A Most Advantageous Match
Chapter 13: What Goes Around Comes Around
Hermione sighed happily as her husband nestled his naked body against hers. She would never tire of waking this way, of that she was certain.
"We must never have guests again," Harry muttered into her hair. "This practice of getting out of bed in the morning simply won't do."
Hermione chuckled, although she agreed wholly with the sentiment. "My parents leave today, and the others leave tomorrow. We'll soon have the house entirely to ourselves."
"I look forward to it," Harry said, making her shiver as he nuzzled her neck. "I have great plans for the library," he added, kissing her shoulder, "and the drawing room…and perhaps the dining room…."
Hermione ignored the tremor that ran through her at his words. "If you tell me about those plans now, we'll never get out of bed."
"That was my hope, yes."
She turned over and met his mischievous eyes. She had been wary of that look in their school days, but now it put butterflies in her stomach.
"Well, it is early yet…."
Harry grinned devilishly and drew her against him. "That's my girl."
Some time later, more reluctant to get out of bed than ever, Hermione snuggled into her husband's side with a sigh of complete satisfaction. This was the fourth time she had made love to her husband, and somehow, each time was better than the last.
She wondered if she could be pregnant already. Surely it was possible. The thought of having a child with Harry gave her an unexpected thrill. Before, she hadn't much considered children; she'd assumed she would have them, as wives were expected to do, but she'd felt little either way about the issue. Now, however, she could imagine Harry looking tenderly upon their first child. If it were a boy, he would teach him to fly and duel…and a girl, he would pamper and protect fiercely.
Unless, perhaps, he didn't really want children. It didn't seem likely, but Hermione didn't want to second-guess him.
Craning her neck to look at her husband, she found him looking back at her. She felt safe in his arms and in his steady gaze. He loved her; she knew that much.
"Do you want children, Harry?" she asked before the question died in her throat.
"Yes," he said, looking a little wary. "I've always wanted a family. And I'm doing a terrible job of preventing a child if I didn't want one, aren't I?"
Hermione chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you are."
"And you - do you want children? You are, after all, the one who has to bear them."
She read the anxiety in his gaze and almost laughed. "Oh, Harry, of course I do."
He smiled and a spark of mischief appeared in his eyes. "Good, that's settled, then."
"Oh, no, you don't," Hermione admonished, guessing the meaning of that look. "We're not setting to work now. We have to get out of bed and see my parents off."
"You won't even share a bath with me?" he asked, pouting theatrically.
Hermione wriggled out of his grasp and out of the bed, and pulled her discarded nightgown over her head. "Tomorrow, perhaps, but if we tarry much longer, there's no telling what ideas my mother will get in her head."
~
After breakfast was eaten and the Grangers had been sent on their way, Mr. Potter decided to pull Mrs. Potter down a narrow corridor and into a shadowed alcove, toward the back of the house, near the servants' quarters.
Little did they know, they had been followed.
"Oh - but what if someone comes looking for us?" Mrs. Potter protested. "What if a servant comes by?"
"The servants are trained to pretend not to see these things," he answered, "And if our guests don't know better than to follow us into darkened corners, I'd say they're beyond our help."
Mrs. Potter began to protest once more, but her voice was muffled and quickly faded away.
Ginny peeked around the corner to find Mrs. Potter pressed against the wall, her mouth fastened securely to the mouth of Mr. Potter, who was standing between her legs doing his best to hike up her skirt.
She watched with disgusted fascination and disappointment as Mr. Potter happily ravaged his wife.
What did he see in her? The woman wasn't beautiful, even by unconventional standards, and she certainly wasn't the entertaining sort. She didn't even have a fortune to her name. Why had he chosen her?
It should have been Ginny in her place. She was beautiful and witty. She could have made him just as happy - happier, probably. Why had he never even looked her way?
"Repulsive, isn't it," a voice whispered in her ear, startling her, and the only thing that stopped Ginny from screaming was her fear of being caught. "Look at them, rutting like animals."
"What are you doing here?" Ginny hissed, whirling to face the source of the voice. "If they catch you here -"
"I had to see what progress you'd made," Mr. Malfoy replied, wholly displeased, "And it looks as though you've failed me miserably, Ginevra."
"Don't address me so intimately," Ginny demanded, finding her own back to the wall as Mr. Malfoy loomed over her. She could hear the moans of the two lovers around the corner and her stomach turned.
"I'll call you whatever I like," Mr. Malfoy said menacingly, leaning closer. His nose nearly touched her as he continued, "You owe me. I've invested quite a bit in your seduction plans - the wardrobe, the potions you failed to use, the perfume - "
"I'll give it all back," she whispered, fearing the dark glint in his eyes.
"Keep it," he snarled. "I have no use for any of it. I want something else."
"I can't get any money, if that's -"
He snorted. "Please, Ginevra, I know you've never touched a sickle in your life."
"Then what do you want?" she asked with growing fear.
He smirked. "What does any man want but a willing woman in his bed?"
Ginny shook her head, recoiling. "No."
"Oh, so you're willing to become Potter's mistress, but not mine?"
Ginny wished she could get away from him. "I'd be your whore, not your mistress."
Draco grinned devilishly. "I treat all women like whores, Ginevra, but that's no reason you couldn't be my whore and my mistress. Now, think carefully before you answer, Ginevra…it's your choice, of course, but you do owe me, and it could be that some nasty rumors about your family could be planted in some important ears if you're not careful."
Ginny stiffened and glared. "You son of a -"
"Language!" he admonished. "I'll give you some time to think about it - but we will be seeing each other soon."
He left her quickly and silently, so abruptly that she wondered if he'd ever been there. As Mrs. Potter cried out in rapture around the corner, Ginny felt her stomach clench painfully. How had everything gone wrong?
Mr. Potter grunted his release, and Ginny fled to the drawing room on shaky legs.
~
It was with great joy and relief that Harry and Hermione saw the last of their guests off the next day. They did not, as one might expect, hasten back to bed or desecrate the drawing room sofa.
Rather, they curled up on the sofa with a couple of books and spent a quiet morning reading, while occasionally Hermione would feel Harry's fingers brush against her neck, and she would turn to find him watching her - and now she was free to kiss him to her heart's content.
In the afternoon, Harry gave Hermione a dueling lesson, which somehow ended with Hermione atop a library table with her husband making every effort to lift her skirts. Unfortunately, that was when Mr. Lupin arrived for a visit.
"Goodness, Harry," he said, taking one look at the two of them. "You're worse than your father."
Blushing, Harry tugged Hermione's skirts down with great force, and Hermione refused to look Lupin in the eye for the duration of the visit.
After dinner, instead of staying and chatting with Harry and Lupin - which she usually enjoyed because Lupin was willing to talk politics with her - Hermione fled to their bedroom with a book. Knowing that Lupin knew what she and Harry were about to do in the library was too awkward for her to bear at the moment.
Meanwhile, Lupin took Hermione's absence as the perfect opportunity to tease Harry mercilessly - it was what James would have wanted, after all.
"It seems you and Mrs. Potter have found ways to entertain yourselves without your guests."
Harry glared, and Lupin pressed on.
"I hope you're not exerting the poor girl too much. Wouldn't want her falling asleep in the middle of training."
"I'm sure there will be no such problem."
"Have you considered a bed? Tables can be very hard on the back -"
"We generally do use the bed," Harry gritted out, face bright red. "We just weren't expecting company today."
Lupin couldn't help grinning. "All jokes aside, Harry, I'm glad you've worked things out with your wife. You were obviously well-suited for each other."
Harry blinked owlishly. "What makes you think we had anything to work out?"
Lupin smiled. "No happily married man could look as sexually deprived as you did, Harry."
Harry flushed again, but smiled. "I asked her to marry me because we were good friends. It didn't occur to me until much later that I loved her…or that she could ever love me."
"Well," Lupin said, standing and clapping Harry on the shoulder, "I'm glad you've figured it all out. If anyone deserves a happy marriage, it's you. I'll leave you now; you can go finish what I interrupted."
He left with Harry's swearing at his heels.
~
Epilogue coming soon!