...ather is sterile, don't ask me how, so I need to find a wife and four concubines for each name. It would normally be just the wives, but I'm the only male Black, and the only Potter period." He said, his words speeding up as she squeezed harder.
Hermione looked at him with a skeptical eye, "As fucked up as the Wizarding world can be at times I can see that being allowed, and maybe even encouraged by law..." She muttered, accepting that she may as well be in another country for how different some of the laws were. "And I would be one of these concubines? A..." She searched for the right word, "Toy. To use whenever you please?" She demanded, her grip tightening to a painful degree.
"Ngh." Harry grunted, his hands grabbing her wrist of their own accord but doing little more them gripping them loosely, fearing she may squeeze tighter. "I-I was actually thinking about asking you to be Lady Potter at some poi-pleaseletgo?" He squeaked, his voice high.
Hermione blinked and her grip loosened. Harry quickly took the given opportunity to free himself and curl into the fetal position for a bit, coughing.
"Are you proposing?" She asked, bewildered.
"Hell no." Harry replied, incredulous. He saw her hand twitch towards him again and quickly clarified, "I-I mean if and when I do actually ask you to marry me I'm going to be doing my best to make it romantic!" He said in a rush.
Hermione nodded, still thinking about the news. "Who's Lady Black? Or are you still looking?" She asked.