AN: Odd story I've been thinking about since I've gone back to work. Don't worry, all new writing for The Perfect Drug is finished- yay- so excursions like this aren't distracting any more. I can't tell if it's a one shot, if I should continue, or if I need to trash it completely. Also, language ahead.
He could hear their prattering, wondering what he was doing at the Ministry waiting to see the Minister for Magic again, commenting on the style of his robes, the tightness of the cravat at his neck, all wondering if the scars were as bad as they'd heard. For his many skills, ignoring idle gossip and the attention of those who mattered little was chief amongst them. Although he might've felt a sudden tensing of spine as he heard their speculations, his face was the mask he always wore in social situations, a blank stare, his dark eyes easily surveying the room whilst not particularly looking at anyone individually. It didn't surprise him that people were curious that he was alive, that he'd survived such a harrowing event, and to make matters worse when they'd awarded him the Order of Merlin, he was forced to attend the ceremony as though he cared whether they finally recognized his efforts, as dichotomous as they were. The only positive thing that had come from the blasted award was the pension, that and his now infamous meetings with the Minister for Magic, and all the prestige that followed some harrowed as a hero. 'Some bloody hero' he thought, picking a stray cat hair from his pants leg, cursing the beast though he wasn't present.
"I heard he's in some weird medical experiment." "I heard he's really is a vampire and that's why he survived." "I heard he's fucking the minister and that's why he got that potion contract." He heard their words, but like most things in life, especially since the war, he let those comments fall away- he didn't owe them explanation, he didn't owe them anything else as they'd already taken all they could. But, he had to admit he was tired of hearing them at all, he missed flooing directly into her office.
"He looks worse than last week." He heard over his right shoulder, as though he didn't know how he looked sitting there waiting, gaunt and pale, no spectacular adonis. Merlin, it was some kind of cruel twist of fate that he was beholden to wait for the Minister every Thursday, to listen to their inane opinions, to have to see their not-so-subtle sympathy displayed so eagerly on their faces as they passed. Steeling his expression again, he folded his arms tersely across his chest, allowing his hair to fall over his face, hiding as much of it as possible. His facade was weakening, his mind was breaking, he needed a cigarette and a shot of firewhiskey before he lashed out at the people who wouldn't stop staring; they should know better by now, especially after he'd lost it the month before and almost hexed two junior staff members who were speculating about his ability to shag the Minister properly with his obvious war wounds. As though on cue, the door finally opened and the deputy stepped out, ushering him into the Minister's office.
"About bloody time." He sneered, shoving a stack of mail out of his way so he could rest his foot on the edge of her desk as he fell into a chair across from her. "You have a terrible sense of humor and worse sense of adventure. This really must stop, Hermione."
"That's Minister Granger to you, Professor Snape." Without using her wand, she warded the door and locked it, then with a subtle flick of her wrist, his feet fell from the edge of desk, thudding loudly on the floor. She was sure the sound alone was enough to invite more gossip.
"So my sense of humor is terrible, huh? You haven't quite figured this out yet, and you certainly assume I'm going to give in, but I won't. If you think for one second," she paused standing and looming over him like he had over her for years in his potions classroom, "that you are possibly more stubborn than I am, you are wrong." She copied his posture, her arms folded, looking as severe as he. This time, there was no hint of a smile, no gentle sweetness of her eyes that he had come to expect in their mutual acquaintance, even as a student she'd always looked to him with admiration and respect, but now she was looking at him with disdain and anger and perhaps he could also see impatience.
"You cannot intimidate me, Minister, I've faced far worse than you in my life and I'm not going to cower now." But Hermione could easily see that he was lying, she'd watched him and learned his reactions and behaviors so keenly that a lie, not matter how small, could be read in his expression. Although he liked to pretend that she didn't know him that well, that no one could, Hermione knew him better than anyone else had in his entire life.
"All of this anger and pretense over some rumors and an article...you'd think you hadn't survived an maniac." Returning to her desk, Hermione knew it was folly, Severus was not going to give in and for once in her life, in her relationship with him, she wasn't going to either. She'd given in so many times she could barely process the numbers, but she'd always been the one to want to smooth things. When everything fell to shit with Ron Weasley after the war ended, when the unusual camaraderie had occurred between Hermione and Severus, Hermione had let herself be easily influenced by Severus and though it had been years since, sometimes she fell into that same pattern, allowing him to bully her into submission even as she rose in prominence at the Ministry, even becoming the Minister. And though everyone had expected her to marry Ron Weasley, she'd decided to marry no one. It wasn't some feminist stance against marriage, she just knew as the first female Minister for Magic in a century, scrutiny placed upon her and her potential spouse would be far different than had she been a man; her feelings on the matter were further cemented when she began seeing Severus romantically. For all they'd learned about each other, for the hours upon hours they'd spent together, Hermione had misjudged him on this one thing and he wouldn't let it go.
"This anger and pretense, as you say, is justified my dear when you chose to be embarrassed of our relationship."
"I am not embarrassed of our relationship, Severus, I simply did not want your name further dragged through the coals and I've explained that many times, you just choose to believe what you want. And, you'd think you're the one embarrassed practically hexing everyone in the Ministry." Hermione furiously scribbled notes on a pad and shot him a cruel look.
"That's because you make me sit out there like a fucking tourist, making things worse." Snapping her briefcase shut, Hermione glanced to her wall clock and then back to the man before her, angrier than she'd seen him in years.
"You have every right to be annoyed about having to sit out there, but you brought this upon yourself. I haven't asked you to come to my office every Thursday to form some sort of protest, now have I? And as I recall, you very clearly told me the first night you came to my flat that you would never marry, not especially me, so don't be so high and mighty about it now that I've turned you down, you sod." Snapping the broach on her formal robes, she pondered whether she should bend to kiss him, to touch his shoulder as she normally did, and she still had when they were home, but since she'd turned him down, he'd flinched from her touch and living in the same home had become practically unbearable.
"Enjoy your meeting, Minister Granger." Sighing, Hermione turned on heel and fled her office. She dreaded going home, she dreaded having the same fight over and over. Why had he suddenly become so persistent on marrying her? Severus watched her leave and let out his own sigh; he'd have to ask her again the following Thursday.