The walk back to the castle was awkward and mostly silent. Hermione felt like she ought to ask more questions, but Professor Snape seemed intent on stalking ahead of her, his robes swishing in the quiet evening air, and she didn't feel quite brave enough to break into a run to catch up alongside him.
He broke the silence first, as they reached the main hallway and she turned to go toward the Gryffindor tower.
"Not that way - your new quarters will be along here."
New quarters - surely he doesn't expect we'll . . .
But apparently he did, because he led her down a passage on the other side of the great hall and then through two more hallways she had never noticed before (or do they only appear for teachers? she wondered) until they reached a quiet wing overlooking the greenhouse. Professor Snape held his hand over the knob of a nondescript door tucked back into an alcove and muttered something. The door swung open on its own, revealing his lair.
"Lair" really felt like the best term for it, Hermione decided as she stepped inside. She wasn't sure what she expected Snape's rooms to look like - lots of dark paneling and bubbling potions flasks and creepy tchotchkes, perhaps? Instead, she found herself in a sparsely decorated but meticulously clean parlor. An uncomfortable-looking sofa and armchair combination dominated one end of the room, while a much more well-loved recliner formed the focus of a reading nook at the other end. The walls were almost entirely lined in bookcases, most of which were packed to bursting.
Hermione couldn't help but look more closely at the nearest shelf. And it caught her by surprise.
"Science fiction?"
Professor Snape shrugged. "I do read for pleasure on occasion, Miss Granger. No, I can't call you that. And since I definitely can't call you by your new name, I shall choose to refer to you directly as little as possible."
Hermione cleared her throat. "You could call me Hermione?"
"I could not."
She supposed he was right - she'd never be able to call him "Severus." But she did still have more questions, and she really did need to know . . .
"So what now?" She hated the thread of insecurity in her voice, but it had been a trying enough day as it was - the reason she was going to visit Hagrid in the first place, to talk out her frustrations - and at this point it didn't seem to matter whether Professor Snape knew she was near her breaking point. "Do I have to live here now? When can I go back? What happens next? Are we really married?"
"Yes, not for a while, we fetch Dumbledore, and unfortunately yes again," he replied acidly. "Headmaster Dumbledore will need to oversee an exchange to seal the marriage pact, first. Then we will go retrieve your things and move them here - my quarters are the size I need them for just myself, but I'm sure we can make some accommodations. The rest can be discussed after the pact is finalized."
Hermione felt a flutter of hope. "What if we don't finalize it? Can we pretend it never happened?"
He looked down his nose at her. "Then the higglewumps will have free reign to kill you when they catch you. Which they will."
The hope died as quickly as it had been born. "Is there such thing as a magical divorce?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yes, thank the spirits," he said. "Which is why I will endeavor to teach you how to fight higglewumps as quickly as possible. We can remove ourselves from this farce as soon as I either remove the threat to you or you learn how to hold your own."
Hemione swallowed. Not that she was afraid to face them again, but . . . Snape had been bested, hadn't he? What were her chances, against something which could do that?
"Stay here," he commanded. "I'll be back in a moment with the Headmaster."
