A/N: Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews of the first chapter, and for your delightful enthusiasm at the return of Denial. It really is a pleasure to be back, and your kindness has warmed my heart. Hello, too, to my first-time readers. If you haven't already left a review, please do – they are a balm to my writer's soul, and every single one of them gives me a flutter of joy.

As I said before, the story and the characters will not change in any way from the first draft of Denial. It is mainly my writing that will be improved, I hope, in spots. Either way, I hope you enjoy what is to come. LB x

ssSss

That is no country for old men. The young

In one another's arms, birds in the trees,

- Those dying generations – at their song,

The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,

Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long

Whatever is begotten, born and dies.

Caught in that sensual music all neglect

Monuments of unageing intellect.

W. B. Yeats, Sailing to Byzantium

ssSss

Severus Snape surveyed what was to be his office for the six long, tedious weeks to come. He ran his slender fingers across the surface of his mahogany desk: it was a handsome piece of furniture, inlaid with green leather to match the sizable chair in which he sat. The walls of the room were oak-panelled, with the exception of the wall to his right, which was home to an extensive collection of books on Wizarding Law. The air was rich with the scent of paper and ink and leather.

The room was to his satisfaction; the task that lay before him was not. He turned his attention to the sheet of parchment in his hand. There were only sixteen names on his list. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth: He was lucky; his forerunners had had much longerlists than this.

The owl he'd received from the Ministry of Magic five days earlier had requested his execution of the post of Marriage Liaison Officer. Each July, scores of witches and wizards completed their full-time education and became subject to the new Marriage Act. Accordingly, a Liaison Officer was appointed at that time each year to aid in the proper, legal fulfilment of all offers, declines and acceptances of marriage among the still-single graduates.

As an ex-teacher and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, someone at the ministry had assumed he'd be familiar with many of the young adults. He'd been considered an obvious choice for the position. Now, glancing through the list of graduates, Severus could see it was true: he'd taught every single one of them. Five had been in Slytherin. His smirk faltered: six of his new charges had been Gryffindors. Two of them in particular gave him good reason to clench his jaw. Still, he counted himself fortunate: Minerva McGonagall had acted as Liaison the previous summer when the list had totalled over thirty. Thirty! He shuddered at the thought.

It was almost ten o'clock. His ex-pupils were due for an orientation seminar with the head of the Department of Births and Marriages, after which, one by one, they were scheduled to meet him for a discussion about their marriage prospects. A perusal of the schedule on his desk confirmed Neville Longbottom to be the first appointment of the day. He'd no doubt the boy would be late.

Moving to the window, Severus glanced at the street below. The prestigious Belgrave Square premises were owned by the Department of Magical Law and had been home to the Marriage Liaison Offices since the inception of the Marriage Act. Severus watched as two familiar faces approached the building and ascended the steps: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. At least the Slytherins were punctual.

With a swish of his black robes, he returned to his desk and glared at the list of candidates. Neville Longbottom would be painful enough, but there was one name that made him grind his teeth. Her. It was going to be a long, tedious summer.

ssSss

Hermione smiled as she spotted her approaching friend through the steamy window of the café. Padma Patil looked prettier than ever, her long mane of lustrous, black hair streaming behind her as she negotiated the traffic in the busy street. She spotted Hermione sitting by the window and waved.

Hermione had barely known Padma at Hogwarts. She'd been disappointed to find out that Padma, too, had been accepted to the Sorbonne. Padma had chosen to pursue a degree in Charms and Transfiguration, so they'd shared many classes. At first, they'd been wary of one another: Hermione had assumed Padma might be every bit as frivolous as her twin sister, while Padma, still smarting from Ron's treatment of her at the Yule Ball, had been reluctant to befriend anyone who'd spent seven years in the constant company of Ronald Weasley. But before the end of the first term, they'd become close friends. During their third and fourth years they'd even shared a flat.

Motioning to the waitress, Hermione ordered tea and toast for two while Padma shrugged out of her light summer jacket and took the seat opposite.

"Your hair's lovely!" Padma exclaimed, breathless after her walk. "You've used Sleekeazy's or something."

Hermione nodded. "Sleekeazy's. It's a life-saver. They may take my wand, but they'll never take my Sleekeazy's. Anyway," she said, eyeing the darker girl, "I don't look nearly as good as you … I'm impressed with the makeup."

"I've been up since five o'clock this morning, wondering what to wear and trying to transfigure my eye-shadow into a colour that matches this blouse." Padma frowned. "I couldn't sleep last night. Big day today … meeting our future husbands."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I went for a drink with Ginny last night. She said there's only going to be sixteen of us at Belgrave this year. That means eight guys to choose from. At least you could marry a Muggle if you hate them all. If I don't go for a pure-blood or a half-blood, I'm going to have to run away. I'm damned if the Ministry is going to force some random old widower on me." She sighed. "Let's talk about something else: Tell me about your trip to Dublin."

The waitress brought their tray, and Hermione poured the tea.

"Parvati looks absolutely fantastic," Padma said as she buttered a slice of toast. "I can't believe she only gave birth five weeks ago. I hope it's genetic … I'd love to be able to get my figure back that quickly when the time comes. The baby's adorable. I was afraid he'd look like Seamus," she said, grinning, "but he's like my dad – big mop of dark hair and sallow skin. They've called him Aidan, after Seamus's father."

Hermione nibbled her toast. She'd little experience of babies. "How's she finding it? Being at home must be a big change after working in wizarding fashion."

Padma shrugged. "So far, so good. They both seem really happy, to be honest. I've never seen either of them smile so much. Aidan is such a gorgeous little thing … I didn't want to leave."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Clucky, Miss Patil?"

Padma laughed. "A bit, I suppose. Maybe you should go and visit them … Seeing them so happy together has definitely made me more hopeful about this whole marriage thing." She sipped at her tea before asking, "Have you heard from anyone in Paris?"

"I had an owl from Sophie last week; she's going to take that job in the Apothecary near Tuilleries. Marie-Anne wrote three days ago to say that she's totally miserable at her parent's house in Marseille. She's just found out that her ex is engaged, and, well … that's about it, really," she finished, blushing. She'd had one other letter, but she wasn't sure Padma wanted to hear about it.

Padma smiled. "You were never much of a liar, Hermione. You've had a letter from Philippe, haven't you?"

Hermione looked apologetic. "Yesterday. He said he misses you."

Padma gave a sad sigh. Hermione felt a throb of sympathy for her: she'd been seeing a handsome Belgian wizard for two years, but they'd broken up a few months before graduation. She reached out a patted her on the arm.

"I'm okay, Hermione. Honest."

"Are you sure you made the right decision? He would have married you if you'd stayed in Paris. I know he would."

Padma shook her head. "It had run its course. We were too different in the end, I think. It's strange," she added, cocking her head to one side. "I just didn't feel like I wanted to settle down when I was with Philippe. I shared a bed with him; I shared two whole years with him. I couldn't picture myself staying with someone I was intimate with, but here I am, willing to abide by the law and enter into an arranged marriage with a man I don't know yet. Doesn't that seem strange?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "But this whole situation is strange. It didn't really hit me until I got my summons from the Ministry. We could pretend none of it was real while we were at the Sorbonne, but reality caught up with us in the end. Just think: we could be married within six weeks …"

They fell silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts until Hermione said, "If this doesn't work out, I'm going abroad again."

Padma grunted. "Not much point: mainland Europe is on the verge of introducing their own Marriage Act."

"But birth rates are looking much better in the States," Hermione said. "I might try my luck over there."

Padma put down her cup. "Hermione, you can't keep running away. And this will never work out if you make some half-hearted effort at it. Either we commit ourselves to this and live in Britain, or we leave now, this morning. I'll come to the States with you. But we either throw ourselves into this one-hundred per cent, or we leave. Which is it?"

"Are you serious? You'd really be prepared to leave England for good?"

Padma nodded. "Completely serious. After seeing Parvati and Seamus so happy, I'm prepared to just get married and give it my all. But if my best friend can't face it, I'm also prepared to start a new life in America. Your choice."

Hermione chewed her lower lip and looked out at the busy street. She'd missed home so much over the last few years. Would she really be prepared to leave all over again? She tried to imagine herself with a nameless, faceless husband, engaging in the wizarding society she'd been so thrilled to discover when she was eleven years old. There were good jobs here … friends here … people she loved. It might be quite an adventure, really. Maybe marriage would be every bit as exciting as a new life in America. She returned her gaze to Padma and grinned.

"Let's do it," she said. "Let's stay and get married!" She put out her hand, and they shook on it. She glanced at her watch and gasped.

"We're supposed to be there in ten minutes." She was suddenly nervous. "How's my hair? Is this top alright?"

Padma chuckled. "You look really nice. Come on, let's go."

ssSss

When they reached the Belgrave offices, they found Neville Longbottom loitering at the top of the steps. He beamed when he saw them.

"Neville!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around him. "I haven't seen you for ages. You look well."

They pulled apart and regarded each other affectionately. "You look well, too, Hermione," he replied, turning to shake Padma's hand.

"We should go up," said Hermione with another glance at her watch. "The introductory meeting's on the fifth floor, so we can talk as we climb." They pushed open the heavy wooden door and made for the staircase. "How have you been, Neville?"

Neville shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. I only finished my course a week ago, and I was offered a job yesterday."

Hermione smiled at him. "That's brilliant, Neville! What sort of job?"

"Professor Sprout's taken me on as her apprentice. She's retiring two years from now, so I'll take over as Professor of Herbology when she leaves."

Hermione and Padma gaped. "Congratulations, Neville! That's incredible; you must be thrilled," said Padma.

Hermione gave Neville a wink. "I think Neville's marriage prospects just went through the roof," she said. Neville's cheeks turned red.

The other marriage candidates were already waiting when they arrived. At the top of the room stood a small, raised dais, on which two women sat. The first Hermione recognised as Hestia Jones, whom she knew from the Order of the Phoenix. The second was Minerva McGonagall, who gave them a brief smile, followed by a frown as she gestured at her watch.

They took the nearest seats. With a wave of her wand, Hestia closed the door with a thud, and silence fell.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," she began, smiling. "I'm Hestia Jones, and I'm in charge of Marriage LawEnforcement. I'd like to thank you all for coming voluntarily. It's a pleasure to have you all attend of your own free will, rather than have us come and force you to attend under threat of imprisonment." A nervous laugh ran through her audience.

"You'll notice that numbers are uncommonly small this year, and that there are no candidates below the age of nineteen. This is largely due to the increased uptake of third level courses, and the unusually high number of Hogwarts graduates who were already betrothed upon the completion of their NEWTs."

Hermione glanced quickly around the room and saw a few of her former classmates, including Dean Thomas. She gave him a discreet wave.

"Each year," Hestia continued, "we run pre-marriage courses. Not only do these prepare you for married life, they also give you the opportunity to socialise with one another, aiding in your search for a husband or wife."

Hermione and Padma exchanged a furtive look.

"We'd like you to treat Belgrave House as your base for the next six weeks. There's a comfortable common room on the second floor, which will be open to you from eight in the morning until ten in the evening. There you'll find a small library and a continuous supply of refreshments. You're not under any obligation to spend your days there, but it's an excellent place in which to get to know your fellow candidates."

Hermione scrutinised the heads in the rows in front of her. She was almost certain one of them was Susan Bones, in front of whom she was surprised to spot the unmistakable blond hair of Draco Malfoy.

Hestia continued, "I trust most of you are familiar with how the new marriage system works. Later today you'll have your scheduled appointments with the Marriage Liaison Officer. Thereafter, you'll have weekly meetings with your Liaison to discuss your progress and to go through the details of any offers you wish to make or to accept. No matter how well acquainted you may be with your prospective partner, you must go through the formal ritual of offering and accepting marriage proposals, which will be done through the Liaison Officer."

Hermione assumed Minerva McGonagall was to act as Liaison. She knew the Hogwart's Headmistress had done it twice since the introduction of the Marriage Act.

"Your attendance is also required each day for a two-hour class. Due to the small numbers involved this year, you'll attend classes as a mixed group, with the exception of your class on Thursdays, when you'll be gender-segregated for Male and Female Health classes. Classes will take place at ten in the morning, most of these in the conference room. Monday's class will be Family Law; Tuesdays you will have Magical Cookery classes, to take place in the basement kitchen."

Hermione couldn't help the exclamation of disgust that escaped her. Cookery? She clapped a hand over her own mouth as every head in the room turned to stare at her.

Hestia raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem with that, Miss Granger?"

Hermione, completely scarlet, shook her head and tried to disappear into her chair. To her surprise, Draco Malfoy chuckled.

Hestia gave him an amused look. "Attendance is compulsory for both sexes, Mr. Malfoy. In addition to this, you'll have classes in Domestic Magic on Wednesdays; Male and Female Health on Thursdays; and Pre-marriage Counselling on Fridays. Attendance at the Pre-marriage Counselling is only compulsory until you have formally arranged your marriage, at which time you'll be offered a session of private counselling with your prospective spouse. I'll be available over the next six weeks if you wish to speak to me, and your Liaison Officer will be available to you on a daily basis. If you haven't completed your marriage arrangements by the time the six week period has elapsed, we at the Ministry of Magic reserve the right to either choose a spouse for you, or to confiscate your wand. We'll proceed momentarily to a reception in the common room. Before we depart, I'd like to hand you over to Professor McGonagall."

Minerva McGonagall rose from her chair and peered over her glasses at her former students. "I wanted to attend this morning to congratulate all of you on the completion of your studies. Many of you have attained the highest of qualifications. Not only will you have to find spouses this summer; many of you will also be seeking employment. I'd like you to know that I will remain at Hogwarts for the summer should you wish to contact me for any reason."

To Hermione's surprise, Padma's hand shot into the air. "Professor McGonagall, sorry for interrupting, but I presumed you were to be our Liaison Officer. If you're at Hogwarts, who's our Liaison?"

A small smile lifted the corner of McGonagall's mouth. "I'm sure you'll all be delighted to know that your Liaison for this year is to be your former professor, Severus Snape."

Hermione's mouth fell open. She turned to Padma and Neville, whose eyes were wide with shock. There was a sudden urgent mumbling around the room.

Hestia Jones rose from her seat. "Ladies and Gentlemen, might I suggest we retire to the common room?"

ssSss

Hermione was enchanted by the common room. It was beautifully furnished, with velvet drapes, gleaming coffee tables and an abundance of plush armchairs; but what she liked most was the well-stocked bookshelves at one end of the room. They'd been at the reception for almost an hour when she finally managed to detach herself from the others in order to examine the small library.

She made her way to the bookshelves and then looked back at the crowd: she knew practically all the candidates. Many of them had been her classmates: Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini in addition to Draco and Dean. There was a tall, lanky guy she was certain had been in her year, but whose name she couldn't recall. Katie Bell, who'd been a year above, was there too, and although she recognised the remainder of the candidates, they'd all been a year or two below her.

She moved her gaze to the shelves and ran her finger along the spines of the leather-bound books. There were many she hadn't read, including a host of Muggle literature. She could picture herself curled up in an armchair in the handsome room, reading for hours. She opened a book of poetry, but was interrupted only seconds later by Draco Malfoy. As he casually flung himself into the nearest armchair, she felt her muscles instinctively stiffen in defence.

"Hello, Granger," he said, a wolfish grin on his face.

Hermione nodded without smiling. "Malfoy," she replied.

He laughed. "Oh come on, Granger. You can do better than that. Can't we let bygones be bygones?"

Hermione took the armchair opposite him and tried to read his expression. "Are you having me on, Malfoy?"

He raised a blond eyebrow. "I'm just being friendly. You know – looking for a wife and all that."

Hermione snorted. "Well, I don't think you're going to find one at this end of the room, Draco."

Draco smirked. "Draco now, is it? You see? You like me better already."

Hermione laughed. "You're such a bloody Slytherin." She examined him, wondering what he was up to. "You seem to have developed a sense of humour, though."

He shrugged. "I always had a sense of humour, Granger. You just never knew it. Seriously, though, if you forgive me for all the times I called you a Mudblood, I'll forgive you for the time you punched me in the face."

"You deserved to be punched in the face. What about the time you hexed my teeth?"

"What about the time your best friend sliced my chest open in the girls' bathroom?" he countered.

"What about the time he saved your goddamn ass in the Room of Requirement?"

"What about the time my mother saved his goddamn ass in the Forbidden Forest?"

Hermione sniggered. "I think that's the end of my list."

"Mine too. Truce?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Truce," she agreed, taking his hand. It was slightly surreal.

"So what do you reckon, Granger? You and me; pure-blood and Muggle-born. Will you marry me?"

She laughed. "I don't think we're suited, Draco. Besides, I think your parents would disown you."

He shrugged. "They've changed. You'd be surprised." He let his gaze wander to the candidates at the other end of the room. "Your friend Padma's pretty hot. Damn shame she's a pure-blood."

Hermione watched Padma flirt with Dean. "She's too good for you anyway."

Draco pouted. "I thought we were letting bygones be bygones?"

"We are," she replied. "I'm just speaking the truth."

Draco watched Padma for a moment and said, "Well then, Granger; who should I go for?"

Hermione looked at the group. She knew Pansy Parkinson was a pure-blood, as was Demelza Robins. "I'm not sure about Katie Bell, but I know Susan's a half-blood and Hannah's a Muggle-born. I presume that younger Slytherin girl, Laura, is a pure-blood?"

"Great," Draco said, grimacing. "Now that you've spurned my advances, Granger, I've only got three to choose from." He returned his gaze to Hermione. "What about you? Want me to set you up with Blaise?"

Hermione choked on the tea she'd been drinking. "No, thank you. I don't think he's my type. And I've nearly as little choice as you, Malfoy: Dean, Terry Boot and Denis Creevey are all Muggle-borns, so they're out of the question."

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the animated group of people interact with one another. Hermione smiled as Neville left McGonagall's side and walked towards them, looking worried.

"I've got to go up and see Snape now," he mumbled, ignoring Draco's presence. "Why did it have to be him, of all people?"

"He's not so bad, Longbottom, once you get to know him," Draco said, looking amused. "His bark's worse than his bite."

"Snape hates me," Neville said sullenly, running his fingers through his thinning hair. "I'm late; I'd better go up."

"Good luck, Neville," said Hermione, patting him on the arm. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

Neville nodded and made for the door, looking like a man condemned.

ssSss

An hour and a half later, Hermione climbed the stairs for her own appointment with her former Potions Professor. She hadn't seen him since the Christmas after the war, when she'd paid him a visit in St. Mungo's. They hadn't parted on good terms, and she hadn't seen him again. She didn't want to see him. Her hands shook with nerves as she climbed the stairs to his office.

When she reached it, she took a deep, steadying breath and rapped her knuckles on the oaken door. The unpleasantly familiar voice bade her enter, and she turned the knob, feeling like a terrified first-year all over again.

He was sitting behind a vast desk. Her first thought was how much better he looked than when she'd last seen him, better even, than he'd looked while she'd been at Hogwarts: he was not as pallid, not as thin and his hair was not so lank as it had been during her schooldays.

"Sit, Miss Granger," he growled without raising his gaze, continuing to scribble on a lengthy scroll of parchment.

Hermione approached the desk and sat on the chair that faced his own, folding her hands self-consciously in her lap. She didn't know what to feel as she took in the sight of the familiar scowl, the dark head and the defensive posture. Certainly not the instinctive dislike she'd felt as his student; more of a confused mixture of curiosity, fear and even, perhaps, pity. She could never think of him without remembering all that Harry had seen when he'd watched Snape's memories in the Pensieve on the night of the final battle.

She coloured brilliantly as he raised his eyes and caught her watching him.

"So, Miss Granger," he sneered. "Let us glance through your curriculum vitae and consider what your marriage prospects might be." He picked up a scroll. "Well, well, well: A double-honours degree from the Sorbonne in Charms and Potions. Whoever would have thought it? I never found you'd any sort of flair for my subject, Miss Granger, or is the mere regurgitation of information enough to secure one's degree these days?"

Hermione tried not to let him see the shock she felt. "You're no longer my Professor, Mister Snape," she said as calmly as she could. "So I'd appreciate if you treated me like an adult and dropped your classroom bullying tactics."

His eyes narrowed, and Hermione bravely held his stare until he returned his scrutiny to the sheet in front of him. Feeling as though she had won some sort of unspoken battle, she willed her thumping heart to slow.

"Have you found employment?" he inquired a moment later.

"Not yet," she replied, and then added, "sir," in the hope of regaining some civility. "I've applied for two positions: one as a Potioneer in St. Mungo's, the other as an assistant to a private Potion Maker in London."

He sniggered. "Yes, Miss Granger. I received your application three days ago. I was rather amused."

Hermione's jaw fell open in surprise. "You're the … I mean, you're …" she stammered.

"Why so surprised, Miss Granger? Did you think I'd been completely idle since retiring from Hogwarts?"

Hermione felt her cheeks colour again. "Well," she mumbled, "I'd heard …" she stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

"Heard what, Miss Granger? That I was permanently incapacitated? That I was a kept man?"

She shrugged, embarrassed at the turn the conversation had taken and disappointed that one of her job applications was now null and void.

She watched as he took up his quill, hand poised above a blank sheet of parchment. "I must ask, Miss Granger, are there any of the candidates to whom you feel you could not be wed?"

"Well, I can't consider any of the other Muggle-borns," she began.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out," he snapped. "I think you'll find I'm not nearly as intellectually challenged as your friends, Miss Granger. There's no need to state the obvious."

Hermione ground her teeth together. "I'm making an effort to remain civil," she hissed. "I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same."

They glared at one another, and Hermione thought she could actually see the tension shimmering in the air.

"With the exception of Neville, I don't know the remaining candidates well enough to judge whether or not they're suitable," she explained through still-gritted teeth. "So I'm not in a position to eliminate any of them."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he responded, his voice laced with sarcasm. "As I have a copy of your curriculum vitae, that's all I require of you today. Your next appointment will be at noon on Tuesday. You may leave."

Quivering with anger, Hermione rose from her seat and strode to the door. He spoke again just as she reached for the doorknob.

"By the way, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "I'm afraid I won't be considering you for the position of Potions Assistant."

"That's fine by me," she retorted, opening the door. "I'd rather work for a mountain troll than work for you. And you might be a little more grateful, seeing as I saved your goddamn life."

She slammed the door as hard as she could behind her. Maybe she should have gone to America. Anything would be better than having to face that bad-tempered, bitter man every week.

ssSss

Severus winced as Hermione slammed the door behind her, then he closed his eyes and put a hand to his aching temple. He already regretted his behaviour. He'd even been polite to Neville Longbottom that morning.

Cursing himself for his lack of control, he poured a brandy from the decanter on the desk. Why had Hermione Granger always irked him so? He wished it had been anyone but she who had saved his life.