A/N I know you're all feeling murderous, and that I'm a terrible person for making you wait such a long time. Life does have a habit of taking over, though, and I honestly have barely had time to breathe these past few months. Here's the next instalment, and, while I can't promise updates as frequent as they were once upon a time, I'm not giving up on this. I hope you like it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Hermione thought that if she had to spend one more minute smiling politely at the conversation of these ill-concealed and overly perfumed harpies she would explode. Or scream. Or perhaps just continue sitting on the uncomfortable immaculate sofa drinking lukewarm and overly-sweet tea with a permanent and forced smile on her face. She sighed almost imperceptibly, knowing exactly which course of action she would need to pursue. Nevertheless, she was fairly certain that any more time spent listening to a debate on the merits of certain combinations of certain silks in certain designer dresses would drive her insane. Hoping her change of topic into more potentially useful ground would not be as obvious as she was afraid it would be, she said,

"And how frustrating it is to find that after so much deliberation and decision, one's husband cannot even tell the difference between an evening dress and a house dress!" Pleased to hear the anticipated titter of laughter and murmurs of agreement, Hermione continued, "Simon seems so interested in politics nowadays and the new dynamics of English society that he quite fails to realise my change in apparel!" Inwardly, she cringed. Was her comment too obvious? Too contrived? Hermione noticed the slight change in Narcissa's posture, and wondered where it would lead.

"Indeed," she other woman said coolly, taking subtle but iron-strong control of the conversation. "Politics dominate one's mind a great deal nowadays. Men don't seem to have the capacity to distance themselves as we do, but then, one cannot entirely object to their single-mindedness. Great progress is being made."

Hermione decided it would be in character of her to be very interested in the politics of this new country, and promptly pasted an inquisitive look on her face. Would Narcissa take the bait? The other woman certainly had something in mind, if her change in demeanour was anything to go by. She certainly seemed about to say something, but suddenly the sound of a gong rang out, and Narcissa's expression changed.

"I believe dinner is served," she said, addressing the women in general now and not speaking directly to Hermione. "Perhaps we should rejoin these ever-observant husbands of ours." Hermione politely joined in the murmur of laughter, and rose to follow the other wives. She felt distinctly out-of-place amongst this group of women. It did not help, of course, that she had been separated from Severus almost the moment she had entered the Malfoy residence, meaning that for the last hour she had been without his support.

The separation of the sexes was bizarre, she reflected, and completely outdated. A paranoid portion of her brain wondered if it wasn't done intentionally, so that their hosts could judge husband and wife individually. Hermione wondered what opinion Narcissa had formed of her; greedy gold-digger, perhaps, or infatuated trophy wife. She wasn't entirely sure which one would be better.

Hermione entered the dining room, and noticed with a grateful sigh that the women seemed to be rejoining their respective husbands. She startled slightly as Severus took her elbow, and shot him a grateful smile that was only partly for show; she didn't think she had ever been happier to see him. He smiled affectionately in return, and Hermione shivered slightly. Focus! she admonished herself silently, and sat in the seat Severus held out for her. He placed himself to her right and, seeking her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze before relinquishing it and busying himself with his napkin. Hermione placed her own on her lap too as, at the end of the table, Lucius clapped twice in quick succession. Immediately, the serving platters at the table's centre filled with food and Hermione felt a sudden and completely unexpected pang of homesickness for Hogwarts.

"Salad, dear?" Snape asked from her right, and Hermione realised that around the table all the men seemed to be serving their wives. She suppressed a smile, and replied with an affirmative "thank you, darling," that sent another little shiver running through her. What was wrong with her today? Conversation around the table was muted for a few minutes as food was served, but soon began to flow again.

"Marcus," Narcissa said pleasantly, addressing a man a few seats to Hermione's left, "Marissa tells me you've bought a holiday home in Monaco."

"We have. Far too many muggles in the summer months, you understand, but our private beach is quite satisfactory and Marissa tells me the magical designer boutiques are unparalleled. And what my lady wants, my lady gets." He smiled patronisingly at his wife, who simpered back. Hermione felt slightly nauseated.

Lucius chuckled, "That's always the way. Why, only last week..." and he started a poorly veiled my-wife's-more-spoilt-than-yours competition that lasted through the next three courses. Severus invented a designer diamond bracelet and a holiday in Fiji, but was content for the most part to listen with excellently-feigned interest. The wives smiled and blushed becomingly, or gazed adoringly at their husbands in a manner that Hermione found sickening. Only Narcissa Malfoy remained aloof, shooting approving glances at Lucius when he related the more extravagant of his indulgences, but for the most part seeming content to examine her guests, her face in a pleasant but unreadable expression. Hermione wondered what conclusions her hostess was drawing, and whether or not she had been taken in. She fervently hoped so.

After what was really an excellent meal, the party retired to a small drawing room. Drinks were poured, idle chitchat made, and Hermione felt herself unwind a fraction. She was by no means at ease, but the conversation seemed harmless for the moment and she was once again able to sit next to her "husband." Slowly, the other couples trickled off, until only a few remained. Hermione wondered if perhaps Severus was planning on being the last to leave in order to speak privately with Lucius. As the last remaining couple made their excuses and were shown to the door, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed.

"Simon," Lucius said affably as the Narcissa walked the last of the guests out, "you do drink port, do you not? I have a most remarkable bottle, a gift from a friend whose vineyard is simply unsurpassed. Would you care to join me in a glass?"

"Certainly," Severus replied readily.

"Madam Payne?" he enquired. Then, "or perhaps I may call you Jennifer?"

"Of course," Hermione said, "but I won't have any port, thank you. This evening's wine was more than enough for me!" Hermione was aiming for a young-and-inexperienced-with-alcohol impression, although immediately after having said it she realised that perhaps she was giving Lucius Malfoy too much power over her. Snape looked unperturbed, however.

Narcissa spoke from directly behind Hermione, and she realised that the woman must have returned from seeing off the other guests. "Oh, you poor dear," she said smoothly, "I had completely forgotten that you didn't come in a carriage like the others this evening. You must have apparated, and you certainly will not be able to return home tonight. The alcohol might cause you to splinch yourselves!" She seemed truly concerned, although the fleeting glance she shared with Lucius suggested to Hermione that Narcissa's solution to the problem had already been discussed previously, and probably at length. She guessed that the Malfoys had already known that the Paynes, newcomers to the country without even a permanent home, would not have a carriage.

"No," the woman continued smoothly, "you must both stay here tonight. We certainly have plenty of guests rooms, and we could not allow you to harm yourselves."

"Most definitely," Lucius added firmly.

"We would be delighted," Severus replied, and Hermione felt a jolt of fear go through her stomach. What was he playing at? Spend the night here?

Trying to contain her emotions, she managed, "We would, thank you."

"Excellent!" Narcissa exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I'll have a house elf show you to your rooms for the night, then. You must be tired, you can't even have accustomed yourselves to the time zone yet!"

"We generally breakfast at nine," Lucius informed them, rising from his chair. "Sleep well. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask the house-elf. Until tomorrow morning!" And with that he gave a shallow bow and, taking his wife's arm, left the room.

"If you will follow me, sir, madam," a squeaky voice piped up, "I is to show you to your bedroom."

Still marvelling at the sudden turn of events and departure of their hosts, Hermione stood motionless for a moment.

"Come, dear," Severus said gently, and followed Lucius' lead in taking her arm before pulling her gently alongside him, following the house elf. He slipped his arm around her waist as they followed the elf through to their room for the night. Hermione was grateful for the touch. It was warm, reassuring, and, as he made little circles against her waist with his thumb, maddeningly arousing. She tried not to think about the fact that they would probably share a bed that night, but of course once the thought had crossed her mind it wasn't easy to cast aside. They arrived at the door in the midst of Hermione's struggles to control her wayward thoughts, and she welcomed the distraction.

"Sir and Madam will find everything you is needing inside," the elf informed them. With a bow and a crack he was gone, leaving the pair alone.

"Well," Hermione said, "That was an interesting evening." Snape quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Indeed," he said blandly. Then, "Do you think you will come to enjoy living in England, darling?" Reinforcing the fact that they were still in the Malfoys' house and that the room was possibly bugged. Not possibly, she amended silently, definitely. Malfoy paranoia and manipulation are legend.

"I think so. Narcissa seemed lovely, as did the other women. I'm sure we'll get along well." She realised how forced the bland comments probably sounded, and tried to change tactics. "Do you think there'll be a toothbrush in the bathroom?"

Sure enough, their hosts had provided a number of toiletries, and with the aid of a few charms Hermione prepared herself for bed. They had even provided sleepwear, although Hermione grimaced as she held up the silky contraption evidently intended for her to wear. She firmly tied the provided dressing gown on as well; no sense in being cold. Or in exposing yourself any more to Severus. She pushed the thought aside and came back into the outer room, finding Severus waiting patiently for her to finish in the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "All done now." He smiled and went to perform his own bedtime ritual, leaving Hermione alone in the lavishly furnished guestroom. She paused for a moment, wondering what to do with herself, before deciding that she might as well get into bed. With Severus. The thought sent a thrill through her, one of simultaneous excitement and dread. Stop being stupid, she told herself firmly. It's just a bed. A big bed. She untied the dressing gown and crawled in. Surprisingly, she couldn't keep her eyes open. Spell? she wondered woozily, before decided that she was just exhausted after such a nerve-wracking evening, and succumbed to sleep.