A/N: Sorry that I'm posting this a little late. It's shorter than previous chapters, but I needed to make it this length for pacing. If I hadn't cut it short, it would've ended up being about 7000 words... Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I will post the wedding on Christmas. Thank you all so much!
The next few days were filled to the brim with planning and preparation. Mrs. Weasley, along with Tonks and Angelina, helped by creating the menu: a simple lunch that included three different types of sandwiches, lemonade, and tea. Ginny and I went out shopping again to find her dress. We ended up choosing a dress that was a pale green with a floral print along the hem of the skirt. It had thin straps and a natural waist. It was a good escape from everything going on back at Grimmauld Place.
So Tuesday was spent shopping with Ginny again. Wednesday was spent putting together decorations and figuring out where at Hogwart's it would happen. That warranted an interesting discussion of sorts between Snape and me.
"There isn't enough room in your office for everyone," I told him, shooting down his suggestion.
He glared at me. "Well that wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't invited so many people."
"Twenty people hardly constitute a lot of people."
He glared at me. I bit my lip. Respect. That's why I chose him. Find something right now I can respect him for.
"Thank you for letting me have a proper wedding," I muttered, not looking at him.
There was a pause. "You're welcome," he told me gently. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak without ice in his voice. There was another pause. I looked up at him and found his eyes looking over me in consideration. "We can have it in the Professors' Courtyard. It's in full bloom right now, and it's just big enough to accommodate the amount of guests—" His mouth turned up in a sneer.
"Thank you," I told him quickly, not wanting to warrant his anger, and returned to the living room to continue work on the decorations. It was the first time we had been somewhat civil to each other. I rather hoped that it would last.
Thursday was spent shopping again at Diagon Alley for books and supplies I needed for my apprenticeship and deciding what kind of food to make. That left Friday to pack everything.
I knew that I didn't have a lot of time to pack everything. It had been decided the previous night that all my stuff would be moved tonight so that it would be one less thing to worry about on Saturday. That only left me a few hours to clean out the dresser, the closet, and the bookcases. It'll be alright, I told myself halfheartedly. It'll give you just enough time alone to process things. I scoffed at the idea. How did you fully process something of this magnitude? Hell, part of me was still in shock, and—I gulped compulsively—the wedding was tomorrow afternoon. I walked over to the dresser and began to pull clothes from the topmost drawers.
I found my mind wandering, mulling over things while I, with utmost organization, placed everything in my trunk. Tomorrow I would be a married woman. A shiver went down my spine at the idea. What would it be like? There was only one other couple that was married at our age—it had been forced like mine—but I had never bothered to keep in touch with them. I mean, it was Draco Malfoy for crying out loud. I didn't want anything to do with that man. Now I found myself wishing that I had, at the very least, kept in touch with his wife, Susan Bones. I thought back, trying to remember when they had gotten married. They were one of the first couples that came from the Law—four months? Maybe five.I wondered how their particular relationship had developed. Had Draco ever gotten off his high horse? Or did Susan just let him dominate the relationship? My hands methodically emptied the dresser. I moved on to the closet, pulling out dresses and cloaks and robes and shoes.
I could see how their relationship could eventually be something pretty functional. They could probably even grow to be content with each other. But to get there, there had to be some pretty big compromises on both sides. Draco would need to learn how to appreciate Susan for her strengths—and get over the idea that muggleborns were simply dirt beneath his feet. But Susan couldn't be mean and isolated back. That would only feed his idea about muggleborns. I paused my packing for a moment. Huh. Maybe… I packed the last dress then sighed in frustration. I was out of room in my trunk, and I hadn't even gotten to the bookcases yet.
I grabbed my wand off the top of the dresser. I flicked it towards the trunk and smiled in satisfaction when I saw the clothes drop a foot lower. Just like that purse so long ago. I looked at the bookcases standing next to each other, facing the door to the hall. The books were already organized by subject matter and then alphabetized within that by author; all I needed to do was transfer each group of books into the trunk so that they wouldn't get mixed together. With another flick of my wand, I moved the trunk closer to the bookcases. I started with the generic books of spells from my time at Hogwart's. I placed each book in the trunk, making sure it was facing the right direction so that unpacking would be an expedient process the following day.
I returned to my previous line of thinking. Draco was much less tainted than Severus, though both arms were irrevocably marked the same. I knew, logically, that Susan treating Draco as a monster—like the Death Eater he once was—would only push Draco further into isolation and hatred. So, logically, if I were to do the same with Severus, he would only retract further, treating me each time as more of a stranger. I had no hope of one day seeing the Severus that lay behind all the defenses if I continued to be cold and bereft with him.
I reminded myself of why I had chosen him above Seamus. It wasn't because it would be an easier marriage. Hell, I had just signed myself into one hell of a roller coaster ride for the rest of my life. No, it hadn't been because it would be easy. It had been because, at the end of the day, I would be way more proud of Severus than Seamus. It was easier to appreciate Severus because of his sacrifices. Appreciation was good. That's where I would focus myself within the relationship. Even if he never appreciated me, I would do my best to make sure he knew that I appreciated him.
Absentmindedly, I reached for the last book of the first bookcase and found that it was being handed to me. I jumped slightly. "You never used to be so unobservant." His voice had returned to that detached iciness.
I chanced a glance up at him as I took the book from his hand. "Most people knock," I told him quietly. He didn't say anything but did grab the first book on the second bookshelf. "Thank you," I murmured.
He remained silent. I chewed the inside of my cheek in anxiety. Appreciation. Respect.
Damn it. How the hell was I actually going to do this? Maybe I would write Susan a letter. Ask her how everything was going. Maybe I could talk to her about how she deals with someone that's seen and done things I can't even imagine. Or rather, chose not to imagine. I had been victim of some of the atrocities.
Without thinking, I touched my left forearm. "Why do you always do that?" He asked me critically.
I immediately withdrew my hand, grabbing the book in his hand. I didn't offer him an answer.
"You never did it while at Hogwart's," he pointed out. Great. This is not the thing I wanted to discuss before I was even married to him. He might be comfortable showing his scar, but I definitely was not comfortable showing—or discussing—mine. Some wounds took longer to heal than others. Even though the physical wound and healed and scarred over nearly eighteen months before, the emotional and mental wounds remain fairly raw. I could remember the instant as if it had just happened. "What happened?"
I bit my lip. There were just some things you didn't tell someone you were still trying to impress. "Nothing against you, but I'm really not comfortable discussing it." I made sure my voice didn't harden.
That didn't stop his eyes from hardening. I could practically feel him recoil back behind his defensive walls. Son of a bitch.
"Sorry," I muttered, hastily placing the last few books into the trunk before closing it. I stood up, flicking my wand, making the trunk levitate behind me. I moved it into the hallway before setting it back down on the ground.
"You are willing to marry me, and yet you are not willing to explain why you don't wear short sleeves anymore," his accusation was filled with bitterness.
I turned around to face him. He had stood up and was adjusting his own sleeves. "It's no different than why you wear long sleeves," I told him honestly. He looked up from his hand that was playing with the cuff of his left sleeve. His eyes were still hard, brittle, and the deepest black.
"You are ashamed of what's there?" He asked.
I nodded. "Well, yeah. It's not like I chose for it to be put there." I walked towards him. "I haven't gotten to the point where I'm willing to let people see." I looked into his blacker than black eyes. "Not even Ron, Harry, or Ginny has seen it. Some things you hide in hopes that the wounds will heal."
I watched his eyes slowly thaw out in front of me. "I can understand that," he offered. "I'm…" he paused. "I won't push it anymore."
I nodded, shuffling uneasily. I suddenly felt very awkward. He cleared his throat. "I'll take your trunk tonight." Again, it was as if I could physically feel him pulling himself just enough to the side of his walls that I could see him. Just a little. "Did you leave enough clothes for tomorrow?" His question surprised me. In fact, I hadn't. Damn it.
"I can borrow some of Ginny's while I get ready," I answered. My eyes fixed themselves on his hands. Tomorrow, there would be a ring there. How strange. My thoughts wandered, trying to find something to think about other than the anxiety eating through my stomach. They fixated on the sudden kindness. "Why are you suddenly being so kind?" The question was asked before I could command my mouth to be silent. Shit.
He withdrew again, but his eyes didn't harden. He sighed, playing again with the cuffs of his sleeves. Maybe it was a nervous habit of his. "I've been thinking of what you told me when I asked why you had chosen me. Of all the men I know offered themselves for you, why the hell would you choose me? And you said it was because of respect." He paused. "There are things that I truly regret. I fucked up the first chance I was given. I don't want this one to be fucked, too."
His honesty surprised me. I had no response. "Oh," I managed to stammer.
He sneered at me. "Old habits die hard, though. Don't test me." His warning sent a chill through my bones. He pulled out his wand, flicking it towards my trunk. It rose of the ground. Without another word, he left my room, the trunk following behind him like an obedient pet.
"Thank you, Severus," I called after him. There, of course, was no reply.
I looked out at the empty hallway for a moment before turning off the light, shutting the door quietly and opening the window in expectation of Pumpkin's nightly arrival. With easy steps I walked to my bed, deftly taking off my bra and falling into the familiar softness. Tomorrow I would be married to a man that was nothing like me. I thought over the unexpected conversation. He had tried to be open. I had tried to be considerate, appreciative. It would take a lot of work; a lot of tearing down walls and learning how to be open. It would take learning how to be vulnerable with him. I knew he would need to learn all this, too. I didn't know if he would. I thought again of what he told me. He didn't want to fuck this up. He'd already done that with someone else.
For a moment I tried to figure out who he was talking about. I couldn't come up with a name, so I moved on. He didn't want to fuck this up like he had done before. Maybe that meant he would be more willing to change, to figure out how to make a marriage work. He had certainly tried to be civil tonight. I imagined how strange it must have felt for him, being considerate to me when all I did was irritate him.
Maybe. Maybe there was a possibility that this marriage could work. Maybe…maybe there was even a chance that we could learn to be happy.
And maybe, someday, we could even learn to be in love.
With that as my final thought, I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke to find the window displaying the colors that came at the beginning of a sunrise. It was the fourteenth of July. In approximately seven hours, I would be a married woman. I took a deep breath. A knock sounded on my door. Here we go, I thought.
