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Hermione lost count of the number of times she’d made excuses for her husband that evening. When he arrived an hour late for the Ministry’s third memorial ball after the end of the war, Hermione told their friends he was still in training with the Chudley Cannons and worked long hours. When he flirted and smiled, lavishing attention on every woman in the room except his wife, she reasoned that he needed to network in order to support the team. When he drank too much firewhiskey and his speech slurred, she chalked it up to having a hard week and needing to unwind.
She might have gone on suffering the little indignities of her marriage for years had she not noticed Ron slipping away with Lavender Brown. Something about his silly, insipid grin, or perhaps something about Lavender’s hooded eyes and tilt of her head to silently suggest that they find someplace private finally forced her to see the horrific sham of her marriage. When Ron came to sit next to her twenty minutes later with mussed hair and looking thoroughly shagged, Hermione was prepared.
Ron gave her a once-over as he took another sip from his tumbler of firewhiskey. He lowered his voice so their friends wouldn’t hear him. “Why didn’t you use a straightening spell for your hair, Hermione? When parts of it are falling out of your bun like that, it looks like you don’t even care. You should at least make some effort to look decent if we’re going to be seen out in public togeth–”
“I want a divorce.” The words nearly tripped over each in their haste to come out.
He turned slightly in his chair to face her, gesturing with his glass of firewhiskey and nearly sloshing it all over her lap. “No…you don’t. You were the one who absolutely insisted on getting married to begin with. I would have been fine being friends with benefits, but the Golden Girl couldn’t stand the idea of The Prophet saying that she was shagging someone without being married to them.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, finding she had a great many things to say now that the chips were down. “Friends with benefits wouldn’t have worked for us anyway, Ronald. You showed what a good friend you were when you abandoned Harry and me to bear that loathsome, spiteful piece of Voldemort’s soul on our own, and sex with you isn’t really good enough to be considered much of a ‘benefit’.”
He gaped at her, but she didn’t let him interrupt her. “Let’s say you’re right, though. This is all my fault and I made a mistake. Fortunately it’s one I can correct.”
He waved his hand dismissively, succeeding in spilling part of his firewhiskey on the floor. “Enough of your cheek. You’ve made your point. You’re just adjusting to married life. We’ve only been married for two months. You’ll get used to it. We’ll have a few kids and you’ll feel more settled.”
She stared at him incredulously. “I knew you were thick, but this is ridiculous. Get used to it? The drinking and the cheating are bad enough, but having to tolerate a lifetime of inane conversations and clumsy, hurried touches?”
She shuddered. His face had already started turning purple with rage. “Maybe I’d be interested in touching you more often if you bothered to make yourself look–”
“Stop. I’m not going to argue with you. I’m filing for a divorce.”
“Well, I’m not giving you one.”
“I don’t need your permission, Ronald. The two parties don’t have to agree.”
His grin revealed his sadistic streak, a trait he kept well-hidden from the public. “So you don’t know, then? I guess there are some things you just can’t learn from books, Hermione.”
Before anyone at the table could stop him, he pushed his chair out with a loud screech and clambered on top of their table. He cast a sonorous charm and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention?”
The music gradually faded out as the dancing stopped and every eye in the ballroom was focused on Ron. He preened under the attention, making a show of taking off his platinum wedding band. He held it in the palm of his hand, showing it to their audience. “Sometimes special circumstances arise that require us to revive our ancient magical traditions, and today is just such a day. I call for…a witch auction.”
A collective gasp tore through the room before pandemonium broke out. The room echoed with scandalized chattering, and photographers approached the table to take pictures. Hermione looked to Harry, but he was as much in the dark about what was happening as she was. She scanned the room, taking in people’s response to the events: A number of people regarded her with pity; others merely looked at her as though she were a sideshow to make yet another odious Ministry event less tiresome; it was the ones looking at her with predatory interest, however, that made her nervous.
Minister Shacklebolt caught Hermione’s eye, shaking his head apologetically as he cast his own sonorous charm, his commanding voice cutting through the din. “I am disappointed to see that instead of helping us move forward, one of our most established and respected families is dredging up heartless and barbaric laws that haven’t been practiced in seven hundred years. However, since the Wizengamot has never formally repealed the law, I’m afraid Mr. Weasley is still within his rights should he wish to continue.”
Hermione stopped breathing as the truth finally dawned on her. They were going to allow her husband to sell her off to the highest bidder. The wizarding world that she’d admired, that she’d wanted nothing more than to belong to had officially named her as property.
She scanned the room again, this time frantically looking for comfort in the place she’d found it so often in the last three years. He was seated a few tables away from her with Lucius and Draco Malfoy. When her eyes finally met his, she was surprised that he wasn’t wearing the usual indifferent mask he wore in public. Concern, anger, and something she didn’t quite know how to interpret flitted over his expression. The tightening in her chest relaxed and she took a deep breath as he looked at her.
If anyone had told Hermione three years ago that she’d be friends with her former potions professor, she’d have called them mad. They hadn’t exactly sought each other out after the war, but circumstances tended to throw them together. When Severus became headmaster again, he reconciled with Minerva and the two resumed their weekly tea. Hermione was Minerva’s transfiguration apprentice and frequently accompanied her mentor.
The weekly meetings eventually resulted in other interactions: brief, stilted conversations when they saw each other in the corridors, a shared table in the library when they were both doing research late into the night, and much later, whispered secrets in the dark as they patrolled the Hogwarts grounds together.She wasn’t exactly sure when her feelings had changed, but Severus had somehow become a close friend, and she discovered with growing alarm that friendship wasn’t the only thing she wanted from him.
When he revealed that he was in a relationship with Lucius Malfoy, Hermione was devastated. It wasn’t that she had anything against Lucius. In fact, she’d given testimony to keep Lucius and Draco out of Azkaban. She’d developed an unlikely friendship with Draco after he returned to Hogwarts to apprentice in potions with Severus, and she’d mourned with him when Narcissa succumbed to a long illness from a stray curse she suffered when they were fleeing from the Battle of Hogwarts.
After learning about his relationship with Lucius, she began avoiding interactions with Severus, finishing her apprenticeship requirements early so she wouldn’t have to be reminded on a daily basis that she couldn’t have the person she wanted. She’d mistakenly believed that marrying Ron was the best way to move on. The last time she’d seen Severus was at her wedding two months ago, where he scowled his way through the ceremony and left before the reception.
“Now who will start the bidding?” Ron’s voice boomed over the crowd, returning her to the farce of the moment.
There was a beat of silence…then another as people stared at each other uncomfortably.
“One hundred galleons!” Mundungus Fletcher called out a bit too eagerly.
Ron scoffed. “That’s not enough to pay my bar bill, Dungus. You’d best stick to peddling rubbish instead of trying to buy a witch.”
A ripple of snickering broke out over the ballroom.
“Five hundred galleons!” Talbott Winger called from across the room. Harry looked at his fellow auror gratefully, but based on the way he was looking at her, Hermione rather doubted that his motives were entirely noble.
She was just beginning to wonder at the number of wizards who seemed interested in buying a wife, even an unwilling one, when she heard Horace Slughorn throw his hat in the ring. “Five thousand galleons!”
Ron jumped down from the table and canceled his sonorous charm so he could whisper to Hermione. “Now this is getting interesting, don’t you think? Our professors and men older than your father are tripping over each other to get in your knickers. Old Slughorn there’s always been a collector. Maybe he’s been wanting to collect you all this time, Hermione. Probably imagined bending you over his desk in the middle of our potions class. He’s going to be quite disappointed when he finds out what a prude you are.”
She’d never wanted to eviscerate someone so much in her life, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction, pretending he hadn’t even spoken to her.
“Twenty thousand galleons!” Her blood went cold when she realized that the bid came from Amycus Carrow.
Ron looked absolutely giddy. “This is too, too good. The Golden Girl purchased by a ‘former’ Death Eater who bribed his way out of Azkaban. Just imagine the things that sadist will do to you, Hermione, and when he’s done, he'll sell you off to his friends.”
Rita Skeeter must have been thinking the same thing, as she was practically wringing her hands in excitement. Hermione tried to block them out, looking up to find Severus again. Both Severus and Draco appeared to be pleading with Lucius, who finally rolled his eyes and gave a small, sharp nod of acquiescence.
Ron cast his sonorous again. “Twenty thousand galleons going once…twenty thousand going twice…”
“One hundred thousand galleons.” Lucius’ suave voice somehow managed to dominate the proceedings and yet make it clear that the entire sordid affair was beneath him.
Ron’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’m not selling my wife to you, Malfoy. I’d rather let a hippogriff–”
Shacklebolt cut in before he could continue, much to Skeeter’s dismay. “I’m afraid you have no choice, Mr. Weasley. The rules of a witch auction are magically binding, and they require that your wife goes to the highest bidder.”
Ron’s face reminded Hermione of a petulant five-year-old. “Well that’s not fair. I should get to decide–”
The Minister was having trouble keeping his feelings in check. “And you think selling off your wife is fair, Mr. Weasley? I’m going to work until the idiocy that’s allowing this farce to happen is overturned, but in the meantime, you’re the one who started this, and you will be bound by the terms of the law.”
Shacklebolt turned his back on Ron to address the assembly. “Are there any other offers?”
Lucius sent a quelling look over the crowd, not that it was necessary. No one in attendance had the funds to outbid the Malfoy patriarch. Shacklebolt gave a resigned sigh. “Per the terms of the witch’s auction, the marriage of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger is hereby dissolved.”
Hermione was so distracted by Severus’ appearance at her right side that she jumped when she felt Lucius’ hand at her elbow. Severus wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, his cloak partially surrounding her. She allowed herself a brief moment to appreciate their scent.
Severus smelled like the plants he’d likely been harvesting earlier in the day. She could easily pick up on clover and thistle, but the other scent was more elusive, something peppery that probably belonged to the mustard family. Lucius’ scent was herbal, but slightly more floral, like heather. It had a chemical tinge, suggesting that it was a cologne or aftershave. The combination of them was intoxicating, and Hermione rather wondered how they managed to be in the same room without devouring each other.
The back of her neck itched, and she hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes and tipped her head back to catch more of their scent. When she opened her eyes, Lucius was staring at her suspiciously, but Severus gave his lover a warning look that seemed to have the desired effect.
Lucius snatched the wedding bands from Ron, and Hermione watched curiously as the rings transformed from platinum to goblin-wrought silver. The design was a serpent biting its tail, with chip diamond scales and two emeralds for eyes.
He placed her wedding band on her left hand, giving Severus and Draco a pointed look as he did. “Your former teacher and my son have convinced me that it is in my best interests to marry again, Hermione. I confess that I didn’t expect it to be under these circumstances, but the Malfoys are nothing if not opportunistic.”
Hermione was still in shock, not really processing what Lucius said, but her body seemed to go on autopilot for this part of the ritual. She instinctively reached for his hand when he handed her his wedding band, slipping it on his finger as she stared at him in a daze. Only Severus’ arm around her shoulder kept her grounded.
Shacklebolt nodded grimly at the completion of the proceedings, dropping his sonorous and casting a muffliato so that only the three of them could hear him. “Remember that time is of the essence. If the bond isn’t consummated within twenty-four hours, the marriage will be passed to the next highest bidder.”
Hermione paled. Just when she thought her ordeal couldn’t become more absurd, the Minister of Magic, her mentor, was telling her that she had to sleep with the lover of the man she loved. Her knees felt weak, but Severus’ strong grip kept her standing, his sultry voice whispering in her ear in an attempt to soothe her. “Don’t worry, Hermione. I won’t let anyone hurt my insufferable little know-it-all.”
She wrapped an arm around his waist to steady herself, emotions quickly threatening to overwhelm her. He pulled her into his side, keeping his arm around her shoulder and resting his chin on the top of her head. Lucius stepped closer to them, placing a reassuring hand on her back.
“There now. That sordid affair is done. Can we go home now, Severus?”
Hermione was surprised by how comforting she found Lucius’ condescending drawl. She found his tone very pleasing when he wasn’t being derisive, but she didn’t have time to consider the matter further when Ron approached her.
“Once you’re done sullying yourself in the snake pit and have glutted yourself on Death Eater cum, maybe I’ll come see you then, if I have time to spare for a two-sickle Knockturn Alley whore.”
Severus drew his wand from his sleeve, but Hermione was faster, her fist making contact with Ron’s nose. The sickening thud told her that it was broken, and she had never in her life felt anything so satisfying. She heard a soft huff, the telltale sign of Severus’ suppressed laughter, but Lucius’ initial silence made her concerned. What would her pureblood, aristocratic husband think of her brazen little display? She idly wondered if he’d ever really forgiven her for breaking Draco’s nose in her third year.
To her surprise, he took her hand and cast a wandless healing charm over her knuckles. “No need to resort to fisticuffs in every instance, my dear. Next time just hex his bollocks off or,” Lucius turned to give Ron a scathing look, “perhaps Mr. Weasley would prefer to have a wizard’s duel?”
Ron turned pale at the mere idea of fighting the former Death Eater. Lucius’ eyes narrowed in irritation, looking at him as though he were an insect. “I will ignore this incident in light of your current state of inebriation, but if it happens again, I assure you will find yourself on the business end of my wand, Weasley.”
“Gentlemen,” Kingsley’s voice interrupted the exchange, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.” He held Severus’ gaze. “I merely wanted to remind you that there are many ancient forms of bonding, ones that the Ministry is still bound to honor.”
Severus gave a sharp nod of understanding before leading the three of them down the corridor to the floo network, ignoring the frenzied whispers and flashing bulbs behind them. Hermione’s hands were tucked snugly into an arm on both sides as they stepped into one of the larger fireplaces together.
“Malfoy Man–”
“Severus, what are you doing?!” Lucius scolded him. A lesser wizard would have been terrified of his bellowing, but Severus just gave him a quizzical look.
“Do you not wish to take your wife home?”
“Not yet!” Lucius hissed. “Did it not occur to you that the last time she was there she was being tortured?”
Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow, surprised by Lucius’ apparent show of sympathy.
Lucius tucked an errant curl behind her ear, and Hermione had to fight the urge to lean into the touch. “We’ll leave it up to you, my dear. Would you prefer to go to Malfoy Manor now, or to Hogwarts?”
She blushed crimson, suddenly feeling awkward and shy around two men she’d known since she was eleven years old. “Hogwarts. I want to go back to Hogwarts, please.”
Severus squeezed her hand. “Of course.”
When they arrived in the familiar comfort of the headmaster’s sitting room, Hermione shivered in relief. Severus led her to her accustomed chair, but he sat down first and pulled her into his lap. She expected to feel embarrassed, but she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging her nose over the wiry scars on his neck. Before she realized what she’d done, her tongue darted out to taste his skin, eliciting a hiss from Severus.
Lucius sat in the chair next to them, smirking as he watched her. “Eager little thing, aren’t you? Nonetheless, I must insist that you stop torturing Severus. We’ve important details to discuss before we proceed to the more pleasurable part of the evening, so I must insist that you keep your hands to yourself.”
Hermione was trying to focus on what he was saying, but Severus’ physical proximity was proving too overwhelming. She’d noticed the smell of herbs already, but this was soon joined by chai tea and the musty smell of books. Her pupils dilated and the nape of her neck started to burn as though she had a rash as the smells washed over her. A tiny whimper slipped past her lips. To most wizards, the sound wouldn’t have been discernible at all, but to the two men in the room, it was a siren song.
She looked up to find Lucius staring at her appraisingly. “How long have you known that you’re an omega?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped before she could filter her reaction. Her first instinct was to lie, but she knew Lucius well enough to know he’d see right through her. “I presented a few years ago, shortly after the end of the war. I told Minerva as soon as I noticed the symptoms, and she encouraged me to tell Severus so he could brew my suppressants. I only need a dose once per year, but as you well know, it’s not exactly the sort of potion one finds in Diagon Alley, and even if it were available, it wouldn’t exactly be a wise idea to broadcast my genetic anomaly.”
Lucius tapped his fingers on top of his cane contemplatively. “Surely you know the health consequences of suppressing your heats? The fatigue and anxiety must have been terrible. I can’t imagine how you finished an apprenticeship under such circumstances. I certainly understand why you didn’t want everyone to know, but why did you not find an available alpha to get you through your heats?”
Hermione huffed in frustration. “Do you have any idea how infuriating it is when you oversimplify matters and then look at the rest of us as though we’re idiots for wanting to think things through? I didn’t want just anyone in my bed, Lucius. I found the alpha I wanted.”
“But?”
“But he wasn’t an option.”
“So you denied your nature?” Lucius practically spat at her. “You took suppressants and married a beta?”
Hermione felt the anger crawling closer to the surface. “I admit that it was a mistake, but the person I cared about belonged to someone else. I was hurt and angry, so I worked to finish my apprenticeship early and left Hogwarts.”
Lucius was unmoved. “Did you ever tell Mr. Weasley that you wouldn’t be able to give him children, that you are genetically incompatible with him even if you stopped taking suppressants?”
The fire in her eyes snuffed out, her voice dropping to a whisper as she stared at her lap. “No.”
“That’s a bit selfish of you, isn’t it? Even Ronald Weasley deserves to know–”
“That’s enough, Lucius.” Severus’ voice brooked no argument. “Whatever injustices he might rightfully claim, I’d say the ginger idiot has more than earned them in his actions this evening.”
Lucius waved his hand dismissively, continuing to pin her with his gaze. “It’s not enough. I want to know the truth, wife. How long have you been in love with Severus?”
It crossed her mind once again to lie, and once again she determined that it would be futile. She sighed and closed her eyes. “For years.”
Severus tilted her chin up, obsidian eyes simmering with something she couldn’t read. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What do you mean ‘why didn’t I tell you’?” She couldn’t quite keep the indignation out of her voice “You’re in a relationship. I’m not a masochist, Severus. I wasn’t going to say something only to be rejected.”
She squeaked in surprise when his lips descended on hers, but her shock was short-lived as her better judgment and sense of propriety were promptly ditched in favor of clutching his collar and deepening the kiss. Her tongue teased and coaxed the most satisfying groans from him, and she could feel the effects of her attention hard against her thigh. Hermione jumped when Lucius cleared his throat. She fully expected him to be furious, but instead she was met with an amused smirk.
“Foolish girl. As you can clearly see, you wouldn’t have been rejected. As Kingsley suggested this evening, there were always other options.”
She snorted in disbelief. “A triad, Lucius? You’ve never struck me as someone who’d be interested in sharing.”
He sat back in his chair with a smug grin, one hand resting lightly on his cane as he propped the other on the arm of the chair. He looked every bit the patriarch preparing to hold court. “I think it’s simply a matter of perspective.”
Hermione snickered. “Yes, and you do have a history of changing perspectives when it suits you.”
“Indeed. As far as I’m concerned, forming a triad wouldn’t be a matter of sharing Severus. It would be an opportunity to claim you both .”
Her pulse picked up, her voice coming out more breathily than she intended. “And do you want to claim me, Lucius?”
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Hermione. My son argued that we couldn’t let the Carrows get their hands on you when you’ve done so much to help us. I was also aware of Severus’ feelings for you and how much it would pain him to see you go to someone else. Neither of these claims, however, would have inspired me to part with such a sum were I not deeply interested in you.”
He gave Severus a sharp nod, and he pulled a small vial from a pocket of his robes. Hermione turned it over in her fingers, watching the viscous amber liquid slowly undulate inside the glass.
Severus’ arm tightened at her waist, as much to keep her close as it was to make sure she was paying attention.“This is an antidote. If you take it, it will neutralize the effects of the suppressants you’ve taken,” Hermione gasped as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, his sultry baritone rumbling through her, “and you will go into heat.”
Lucius’ cane banged loudly against the flagstones. “Severus, stop exercising undue influence. She must make the decision for herself.”
He sat forward in his chair to ensure he had her attention. “This is not a decision to make lightly, Hermione. If you agree to the triad and take that potion, you will be bonded to two alphas. While the media may have painted us as romantics, we are both grumpy, greedy, possessive men. It will no doubt test your patience to live with us.
There are also a number of practical considerations. You are welcome to stay at Hogwarts for the moment, but Severus is stepping down as headmaster at the end of the term. He will be moving to Malfoy Manor at the end of the month, and you would have to come with him. And then there’s the little matter of children to consider–”
She gaped at him. “Children? You already have a son–”
“But not with you.” His voice was silky and dangerous. It was affecting Hermione in ways she never would have deemed possible.
She forced herself to focus on the issue at hand. “I don’t want to give up my work to–”
“No one is expecting you to give up your career. I intend to keep my seat on the Wizengamot, and Severus is planning to start his business. We’re not fools, Hermione. We will not keep you from pursuing your goals, but we would both like to have children. Severus and I will be home most of the time and can care for them, and of course we have staff at Malfoy Manor–”
He held up a hand when she tried to interrupt him, “and yes, they are salaried, so your do-gooder, crusading little heart can rest well at night. Our staff can also help with child care. What I am saying, my dove, is that we are not trying to clip your wings, but we want your help in building a nest for the three of us.”
Severus snorted in derision. “Your analogies are dreadful, old man.”
Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “You know you love them.”
Hermione’s head was spinning. She needed something to help her take a step back and catch her breath for a moment. She squirmed in Severus’ lap until she was seated on the edge of their chair between his open thighs. She raised her hands with a dramatic flourish, a series of complex equations appearing in golden lettering in the air before her. Both wizards were surprised, but it was Lucius who first broke the silence. “I thought your apprenticeship was in transfiguration.”
Hermione blushed under the scrutiny. “I’ve always been interested in arithmancy. Professor Vector offered me the arithmancy apprenticeship, and I actually found it difficult choosing between them.”
Lucius pointed the end of his cane at her equations. “And that?”
She blushed further still. “Well…I’ve always had a problem with getting ink on my fingers, so I created this charm so I could work out the calculations without having to use ink.”
Lucius shook his head. “What I meant was, what are you calculating?”
Severus chuckled behind her. “She’s performing a sort of cost-benefit analysis for the success of our potential triad.”
“Really?” Lucius cocked his head to the side as he watched her with interest.
Severus called for tea, and Lucius enjoyed sipping his Earl Grey and watching them work. Severus sat with his head propped on Hermione’s shoulder, occasionally making a suggestion and adding a variable to her calculations with a wave of his hand. The scene struck him as oddly domestic, and Lucius felt a sense of contentment he didn’t think he’d find again after he lost Narcissa.
Hermione seemed to share his feelings, her hunched shoulders gradually relaxing as she became engrossed in her task. A sly smile crept over her face as she watched the three lines of her projections merge together. Severus seemed to understand her conclusion as well, grinning at her and raising an eyebrow in challenge when she looked over her shoulder at him. “Well, Hermione?”
She turned to look at Lucius, holding his gaze as she popped the stopper off the vial and downed the contents in one shot. Her nose wrinkled at the sickly sweet flavor. At first she thought the potion hadn’t worked, as she was experiencing nothing of the heightened senses that the fabled omega was supposed to feel.
Severus groaned in her ear. “Oh my pet, my little omega. You’ve no idea what you’ve done.”
He gently swept her hair over her shoulder, and with one swipe of his tongue her skepticism evaporated. She knew with startling certainty that the swollen, pulsing gland at the nape of her neck and the throbbing ache between her legs were the most important things, the things that needed immediate attention or the heat inside her would turn her to ash in Severus’ hands.
The empty vial slipped from her fingers and shattered on the flagstones as Severus growled against her skin and lapped eagerly at her neck. She felt the calloused pads of his fingers dance over her skin as he hurriedly tugged at the laces of her corset. She was so distracted by the sensations that she didn’t notice Lucius kneeling at her feet.
Goosebumps broke out over her skin when Lucius touched her legs, caressing the insides of her calves with his thumbs before removing her heels. He rucked up her dress around her waist, hissing when he realized she wasn’t wearing knickers.
“What’s this, Hermione? Were you planning on wasting this beautiful little cunt on your dim-witted ex?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “What do you think, Severus?”
“I think our omega needs to be punished.” They worked together to pull her dress over her head, discarding the garment on the couch.
She looked over her shoulder at Severus, trying to ignore how lovely the rough texture of his wool trousers and frock coat felt against her bare skin. “Punished? What have I done to warrant being punished? I was a model student when I was here, which you well know.” Hermione tried to ignore the part of her brain that loved the idea of Severus tying her up and punishing her.
Severus tipped her over until her stomach was resting against his thighs. Hermione whimpered when his long fingers kneaded the flesh of her left buttock. “No one’s disputing your conduct when you were an insufferable little know-it-all, Hermione, but you are no longer my student.”
He slowly dragged his index finger across her right buttock. “You are my pet.” He traced the seam where her plump cheek met her leg. “My omega.” His fingers slipped down her thigh. “My wife.”
Hermione was overwhelmed, wiggling in his lap to chase his touch, but Severus removed his hand, leaving her wanting. “And as such you have done much to displease me.”
Before she could think to answer him, he brought his hand down with a vigorous smack. “ That is for being the brightest witch to ever attend Hogwarts and yet still not figure out that I was trying to court you. Lucius and I were going to ask you to form a triad months ago, but you chose him over us.”
“That’s not fair, Severus! We had nightly rounds together for months, and you never said anything.” Lucius was still on his knees to her left, and she looked over shoulder at him for support.
Lucius shook his head. “I’m afraid I agree with Severus, my dove. He gave you every indication of his interest, and you gave him the cold shoulder.”
“He didn’t say anything about a triad, Lucius. He had every opportunity to tell me what he wanted on our rounds, but he said nothing.”
Lucius’ mouth pinched in a firm line, a sure sign that a reprimand would follow. “Hermione, how often do you imagine the headmaster of Hogwarts signs up for nightly rounds?”
As loath as she was to admit it, Hermione had never given the matter much thought. Now that she considered the idea (a task which was becoming increasingly difficult given the fact that Severus had started tracing the tip of his index finger down the length of her spine), she suddenly realized that she’d never seen Severus patrolling with anyone else, as nightly rounds were typically assigned out to teachers, apprentices, and prefects.
“So you joined me on patrols just to spend time with me?”
His hand came down on her right buttock with a light thwack. “Ob-vious-ly.”
She felt Severus shift, straightening his posture and assuming an air of authority. “But that isn’t even the most egregious of your errors, Miss Granger.”
“So now I’m Miss Granger again?”
Lucius chuckled as Hermione squirmed on Severus’ lap. She looked over shoulder to glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve no sympathy for you at all. Who do you think had to live with him moping around and pining for ‘his pet’? The only thing worse than a know-it-all swot is a lovesick swot. Now chin up and take your stripes like a good girl.”
Severus ignored their interaction, lost in his own thoughts. “The worst part was when I had to watch you walk down the aisle with that witless ginger troglodyte.”
Smack . This time his handprint formed a pink outline against her pale skin.
“Then I had to imagine his clumsy, grubby hands all over you.”
Smack . His hand came down harder this time, pulling a gasp from her parted lips and sending her lurching forward where her elbows were propped on the arm of the chair. Hermione wasn’t feeling particularly contrite, but she desperately wanted him to carry on with what he was doing.
“I–I’m sorry, Professor. It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”
“It hardly matters now, Miss Granger…”
Hermione jumped when he stroked the swollen gland at the back of her neck. He leaned down until she could feel his breath on her ear. “Because now…you’re mine .”
SMACK! His hand landed hard enough to make her flesh ripple. She knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to sit for days, but she couldn’t possibly be bothered to care. The string inside her that had pulled unbearably taut finally snapped, and her body quivered as an unfamiliar, gelatinous substance dripped onto her thighs.
It wasn’t anything like her usual arousal, and for a moment she was concerned that something might be wrong. When she looked over her left shoulder, Lucius had thrown back his head to scent the air, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he tried to catch more of the smell. When she glanced over her right shoulder, Severus was staring at her with startling intensity, his pupils dilated.
“Such a good girl, making your first slick for us.”
“But it won’t be enough.” Lucius’ voice struck her as particularly cold and snide after Severus’ praise, and Hermione was surprised at what the contrast did to her. She wanted to sit on his obnoxious face and smother him, riding the bridge of his aquiline nose to completion.
She squeaked in protest when Severus pulled her up, leaning her back against his chest. She felt the buttons of his frock coat pressing comfortingly into her back. He gently coaxed her legs apart to allow Lucius to settle between them.
“I do believe you’re right, Lucius. What else can we do to help our little omega along?”
Severus’ hands slid up her ribs to cup her breasts, caressing them and giving a soft hum of appreciation as Hermione’s head fell back on his shoulder. He hissed as she tilted her head to kiss along his jaw. He kneaded her breasts possessively, her nipples instantly pebbling with the attention.
She cried out sharply when Lucius took a steep peak in his mouth, circling her areola with slow, leisurely strokes. He’d intended to torment her with his slow pace, but when her eager little hand tangled in his flaxen hair and gave a hard tug, he promptly abandoned his agenda. Severus continued to squeeze her breasts as Lucius feasted, pulling her sensitive nipples deep into the heat of his mouth and suckling until his cheeks hollowed with the effort. He dragged his teeth over the tips, giving her just a hint of stinging pain before laving his tongue over her swollen nipple.
Lucius stroked her stomach, running his perfectly trimmed nails through the curls at the apex of her thighs. The corner of his lip twitched when her hips canted in an effort to chase his touch. “Easy, my dove. We mustn’t rush. I need to prepare you for your professor’s thick knot. Would you like that?”
She nodded vigorously, her head falling back as he easily slipped two fingers into her welcoming heat. He pumped his fingers at a steady pace, stoking the fire in her slowly, but with his usual impatience, Severus interrupted the slow burn, rolling Hermione’s overwrought nipples between his fingers before pinching and plucking them. She shied away from the inferno building inside her. “Professor, please. I don’t–I don’t think I can take it.”
“You can, and you will, my pet.”
Her breath hitched in her throat when Severus licked a long stripe over the back of her neck, her swollen gland pulsing in response. She felt his low growl rumble against her back before he lapped furiously at her neck. They were dragging her quickly toward the precipice, but she still couldn’t find her release. She looked down at Lucius, silently begging him to make her come.
When he didn’t respond, she finally found something resembling speech. “Pleasepleaseplease, Da–” Her eyes went wide at the near slip.
Lucius sped up the pace of his thrusts, pistoning shallowly to keep her tethered on the precipice of finding her pleasure. “Don’t stop, Hermione. Give me my name.”
He crooked his fingers, and her words tumbled out of their own accord. “Please, Daddy!”
Lucius finally gave her respite from their slow torture, lowering his head to suckle her throbbing clit. Hermione fought the urge to throw her head back again in favor of watching him work. The sight of his nose buried in her curls and the lingering tickle of his long hair over her hips were her undoing. Her orgasm ripped through her, her back arching with the force of it as slick poured from her.
Lucius looked up at Severus with a smirk. “I think she’s ready.”
Severus stopped licking the back of her neck long enough to look down at his lover. “Good.”
Lucius began to rise, and Severus gripped his lapel, pulling him in for a searing kiss. Hermione felt the familiar pull of apparition and suddenly found herself in the headmaster’s bed. She took advantage of the fact that the two wizards were still distracted by their passionate snogging, casting a wandless divesto to level the playing field.
Severus slowly turned his head to look at her when he felt the cool air of his chambers on his bare skin. “Do I need to teach you a lesson in patience, my pet?”
Lucius pressed a quick kiss to Severus’ cheek. “Another night, Severus. I want her now.”
Hermione had been too busy ogling the two wizards to hear their conversation. She reached out to Severus, ruffling the smattering of dark hair on his chest and stroking the silvered scars that bore testament to his resilience. He cupped her cheek tenderly, his eyes glittering with affection and thinly veiled desire. She leaned into his palm, appreciating its warmth and roughness before Severus took her hand and placed it on Lucius’ chest.
Hermione turned her attention to the fair-haired wizard. His chest was smooth and hairless, though he too had scars. In spite of his position as Voldemort’s right-hand man during the war, it was clear that even he hadn’t escaped the Dark Lord’s ire. When she met his gaze, she didn’t see the devotion that Severus gave her but she was still pleased. He was fond of her, and there was obvious interest in the way that he appraised her. She was relieved to see none of the derision that she had experienced from him as a child, instead finding only curiosity. He wanted to know her, and that struck her as an auspicious beginning.
She gave in to the urge to run her fingers through his flaxen mane, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her when she realized that his hair was indeed as silky as she imagined it would be. Lucius was giving her a warning look, and Severus provoked a sharp yelp when he pinched her arse.
“You’d do well to explain yourself, pet. Lucius does not take well to being laughed at.”
Hermione met Lucius’ sneer with a smile. “I’m not laughing at you, Lucius. I’m honestly laughing at myself. I’ve always had this fantasy about Legolas, and to be frank, you look like–”
Severus’ rich laughter interrupted her. “Yes. I’d never given it much thought, but he does rather look like he strolled out of Mirkwood, doesn’t he?”
Lucius was staring daggers at them until Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You closely resemble a character in a muggle novel, and I’ve had some very detailed fantasies involving that character.”
His sneer slowly transitioned to a smug grin. “Then let’s see if your fantasies live up to the reality, shall we?”
He took her hair in a firm grip, pushing her down onto Severus’ silver and black bedding. She soon found herself on her hands and knees, but any rational thought abruptly ceased when Severus’ large hands seized her hips, dragging her back against his throbbing erection and coating himself in her slick. The bed dipped in front of her as Lucius took up position on his knees, his cock bobbing enticingly in front of her nose. He tipped her chin up to look at him.
“It’s time, little dove. As I already have a child, Severus will knot you until our little omega is properly bred. Do you like the sound of that?”
She could only whimper and nod, the idea of Severus rutting into her prompting more slick to paint the inside of her thighs. Severus took the cue, slowly pushing into her slick heat. Hermione moaned wantonly, trying to push back and impale herself on his cock. “Please–oh, please, Professor. I need this. I’ve needed you for years.”
He growled possessively, snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt. “That’s it, my pet. Such a good little omega taking my cock. Do you think you can take all of me, Hermione? Do you think you can take my knot?”
Hermione tried to drop down onto her elbows to change the angle and entice Severus to move, but he saw her intention and quickly wrapped her thick hair around his fist, pulling her head up to look at Lucius again. His penetrating gray eyes sent a shiver up her spine, making her feel as though he could see through any pretense, no matter how well executed.
“Until you are swollen and round with Severus’ child,” he swept his thumb over her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth, “I shall sample your other delights.”
Hermione captured the tip of his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue over the glans and pausing to flick over the wrinkled frenulum on the underside of the shaft. She took him farther into her mouth on the second pass, pleased to earn a groan from the otherwise unflappable wizard. As much as she wanted to watch Severus lose control with her, she had to admit that she felt powerful seeing the effect that she could have on the ambitious, calculating head of the Malfoy family.
Severus pulled back slightly before surging back into her, sending her lurching forward. Lucius’ cock slid along her tongue and down her throat. The first several strokes were uncomfortable, and it was a challenge to stifle her gag reflex. Severus gave her some time to get used to his rhythm before picking up the pace.
His hips slammed into her, forcing her to bob up and down Lucius’ cock. Her nose was soon buried in the flaxen thicket at the base with each of Severus’ thrusts, and Hermione was surprised to find what happened to her mind as they carried on. She no longer had to worry about being wanted. She no longer had to worry about making excuses for her partner…well, partners. And most of all, she no longer needed to worry about hiding things about herself. Her body relaxed, enjoying the undulating motion as she was filled over and over.
Severus’ rough tug on her hair shook her from her relaxed state. He pulled on her thick mane, forcing her back to arch slightly as he gave a guttural groan above her. His thrusts began to lose their steady rhythm. She felt him swelling, the round protrusion of his knot rubbing inside her, creating a delicious friction. Severus’ frantic growling and curses behind her as he came apart pushed her over the edge, and she clamped down around him, moaning around Lucius’ cock. His knot swelled to its full size, locking them together as his orgasm tore through him, wave after wave of cum filling her.
He slipped an arm under her, pulling her off of Lucius and back onto his lap. He panted in her ear in his eagerness. “Such a good girl taking all of me, welcoming my knot, Hermione. And now,” he chuckled darkly, “now you’re mine .”
His menacing growl was the only warning before everything went white, his teeth tearing into her swollen gland as he claimed her. She heard a loud keening sound that could only have been her before closing her eyes and slumping back against him. Searing pain was soon followed by intense pleasure as Severus lapped at the wound he’d just made.
Lucius stood upright on the bed, a look on his face that could only be described as a pout forming as he watched them. He stepped forward until he was looming over them, stroking his hard cock as he watched Severus’ tongue dart out to lick the back of Hermione’s neck again. Hermione was sated until she watched the purplish glans of Lucius’ cock disappear and reappear in his fist. The slick sounds of his masturbation made her mouth water as she imagined taking him down her throat again.
“Look at me, Hermione.” Lucius' voice was gravelly, and she did as she was bid. Something of her desires must have been evident in her expression, as Lucius’ mouth fell open when he met her gaze. He thrust into his fist twice more before he came with a groan, bathing Hermione’s upturned face and the crown of Severus’ head with his cum.
Hermione was burning with need again, the aching only finding relief when Lucius collapsed to his knees on the bed, hastily moving her hair off her shoulder and sinking his teeth into the other side of her gland. She felt the same searing pain at first, but something changed this time. She felt the bond of the triad settle and strengthen between them, and was pleased to see that Severus now had a wedding band that matched the ones she and Lucius had exchanged that evening.
Severus ran his fingers through his hair, giving Lucius a pointed glare as the sticky evidence of his affections dripped down his ebony tresses. “Must you always be a petulant, possessive, drama queen?”
Lucius looked up from where he was licking Hermione’s neck, pointing down to where Hermione and Severus were still locked together. Severus’ cum dripped from the juncture, painting the insides of Hermione’s thighs and Severus’ lap. “I don’t think you have the grounds to criticize me, Severus.”
Hermione laughed at their bickering. “Can we please have a nap before we have the first fight of our marriage, gentlemen? And could we please argue about something other than where your cum lands?”
Lucius turned down the bed, helping Hermione under the covers with Severus spooning her. After casting a flurry of cleansing spells, Lucius curled up in front of her, resting his head on her chest and wrapping his arms around her waist. Severus kissed the crown of her head and wrapped an arm around both of them. She felt a puff of air against her chest just as she was drifting off to sleep.
She stroked her fingers through Lucius’ hair, gently scratching his scalp. “What’s so amusing, Lucius?”
“I was just reflecting on what will happen tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“The vault that I used to transfer money to your ex-husband was enchanted by my family generations ago. Let’s just say that the galleons entrusted to that vault take exception to being asked to leave it. When they are transferred to any other location, they have a strange tendency to end up back in the vault of their own accord, engravings and serial numbers changed, of course. Severus convinced me to pay Ronald from that vault.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. She swatted the arm draped over her. “Severus, is that true?”
He chuckled behind her, pressing kisses to her exposed neck. “I didn’t want him to profit from what he did to you, Hermione.”
She raised an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder at him. “But you were more than happy to benefit from his actions.”
“Of course, my pet. Lucius and I are both opportunists. Do you really think I would give up the chance to claim the woman I love, even if the circumstances are less than ideal? I would have given everything I own and talked Lucius into giving up Malfoy Manor if it were a requirement for having you, but why do that when I can make sure that he is punished for his cruelty? Now, stop squirming, my pet.” He moved his hand from her shoulder to her hip, slipping around to splay his fingers over her stomach. “If you lose all my lovely cum, I’ll have to fill you up again.”
Hermione’s breath hitched. She wiggled her arse against him. Severus’ hand grazed the head of Lucius’ cock, prompting a hiss of pleasure from the drowsy wizard. Severus assumed his best classroom voice.
“That’s enough, you two. We are not randy teenagers. By morning, Hermione will no doubt be experiencing the next round of her heat, and we all need to rest before then.”
“Spoilsport.” Hermione mumbled.
“Old man.” Lucius complained.
Hermione grinned as they snuggled around her again. She sighed contentedly, feeling like she could breathe for the first time in years. As Lucius nuzzled against her collar bone and Severus snored lightly against her neck, she finally fell into a blissful sleep.
***************
Lucius woke the next morning with a dramatic sneeze, the scent of his own cologne greeting him. He opened his eyes drowsily to find he was boxed in by dozens of pillows. Severus was still dozing peacefully to his left, but he heard Hermoine shuffling about outside the wall of cushions, occasionally adjusting one or tucking something between them as she spritzed liberal doses of his cologne over her makeshift fort.
He stretched lazily and tucked his arms under his head. “Nesting already, my little dove?”
She crawled toward him on all fours, straddling his hips and running her fingers over his chest. “I hope you don’t mind. I found your cologne in the bathroom.”
He ran his hands up her thighs. “I don’t mind at all, but if I’m not mistaken, my cologne wasn’t the only thing you found.”
Hermione’s cheeks tinged a very becoming shade of pink. “Well, I don’t think Severus uses cologne or aftershave, but I found his soap and…”
“And?” Lucius prompted.
Severus turned to face them on the bed. “And she took it upon herself to get into my personal ingredients cabinet and make herself at home, didn’t you, my naughty pet?” He lifted a cushion, revealing a pile of mint and asphodel petals.
“I needed the bed to smell more like you, and since you’ve always smelled of potions ingredients–”
His voice became stern. “Tell me, Hermione, did you stoop so low as to take ingredients from the potions classroom?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I would never compromise student learning, Severus.”
“What did you take, Hermione?”
She tapped the tips of her index fingers together, as she was wont to do when she wanted to avoid answering a direct question. “Well…I might have–”
She stopped abruptly, wondering just how much she should tell him. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Might have what?”
“There weren’t enough pillows in the headmaster’s chambers, so I might have convinced the house elves to help me reallocate some resources.”
“You got the house elves to pilfer cushions from the house common rooms, didn’t you?”
“Just a few! And we made sure to take the same number from each house.”
“Equitable stealing is still stealing, Hermione.”
Lucius surveyed the pillows closest to him. “My dove, it’s obvious that you didn’t get all of these just from the common rooms.”
She flushed again at getting caught. “I might have taken some from the teacher’s lounge, the Room of Requirement, and Trelawney’s classroom…”
Lucius and Severus exchanged a look as she continued to tick them off on her fingers. “Hagrid’s hut, Slughorn’s office–”
Lucius patted her hand where it rested on his chest. “That’s quite alright. Once you move into the Manor, you’ll have dozens of rooms to choose from.”
Lucius inhaled sharply and dug his fingers into her thighs when he felt a pool of slick drip over his stomach. Hermione’s eyes were wide when she looked down from where she was perched over him. “Can I have a nest in every room?”
Severus shook his head. “Such a greedy little pet.”
“Don’t mind him, Hermione. You may have whatever you like.”
Severus reached out to stroke Hermione’s side. “I see you are determined to indulge her, Lucius, so it must fall to me to discipline her.”
Hermione’s shriek of laughter filled the headmaster’s chambers as Lucius and Severus pulled her down between them. The two wizards seemed quite determined to breed their little omega until she was a panting, sated, exhausted puddle.
At the same moment, hundreds of miles away, a very different shriek echoed through the halls of Gringotts Bank as Ronald Weasley discovered that his vault, which had been so flush with galleons only the night before, was once again empty.
When he relayed the news to Lavender Brown, he didn’t find the sympathetic reception he’d expected. When the manager of the Chudley Cannons learned of his behavior toward Hermione after they were plastered all over The Prophet , he was surprised to find that in fact not all press was good press. In the span of a few short hours, Ron Weasley quickly found that he had no wife, no girlfriend, no job, and not a single sickle to his name.