'll explain later!" he hissed, and turned to his guests. "Arthur, Molly. Delighted you could make it!"
Hermione had no time to consider what Lucius had said about the flower, because the horrified look on Molly's face, and the shocked look on Ginny's distracted her. "I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into!" Ginny muttered under her breath as she went to mingle with the other guests.
Hermione would have liked to question Ginny or Molly about their reactions but she hadn't the opportunity. Dinner was an elaborate affair consisting of a whole roast pig, roasted potatoes, cabbage, gravy, rice and almond pudding, seven different kinds of cookies, and plum pasties. After the dinner plates were cleared, there was a highly ritualised entrance of an elaborately carved log brought in bound to a couch. The ropes were untied and the effigy presented to the room. Several toasts were raised in honour of the end of the year and the end of the war, as well as specific references to the end of the melancholy years and a return to better times. Quite a few glances were shot Snape's way, although he appeared oblivious to it.
At a predetermined signal, the log was set reverently into the massive firebox and lit, at which point the formalities portion of the evening was considered to be over and frivolity began. After she and Lucius danced, they sat on the regally on the couch and watched the festivities. Neville grabbed one of the cloved clementines from after casting a guilty glance her way, and she watched with a bemused expression as he presented it to Daphne Greengrass with a flourish. Beside her, Lucius snickered. "I can see your friend plans to ring in the new year with a flourish," he teased.
She blinked at him, having no earthly idea what he was talking about. Part 8