Thank you so much for the reviews, favs and follows! I did write something on the wip I was was supposed to working on. Erm, then splurged out this. *shifty eyes*
I've had trouble writing for a full year, so even as I make no money from this, it's got my words flowing again. *Hugs a certain Professor. Very warily...*
"Repeat the spell." Professor McGonagall's order was short and hard. She pulled the letter from Hermione's numb fingers and let it fall to the floor. The older woman tapped her knuckles, a spark of magic pricking Hermione's skin. "Again, girl."
Hermione shook her head, trying to find her focus. "Of course. Yes." She'd done something wrong. Missed a loop. Added one. Had she given an extra flick at the end? That had to be it. There was no way in earth or sky that Severus Snape was her heart's desire. No way.
She was half aware of the Professor giving her room as she drew in slow breaths and found her calm. The memory of McGonagall's wand movements, the repetition of her own flowed through her thoughts. She had them now. This time would be right.
The spell formed clearly and magic spun out from her wand in familiar golden wreathes. But the letters didn't dance. Instead the open tender snapped up in the air as if pulled on a string and wrapped itself around Hermione's wand.
"No, this is completely wrong," McGonagall muttered. "Impossible." Her lips pinched together before she rapped, "Again."
Hermione unravelled the parchment and dropped it. It drifted to the carpet, whispers of magic still clinging to it. Third time lucky. No, not lucky. Third time right. She lifted her wand to reach the height of the first loop and the letter shot up, spinning around the raised wand.
McGonagall swore, something harsh in Gaelic. She rubbed her fingers against her temples. "Open the others. This has to be a mistake."
Hermione uncurled the letter from her wand, fighting its reluctance, gathered the others to her with a flick and sank into a chair. How was her day spinning so wildly out of her control? Snape's tender folded itself up with quick crinkles and slipped into her cardigan pocket. She left it there where it could do no harm, and turned to the rest.
The sweet compulsion was no longer dragging at her. She paused over opening the first seal. Did the simple act of opening one drive it away? Because she hadn't made her choice. She hadn't. The Headmaster was not the man she wanted to marry.
She winced. Marry. She couldn't find the soppy joy that had held Harry. Not one bit of it.
Her thumb broke the seal. Charlie Weasley. She groaned. As if she could marry Ron's brother. The thought that Ron was in the pile resting on her lap tightened her stomach. Was he her choice? Could they work around the bitterness he held for her one action? Saving Professor Snape. She snorted. Hell, if Ron had come with her to this meeting he'd claim she'd been saving Snape for herself.
What did the summer say for their future? Would she have to tip-toe around him to avoid bruising his ego? Would any success she found be met with a prolonged sulk? Or was it simply the aftermath of the war? Yes, they'd fought, on and off, since they'd first met, but he was her friend. She did love him. Yet, was it enough to bind herself to him for the next one hundred and fifty years?
The length of time ran a shiver over her skin. She could hardly imagine living with herself for that long. A wry smile tugged at her mouth. Enough. She had more letters to open.
George Weasley. Was it little wonder that Molly had visited half a dozen owls on her? She had to know her sons had been deemed compatible and Molly would most definitely have something to say on the matter.
Four wizards followed whom she didn't know. She handed their tenders to her Head of House and the older woman murmured something about students who'd graduated ten years ahead of her.
Percy Weasley. Merlin's green apples they wanted her in that family! McGonagall met her gaze and she couldn't help the short laugh that escaped her as she passed over that tender. "So many Weasleys to choose from."
"Indeed."
Cormac McLaggan. No. She thrust the letter at her Professor. No. What was magic thinking? Anthony Goldstein followed and three wizards that McGonagall seemed to know from her time as a pupil at Hogwarts. At least Professor Snape was under seventy...
She thumbed through the final seven. Ron had to be in there somewhere. Terry Boot and Michael Corner. Dean Thomas. Three more who McGonagall said were aurors…which left her with one. Taking a breath, she opened it, knowing it was Ron and that her supposed heart's desire had chosen someone else.
Neville Longbottom.
Hermione blinked. No Ron. She stared at the rolling script, picking out the peeks and loops of Neville's name. Magic had chosen twenty men for her…and not one of them was the one with whom she had planned to spend her life. Her hand trembled as she handed over the last tender. Had this awful law saved her from a grave mistake?
"There is a Weasley missing."
"There is," Hermione murmured. "And it's probably for the best."
McGonagall sank back into the padded softness of her wingback chair and stared at the parchments she held. "Is there anyone here you would be happy with?"
Hermione sighed. "I have no idea who ten of them are. The three Weasleys are out, naturally. The others? I grew up with them, Professor. Some are like brothers, at least one I can't stand. Two of them. Maybe? Perhaps? And even then…they grew up with me too."
Hermione didn't want to admit how hard it had been for her to make friends. Then to face the fact that she was not what most boys –men— wanted in a girl. She was not pretty and willing to smile and listen to quidditch minutiae for hours on end. She preferred books, and strangely enough magic, to hoops and balls and brooms. Even Ravenclaw boys fell into the quidditch trap.
"And then there's Severus."
"Yes." Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth. "I need to know what the law says. Exactly. Damn Kingsley." That information would have to wait. She had to gather what knowledge she could now. She looked to her professor. "You…hinted at something earlier. About the Headmaster." She had to know more about Severus Snape. He was her alternative to two of Ginny Weasley's castoffs. "I know I shouldn't ask, but this has forced me."
"Severus Snape is not a good choice. Not for a young girl. He…" McGonagall shook her head. "I shouldn't judge, after all the boy suffered for decades. More than that. All of his life. It's simply difficult to equate the dour, bitter man with... It's as if I've never known him." Her pale cheeks reddened and her straight gaze dropped. "Well… He then removed himself from the castle. That was six weeks ago."
Hermione stared at the older woman. Had the professor caught the Headmaster with someone? Her stomach tightened unexpectedly and she frowned. How could magic make a tender for him if he was already involved? "It's…it's serious?" Her frown deepened at the sudden tremor in her voice.
McGonagall snorted. "I think not. On the three occasions I…" She paused. "Of course, it could have been a friend wearing differing glamours."
Three? Hermione's hands hurt. She stared. Her fingers had fixed into a tight, bloodless knot in her lap. She flexed them, willing away the tension and pain. It was none of her business. She had saved him. He deserved a life after everything he'd suffered for the wizarding world. The sour twist in her belly was, perhaps, disappointment that Professor Snape was just a man, after all. One with an unexpected appetite.
Her heart tightened. He'd only been out of hospital for a week and had furnished himself with three lovers. She would be the last thing he wanted. Tied to her forever, as there was no such thing as divorce. It was a forced marriage. Would they have to seek out their own arrangements? Would he, simply to stay satisfied? After all, as a bushy-haired, know-it-all book worm, she had practically no experience and very little interest in sex.
Was that her heart's desire? A marriage in name only? Severus Snape would certainly give her that.
The hearth flared with a burst of green flame and Hermione half-expected to see Harry fall to the carpet, stung with half a dozen hexes. But it wasn't Harry. She stopped breathing.
"Minerva, what do you know about this," he waved a much-creased letter, "this ludicrous notice from the Ministry? Kingsley is refusing my floo and owl-"
Severus Snape froze. His dark eyes fixed on Hermione and a flare of rage burned there. "You."
Hermione doesn't know herself that well. Just saying... ;-)
Let me know what you think! :)