AN: I do not own Harry Potter.
Formerly titled Life As She Knew It - This is approximately the same story that it ever was, but I find in my old age that I am more inclined to listen to criticism and accept that maybe the pure form of a story is not always the best! These are still drabbles and I doubt that I will ever expand, but I have explained.
These drabbles are not in any order, nor are they necessarily connected. I have been reading Marriage Law fics for years and I do not remotely think that it would be a happy ending no matter how SS and HG were thrown together.
Special thanks to Yeghishe for spurring me into editing action.
...
The wedding night had been both better and worse than she had imagined. It was worse because his abject cruelty made itself known, better because at least in the end, he showed a shred of human decency. She had been prepared for awkwardness and some fumbling, although in the years to come she would learn that he never fumbled. He was one to do what needed done when it needed doing. And she had needed doing.
It was rough and unfeeling, and any small hope that she had harbored of at least enjoying marriage in her marriage bed was quelled. Still, even the after lack of emotion he displayed in their bed, he did grant her the only request she made of him that night.
"Please," she whispered into the darkness. She had no way of knowing if the sound reached the even the vicinity of his retreating form, but she plunged on brokenly, "I don't care how you have to treat me in the morning but don't you dare leave me alone tonight."
It was complete and utter silence in the complete and utter darkness and just as she had given up the last shred of hope, she heard the rustling of the bed clothes and felt the dip of the mattress, and she shuddered. She shuddered, but she slept.
...
Living at the school was something that Hermione had not giving much thought. Later, she would berate herself for her single-mindedness; she was simply trying to get through the wedding and the night after, she did not give much thought to the days after. Now that it was upon her, she was able to understand just how different and strange her married life would be.
She couldn't remember professor's spouses being seen before; but then again, these were different times and most of the professors were required to be married now. Rules and traditions must change. And so, every lunch and dinner hour she trudged up the stairs from the dungeons and faced the school. She faced the whispers, the pity, and the disgust.
Dinner, by far, was the worst. The dreary faces wearied by the long day of productivity. They just served to remind her of how unproductive and wasteful her life had turned out to be. And the sky, the night sky reflected in the ceiling was something that she used to love; the complexity, the beauty of it used to have her in awe. Now though, it was just one more piece of darkness in her life.
Lunch though, Lunch was the best. She could actually look forward to lunch. There was so much light and so many faces at midday. It wasn't the food; it was the people, so many people right in the middle of their productive days. She liked the potential of it all. What had they accomplished? What was still left to do? She could sometimes force herself to look past the faces of pity and disgust to picture herself in the midst of the, mostly, happy and productive school.
She didn't feel comfortable enough in her own skin now, let alone in her new last name, to venture outside her dark rooms unless required. So Lunch was her social time; her light time. She spoke with everyone, smiled at everyone. Everyone expect her own husband.
...
Her cheeks hurt from smiling. It wasn't that she was out of practice really, she did have nice conversations with Minerva fairly often and did speak with Ginny occasionally, it's just that she hadn't smiled so long or so much in quite a while.
It had happened; she could hardly believe that it had actually happened. The Marriage Law that had forced her into this horrific life had been repealed! It was true that a wife must have her husband's permission to divorce, but Hermione couldn't see how Snape would want to continue this farce of a marriage. It wasn't like he would miss her. They hardly spoke; most days were spent in a slow haze of routine broken only when he performed his husbandly duties and those hadn't changed even after all these years. They were still as harsh and unfeeling as the first time. No, she couldn't imagine that he would want to be shackled to her any longer than required.
As happy as she was however, she was still could not bring herself to speak openly with him about even this. She left the divorce document on his private desk in the study and spent the rest of the day planning her new life. It was with absolute certainty of her freedom that she walked into the study that evening and for that reason the sight before her almost brought her to her knees.
She heard the crackling of the parchment burning before she smelled it. She whipped around to face the fire and felt her breath catch as she saw the documents in the flames and ash. The documents that held the one opportunity she had to finally find some peace.
"You burned them? Why?" She demanded, turning her eyes to the dark figure at the mantle.
He shrugged, "I find myself… content with my life."
"And because you're content, my feelings matter not at all?"
He gestured to the fire, "As you see."
...
It wasn't right, but that hardly mattered. A law was a law after all. There was no question of following the law; when you were chosen, you went. Hermione had been chosen and so Hermione went.
Standing in a dim, drafty classroom in front of the headmistress, Hermione felt physically ill. Her hands were shivering violently, their uncontrollable shaking completely unaided by the frozen palms that they lay upon. She glimpsed a small tear in the corner of Minerva's eye as her old mentor said the final words of the bonding ceremony, but it was so hastily blinked away that Hermione might have imagined it, had she ever been one for make believe.
But Hermione Granger had not ever been one to imagine the world away. No, she was a realist and in being a realist she knew her life was now over. Because being Hermione Granger would be nothing even remotely comparable to being Hermione Snape. And as she looked down the long, lonely road of her future life she knew, in the end, she had no one to blame but herself. She could have chosen death, and in later years she would wish that she had.