So went FFN down...and I wrote this to tide me over...


The crack of apparation faded around them and Riva's elegant hand slipped away from Severus' arm. She gave him a smooth smile, the stark light from the long lobby windows gilding her profile. Perfect. Elegant. And always immaculate. Severus had never once seen her with even one stray hair out of place.

The memory of Hermione opening her door that morning, her hair a snake's nest and one side of her face smeared with old make-up flashed across his thoughts. He should be filled with horror that she would think to answer her own front door in such a state and, it appeared, be intent on turning the air blue.

It should horrify him. The rune on his chest ached, a deepened throb and the heel of hand found it again. Rubbing it didn't help. At all. He should've been disgusted. But he wasn't. A swell of affection had risen him and he had to fight with everything he had not to cup her little face in his large hands and kiss her senseless.

The thrum in his chest filled him and echoed...in the wards. Severus frowned. What...?

"Tea, I think. In the small, south facing study." That little wrinkle appeared on Riva's brow, so alien on her flawless skin. "And can you tell your senior elf not to offer jam. I do not like jam."

A smile tugged at Severus' mouth, but he found no echo of it in his fiancée. "I will ask." He knew it would be futile. Pippy loved jam, and plied it to whomever —and whenever— she could. He doubted she would take any notice. If he overlooked her fruit preserve obsession she was a very good and loyal elf. And really, who was he, Severus Snape, to disallow a little eccentricity?

"You tell elves, Severus. You do not ask. They are creatures for our use, our service. Nothing more."

His wards flickered, hot and tight and it almost broke a groan from him. Were his wards rupturing? He'd stripped the place after he'd bought the Hall from the Ministry; obliterated every ward and spell the Rowle family had woven in and around the fabric of the medieval hall. Had he missed something?

And then he stared. His heart tightened. The rune scored into his chest flared in a golden rush of power. His knees almost buckled.

Hermione Granger stood in the archway that led to the kitchen, her hair sparking and her face a stark mask of anger.


Was that the sort of woman he favoured? A cruel, pureblood...cow?

Hermione clung to her righteous anger. Wrapped it around herself, to deny how ridiculously beautiful and elegant Severus' fiancée was and to fight back the hollow pain in her belly. She couldn't compete with such a woman. She really had no chance. None.

She found her voice. "Elves are sentient, magical creatures, perfectly capable of understanding requests, Miss...?"

A perfect, social smile touched the other witch's perfect lips. Again...cow. "Riva Malfoy."

Riva's even gaze dropped to Pippy, who hovered around Hermione's skirts. The witch's eyes were as blue as an artic iceflow and just as cold. Hermione fought a shiver. This was the woman Severus loved?

"You are muggle-born. You will not understand the intricacies of a relationship between a house-elf and her bonded family."

Riva's pale gaze flicked to Severus, calm and collected, before she fixed on Hermione again. "You are, of course, Hermione Granger. Though, why you are in my fiancée's home, is yet to be explained."

Hermione lifted her chin, the roiling anger and embarrassment still churning in her gut. Riva Malfoy –a Malfoy?— was cool, pureblood perfection. She wanted to hate her. She did hate her. But she was Severus' choice. "I have business with Master Snape."

Riva lifted a thin, blonde eyebrow. "On a Sunday?"

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"

The clipped edge to Severus' voice cut at her. She could almost feel the heated burn of the betrothal rune cut into his chest and her fingers itched to find it. He was only a few feet away... So close. But in the shafted light of the lobby, his tall, smooth elegance found a mirror in his chosen witch, his lithe darkness a reflection of her pale perfection.

Hermione pressed her lips together. Her throat was tight and tears threatened. Why had she dragged herself to this blighted place? Had she experienced the compulsion of the Entanglement Spell? Did it want her to hex the witch that stood between them and declare her interest in Severus? Her right to him?

Hermione almost snorted. Then the bloody interfering spell would be waiting till hell froze over. "My Master has requested your presence at the Archives tomorrow morning at nine."

Severus' eyes narrowed, before he turned his attention to his beautiful betrothed. "If you will excuse us for a moment?"

Riva glanced between them, her cold blue eyes revealing nothing. "I'll await you in your study." Her gaze flicked down to Pippy. "Tea, elf." She gave barely a nod to Hermione. "Miss Granger, a pleasure." And she was gone, leaving only a whisper of exquisite perfume in her wake.

Hermione closed her eyes. That was who he wanted. Cold and beautiful. What in Merlin's name had he ever seen in her? Or was it an excess of alcohol blinding him…and his horror the very reason he had run from her the following morning?

"Miss Granger?"

The title stabbed at her. She shoved down the sour rushes of anger and disappointment, met his gaze and twitched a smile. She plucked the piece of parchment from her pocket. "I have Master Wyman's reply to my owl."

"I believe this would be better dealt with in a less public setting."

Severus waved her in the opposite direction taken by Riva Malfoy and her boots clacked against the intricately tiled floor. She held down a sigh. No gliding exit for her.

"Here."

They were in a light-walled passage, softly lit with flickering sconces. Severus opened a heavy door and it swung in on silent hinges to a little sitting room. North facing, it had already lost the day's light and dropped into comforting shadow.

Severus flicked a spell at the fireplace and flames burst from the coals to warm the room. Candles flared to life, warming the pale walls. The scents of polish and the thin threads of hickory smoke eased the panic in her veins.

It was a pretty little room and Hermione yanked herself back from imagining winter nights spent in the heavy, velvet chairs set before the fire. But it was too late. Her mind ran thick with a vision of them both. A book in hand, the slow turn of pages in the warm, easy silence, tea on the low table and her catching Severus' eye in a reminder that it was time for bed—

An aching knot twisted in her belly and she only twitched a smile as he ushered her to sit in one of those bloody chairs. She perched on the end, wanting the discomfort and handed her Master's letter to Severus.

He sank back into his chair and read, staring into the fire after. He tapped the parchment against his lips and she fought not to stare. The firelight gilded him, and the soft pout to his mouth was almost too tempting… "The catalyst?"

Her fingers laced tightly together. "Last night, I met someone."

Severus dark gaze cut to her, though she found an emptiness in his eyes that formed a hollow in her chest. HIs voice was cold whip. "Did I interrupt you after all, Miss Granger?"

She lifted her chin. He was the one with the fiancée. "Not that it's any of your business, but he didn't come home with me."

He sneered. "What stopped you?"

A sudden stillness surrounded his question. Her heart thudded. A flash of something in his eyes said that he'd never meant to ask that question. Would he want to know? It would explain the rune burnt like a brand into his chest. And she could almost feel it, a fierce pulse under her own skin. Hot. Aching.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. Was the bloody thing compelling her to admit the truth to him? That she hadn't simply satisfied a school girl crush. There was no doubt Severus would find her confession an embarrassment, but they hardly moved in the same wizarding circles. Also, it was better to admit it now in this private little room, than in front of her Master in the morning.

"You did, Severus." She let out a long sigh. "You stopped me."


Let me know what you think :)