Chapter 12
The ball had continued unto the wee hours of dawn, and despite being bone-tired, Hermione continued standing with King Thomas. She burned with the need to get her answers.
Finally, King Thomas signalled the end to the night's festivities and this time instead of going to her room, Hermione was led to the King's room.
When she realized that his room was just opposite the hallway to her room, she couldn't fault Ginny for spreading the rumours, for who housed a mere General's wife on the same floor as the King's rooms.
"I know you have a lot of questions, but couldn't they wait for tomorrow."
"My Lord, I didn't just spend the last few hours on my feet, to not get my answers tonight." When she said 'My Lord', her frustration, exasperation and confusion was equally expressed.
"Why does a marital bond exist between us?", she asked him.
"Because we're married, and before you loose your cool, let me explain."
She waited for him to explain as he sat down and pulled off his black boots.
Sighing at the mutinous expression on her face, he told her, "Sit down before you drop from exhaustion, woman."
She considered the request and sat down beside him on the sofa. The relief that shot through her feet was blessed.
A moment later he bent down and pulled her feet onto his lap.
"What are you doing?", she squeaked at him.
He didn't answer her, but he proceeded to press her soles. The pain slowly ebbing with his gentle pressing, she sighed into his touch, and almost got drowsy from the comfort of getting her feet pressed. She didn't care that she didn't have her answers yet. She had nearly forgotten her pique when he finally answered.
"We have a marital bond, because I and Lord Voldemort are one and the same person."
At this statement, Hermione pulled out her feet from his lap, and turned to him.
"I don't understand. How can my husband and you be the same person?"
A tired laugh escaped him. "Your husband is not some separate entity. I am your husband."
Her stupefaction from the night fading away a bit, she posed her question to him, "If you're my husband, then tell me what you last said to me before leaving Frosthaven?"
At her question, amusement clearly sparked in his eyes. He shrugged replying to her, "You told me to come back soon, and I told you that I'd try to."
Hermione frowned. She had said that to him before he had mounted his black horse Hades. But now when he'd so flippantly answered her, she realized that this kind of conversation was far too general, and he could have just guessed it. While she had sometimes felt that he was a lot like Lord Voldemort in the way he scrutinized her, or his extreme pragmatism which was exactly like her husband's, she still wanted some clinching evidence.
Standing her ground, she changed her query. "You just guessed that. Tell me something which is private—something which is only known to me and my husband."
This time, the amusement in his eyes was replaced by a coldness that made Hermione straighten her spine. A cruel grin came on his face before he pulled her onto his lap, and forced her face to his, murmuring near her lips, "You are such a stubborn little sorceress, you know that." Her breath stuttered when his lips placed tender kisses on her cheeks, on her eyelids, ending with a soft kiss to her forehead. While Hermione hadn't received the answer she was looking for, she couldn't help leaning into him, her senses filled with his firm hold over her waist and the slow unhurried kisses he peppered on her. She didn't ask him again. That black cold look, that look, even without the red eyes, was purely her husband.
As she squirmed on his lap, his nimble fingers had loosened her gown, her breasts hanging bare over the neckline as he took her left breast and twisted the nipple, the sudden pain bringing her out of the sensual haze she had fallen under. With both her breasts being plucked by him now, and his mouth nibbling at her neck, he said, "My dear wife wants to know something private, isn't it?" As he said this, he stopped moving. His hands cupped her breasts, but he wasn't doing anything now, and the lack of sensation was driving her crazy. She tried pushing her chest forward for him to get the hint, but he simply huffed a laugh at her back. He was a maddening man, stoking her pleasure and then stopping for no reason.
Then he said in a sarcastic tone, "Are you so wanton that you'd tumble into bed with anyone who is not your husband, hmm?"
A swift fury came upon her, as she pulled herself off his lap, tugged up her gown's neckline with one hand and turned around to fume at him, "How dare you say that? I am your wife!"
He flashed her a mocking smile, "So now you believe that I'm your husband."
She couldn't say anything for a moment. She realized that she had hurt him by suggesting he wasn't her husband. But what was she to do, she still hadn't gotten a concrete answer, but she felt he wasn't lying, but the logical side of her demanded that she get some proof. Unbidden tears blurred her vision as she cried out, "I believe you're my husband, but this is confusing. I am Lord Voldemort's wife, and that is true, and now...now I am your wife. I am confused, and I just want some answers. I am not doubting you, My Lord. My heart is convinced, but my mind still seeks satisfaction."
The confusion, the tiredness, his mean words to her, they all brought on the sobbing. She hadn't seen him get up, but she was pulled against his chest to his soft murmuring of "Hush, now."
He kept stroking her head and her tears stopped when he said to her, "The most private thing I can tell you about us is, that on our first night, you did not get any pleasure, but even when I wanted to leave you that night, " he pressed a kiss to her nose as he said this part, "you commanded me to stay with you."
The conflict within her came to an end, and with a tremulous smile, she arched up on her tip-toes, and kissed him on the mouth. This kiss felt more like a homecoming, the tumult in her heart and mind finally resting. He was her husband.
Soon after, having changed into their nightclothes, and without any further energy to pursue anything more amorous than caressing each other, they got into the giant bed.
As they settled into the comfort of each other's embrace, he began telling her the truth.
The Silverhaven line was blessed or cursed by the serpents, depending on how one thought of the Slytherin heir's physical transformations. Thus, just like a snake shed its skin, the heir of Slytherin, the true successor to the throne of Silverhaven, underwent physical transformation monthly. For 15 days of the waxing moon, the person retained their most beautiful looks, and for the 15 days of the waning phase, the heir underwent tranformation into an albino-white form. One form that was extremely handsome, and the other form was always fierce, ethereal and unapproachable.
This truth was not known to anybody except his Knights who had taken his mark of loyalty on their arms. Sir Neville, Sir Abraxas, Sir Rosier, all his Knights who bore his mark knew this secret. It was guarded from generations, and would never be revealed to one who had not sworn loyalty to the true Heir of Slytherin, and now that she was told this, she too became the secret-keeper.
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In the months that she had spent with her husband, she could now safely say that she loved him. During her pregnancy, he was always at her beck and call. She didn't expect it, but after the comforts of the palace, she started craving the solitude that living in Frosthaven had afforded her, and when she told her wish to him he had not hesitated to shift her back to Frosthaven. It was kept quiet. The courtiers were told that she was confined to her room due to pregnancy, but she had been quietly shifted back to Frosthaven when she hit her 6th month.
The number of her guards in Frosthaven had gone up, and Madame Pomfrey was housed at Sir Neville's house to help with her delivery.
She had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl. Now as she held her bundles of joy in her arms, she had one question, "How will we know who is the heir to the throne."
"The child's appearance will change."
"When?"
"Around the age of 9 to 11, the changes would show."
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As the years passed, she watched happily as her son, Elias grew up to be naughty imp whose antics were difficult to control.
But she was concerned for her daughter, her shy and thoughtful Amelia who'd much rather spend her time reading books. She worried about her, for her mother's intuition told her that her daughter was the next successor.
When she broached this possibility with her husband, he'd told her, "Even if she is the successor, she'll be a brilliant queen."
"My Lord, have you forgotten—society judges women on a different scale. Will the subjects even accept a female ruler?"
"The Slytherin line has had two female rulers, so there is precedent. Don't worry about it, my dear. Whoever is the successor, they'll have my guidance. And you needn't worry, both of our kids have your stubbornness and my genius. They'll carve out their own niches."
She had playfully elbowed him for attributing stubbornness to her.
When she had married him, she did it out of compulsion, the necessity to save her parents.
As she curled against her husband's shoulder, she knew she would forever be grateful to have him in her life. With her steadfast Beast, she knew they could conquer any challenges in their destiny.
The End