This is Part B of Chapter 25, posted in two parts because of length. If you have not read Part A, go back one chapter! Happy reading!
The next morning, Sophronia asked Hermione to pop out to the shops and pick up a set of crystal goblets as a wedding gift for Neville and Pansy. As soon as Hermione was gone, Snape hastened to the Cave. Thus it was, for the third time that week, that when Fleur called in Grimmauld Place asking for Snape, she was told he was out.
“Professor Snape said he was going to his club, Miss,” Dobby reported dutifully.
Fleur narrowed her eyes. “Yet when I Floo for him at the club, he is never there,” she said. “Is Miss Granger in?”
Dobby answered as he had been instructed. “No, Miss Granger left when the Professor did.”
With a sniff of indignation, Fleur marched to the Floo in the sitting room, emerging in Severus’ bedroom at the Estuary. Hearing movement just beyond the door, she opened the door to investigate, staring in amazement as strangers dressed in workman’s garb proceeded along the corridor, carrying a huge mahogany bookcase on a Muggle trolley. Intrigued, she watched them go to the very end of the corridor, where they carefully manoeuvred the monolithic furnishing through the doorway of the room there. When the workmen disappeared into the room, she crept down the hallway and peeked.
Here, then, was a truly proper bedchamber for the master of the Estuary! A sitting area occupied the space near the door, leading one to the centre of the room. To the right of centre was the marble fireplace, and to the left was the focus of the room: a massive four-poster bed, residing on a dais. The duvet and the hangings were of a peculiar shade “ the colour of flame “ which she was certain she had recently seen before. Creeping further into the room, she saw a dressing room to the left, furnished in green and silver; the chamber to the right was a dressing room as well, decorated all in crimson and gold. It was fitted with an elaborate dressing table laid with a beautiful vanity set, including a hand mirror, brush, and combs, each bearing a monogram in tiny rubies. She could clearly discern the “S” in the middle, but she was still straining to see the “F” and “D” of the monogram when she was startled by Nanny.
“Did Miss get lost?” the old nurse inquired tartly.
“Whose room is this, Nanny?” Fleur asked, ignoring the taunt.
“This was the master’s father’s room, Miss.”
“Why hasn’t Severus moved to this room?”
Nanny cast Fleur a glance from the corner of her eye. “Perhaps Miss should speak to Master about that.”
“You may be sure I will!” the Frenchwoman exclaimed.
The workmen emerged from a doorway at the far end of the room through which Fleur had not yet looked; when they spied Nanny, they pulled their caps off their heads and stood straight.
“We got the bookcase installed, Nanny,” one man said nervously.
“Did you mark the walls moving it in?” Nanny demanded.
“No, we didn’t use magic “ we moved it by hand, just like you said!” the speaker insisted.
Pushing past the tiny house-elf, Fleur went and looked into the room in question. It was nothing special “ it contained a loveseat, an enormous armchair which looked big enough to hold two adults, a chaise lounge, littered with cushions “ and floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bookcases. What a peculiar room! It looked like some bookworm’s idea of heaven. She frowned, her eye on the loveseat. Heaven for two, it would appear.
“Nanny, what is this?”
The workmen were filing out as Nanny answered from across the room. “Nanny is not nosing into the Master’s business, and Miss ought not to be nosy, either,” she replied firmly.
Huffing her annoyance, Fleur walked out of the mysterious master bedchamber and went back down the corridor to Severus’ room, entering and closing the door behind her, shutting Nanny out.
Shaking open the folds of the Daily Prophet, Snape thought of the new bills he had given to Nanny to be scattered over his desktop at the Estuary. How much longer could Fleur hold up under the relentless strain?
With a smirk, Snape permitted himself to dwell upon the renovations currently taking place in the master suite at the Estuary “ a room in which he did not intend to sleep alone.
Fleur trod through Snape’s bedroom, questions running through her mind. Why was Severus renovating the master suite if he did not intend to occupy it? Perhaps he was doing it as a surprise for her? But why would he incur the expenditure of decorating that room as well as the one next door to this?
Shaking her head in confusion, she slipped into his study for her now daily perusal of the papers left on his desktop. Apparently the house-elves left bills that were delivered to the house beneath the blotter for Severus to inspect at his convenience. She was surprised to see such a large number of invoices this time and she seated herself at his desk to look through them.
How odd! Most of the receipts were for household furnishings and such. A full set of linens, from bed sheets to tablecloths, bought from the linen draper’s shop in Diagon Alley. Next was a set of monogrammed glassware, from juice glasses to brandy snifters, followed by a full service of silverware, in the traditional Nimüe pattern. A smile touched her lips. It appeared that Severus was procuring all-new furnishings for their quarters at Hogwarts “ what a lovely surprise that would be! “ and she would certainly feign shock when he showed it all to her, after their honeymoon.
As she read the next bill of sale, Fleur felt the smile slide from her face.
A five-room flat, complete with all modern conveniences, situated in the coveted address of Potter Place, off Diagon Alley, had been purchased by one Severus Snape. Fleur had seen that building, full of professional people and young married couples. She and Severus certainly had no need for such a place! They would divide their time between Hogwarts and the Estuary.
Her mouth set in a grim line, Fleur began to thumb through the other bills, seeing the purchases in a whole new light. These things were to furnish this flat in Potter Place! Was he setting up a hideaway so that he could avoid living with his new bride?
Glaring at the sales slips as if she could find the answer to her difficulty there, Fleur noticed the signature at the bottom of the linen draper’s bill, and then she looked for, and found, the same signature on each of the others.
Hermione Granger.
Fleur let the bills fall from her nerveless fingers as she flung away from the desk and began to pace, her brain a seething cauldron of rage. They must be having an affair now, and planning to continue after Severus and Fleur were married. But how could that be? Granger had to marry before the end of the year, just as everyone else did. Had she found an imbecile to marry who would not notice he was being cuckolded from the very beginning? Why would Severus offer for Fleur if it was Granger he wanted? Perhaps the affair had begun during their mutual incarceration at the Estuary.
Finding that she was suddenly chilled to the bone, Fleur collapsed onto the small leather sofa against the wall, pulling the crocheted throw from the back of the seat and wrapping it around her shoulders. She needed a plan. She simply had to keep a cool head and the situation could be managed. Granger would become another man’s wife and in the novelty of her new life, she would lose interest in Severus. In the meantime, Severus and Fleur would marry, and she would have the opportunity to use the ancient Veela magic to bind him to her sexually, dimming his taste for other women.
Above all, she could not permit this engagement to end “ she would not be the laughingstock of London again, as she had been when Bill Weasley jilted her. She would go through with this marriage, and find ways to punish those who crossed her.
This time, Nanny allowed herself to be seen as she pretended to hide behind the bookshelf, watching the Master’s fiancée. Let the girl realise that she would never have a moment’s peace living in a home where the servants spied upon her and reported her every movement to their master.
There was a ball at the Ministry assembly rooms that night and the young ladies of Grimmauld Place were busily dressing for the event, scurrying from room to room, borrowing things and helping one another with the arrangement of hair and makeup. Snape loitered in the first floor sitting room, ostensibly drinking a glass of after-dinner port. Tonight Sophronia was chaperoning the young women to their gathering; the inclusion of Black, Lupin, and Bill Weasley in the party certainly made his presence superfluous.
Miss Granger was the first person down the steps; she paused when she noted Snape’s eyes on her as she entered the sitting room. He stood near the hearth, the glass of port at his lips, and her shy gaze skittered over his form as a charming blush rose to her cheeks. She wore a sheath of shimmering satin the colour of candlelight, her dark curls charmed to those alluring corkscrews which tumbled in a cascade down her back.
“Which of your cavaliers shall we see tonight?” he demanded roughly.
She tilted her head to one side, exposing the column of her throat to his hungry eyes. “We’re going with the Phoenix House men, Professor,” she answered softly.
“Ah,” he said snidely. “Lupin, then.”
She blinked once at his unkind tone and her stubborn chin came up defiantly. “Yes, Remus,” she said, stressing Lupin’s given name.
Snape placed the glass of wine on the mantel with enough force to snap the stem of a lesser piece of crystal. “How big of a fool do you take me for, Miss Granger?” he inquired, his smooth tone belied by the fire in his eyes. “You and Lupin have no serious intentions regarding one another.”
Squaring her shoulders to his challenge, Hermione tossed her head and forced a light laugh. “I am no judge of how big a fool you might be, Professor “ but you could not be more wrong about Remus and me.”
Sophronia and Skye entered the room, each with a smile and a greeting for Snape. Sophronia turned her smile on Hermione. “And doesn’t Hermione look pretty tonight, Severus?”
Snape rapped out, “I am no judge of such matters, Sophronia. Good evening.”
And with a bow in their direction, Snape stalked out of the room.
As was usual for the Ministry balls, the rooms were over-crowded. After escaping from a second dance with Percy Weasley, Hermione smiled when she saw Healer Howser approaching her. “Good evening, Healer,” she said cheerfully.
The Healer took her hand and smiled down at her. “I thought you were going to call me Douglas.” He nodded towards the dance floor. “Shall we?
Willingly, Hermione stepped into his arms as the soft music began to play. After a moment, the Healer spoke.
“How is our patient?”
“Oh, he is well enough to be as unpleasant as he’s ever been,” she replied with a touch of bitterness.
“You know, Miss Granger, ever since that night we sat up with him in the hospital, I’ve been curious,” Howser confessed.
Hermione frowned. “Curious about what?”
“I can’t understand why he’s engaged to that other woman when you love him so much.”
Hermione flushed and averted her face, not knowing how to answer him.
“I don’t mean to pry, Miss Granger “ but it seems such a waste of an intelligent, lovely girl.” Douglas Howser continued to look down at the bent head with his kind eyes, but his partner did not meet his gaze. When the song ended, she excused herself with some confusion, and was gone.
Snape looked up in surprise at the knock on the library door. “Come,” he said.
Ronald Weasley entered. “Fancy a game, Professor?”
Snape agreed and the two men settled across the board from one another. Snape, whose turn it was to play white, moved a pawn and sat back, watching the younger man’s face. “I expected you to be at the Ministry do tonight,” he said.
“Oh, I wasn’t in the mood for it,” Ron said, moving a pawn in counter.
“Is not Shadow in the first floor sitting room?” Snape inquired, moving his knight out.
“I think she’s up in the ladies’ sitting room with Professor McGonagall,” Ron answered, moving to take Snape’s knight with his bishop.
Several moments passed in silence before Ron glanced up to find the professor’s unsettling gaze fastened to his face. “It’s your move, sir,” Ron said nervously.
“No, it is your move, Mr. Weasley. Is there not something which you wish to discuss?”
Ron gaped, his mouth suddenly bone dry.
Snape stood, indicating the bottles on the sideboard. “Perhaps you would care for a drink?”
Ron watched Snape’s hand hover over the drinks tray, remembering how Shadow had hated the smell of spirits upon his breath. “Butterbeer,” he croaked.
“Of course,” Snape returned, pouring a measure of brandy for himself. “Dobby!”
Dobby popped into the room, bowing low. “How can Dobby serve the Professor?”
“Fetch a Butterbeer for Mr. Weasley, Dobby. Then, in about twenty minutes, have Miss Shadow join us here.”
In short order, Ron found himself facing Shadow’s guardian across a table, each of them with their drink of choice in hand. Realising that it was finally time to make a push for his future, Ron took a swallow of Butterbeer and began to speak, praying that he would remember everything he had discussed with Sirius and Harry about this conversation.
“Professor, I know that Shadow is only sixteen years old, but we love one another, and we wish to enter into a binding engagement. I am perfectly happy to wait until she leaves school for us to be married. As for me, I begin Auror training in January; I will have a profession, and I will be able to provide for her.”
Snape had listened to Ron with unnerving concentration; now he spoke very quietly. “If you had come to me with this request before the battle at the Estuary, I would not have been tempted to give my permission for this mad scheme “ regardless of Sophronia’s endorsement of your plan.”
Ron stared at him, unbreathing, scarcely able to register the words Snape was speaking.
“In the battle, however, you proved to me once and for all that you are a powerful wizard who is prepared to lay down his life for my sister. Sophronia and I both feel reservations because of Shadow’s age, but we also recognise that the two of you have demonstrated significant love and loyalty towards one another. We have decided to give our permission for your betrothal.” At Ron’s exhalation of the breath he had been holding, Snape raised a hand for silence. “Keep in mind that she is, indeed, only sixteen, Mr. Weasley. She becomes a legal adult once the contract is signed, and I will have no lawful recourse in regards to her behaviour, but I am depending upon you to keep your conduct in the proper bounds for a schoolgirl.”
When Shadow hesitantly entered the library a few moments later, it was to find her beloved on his feet, shaking the hand of her fearsome brother, and grinning hugely.
Snape turned to his middle sister and held out an imperious hand to her. “Do you wish to marry this man, Shadow?” he asked as she slipped her hand into his.
“More than anything, Severus,” she whispered, scarcely able to believe this was happening.
Snape placed Shadow’s small hand into Ron’s much larger one. “Then you may plan your wedding for the summer two years hence, when you will have finished school, Shadow.”
Shadow threw her arms about the unyielding body of her big brother, tears streaming freely down her face. “Thank you, Severus “ oh, thank you!”
Snape removed a handkerchief from his pocket and unceremoniously dried her cheeks. “You had best behave yourself and work hard at school; I shall be watching you! The number of weekend passes to Hogsmeade you receive will be directly tied to your marks.”
Knowing that her Hogsmeade weekends would be her chance to see her boyfriend, she turned to Ron indignantly. “How can he do that?”
Ron smiled at her. “Your Head of House has all kinds of power over you, love.”
Shadow glared at her brother. “Then I hope I’m sorted into Gryffindor!”
Snape rolled his eyes and handed the handkerchief into Ron’s hand. “Take her out of here before I change my mind, Ronald.”
On Saturday morning, Healer Howser at last ran his quarry to earth in the green parlour on the upper level of the Cave.
“Just the man I was looking for,” he said with a smile, advancing into the room where Severus Snape sat in the window embrasure with his tea and newspaper.
“Imagine my delight,” Snape said, eyeing the Healer over his teacup. “Did I fail to pay your bill?”
Howser broke out into a laugh. “You are such a delightful fellow; it’s no wonder that the beautiful women want you.”
Snape’s answering sneer was a formidable sight. “Say whatever it is and get out, Howser.”
“I was there when she brought you in, you know. Holding you in her arms, covered in your blood, frantically demanding the emergency team to stop everything and look after you. ‘This is Professor Severus Snape,’ she said, glaring us all down. ‘Every person in this room owes their freedom to the deeds of this man. Stop what you are doing instantly and attend to him!’ I had never seen anything as magnificent as she was. And then the way she sat at your side all night long, talking to you as if you could hear her...”
Douglas sat down across from his former Potions master and looked him in the eye. “I’m trying to figure out why a terrific girl like Hermione Granger is pining over you when you are patently unavailable, and when there are plenty of men who would give their wand arms to have such a clever, pretty woman for their own.”
Snape placed the teacup back in its saucer with immeasurable delicacy, his fathomless black eyes never wavering from the Healer’s good-natured face. “No doubt you count yourself amongst their number.”
Howser steeled himself to hold the older wizard’s gaze. “I do.”
Snape studied Howser in a leisurely manner, taking the cloth napkin from his lap and patting his lips unnecessarily, determining how he wished to answer. At length, he spoke. “You may be assured that I am aware of the situation and that matters are being … arranged. Your assistance is not required, Healer Howser. If, by chance, any of us, including Miss Granger, should find ourselves in need of a Healer, we would not hesitate to call upon your unparalleled skills. For now, however, any further attention on your part is unwarranted and unwelcome.”
Snape then picked up his newspaper and began to read as if he were in the room alone.
That evening, Snape strolled along to Sophronia’s room and knocked, awaiting her invitation to enter.
“You look quite handsome, Severus,” his stepmother said, surveying him in his severe formal attire, adorned with his Order of Merlin.
Snape nodded his thanks to her before coming to the reason for his visit. “Sophronia, could you persuade Miss Granger to wear the bracelet this evening?”
Sophronia stood from her dressing table, her sequinned gown of aquamarine-blue flowing about her.
“Good heavens, woman, no one will look at the bride!” he murmured, momentarily distracted by her stunning beauty.
Sophronia smiled a genuine smile; she could not recall another time when Severus had responded to her as if she were actually a woman, rather than his father’s wife. “I’m sure that Pansy will be a beautiful bride, and that all eyes will be on her,” she demurred, approaching him. “I will take the bracelet to Hermione while she is dressing and ask her to wear it tonight. But I wonder why you would wish for her to do so?”
Severus gave her a mild look. “I think it is an appropriate ornament for a young woman to wear to a wedding, don’t you agree?”
Sophronia crossed her arms. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”
Snape looked her up and down once before replying, “I could say the same to you.”
A roguish dimple appeared in Sophronia’s cheek as her laugh floated in the air. “But I’m not asking you to assist me in my scheme,” she pointed out irrepressibly.
“Minx,” he muttered, turning to go. He paused in the doorway. “Will you do it?”
“Yes, you impossible man, but just this once “ and then nothing more until you tell me what you’re up to!”
With a genuine grin, the likes of which she had never seen grace his face, he replied, “I will be happy to let you in on the secret, as soon as I discover what it is.”
As Sophronia had prophesied, Pansy was indeed a very pretty bride, and all eyes were on her as she pledged herself to Neville, whose responses were spoken in a firm, deep voice which thrilled his bride and amazed his friends.
Only Sirius seemed unable to keep his eyes from Sophronia in her eye-catching aquamarine gown.
“How much longer do you mean to keep me waiting?” he growled into her ear as they eased into the first dance at Neville and Pansy’s reception. “We have not only Skye, but Shadow settled as well.”
Sophronia tilted her head back and treated him to a come-on look such as he had not received from her since she was seventeen years old. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Black,” she said, turning her cheek to his shoulder with a wicked smile.
Sirius tightened his hold on her, twirling her in the dance, his mind in a fog of such longing he could not think straight.
Fleur circled the dance floor in the arms of her fiancé, her mind a muddle of confusion. When he had called for her at her home, producing from his pocket a jewellers’ case of burgundy grosgrain, her spirits had lifted. She knew what gift he had procured for her, and the expenditure of more than four hundred Galleons was surely a declaration of love.
Snapping the box open, she had been astonished to see an insipid bracelet of freshwater pearls. If she had not been so afraid, she would have been insulted.
“Do you not like it?” Snape had inquired with apparent concern.
He must be planning to give her the South Sea pearls for a wedding gift, she thought to herself, scrambling desperately to make sense of this slighting gift of inferior quality.
“Will you fasten it for me?” she had asked, offering her wrist to him.
Now that wrist rested properly on his shoulder, the pathetic bracelet mocking her. She was having a difficult time diverting her attention from the puzzle of the bracelets.
From the corner of her eye, she spied Draco and Luna Malfoy, arms about one another, in conversation with Varen Vector.
“I read about Draco’s marriage in the Daily Prophet,” she said, attempting to modulate her voice so that her tone would be light and unconcerned. “You were listed amongst the guests.”
“Yes,” he responded indifferently.
“You never mentioned to me that you were at Draco’s wedding.”
“What concern is that of yours?” he inquired unpleasantly. “Do tell me that you are not planning to be a tiresome wife who is forever demanding where her husband has been?”
The song came to an end and Fleur pulled out of his arms. “I’m sure that your whereabouts will not be hard to determine,” she said tightly, before walking away from him into the milling guests.
Tonks moved her head away from Viktor, irritated by his incessant whispering of sweet nothings into her ear as they danced. She had meant to accept his offer tonight, thinking that she would be more likely to wish to do so whilst in attendance at a wedding, but the sight of the rapturously happy Neville and Pansy had done nothing to inspire her to want Viktor. He was more sullen-looking than Severus Snape, he had less attractive features, and his walk was distinctly duck-footed. Furthermore, tonight he smelled of elderberries, and nothing made her more nauseous than elderberry wine-breath.
Wistfully, her gaze followed Remus and Hermione, who danced together nearby. Remus had not gone to visit Hermione when she was staying at the Estuary, and Tonks had taken heart at that. Of course, he may have been avoiding the unpleasantness of Severus, which could be a huge deterrent for anyone “ but Tonks chose to believe that Remus simply was not so powerfully drawn to Hermione that he could not bear to be separated from her.
It gave her some hope to cling to.
The dance ended and Remus and Hermione drifted over to the refreshment table, where Remus was grabbed by Professor Vector.
“They’re playing the rock and roll medley next, Remus,” Varen said, sounding a bit drunk. “I need a partner who can do the Twist, and Lucius isn’t here.”
Lupin put a comforting arm about Varen’s shoulders. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you, Hermione?”
Hermione nodded, looking after the unhappy Professor Vector sadly. Remus had told her that Varen Vector had carried a torch for Lucius Malfoy since she was a student at Hogwarts; she must be grieving his death more than most.
“You!”
Hermione heard the exclamation, full of more hatred than she was aware could be packed into one word, and turned slowly to find Fleur Delacour staring at her “ or, actually, staring at the bracelet on her wrist.
“Good evening, Miss Delacour,” Hermione said politely.
“How dare you show yourself in public wearing that!” Fleur raged, one outflung hand indicating Hermione’s person.
Hermione looked down at her little black dress, then back at Fleur with a placating smile. “Oh, the invitation specified that either wizard or Muggle dress was appropriate,” she said.
Fleur stared at the four hundred Galleon South Sea pearl bracelet encircling Granger’s wrist, her wrath mounting insensibly. “You’re not fooling anyone with your innocent act!” Fleur spat. “I am well aware of what is going on!”
Hermione stood uncertainly by the punch bowl, her face a study in bewilderment as she watched the other witch with increasing alarm. Was Fleur about to flip out in the middle of Neville’s wedding reception? Did she need to let someone know that Fleur was losing her mind?
Taking one step closer to Hermione, Fleur said, “I am on to you, Granger. Find another relationship to wreck.”
Tossing her curtain of hair so that it flew about her like silvery ribbons, Fleur turned on her heel and walked away, feeling that she had dealt with that little problem with commendable efficiency.
Tonks kicked off her satin sandals and collapsed in the armchair by her bed, rubbing her toes and uttering little whimpering moans of relief. Why did women wear such uncomfortable shoes, anyway?
She had set Viktor down as gently as she could, standing with him in the back garden at Grimmauld Place, her great, dark eyes entreating him to understand. He had accepted her refusal stoically, ever the gentleman, and retrieved his broom from the garden shed, flying off into the starry night sky with the grace he could never exhibit on his own two feet.
Now she had cleared her own playing field; it was time to swallow her stupid pride and to go to Remus with her heart in her hands, begging him to reconsider. She would do so at the first opportunity.
Smiling as she pulled her nightdress over her head, she allowed herself to drift to sleep, dreaming of her werewolf lover.
Sirius shrugged out of his dress robes, tossing them on a nearby chair, and slipped beneath the covers of his bed. As he punched the pillow into shape, he pondered Sophie’s behaviour that evening. Never had she been so enticing; her entire attention had been focussed upon him. In that glittering dress, exactly the colour of her bluebell eyes, she had been like Circe herself, luring him onto the shoals. He would have followed her anywhere.
So, why was he alone is his bedroom at Phoenix House?
As if in answer to his question, there was a knock upon his door.
“Come in,” he said, wondering which of the boys needed him tonight.
Sophronia entered his bedroom, the ethereal blue of her negligee floating about her body as she moved to close the door.
“Sophie!”
Sirius started up, then stopped, mindful of his state of undress.
“Sophie, you shouldn’t be here.”
Without speaking, his angel crossed the bedroom floor, removing the gauzy robe of the ensemble and letting it drift to the floor like a falling mist. The moonlight pierced the curtains over the window, and Sophie swept the curtains open, allowing the moonlight to flood the second floor bedroom, unmindful of how the beams of light illuminated the curves of her body to the awestruck Sirius.
Wielding her wand, the goddess before him spoke a spell to extinguish the candles, leaving them alone with the knowing moonlight. He watched, spellbound, as she lifted her arms, drawing the gown over her head and letting it, too, fall unheeded to the floor. She stood before him then, completely bare to his scrutiny, offering all that she had.
Rising from the bed, Sirius stood before her as well, each of them naked as the day they were born. Even with the fascination they each felt for the other’s body, it was their eyes which could not be parted as their hands came together and their fingers entwined.
“Dear God, but I love you, Sophie,” he said.
“And I love you, Siri “ I have never loved any man except for you.”
He released one of her hands and brought those fingers to the porcelain of her cheek. “You understand there will be no going back from here?” he said, his attitude brooking no argument.
She nodded, her free hand rising to caress his bare back, his flesh seeming to burn beneath her fingers. “I understand, Siri.”
He stepped back, getting into the bed and moving to the middle, leaving a space for her to slide in beside him. She did so, her face flaming as his eyes raked over her body, his hunger for her evident. Coming to rest beside him, she lifted her wand, bringing the tip to her abdomen and beginning to murmur a contraceptive incantation.
Sirius grasped her wand arm tenderly, gently forcing the tip of the wand away from her body.
“No,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes, his tone questioning.
Sophronia let the wand drop over the side of the bed, moving surely into his arms. “Oh, yes, Siri,” she breathed.
She lay dozing against his chest, her golden hair a tumbled mass of glory against her petal soft skin. Sirius divided his attention between the wonder of her in his bed, and watching as the moonlight faded into day, and the sun rose. He could not help but reflect upon the vagaries of fate, which had taken her from him before he properly knew how to appreciate her, and brought her back again when he was prepared to spend the rest of his life endeavouring to deserve her.
The drugged look with which she had clung to him in the aftermath of their coupling had answered one question he had about her relationship with her husband; her amazed, “People do it more than once?” had answered another for him, as he worked to bring that expression of magnificent intoxication to her face again.
As the rosy rays of sunlight invaded the room, Sirius bent his shaggy head to press feather-light kisses upon her eyelids.
“Wake up, Sophie. It’s your wedding day.”
A/N: To see the two bracelets (because MollysSister is never satisfied when jewellery is mentioned unless there are pictures), you may use these links.
Fleur’s bracelet is here: http://www.bluenile.com/product_details.asp?oid=2702&ring_size
Hermione’s bracelet is here:
http://www.bluenile.com/product_details.asp?oid=6567
As I was determining just what Fleur would say when she saw Hermione wearing the South Sea pearls, and how far she would take it, I was talking it over with my Slytherin, who reminded me of what has become my cardinal rule when writing the Fleur Delacour of this story:
What would Miss Piggy do?
One more chapter, my very dear readers “ and, most likely, an epilogue, but there is no deadline on that!
Keladry's Note:
(1) South Sea Pearl bracelet with platinum clasp: 420 Galleons
(2) Freshwater Pearl bracelet with gold clasp: 10 Galleons
(3) Pissing off one's shrewish and greedy fiancée, causing her to cause a scene in a public place: priceless
Some things money can buy. For everything else, there's Severus Snape.
His Draught of Delicate Poison by Subversa
Chapter Notes: See Chapter 25 -- Part A