Gilded
By Oniko
Copyright J.K. Rowling
Summary: AU Regency, HG/SS. Hermione Granger is the heiress to a fortune from her father's shipping company, but her mother has higher ambitions to marry her off to titled nobility. Caught between two worlds she searches for love, happiness and a place to belong.
... ... ...
Any description of Severus Snape had to start with his nose. It was a great patrician beak perched on a face deeply lined with worry above a thin-lipped mouth extended in a sneer of perpetual distain. He was a man of military bearing, an impression greatly aided by his neatly pressed uniform liberally decorated with gilded ribbons. He was not noticeably worried about the passing fashions as his hair fell to his shoulder in smooth glossy waves where it was pulled back and held out of place by a twisted strip of worn leather.
Hermione Granger watched him from the doorway. He stood perfectly still at the picture window that looked onto the gardens, she was almost positive that he wasn't seeing anything out the window though. For instance he hadn't blinked as her cat, Crookshanks (an ugly old tom that her mum was constantly scandalized by and was forever trying to tempt her away from with soft Persians and sleek Siamese whenever they were in London) stalked and killed a poor sparrow right under his nose. She had been watching him for some time when there was a loud clearing of the throat behind her. She straightened up and spun around, already blushing to the roots of her dark brown hair. "Mum…"
"Don't call me that, dear. It sounds…base."
Hermione rolled her eyes, Luna called her mum 'Mum' "Fine, Mother…"
"If you are quite finished peeking through keyholes like the downstairs help, we have a guest." With that Mrs. Granger strode past her and flung open the doors to the parlor. "Here she is Captain. Hermione, this is Captain Severus Snape, he was Ron's commanding officer. Captain, my daughter, Hermione."
"A pleasure to meet you sir." She said politely. He snorted softly, but didn't turn from the window, she frowned at his rude behavior. Before she could say anything, however, he turned to face them.
"I apologize, Miss Granger, Mrs. Granger, but this doesn't get easier with the telling. I have been given to understand that you were betrothed to Ronald Weasly, he was an enlisted man under my charge and has been missing since the last engagement with the French. He is presumed dead."
"Oh! Oh my goodness!" Hermione's mum gasped, dramatically. Her hands fluttered about her like pale butterflies, she staggered back a few steps and fell artfully onto a divan. Hermione frowned at her and rolled her eyes in exasperation. She turned to a small table beside the door that contained a small drawer which served no other purpose then to house a small supply of smelling salts for just such occasions. She seated herself next to her mum and waved that open bottle half-heartedly under the woman's nose.
"I appreciate your comeing here Captain, believe me I do. But forgive me if I find it a bit… irregular." She said trying to think of a polite way to phrase her question.
"Highly irregular." He nodded briefly in agreement, a swift jerk of the head, and his mouth twisted further in a frown of disgust. "After a brief discussion with the Weasly family, I thought it best to tell you myself. No great hardship as your…estate was on my way."
"I see." Hermione frowned at her mum, she could see the flicker of reflected light as her mum watched the two of them although she made no move to get up.
"If it is not too sensitive a topic Miss Granger, I have been quite curious about something for some time now." While his words were polite in form the soft, sneering voice belied any sensitivity, he would ask and expect an answer regardless of her feelings on the matter. "Why on Earth did Weasly sign up as an enlisted man? He should have been afforded some rank, the Weasly's are still of the ton after all."
"I think, sir, that it has to do with a number of things, though primarily pride. He wanted to do something but securing a commission would put undue hardships on his family, so he and Harry concocted this crazy scheme of enlisting and sending their paychecks home." She fiddled with the small bottle, the milky white crystals inside clicked gently against the glass. "I tried to talk some sense into them, but Ron was set, moving a mountain would be easier. I just…maybe I could have tried harder."
"I know how stubborn young men could be, Miss Granger. It was due to no fault of yours." He patted her shoulder awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with the movement. She smiled up at him and her mum emitted a soft groan, and fluttered her eye-lashes.
"Oh, oh my…" She murmured softly and pressed her hand to her forehead. Hermione frowned at her antics, her mum was always trying to appear to be some delicate noble woman when you only needed to look at her generous frame and complexion to see the truth. She had no more noble blood in her then Crookshanks, but she did have aspirations. "Oh, goodness. Hermione what will we do, your marriage." She wailed and Hermione gritted her teeth.
"I'm sure you will come up with something Mother, you always do." The Captain gave her a sharp look at the dark tone of her voice, she glared at him too for good measure. The Captain however merely crooked an eyebrow inquisitively, completely impervious. Hermione felt suddenly unsure. She turned back to her mum with a slight flush on her cheeks. Mrs. Granger was staring at the Captain with a calculating look. That look should have sent him running. Hermione was herself considering that option as the last time her mum got that look on her face she ended up engaged to Ronald Weasly. Her mum wanted their title; they wanted her inheritance. A perfect match all around, except for Hermione.
"Captain, it is getting quite late. Why don't you stay for dinner? You can be on you way in the morning," Her mother suggested.
"That's quite alright madam. I will reach the Malfoy's before dark if I take my leave now."
"Nonsense, sir. Then you would miss a meal. I insist." There was no arguing with Mrs. Granger when she had her mind set on something. A few moments later she was bustling off to arrange a room and a lavish dinner, leaving a somewhat stunned Captain Snape and an unsurprised Hermione.
"You should have got away when you had your chance." She observed wryly.
"And when was that, exactly?" He asked sharply.
"Hmm, before you set foot in the door?" She said. "You might want to be careful or she'll have us married off, she does that."
He blinked at her, and then sneered. "It will be a cold day in Hell before I stoop to marrying some upstart river rat." He spat the last words out like a curse. She should be used to it, really she should. It was true after all. But, damn, that still hurts.
"Well, I just thought you might want to be warned to watch your step, is all. You seemed nice enough." She stood and walked from the room, trying to keep the tears from her eyes and her voice. She thought she did well enough, it wasn't like she actually liked him or anything. She didn't care what he thought of her.
"Bastard." She muttered to herself as she made her way to her room to prepare for dinner. No, actually he probably wasn't. He was far, far too arrogant to have been born on the wrong side of the sheets. She spent most of the time glaring at herself in the mirror and fighting with her hair. At some point the pins had fallen down and a riot of brown curls straggled halfway down her back. Her mum would always get on her about it. "Hermione, you could be so pretty if you would just keep those curls managed, curls are all the rage now you know." Or "Hermione, you would look so much nicer with just a touch of powder on your nose, hide those nasty freckles." Hermione would humor her to some extent but she drew the line at the eye-drops of questionable origin that were supposed to make the eyes soft and limpid. She couldn't imagine that there were any miracle drops that could make her plain brown eyes any more appealing or attractive. She threw down the kohl stick with a sigh of exasperation. All this effort for some passing gentleman (term applied loosely) who wouldn't look at her twice if he could help it. But her mum would notice if she didn't and it would be beyond bearing if Hermione wasn't primped as best as she could manage.
"Dinner is almost ready Miss, if you'd like to head downstairs." Her maid, governess, and tattle-tale as the occasion warranted, came in an bustled around her a bit, managing to loosen about a dozen pins so that wisps of hair escaped to curl into her eyes and tickled her neck, and tighten a dozen others to dig into Hermione's scalp.
"Ouch! Mrs. Winkinsen I just had that set." She protested, and gently tugged on the too tight pins.
"No time, Miss Hermione, no time. You're as set as you're ever likely to get, so get you downstairs. That's a fine looking gentleman a-waitin' on you there," Mrs. Winkinson leered.
"Oh, no. It's not like that at all," Hermione protested, as Mrs. Winkinsen ushered her out of her room and down to the dining room. With only the four of them, one of the parlor rooms was used rather then the formal dining for which Hermione was grateful; the mirrored sideboard always made her horribly self-conscious. Captain Snape was set across from her mum and Hermione was placed to his right and across from the other guest, Luna Lovegood, an eccentric young lady of the ton who was visiting them for the summer.
"So, tell me Captain, do you know Harry Potter? And how does he fare?" Luna gushed at him after the introductions were made.
"Yes. I am acquainted with the Lieutenant." Hermione risked a glance at the Captain. His expression and manner implied strongly that he rather wished he wasn't "He has acquitted himself quite the hero though he was injured. I have heard that he will live and be returning to England with all honors."
"Well, of course." Luna said matter-of-factly and Hermione almost groaned the girl was going to say something crazy, she knew that tone. "The King will need all his loyal troops back home to prepare for the invasion of the Pope's armies. He wants to bring England back to the Catholic Church you know."
"I beg your pardon?" came the startled reply; apparently the Captain was not acquainted with Luna's little fancies. She started in on details of the matter and he gave them all incredulous looks. Hermione discreetly tapped the side of her head, smoothly changing the motion into an adjustment of a loose pin at the kick of her mum's foot against her shin, too late; it fell out. A ringlet (a nice sounding word for a mess of knots) unwound itself and dragged across the edge of her ear and jaw, it was long enough to lightly brush her shoulder and make her want to fidget and scratch at it. She probably would have if she thought she could do so without drawing attention to herself but a couple of times she caught the Captain watching her, or, rather, watching her hair right where it brushed her neck. Oh, how embarrassing, he was staring at her messy hair. She flushed slightly and gritted her teeth.
The Captain was an otherwise stoic man, ruthlessly polite, his very grace and mannerisms implied without words his disregard for his hosts, the topic of conversation, and the unabashedly feminine surroundings he found himself in. Her mum didn't seem to pick it up at all or perhaps she did, for as the meal progressed the older woman became increasingly fawning and eager to please. Hermione found herself utterly disgusted by the inanity of the other two women and sullenly retreated into herself, half-heartedly re-arranging the food on her plate. Her dinner had managed to travel about sixty degrees around the plate when there was a sharp pain at her ankle. Hermione hadn't bothered to even look up since fifty degrees and had given up trying to interject intelligent statements into the conversation since about ten degrees. The Captain didn't need her help to say that Luna was being a scatterbrained goose; he was doing quite well on his own.
Another sharp pain as her mum kicked her under the table and Hermione abruptly stood, the conversation (or what passed for it) stilled as everyone turned to stare her. The Captain started to stand but she waved him back down as she dragged her chair over to the corner of the table closest to him and, more importantly, away from her mum. He glanced uncertainly at the other two women, remaining frozen in his half standing and half sitting pose, but they were both gaping at her in surprise. She dropped back down into the chair, pulled her dinner plate to her, and calmly resumed herding food around her plate. The Captain slowly settled back down, with a great deal more grace then she exhibited, glancing between her and her mum. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, he sat stiffly leaning slightly away from her but clearly uncertain as to the required etiquette in this situation. She smirked at her plate; at least she wasn't the only one uncomfortable anymore.
Some indeterminate time later, Hermione had lost track of the revolutions her food made around her plate, but it was eventually taken away from her and replaced by some desert of mixed fruit and cream that was in turn taken away. Luna started complaining of one of her headaches coming on so Hermione quickly offered to help her to her rooms as an escape. Luna gave her a vague but brilliant smile before gliding off, leaving Hermione to trail after her.
"I think he likes you." Luna said after they got out of earshot.
Hermione snorted in disbelief, then pinched herself sharply on the arm, must stop doing that, incredibly unladylike. "Don't you go off again on your wild tales."
"No, it's true." She protested. "He was very concerned for you."
"He did? Of course he was, he just told me my fiancée had died." Hermione said quickly to cover her confusion, then paused to consider her last statement. It seemed rather strange to say that her fiancée had died. Ron had been gone for so long that she had grown used to him gone, only now he was never coming back.
"No, something different. Hard to describe, but I can tell you he didn't look at me like that. And I'm prettier then you." Hermione frowned at that proclamation. Although it was true, it stung to have the other girl just say it like that. Luna's long blond hair was easily captured into the flowing styles of the day and her slender form was much admired. Unlike Hermione whose curly mass of brown hair had already caused enough problems at dinner, not mention her figure which needed to be strongly confined with stays least the curve of breast or hip interrupt the fall of her gown. Hermione frowned, she already felt self-conscious enough for one night. Did Luna have to rub it in?. "Oh, don't look at me so, Hermione. You know I don't mean you any unkindness. Tell your mother goodnight for me will you? I don't think I shall be up until the morning."
"Of course, Luna. Sweet dreams." Hermione briefly paused by her rooms to tidy up her hair that was hanging between her shoulder blades and heading south. She found barely a quarter of the pins she was sure she put in it, but there was enough to hopefully get her through the rest of the evening. Thus fortified she headed back downstairs.
... ... ...
The indominable Captain Snape had left her mother's tender mercies soon after Luna retired. The lucky man, he didn't have to suffer listening to her mother envision sweeping high romance in which the stern, yet lonely and misunderstood, military captain comforted and wooed the young widow of his subordinate, whom he had always secretly admired and wished he had died in place of the young man with so much to live for. The whole sordid affair was so sickening that when her mum locked her out of the house around midmorning for her 'constitutional' Hermione was actually grateful to get away from the cloying thing.
Her mum once heard that it was fashionable for a lady to take a small walk in the local park or estate gardens and decided that it would not do but that Hermione would do the same. Unfortunately, her mum's idea of a constitutional was to lock her out of the house and, the actual point of the exercise, the library for at least two hours every morning, sometimes longer when she forgot to unlock the doors. Luna would occasionally join her, but more often not. She, being their guest and purveyor of everything that Hermione's mum wanted for Hermione, was exempted from being forced to Mrs. Granger's ideas of 'fashionable.'
Fortunately Hermione was familiar enough with her mother's more annoying habits to prepare herself for such occurrances. She lifted the seat of one of the boxy bench/storage units that flanked the door. Inside was a small, by her standards at least, collection of books individually wrapped in oil-skin cloth to protect them from any elements that might work their way past the barriers of porch and box. She knew each tome by size and shape alone, and picked out one of her newest interests A Complete Treatise on the Human Form for Surgeons by Popper M. Pomphrey; a detailed work that examined all aspects of the human body including plates of sketches that took up a significant portion of the bound book. She tucked the unwrapped book under her arm and headed away from the house. When reading anything it was best to do so out of easy reach of either her mum or Mrs. Winkinsen, when reading a book of such unlady-like stature the safest recourse was to do so as far away as possible to minimize even the most unlikey of accidental discoveries.
Fortunately on one long ago 'constitutional' in which she had been locked out all afternoon, Hermione had wandered into a charming little alcove on the edge of the estate. It was an old stone building that had deteriorated untill nothing was left but a few leaning walls of moss covered stone that was open to the sky and the forest canopy above, and blanketed by a thick carpet of deliciously fragrent leaf litter. This place had quickly become one of her favorite little hide-aways, one that she kept secret even from Luna, and the best part about it that neither her mother nor Mrs. Winkinsen would even touch the place with a ten-foot pole much less actually enter it. With a sigh of contentment she settled down in a place carefully chosen for the clear light and ease of reading. Hermione had made some headway on the details of the vascular system, while the book was interesting it was clearly written for someone with a background she clearly lacked and was therefore left to stuggle as best she could with words that she did not understand nor have the means to look them up, when she heard a familiar voice.
"Oh, do give over, Lucius," The voice snapped quite loudly and with a commanding air that was startleingly near. "I've no interest in your niece. Just the thought of which of her mother's habits she might have picked up would send any sane man running. Not to mention the rumours surrounding how dear Bellatrix got herself and her husband sent off to the mainland. So, no, I've no interest. I've no interest in any of the air-headed ninnies coming out this Season. Not to put too fine a point on it I've no interest in... Who the bloody hell? Miss Granger?"
"Captain Snape," she greeted him coolly and upon hearing the haughty tone of a disgruntled gentlemen from beyond the doorway she added, "and Mr. Malfoy."
"What are you doing here?" the Captain asked, though it was difficult to use the appellation of 'Captain' dressed as he was in fine looking riding clothes and looking flatly astonished at her precence.
"Reading," she told him, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in a very unlady-like smirk that would no doubt have her mum in hysterics. She also lifted the book up so that he could read the title embossed on the front cover. "What are you doing here?"
"I do apologize Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy in that supercillious way that conveyed that no, he wasn't actually sorry at all, but had to say such because it was the proper thing to do, as he shouldered Snape out of the doorway. "Since Severus' return we thought to spend the afternoon reminicing and visiting old boy-hood haunts. We had hoped not to bother anyone," Meaning he didn't want to ask permission to go traipsing across land that he used to own, she thought sardonically. "And how is your lovely mother?"
"Not here, if that's what you're worried about," she told him primly, it was fairly obvious from his nervous glances around that he was hoping to avoid the grasping clutches of the elder Granger.
"I...see." Now he turned his sharp gaze on her, his tone was smooth and charming, and she realized how alone she was and how very improper the situation was. Her mother had drummed it into her that she wasn't supposed to go anywhere, or worse, be with anyone without Luna or, better yet, Mrs. Winkinsen nearby. But Luna was having one of her fits, and Mrs. Winkinsen was not a lady's maid by trade, she had been brought up when they moved, and she found the idea of trailing around after Hermione wastefull of her time. They had a working agreement where Hermione wouldn't ask Mrs. Winkinsen to follow her around, Mrs. Winkinsen would be left to do more important things, like dusting or some such, and they both would maintain the illusion to Hermione's mother that everything was all fine and proper. Except that now it wasn't, and if her mother ever found out she'd never live it down. "Well, Miss Granger, I hope we weren't interrupting anything... a meeting with a paramour perhaps."
"No, Mr. Malfoy," she said, trying not to grit her teeth. "As I was explaining to Captain Snape, I was merely doing some reading. I like to," am forced to, "get out of the house on occasion. But, please, don't let my precense derail your own plans." She gestured expansely, as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and she was already in so much trouble it certainly couldn't get any worse.
The Captain clearly didn't care for her invitation. "Perhaps we should just head back to the Manor."
"Nonsense," Mr. Malfoy cut him off sharply, "The lunch is already packed, it would be a waste to leave it and I'm sure that there is enough for a third."
"Oh, I wouldn't wish to impose..."
Mr. Malfoy smiled at her, grinned really; one of those uncomfortable expressions that said plainly that he didn't want to be their but that he wasn't about to back down to some little trumped up tart. "Not at all, it wouldn't do to let a lady go hungry." Hermione struggled to not roll her eyes. Life seemed predicated by what it would or wouldn't do, she was getting downright sick of it. Ever since her mother got this bug up her... best not to go there, least it result in yet another Incident.
Snape came back with a blanket and a large basket packet with food and china. The gentlemen spread out the lunch before her and seated themselves, one on each side. The food was a lovely selection breads with various spreads and seasonal fruits. Most surprising was the imported wine.
"What year is this from?" Hermione asked, swirling the liquid gently in her glass. "You don't see many French wines since the war."
Both men stilled. "You are familiar with wine?" Mr. Malfoy asked.
"Da used to move it," she explained, feeling a renewed pang of loss thinking about her father. "He wanted to have someone he could trust on hand who could verify the merchandise. You wouldn't believe some of the scams out there; selling undoctored horse's piss as fine riesling." She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but it was too late. She had forgotten where she was, remembering the long dicussions in waterfront bars on the virtues of this drink or that, and how to spot a rip-off in a fancy bottle. She nervously glanced between the two men, but they seemed happy enough to ignor the impropriety of her words.
"And here I though riesling was undoctored horse piss," the Captain said, sending a wicked grin at Mr. Malfoy. Contrary to popular belief smiles do not make everyone look better and younger; this one made Captain Snape look downright evil but was infectious just the same and she couldn't help but laugh as Mr. Malfoy muttered something under his breath about 'bloody untoutored heatens.'
"To anwer your question, Miss Granger," Mr. Malfoy said loudly to carry over her low chuckles, "no, I do not know what year this is. My family has a number of wines laid aside from before. The war is merely a slight inconvience. Unless you listen to my wife cry on the loss of her favorite chiante, but we must all make sacrafices."
They continued along that vein for sometime discussing local wines and other non-french imports, with the Captain providing the occasional color commentary seeming solely for the purpose of winding up his friend. Eventually, he got bored with that, and picked up her book and began flipping through it. She didn't think much of it at first until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pause, check the cover, then opening it back up, before checking the cover again. She glanced at him to see him giving her an odd look that she couldn't quite define, with one eyebrow tilted up and thin lips pursed into an even thinner line.
"Interesting reading material, Miss Granger," he said, as Mr. Malfoy's rant on the poor quality of local wines started to trail off for lack of an audience. Captain Snape stood up and turned the book to show the both of them detailed pictures of an intimate nature.
Hermione blushed brightly, "I...ah... skip those parts?" Not really, but what else could she say. Her mother was going to kill her.
"Is that a question or an answer, Miss Granger?" the Captain snapped out, obviously not nearly as amused as Mr. Malfoy, whose eyebrows were threatening to climb up past his hairline, and appeared to be trying desperately hard not to laugh.
"Really, Severus, there's no need to practice your professor voice on the girl, what do you care what she reads anyway?"
She desperately seized on any chance of escape. " 'Professor voice?' Does the Captain teach?"
"Not currently but he's been offered a position at the Academy at the end of his leave," Mr. Malfoy explained.
"Oh, how wonderful!" she said with unrestrained delight in her voice; she knew a professor! She had always felt that imparting knowledge to others to be the highest calling, unfortunatly her own attempts at doing so only led to her reputation as a bluestocking, a swot, and other even less complimentary things. "What subject do you teach, Captain?"
"Subjects, Miss Granger," he said with a harsh silibant on the plural. "I am well aquainted with the sciences and will be required to teach several, as well be on call to substitute for any other professor should the need arise."
"Oh, how wonderful," she repeated, a little more whistfully.
"I hardly consider pounding important information into the thick skulls of the spoiled and privaledged that they will send my way to be wonderful." He spat out the last word with particular venom.
"And there he goes again," Mr. Malfoy said to the sky. "Perfectly fine day, surprisingly tolerably company..."
"There is little surprising about your tolerating this..." Here the Captain spoke a word in a foreing language that Hermione couldn't catch, his face was twisted into an ugly expression but his voice flowed over the word like smooth silk. And though she didn't know what he said, when he tossed her book into her lap open to those pages his meaning was perfectly clear.
"I'm not!" she cried out and lept to her feet. Even mortified as she was, she hugged the book to her so it wouldn't fall to the ground.
"You aren't what Miss Granger?" he stalked around her, making her shift and dance in place.
"I'm not any of those things, I'm not a slut or a whore," Mr. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up at her use of harsh language, even Captain Snape momentarily paused in his pacing. "I'm not a gold-digger or a social climber..."
"Did you not warn me just last night of your mother's designs?" Captain Snape asked in sharp tones.
"That's my mum... mother," Hermione stumbled, and cursed her mum's eternal scolding. "Not me."
"Any yet you are here, alone, with two men and nary semblence of propriety in sight: your corset's loose, your hair is mussed." She blushed absently tugged at the offending material; she often loosened the constricting things when she was on her own and he had entirely forgotten about it when the two men showed up. No wonder they thought so badly of her. But the Captain still wasn't done, he stepped in front of her standing so close the hem of her skirts brushed his legs. "And not a chaperone in sight."
"Alright there, Sev." Hermione was startled when Lucius Malfoy suddenly grabbed the Captain and pulled him back from her by several feet, she hadn't even seen Mr. Malfoy stand. "I do apologise on Captain Snape's behalf, I'm afraid that he's been in the wilds for far too long and needs to be re-civilized."
She was at a brief loss of words, her mum always insisted on accepting any apology, though she really didn't want to accept Mr. Malfoy's apology for the Captain. Nor, did it seem, that the Captain would want her to. While she stood there dithering, Mr. Malfoy had them the luch packed up and was ushering the Captain out of the old building with barely a perfuctory nod goodbye. Once they were gone, Hermione sat down hard on the bare ground her limbs quivering with fright that only now chose to express itself. Her mother was so going to kill her.