Author's Note

If you aren't interested, then stop reading at the section clearly marked LEMONS. You won't miss out on any of the plot by doing so.

In other news... Sorry to keep you waiting. I've had this update ready for two weeks, but I've been waiting for H&V to come back online... because (sorry) I've always posted my fic updates there first. FYI, their website is still down. Crossing my fingers.

Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter.

Nothing from the wizarding world of Harry Potter is mine.

~ Refictionista, July 4, 2017

§ Chapter XI §
They Open a Window

For months, Draco had known he was under the spell of his son's beautiful tutor, bewitched by her intelligence and beauty. He was elated to hear Hermione say that she loved him in return.

"Say it again," he whispered, holding her close.

"I love you."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her tight, burying his face in her hair. "Then marry me and become a mother to my son."[36] Hermione returned his embrace and stared up at him, her heart thudding loudly with happiness.

She nodded. "Okay."

Draco got up so quickly that he startled Hermione. He paid her no heed at crossed his room in long strides, stopping at the doorway to fling open the door. It crashed against the wall with a reverberating thwack.

"SOMEONE RUN TO THE TEMPLE OF JUPITER OPTIMUS MAXIMUS AND GET ME A PRIEST!" he bellowed. Giving no thought to deciding upon a lucky day for the wedding, one carefully chosen to avoid any ill omens, Draco wanted to marry Hermione immediately.

The next few hours were a blur of activity. The kitchen slaves hastily prepared a massive feast. Scorpius and the younger household slaves anointed the doors and windowsills with oil and fat, emblems of plenty. Ten witnesses of sufficient rank, representing the ten original clans of the curia, were solicited from nearby homes to attend the ceremony and make the marriage legal. They were skipping the wedding procession, which many found mildly shocking. Had they known that no marriage contract had been negotiated, they would have been appalled.

Hermione gathered flowers and sacred plants—mainly sesame to symbolize fertility—from the hortus at the back of the villa while a runner was sent to procure a tunica recta for Hermione to wear. As Helena of Gkrantes was not available to attend to her daughter, one of the older female slaves stood in her mother's stead to dress the bride in the white woven tunic. However, the proxy's primary job was to fasten a band of wool around Hermione's waist to tie in the "Knot of Hercules."

"Remember," said the woman with a knowing smile that crinkled her eyes as she fiddled with the loops, "only your husband has the privilege to untie this." As expected, the older woman saw a blush appear on Hermione's cheeks. She placed a flame-colored veil over Hermione's tunic and matching orange shoes on her feet. While the others had fussed with her clothing, Hermione had used the plants she gathered earlier from the garden to make two wreaths, one of which she placed on top of the veil.

Hermione sent a slave to take her other wreath to Draco for him to wear.

Once the preparations were all in place, everyone gathered together in the atrium. The room buzzed with excited chatter, as many had just now heard of Hermione's sudden ascension to Roman citizenship. They began singing wedding songs as a hired slave began playing a large cithara, filling the air with rich full tones. The musician performed so well that there were tears on several faces.

Standing between the household shine and the impluvium—a small pool that would catch rainwater—a hooded priest looked around. The poor man was still bewildered at suddenly finding himself in the home of a Roman senator, after being dragged bodily from his temple during prayers. The conversations and singing dwindled, and then applause spread as the couple walked in from opposite sides of the house. They smiled at each other and stood before the priest.

An acolyte handed the priest a platter of goats' livers and an amphora of wine. As he reverently took the gifts to the villa's altar, he led a prayer to Jupiter Optimus Maximus. The priest placed the entrails onto a little sacrificial plate and poured the wine over it. The acolyte cleaned the blood from the priest's hands and then silently bowed away. Hermione looked up at Draco; it was time for them to be married.

"Your declaration now, my dear," prompted the priest.

"I am now of your family," Hermione said to Draco. "Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia."[37]

"With your right hand, take her right hand," said the priest. After Draco had done so, he wrapped a band around them to symbolize their unity. "Are you prepared to give your consent to the marriage?" he asked Hermione.

"I have done and I will do so."

The priest uncovered his head as a sign that his religious duties at the ceremony were at an end. With their wrists still tied together, Hermione lit a fire with a special torch using her free hand and handed it over to Draco. He blew it out and tossed among the guests, who scrambled for it, since whoever caught it was supposed to enjoy a long life.

The more important guests proceeded to the peristylium, since the household slaves had decorated the colonnaded garden for the feast. The couple sat side by side in two chairs over which a single sheepskin was stretched. As they fell further into their cups, the guests shouted "felicter!" and sang obscene songs. Hermione's eyes grew wider and wider, until she insisted that Scorpius be sent to bed.

Draco perked up at the mention of bed. After the final course of the feast had been served and the sun had set, he gathered Hermione up in his arms and carried her to his personal suite of rooms. He set her down and closed the doors.[38]

"Well now." He smirked at her as she walked towards the opposite wall with the bed. "What are you thinking, Lady Hermione Malafides?"

"About what?" She wasn't paying any attention to the bed. Instead, she had looked around curiously, having never been to Draco's rooms, when something caught her eye. Hermione could barely contain her excitement upon seeing several buckets of scrolls and shelves of codices.[39]

He laughed. "Anything. Everything. Our marriage. The ceremony. Your thoughts and opinions have always been respected."

"Our wedding has been unlike any other," Hermione said, somewhat sadly. She stepped away from his personal reading collection to look back at him.[40]

"Sad that there was no procession through the streets from your house to mine? Did you truly want the traditional embarrassment as those we call friends sing debauched songs directed at you, while strangers and onlookers wave flags and cheer at the lyrics? Pity. If you want, I can still have our attendees throw nuts to people as they walk to their homes."

"I was thinking more about my lack of dowry."

Draco unsuccessfully covered up a snort with a cough. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I care little for a formal betrothal ceremony and a written agreement with some woman-child's father," he said. "As a mage, you bring me more power than the daughter of any Roman family ever could. That is worth more than any amount of gold or any estates you own." He kissed her softly on the forehead. "More importantly, as Scorpius's new mother, what you bring to me is priceless."

Tears falling, Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and kissed him. Again, their magics touched, reaching out with entwining unseen tendrils around the other. A tingling shock rippled from their lips, vibrating over their skin. As the kiss grew more passionate with their tongues battling for dominance, the air around them sizzled. Hermione felt warm and safe; she was at the center of a dangerous fire under their control.

Draco's unnaturally silver-gray eyes visibly changed as the magic of his aura swirled, darkening them to an inky shade of black. He was almost drowning in her power. He pulled an arm away from him, slowly rubbing her wrist with the rough pad of his thumb, almost as if taking her pulse. She stilled her movements, not knowing if she should kiss him again. They each breathed heavily.

~ LEMONS ~

"Say you are happy to have me as a husband," Draco whispered heedlessly, sounding desperate. Perhaps even begging. He was.

"I am happy," Hermione responded without hesitation. She meant it. It wasn't just her magic reaching out to his. Her whole body was throbbing, growing in intensity from a fluttering warmth behind her navel. "Gods, Draco, I want you."

The senator growled.

It was a primal sound vibrating from his chest, held low in the deep of his throat. Animalistic. Predatory. Totally unlike what should come from a civilized citizen of Rome. Before she could shudder in fear, he ripped off her tunic in one swift movement and brought his mouth to the base of her neck, the motion fast enough to blur. After a surprised gasp, she released a feminine moan. He picked her up by her thighs and carried her over to his bed.

He broke off contact to lean forward and remove the outer garments of his toga. Standing in front of him, Hermione reached her other hand out towards him, leaving it on his muscular chest and brushing her thumb over one of his many scars.

"Sectumsempra curse, a souvenir from the Battle of Carrhae," he said absently. His hands then moved along her arms and slid over her lower back. "I was very young and another wizard caught me unaware."

He paused at the bottom of her tunica, his hand bunching the fabric while his knuckles grazed her exposed skin.

"Take this off."

She complied, throwing the tunica over near where her tunic had landed earlier. He sat on the couch and pulled her on top of him. Draco stared appreciatively at the bronze clepsammia hanging between her breasts.[41] Hermione held her breath.

"That too."

The moment after she had unclasped the chain and had removed it from around her neck, Draco snaked his arm around her waist and abruptly flipped them over so he was on top. He shifted one leg between hers, where her heat was pooling. The pressure of his thigh against her nearly made her mind explode. He captured her mouth with his again, pulling his arm out from beneath her and toying with her breast. She moaned again.

He squeezed the mound and then lightly flicked the nipple. She gasped beneath his mouth, and she could feel him smiling. Hermione ran her nails down his back.

By the Gods, she was perfect. He moaned appreciatively and trailed kisses from her neck to her chest. He continued to do even more delicious things with his tongue and teeth. After she felt it could get no more mind-blowing, he then pressed a hungry kiss between her legs, his breath warm and wet near her swollen bud. His tongue peeked out for a taste. She gripped his hair tightly, her hands fisting over his head. He ran a finger along her folds, and then gently prodded at her entrance. She moaned when he went deeper, causing a satisfied grin to appear on his already smirking face.

A long elegant finger slid inside easily, and he began pistoning it gently in and out, speeding up and carefully adding a second when he could tell she wanted more. The stretching sensation created a fullness within that Hermione found addicting. Her body felt like it was warming up slowly, and a bright fire was spreading through her.

"Let go, Hermione," he murmured, torturing her skillfully with his tongue and fingers. Within a minute, she did just as he commanded. Her eyes rolled back and her vision blurred into a universe of hot white dots.

He hungrily lapped at her juices. Her mind ceased functioning with absolute ecstasy. She hazily murmured his name and slowly collapsed in a spent heap.

Draco smiled down at the former slave girl, now his wife, dazed and limp on the bed beneath him. Noticing the intensity of his gaze, she reached for a sheet to cover herself, but he stilled her hand. Her bushy hair had escaped the confines of its plait and surrounded her like a halo.

"Come here," she whispered after her heart finally stopped racing and she caught her breath. Hermione reached out and ran her fingers through his silky blonde hair, pulling him down towards her. He caged her in beneath him, bracing himself up over her, the muscles on his arms noticeably flexing, but he held himself in place like it was no effort whatsoever.

"You're ready?" he asked. Hermione bit her lip but nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Draco knew she was nervous, so this was consent enough. "Everything is going to be wonderful," he promised, lining himself up at her entrance.

Hermione gasped at the sharp pain, as it was unlike anything she'd experienced. It wasn't that she felt more physical discomfort than expected; however, this pain was more intimate than anticipated. She looked down to see the hair of Draco's groin moving towards her own, and her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Her muscles clenched instinctively, and the sound that escaped her was a cross between a cry and a moan. Once fully buried inside her, Draco stopped and brought a hand up to caress her cheek.

"It'll be all right," he said.

His voice soothed her, and she relaxed a little. Feeling a burst of courage, she surged up and kissed him. Draco resumed moving. The pain didn't disappear, but the friction was consuming and only intensified as he moved faster.

Draco's pale skin was flushed from cheeks to chest, his pale hair plastered darkly to his forehead with sweat. Hermione almost cried over how good it felt with him inside her wet heat, pushing forward repeatedly, and—oh.

He had moved his hand back to where they were joined. Hermione couldn't help it, she screamed. The soreness was a vague memory now, blocked out by waves of pleasure from her husband's thrusts. Her sheath clenched around him.

"Oh, fuck!" he cursed. Suddenly, his speed accelerated with savage force. Hermione held on tightly to his shoulders as a shudder wracked his whole body. Draco grunted ferally, as if in pain, and ground his pelvis hard against hers, pushing as deeply as he could.

"By the dog…" Draco struggled to talk and take in the deep breaths he so clearly needed. "No, by the Gods. Someone from Olympus must have sent you here, you—"

Hermione kissed him once again, and she could feel him smiling against her lips. Then, Draco withdrew slowly. Hermione pulled away and hissed against his cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, and he sighed in relief, flopping down gracelessly beside her.

They lay side by side, sweaty and catching their breath.

"I'll be right back," she whispered. Hermione struggled to stand on wobbly legs and made her way to duck behind a privacy screen. She returned a moment later with a piece of cloth and made as if to clean her husband, but he took it from her to wipe away their fluids himself. He tossed it over the side of the bed, and Hermione smirked… knowing he cared nothing of the household slaves who cleaned up after him. She would have to teach him to show respect, even for those he viewed beneath him, as she had done for Scorpius.

"Love you so much," he whispered, pulling her close against his chest and kissing her forehead.

A lesson for another day, perhaps.

§

Footnotes:

[36] When researching the Sound of Music, I found that (in his real life marriage proposal) Georg von Trapp asked Maria to be a second mother to his children. She later wrote, "God must have made him word it that way because if he had only asked me to marry him I might not have said yes."

[37] Translation: When—and where—you are Gaius, I then—and there—am Gaia. In Roman times, the bride had to give consent to the marriage to make the union official. This bridal chant was an ancestor to our modern exchange of vows.

[38] Romans took a very stern attitude towards sex. A person who had sex in the daytime was considered immoral, since sex was only supposed to be done at night and secretly.

[39] Book production developed in Rome in the 1st century BC. Libraries were private or created at the behest of an individual. Julius Caesar, for example, wanted to establish one in Rome, proving that libraries were signs of political prestige. By the year 377, there was a grand total of 28 libraries in Rome.

[40] My description of the marriage rituals is riddled with historical inaccuracies. The ceremony would have occurred at the bride's house, there would have been a march through the streets to the home of her new husband, etc. I had to take bits and pieces and rework them as best I could to fit the circumstances of this fic.

[41] The origin of the hourglass is unclear, although unlike its predecessor the clepsydra, or water clock, which was invented in ancient Egypt. The clepsammia, or sand-glass, may have been invented at Alexandria around 150 BC.