Obiter Dictum

18

The wicked witch had not yet left, it seemed.

True, Hermione had only been gone one day, yet she had hoped the woman would have gone in that time.

Unbeknownst to the Gryffindor, not only was Eleanor still there, she had brought other people into the home. She was rather preoccupied with her own worries and did not notice the dimmed lights and crisp, thin air.

Snape let out a sound that vaguely resembled a growl, subconsciously tightening his grip on Hermione's waist for a fraction of a second. The young woman held Ollie close and accepted her mentor's hand to stand when he offered it. Together, they stood slowly, he ensured she wouldn't fall, a hand on his son's back to steady them.

The man of the house kept his grip on her hand, his fingers curling around her palm. A sort of warmth radiated from his hold on her, something soothing washing through her, steadying her breathing and clearing her head. Hermione chalked it up to more of the house's magic, though she could not be certain if it wasn't just the man's presence.

With a start, she realised the reason she could not possibly leave Foxhole and its inhabitants was because she had begun to crave his company. Not only the children or her apprenticeship, but the man himself. The conversation, the quiet reading by the fire in the evening hours, the time spent brewing in comfortable silence.

Snape glanced at her briefly, his eyebrow slightly raised, before turning his attention back on his sister-in-law. He squeezed Hermione's fingers so gently, she might have thought it was involuntary. "What is it now, Madam Rosier?"

The dark haired woman stalked down the corridor, glaring down at Hermione, though her face was tilted towards her man's. "Will the apprentice be joining us for supper?" She asked, her tone clipped.

The apprentice? At least she was being civil.

Oleander shuddered and hid his face in Hermione's neck. "I will be joining you for supper, if that's alright with Master Snape."

She looked up at him, hopeful. He nodded curtly once, and tugged gently on her hand so that she follow him. "I must warn you, we have guests. Could I ask you to prepare the children for supper? Wash their hands and be appropriately dressed?"

It was a chance to get out of entertaining. Hermione nodded, jumping on the opportunity. "Of course, sir. I'm sure you must be rather busy with your company."

His next words were softer, more hesitant. "My godson and his family are here." He warned.

Ice cold ran through her then. The Malfoys were at Foxhole House?

Why?

Phaedra. She recalled. It was a whisper on the air as it stilled around them. She had stopped walking rather abruptly, the boy in her arms coming out from his hiding place to look at her.

It was dark here. The small corridor that led to the dining room was dimmed, dulled conversation drifting toward them from the library.

"Mama doesn't like them either," whispered the boy.

Hermione nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. The house had never before been quite so cold in the time she had been there. Tiptoeing past the library, the witch made a mad dash to the staircase, going up two at a time with the boy in her arms to avoid running into any of the Malfoys. Ollie squealed in delight as they tore up the stairs and into the nursery.

Linden and Briar were wrestling the other children into their finer clothes. Aspen and Calyx were running about half-dressed and teasing their sister. Olive sat quietly as the eldest buttoned the last of her dress. Setting down the boy in her arms, Hermione stood before the children with her hands on her hips. "Now what is the meaning of this, boys?"

Aspen stopped dead in his tracks, Calyx promptly running smack into his brother. "Ow! Miss Miny! You did that on purpose!"

The former Gryffindor giggled and crouched down to help them into their shirts. "Your father has important guests tonight. You would do well to behave."

She gave Calyx a knowing look, her eyebrow raising in a way her employer would approve of. "That means no worms, young man."

The boy's shoulders slouched, his head dropping. "Alright, Miss Miny," he conceded. "No worms."

Briar approached her, beaming, jumping into her arms and nearly toppling them both over. "You're back!" She whispered breathlessly. "You didn't leave us."

The curly-haired witch raised a hand to hold the back of the girl's head as she embraced her. "No, darling. I did not leave you. I wouldn't dream of it."

Squeezing her tightly, she then held the girl at arm's length and smiled. "Help Ollie get dressed, yes? Your papa wants you all well-dressed."

Briar rolled her eyes. "He wants to show us off to his new girlfriend. I already hate her."

Linden glared at his sister, picking up Olive in his arms. "You should not speak of her that way. If Papa wants to marry her, then he'll marry her."

She crossed her arms. "But Linden, she's awful! All she cares about is money. She doesn't even like us."

Hermione shook her head. "Now now, B, you don't know that. You haven't even met her yet."

A small hand took hers and she looked down at Aspen, who had managed to button his shirt after all. "I wish he would marry you instead, Miss Miny."

The apprentice blushed hard, feeling the heat rush through her face. She was certain she was bright red. Before she could respond, a voice behind them interrupted, making her burn brighter still. "Would you, Aspen?" Said the man, his voice low. He spoke quietly, though there was no hint of discontent, merely curiosity. "Does anyone else share this fantasy?"

Fantasy.

The term hit her like a blunt knife to the heart. The children remained silent, their heads bowed. Hermione turned toward him, eyes cast downward. "How much of that did you hear?" She asked, her voice shaky.

He caught her chin between his fingers, lifting her face towards his. He eyed her carefully, suspicion dancing in his gaze. "I heard enough," He replied curtly, his hand falling back to his side. "Our guests are awaiting us, children. We ought not try their patience" He called, though his eyes had not yet left the woman before him.

Briar lifted Ollie into her arms and took Hermione's hand. Her other hand still grasping Aspen's. Mortified, Hermione let out a shaky breath and looked toward the children surrounding her. "Alright, time for supper. Listen to your father."

Leading them toward the stairs, she was all too aware of the man's piercing stare on her back. She could feel him looking right through her with that burning gaze. She felt so foolish as to think that he might have reacted in any other way. He was about to introduce his offspring to a Malfoy woman of high wizarding society. There was so much on the line here. The very last thing he needed was for his son to declare that he wanted his father to marry the apprentice.

Not with so many Purists about.

Hopefully, her face would lose its redness before she reached the dining room.