Author's Note: I just wanted to let everyone know that I will be updating this story on Fridays for the time being. Also, this is the first part in what will be a three part series. The second part is already written, I will begin posting it sometime after the 30th of August since I wrote it for scifi bigband on livejournal and that is my reveal date for the story. And one more thing, there are links in my profile to other places where my stories are archived. Thanks to my betas Stephanie and Shannon

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don't own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).


Hermione stood in the middle of her bedroom, the room that he had almost thrown her into when he brought her here five years ago. The room was just as stark as when she had arrived. The music box on the bedside table caught her eye. She went over, sitting on the bed, opening the small wooden box to hear the music fill the room as she took out the photograph that lay inside.

Five years ago she had been naive in her assumption that if she was a dutiful wife, if she stood beside him when no one else would, he would learn to at least like her. That had been her mistake; Severus Snape had no room in his heart for her. It was taken by a ghost or by hatred. She had really thought that day that if he was just shown caring, love, and friendship he would change. Now looking down at the photo she knew that he would never change; he would always be the cold, abrasive person that he had been when she came to the Wizarding world.

She picked up the music box. When he had given it to her on their wedding night she had hoped that maybe the outer layer he wore to the world was just that; an armour to protect himself against everyone, that through their vows he would know that he could trust her, and let his guard down. In her immaturity she thought that he was holding out a gift to show that he would let her into his life. Of course that never happened. A year ago, Neville let it slip that Minerva all but forced Severus to buy her a gift for their wedding, as was the tradition.

She looked at the box now. It might look empty, but it held what had been her hopes and dreams. She threw it against the wall watching as it broke, falling to the floor. She didn't worry about being heard. She had always put a Silencing charm around her room since the day he complained that her breathing at night kept him awake.

She laid back on the bed. She didn't know if she was angry at the fact that she had deluded herself or because she still loved him with everything she was. The latter reason would be what got her through the next few hours. She would give him whatever it was he asked for, though she knew it was going to be a divorce. She would leave with her head held high, and when she got to her parents' house, she would teach herself how to carry on without him in her life; she would learn to breathe again with this crushing weight on her chest.

She rose, going to retrieve the box from the floor, quickly repairing it before she brought it back over to the bed. She looked around the room again. She had woken early to pack her things away, which wasn't mush. She had taken everything that was hers in the bathroom after she showered that morning. She wouldn't leave a trace of herself in this house, except for the music box, the photo, and the wedding ring that she didn't want to take off her finger just yet, the ring that tingled when it was time to meet the copulation requirements of the marriage law.

The first few times he made no show as to what he thought of having sex with her. He would come into her room and stand in front of her, making sure that she saw that he had to down a potion to be able to fulfill the obligation. Then one night after he left her alone, the words he said played over in her mind. The next day she bought the first of what she had come to term her whore outfits. They were really just scraps of satin and lace, but the next time the ring tingled she worked herself into one then waited. It had done its' job; he didn't stand in front of her again downing a potion to show her that she was not sexually appealing to him. Of course, now standing here looking at them, she was disgusted at how they made her feel like a common whore, and not the wife that gave her husband what he desired as she had thought at the time. That thought hit home the last time the ring tingled. She hadn't dressed for him that night. The moment he was through the door he looked her up and down then left, coming back with a potion. She had no idea if he thought that doing so would show her that he only wanted to see her as a whore, or if he really did find her unappealing. Whatever the reason, she would not wear one again until he asked her too, with words, not actions.

She never found out if he would ask or not. Two weeks later she miscarried for the fourth time and the healer petitioned for them to forego the requirement on the grounds that multiple miscarriages could have an effect on her mental health, and Severus never came into her room again.

Hermione closed the lid of the trunk on the bed; shrinking it she dropped it into her bag. She sighed as she sat back on the bed. She placed the photo back into the box, then took a deep breath before sliding her wedding ring off and placing it on top, closing the lid. She walked out of the room she had called her bedroom for the past five years, for the last time.

As she descended the stairs she heard him call for her; like she didn't know what he wanted. She stepped into the sitting room to have a piece of parchment put in front of her. She took it and the offered quill, willing her hands not to shake. She walked over to the table saying,

"Where do I sign?"

"Below my name."

She looked back at the parchment. The moment the quill touched it, he asked the one question she never thought she would hear from him.

"Do you love me?" the question was asked with no emotion whatsoever.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't live this way any longer, like an outsider in her own marriage. She signed her name on the paper quickly, and then watched as it started to shake, then roll itself up and fly toward the fireplace. She laid the quill on the table. As she turned he said, "I asked you a question."

"What does it matter now Severus?" she asked, thinking it was too bad he hadn't asked her even six months ago; she might have answered him then.

She walked toward the door. "I'll be back for my things."

"Will you be okay?" he asked.

Why did he suddenly want to ask these questions? She signed the damned papers, he was free of her. She plastered a smile on her face before turning toward him.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Under her breath she said, "As if you ever did worry."

"Don't assume to know my thoughts or feelings," he said to her.

"Then don't ask me mine," she shot back, taking a few more steps towards the door.

"Do you love me?" he asked again, still with nothing in his voice to give a hint of what he was thinking.

"Why? Why tell you? So you can laugh at me once the door is closed? I don't think so."

She was almost to the door her hand reaching for the knob when he said, "What's so hard about one question?"

"I never loved you!" she screamed at him as she opened the door, slamming it behind her.

Once the door was closed behind her, she leant her back against it, sliding down until she was sitting. Breathing again sounded easy enough, doing it was a totally different thing. She felt as if a part of her had been torn out. She never expected the end to feel this way.

Finally she stood, and went to the bridge to Apparate to her parents' house. It was the only place in the world she had to go.

She went straight to her room. She had been here this last week cleaning the house. She knew that when this day came she would be coming here. She lay down on the bed, willing herself not to cry, but force of will did not stop the tears, that became sobs, from coming. She wondered if in time she would come to believe the lie she had screamed at him before she slammed the door.