Chapter 7 – Return to Normalcy
Describing Severus and Hermione's discussion that night as an argument would have been a gross understatement.
Hermione had expected his displeasure at her meddling, fully prepared for an evening of acerbic sneers or silent treatment. What she had not expected was for Severus to storm into their quarters after dinner, temper ignited and ready to explode. While his manner was similar to the visible anger he had displayed upon finding Teddy, in the confines of their quarters he did not hold back, abandoning all composure for the sake of chastising his wife. He spared no harsh word or barbed derision in his attempts to reduce her to a child, continually calling her "Miss Granger" despite her furious protests.
In the face of her husband's unwarranted rage, Hermione could not claim that she had behaved blamelessly. Acid scorn was repaid with indignant insinuations that drove the wedge of misunderstanding deeper between them. Accusations were sent whirling around the sitting room and reverberated off the walls, Severus insisting that Hermione constantly undermined him, while Hermione claiming that he was behaving like a cruel tyrant. While she attempted to state Teddy's case, relaying her suspicions as to why the boy had morphed into a werewolf, the wizard refused to listen, immediately rejecting her hypothesis and deeming her ridiculous.
Hermione could not understand why her husband was responding with such vehemence. Her interference in the Teddy incident had been but one of many times she had challenged Severus over the years. The surly man was typically most displeased by her interferences, but his outrage at the current matter seemed quite excessive. Even though he had subtracted a considerable amount of points from Hufflepuff, his ire was far from assuaged. Stating that he was overreacting, however, only served to add kindling to the fire.
After an interminable length of loud, heated discourse which the paintings in the hall had undoubtedly overheard, the dispute was ultimately ended when Severus stormed out of their quarters, black robes billowing menacingly behind him.
It was no surprise that Severus Snape did not return that night, leaving Hermione to struggle vainly in pursuit of sleep. Thoughts refused to relinquish her mind, whirling around in a manner that promised another sleepless night. While she could have kept tabs on her incomprehensible husband with the Marauder's Map, the exasperated witch had no desire to do so. Burying her head beneath a mound of pillows, she released a disgruntled sigh. Just when the tension had abated and it appeared their relationship would return to normalcy, another altercation had to occur.
But wasn't that pattern the actual normalcy of their relationship? Wasn't it that whenever she thought they were out of the woods, something would always drag them back into the thorny labyrinth of marital strife? It was this question that continually pushed its way to the forefront of Hermione's mind the following morning as she sat in her office, struggling futilely to finish grading the second years' essays. While small, the stack of unmarked parchment had not decreased in size since she had sat down at her desk nearly half an hour earlier.
Even when Hermione was successful in repressing the distracting doubts that invaded her mind, it was still considerably difficult to focus on the task at hand. Perhaps her office was not the most conducive atmosphere to forgetting about Severus. Besides the various pictures of him displayed prominently on her desk and bookshelves, the walls were papered with an assortment of newspaper and magazine clippings. While one excerpt consisted of their wedding announcement, most of the pages contained articles once featured in the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, slanderous stories written by Rita Skeeter in 1999.
With headlines such as "Severus Snape and Hermione Granger: Scandalous Teacher-Student Affair" and moving photos of a furtive lip-lock, why had Hermione plastered these news clippings proudly on the walls? While it was partially because the trademark gross exaggerations of Rita Skeeter proved quite amusing, the artifacts also served as a symbol of triumph; a reminder that if their relationship could survive a media storm and court trial, it could survive anything.
Despite what salacious escapades the countless headlines suggested, Hermione had never partaken in a clandestine relationship with her dark, intriguing professor. While the girl's feelings had been revealed by the creation of the Fortaffectuspotion, Professor Snape in no way enfolded her into his billowy black robes and declared passionate love after he recovered, regardless of how the sappy part of Hermione's mind had secretly wished that. It was not as though Severus entertained no pleasant feelings for the girl, for after years of enduring her company during the private, advanced Potions lessons Dumbledore had insisted upon, he could not deny that an attachment had formed. She was still his student, however, rendering any form of intimacy impossible.
Although Hermione had been offered various Ministry jobs after the end of the war, she had firmly refused them. A staunch believer in education, she remained at Hogwarts for another year to earn her N.E.W.T.s, despite Ron and Harry's decision to join the Auror force. Not long after the start of term did Professor Flitwick, noticing the girl's talent in Charms, offer her an apprenticeship, setting her on the path to replace him once he retired. But while Hermione juggled arduous N.E.W.T. preparation and Charms training, she somehow found the time to continue her evening Potions lessons with her favorite professor.
When Severus Snape ultimately succumbed to the realization that Hermione had taken up permanent resident in his heart, he was far from pleased; terrified would have been a more appropriate description. Even though their stimulating conversations easily traversed the twenty years between them, the professor was well aware of Hogwarts' policy on student-teacher relationships. If any abnormal involvement between them became known – and he was certain it would – then the least of their consequences would be his termination and her expulsion. Thus he vowed to brutally stifle all dangerous feelings regarding the girl.
As the year progressed, however, Snape's resolution proved much easier in theory than in practice. After a jarring incident during one of their private lessons in which he had derived too much pleasure from looming menacingly over Hermione as she worked, he immediately terminated their Potions sessions and staunchly avoided the bothersome creature. Although his mind was tenacious, his heart seemed less adamant, leading him to occasionally show his own subtle brand of kindness to the young woman who he begrudgingly adored. These rare moments only served to remind Hermione why she was so ardently in love with her sullen professor. When he atoned for his weakness by treating her unnecessarily cruel in his classroom, however, she was rendered less certain of her own sanity.
While Hermione's heart seemed caught in an unforgiving whirlwind as she was constantly teased with hope and tortured with despair, it all became worth it at the end of her final term. Not long after she had officially graduated, shedding her identity as a Hogwarts student like a robe, did Snape seek her out.
If a curious inquirer asked Snape today, nearly thirteen years later, what strange force had driven him to bare the most vulnerable fragment of his soul to Hermione, he would not have been able to answer, even if he was surprisingly willing. Some way or another, the confession had simply slipped out of the incredibly buttoned-up man, ultimately leading to a chaste kiss – just the slightest indulgence of the pair's desires.
As her brown eyes again swept the wall of over embellished articles, Hermione recalled with retrospective amusement the moment their first kiss had been interrupted by the flutter of beetle wings. Although they had not been entirely aware of it at the time, that faint sound was the warning bells of the impending tempest.
Hardly twenty-four hours had elapsed before media outlets were overrun by the "shocking scandal," the Daily Prophet at the forefront of the media blitz while Witch Weekly followed in its shadow, picking up the juicy, more preposterous morsels that the Prophet discarded. Despite the falsity of Rita Skeeter's allegations – for there had been no romance between Snape and Hermione while she was his student, not to mention no "supply closet snogging" that Pansy Parkinson claimed she observed during her fifth year – the Ministry was forced to try Severus Snape, suspending him from teaching until a verdict had been decided.
Fortunately for the Severus, no solid evidence that proved their relationship began prior to Hermione's graduation could be produced. Although Snape had been acquitted and was then free to continue pursuing the young woman, the tempest did not end there. While the couple did not allow the continuing media storm to vex them, drawing amusement from the raunchy and wholly fabricated tidbits, Hermione was greatly affected by the reactions of her friends and family. While Harry and Ron had been previously aware of Hermione's ridiculous and "mental" feelings, they were far from enthused about the development in her relationship with Snape, who would forever be a greasy dungeon bat to Ron.
Even the shock and opposition from her friends, however, eventually blew over. When they had finally passed unscathed through the tempest, both Hermione and Severus realized that the ordeal only served to increase their feelings and bolster their convictions. It was not soon afterwards that certain events led to their current state of life now, working and dwelling together in both blissful and aggravating matrimony.
Picking up the quill that had fallen during her umpteenth reverie, Hermione tore her eyes away from the newspaper clippings and refocused her mind on her work, hanging tenaciously on to every unpolished word about Counter Spells as if the parchment would be snatched from her at any moment.
After a few tense days in which she saw little of Severus, things finally began to improve for Hermione. During the middle of the following week, the witch returned to her quarters after a particularly trying third year Slytherin lesson to find her husband emerging from the bathroom, dripping wet and quite naked. She had merely meant to fetch him a clean towel, but one thing led to another until the barrier between them crumbled and everything that could not be said with words was expressed in a different manner. While their stubborn natures often caused disagreements, Severus and Hermione were able to agree wholeheartedly that having Athena in Gryffindor Tower was decidedly advantageous.
And just as quickly as strife had entered their marriage, so it left with equal velocity. Pleasant conversations rose up to fill the once tense silence, and regular interaction took the place of obvious avoidance. Although this new, happier state was indeed preferable to furious debates or caustic glares, it was not to say that their relationship had reverted entirely to how it had once been. There were moments when Severus, whether retiring to their quarters or passing her in the corridor, appeared especially agitated. There were also nights in which Hermione would wake to find her husband absent, only to locate him on the Marauder's Map replica, pacing inexplicably about the castle. While ever the concerned wife, Hermione ceased confronting him about the issue, desiring sorely that amity remain between them.
A few days after peace had been restored to the Snape household, another burden was lifted from Hermione's mind when a tawny owl greeted her at breakfast. Retrieving the letters from the pouch on the squawking bird's leg, she lost all desire to listen to Severus' opinions on the dryness of his scrambled eggs when she recognized the familiar scrawl on two letters addressed to her. Finally, after what seemed like decades, her best friends had written her.
Despite the probable overabundance of stories that Ron and Harry could have shared, their missives were brief. Each explained the events that had transpired, delivering basically the same message but in their own distinctive styles. After profuse apologizes for their silence, they explained that they had both been in Ireland for the past two months, locating and apprehending a gang of Dark Wizards that had been terrorizing the country. Although news of the Death Eaters' escape had quickly reached their ears, they had not been able to return to England immediately, their duties in Ireland still incomplete. Because of this, Harry had been forced to run the Auror Office remotely from Ireland, his extra workload leaving no time for personal letter writing. Ron had likewise been occupied on the field, wholly absorbed in tracking the Dark Wizard gang.
After another handful of apologizes, both Ron and Harry ended their letters with promises that they would return home soon.
Once the first week of term had concluded, the following fortnight passed quite placidly for Athena Snape. Although becoming a Hogwarts student brought considerable change, she was able to adapt rather quickly and fall into the rhythm of her schedule, planning her studying around it accordingly. True to her parentage, the girl spent the majority of her hours on school work, curled up in the common room or in some corner of the library.
Although she had adjusted to her new, structured life, there were a few facets of Hogwarts that did not live up to Athena's high expectations. She didn't really know what she had expected from her fellow students, but being a target of Teddy Lupin's pranks had certainly come as a surprise. But just when she had readied herself to expect it, the fourth year approached her after Charms one day to apologize. It was a simple, stoical apology, but an apology nonetheless. Though she ceased checking her hair constantly for further rude notes after that instance, she could not help but be wary in his presence, watching him from the corner of her eye as he marked papers in her mother's classroom.
Another aspect of Hogwarts that managed to disappoint the overzealous student was surprisingly Potions. Although entering the classroom each lesson with high hopes for her favorite subject, expecting to adore the experience, Athena soon found herself dissatisfied with how the lessons progressed – or did not progress as she saw it. Forgetting that her father's vast store of potion knowledge had rendered her unusually prepared for the subject, she considered the pace Professor Jareth took the class to be sluggish and at times boring, although she did find the teacher's enthusiasm inspiring. While she enjoyed assisting the others in potions she had brewed countless times (unaware of how much they may or may not enjoy her assistance), she admitted to feeling unchallenged in what she had expected to be her favorite class. Nevertheless, she devoted great effort to class activities and assignments, attempting to squeeze as much knowledge from the beginner class as possible.
While she treated her homework with the same devotion as her mother had, Athena did pull her nose out of her books occasionally to take a turn about the grounds with Fred and Molly. Though the September rains had abated, leaving the weather clement and perfect for strolling, the presence of the Aurors seemed to slightly dampen the sunshine. While they had been stationed at every entrance to Hogwarts and hardly ever wandered within its boundaries, the Dark Wizard catchers were a reminder to those who encountered them that there were dangerous villains at large.
Despite this ominous feeling that occasionally crept upon their minds, the students began to relax when day after the day, the Daily Prophet arrived with no horrible news about the Death Eaters. It was unfortunate that they had not been apprehended, yes, but also a relief that they had not yet caused any mischief. This was perhaps not very fortunate for the Prophet however, for with the unsurprising calm that followed, the reporters began grasping at straws, publishing farfetched articles with blurry shots of what was claimed to be the silhouette of a Death Eater disappearing into the crowd, while in reality looked like the average wizard walking down the street. Although the news stories were far from credible, various rumors circulated throughout the school, many to which gullible ears readily fell prey.
Gryffindors as they were, neither Athena nor the Weasley cousins allowed the tales to trouble them. Both Molly and Athena were usually too occupied with their studies to even hear the gossip, despite Fred's fascinated summation of the rumors he had overheard. Unfortunately for the dark-haired Weasley boy, not even Emmet Agnew's theory about the Death Eaters' goals of house-elf genocide seemed to pique the girls' interests as they buried their noses in equally large and dull-looking tomes.
A Tuesday afternoon found Molly, Fred, and Athena seated around a book-laden table in one corner of the library, poring over dusty volumes and note-covered scrolls. As the Weasley girl scribbled away on a piece of parchment and her cousin lazily scanned the pages of a leather-bound book, Athena shut the sizeable tome she had been perusing with a heavy thud and placed it on the tall, precarious looking stack in the middle of the table.
Bristling at the loud, disruptive noise, Molly lifted her eyes from her work with mild annoyance dancing upon her features. "Nothing yet?" she asked with a little huff that sounded equally amused and aggravated.
Picking the next candidate from a shorter stack beside her, Athena plopped the hefty book down and began rapidly flipping through its moth-eaten pages. "Nope," she answered, her mouth set in a firm line of concentration.
Laying down her quill, Molly brushed a stray ginger strand from her face as she shook her head. "You don't need to be so particular, Athena. Just pick a potion," she urged.
As another book was closed and rejected by the black-haired witch, a cloud of dust arose from its pages and wafted towards Fred. The book from which he had been peering up immediately fell from his hands as he stifled a cough. "Yeah!" he agreed after another good hack. "Blimey, Athena, we only have two weeks left, after all. Stop procrastinating." As he rested his cheek on his hand, his broad smile radiated sarcasm.
Although she was quite aware of Fred's joking manner, Athena still did not relish being accused of what her mother taught her to despise. "I'm not procrastinating!" she insisted indignantly, lifting her chin. "I just haven't found the perfect potion yet... It's not that simple." As she lowered her chin, her gaze flitted to Molly's near complete essay about Cure for Boils, a potion Professor Jareth had demonstrated during their second lesson. While the Weasley girl had chosen the subject of her project weeks ago, Athena could not seem to find a potion she deemed appropriate for the assignment, despite her earnest efforts. All of her own potions books had been thoroughly raided, and if the library did not hold the information she sought, she would scour her father's collection next.
As Athena delved into another vast volume of potion knowledge, a smirk spread across Fred's face. "Yeah it is!" he replied. "Just do this!" Leaning closer to the girl, Fred shut his eyes and whirled his index finger in the air for a few seconds before letting it fall randomly on the open book. Then, opening his eyes, he examined the page where his finger had fallen. "There! Draught of Living Death. Sounds easy enough."
Rolling her eyes, Athena removed Fred's hand from her book and scooted out of his reach. "That's a sixth year potion, smarty," she informed, her irritation not wholly devoid of amusement.
"Ought to be no problem for you then," Fred sniggered.
Lifting her eyes from the pages she had been mentally devouring, Athena raised a lofty eyebrow at Fred, appearing quite like her father in that moment. "And what potion have you picked?" she asked in a manner resembling a meddlesome mother.
Waving off Athena's prying, Fred rested his hands comfortably behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Eh, I'm still deciding," he answered unconcernedly. "I've got time."
Athena eyed Fred's carefree attitude for a moment, recognizing it as an ingrained part of his Weasley ways that no amount of Snape or Granger logic could alter. At his hopeless case of overconfidence, all she could do was smile incredulously as she returned to her search. "Mhm."
Retrieving the book he had dropped, Fred began disinterestedly skimming its ink-covered pages as he replied assuredly, "I'll think of something. Potions isn't nearly as bad as when my mum and dad took it."
As she flipped past disturbing illustrations of the Laxative Potion's effects, Athena couldn't help but mutter, "Now it's too easy…"
Lifting her freckled nose from a medicinal draught lexicon, Molly leaned closer to Fred to examine his choice of reading, knowing his propensity to waste time on Quidditch statistics. "If that's not your Potions essay, then what are you working on?" she questioned as Fred withdrew from his cousin's close proximity.
"That bloody report on 'the dangers of improper transfiguration' that old Pubes assigned," Fred replied, reciting the essay's subject in a raspy, high-pitched voice.
"Professor Publius, Fred," Athena corrected automatically from behind her latest selection of exhaustive encyclopedias. When Fred had first coined that nickname after Professor Publius' introductory lesson, Athena had considered it quite offensive and scolded the boy, rabbiting on about the importance of respecting one's teachers. Fred was not so responsive to her reprimanding, however, claiming that with a name like Publius, the "old bloke had it coming." Thus she fell into the habit of simply reminding him to be polite and saying nothing further, regardless of how amusing she secretively considered the nickname.
Eyes widening in disbelief, Molly swiftly grabbed the parchment that lay before Fred and scanned its measly scribbled lines. "You're still working on this? It was due last week!" she exclaimed, admonishment clear in her voice.
"Hey, give over, will you?" Fred protested, reclaiming his meager assignment from his cousin. "I've got a life, unlike you two." Smoothing out the few wrinkles that Molly's fingers had bestowed upon his parchment, Fred returned to his reading with dramatic movements to demonstrate that his decision to work was entirely his own.
Releasing a sigh, Molly yielded and returned to her lexicon. "Fine, I'll leave you to your life then," she muttered with faint amusement.
As the three first year Gryffindors fell into the rhythm of their respective tasks, the library grew considerably quieter. Save the constant flipping of pages, the only perceptible noises emanated from outside the building's lofty, arched windows as birds vocally appreciated the clement weather. Initially their melodious strains were unheeded, but eventually the chirps offered a welcome distraction to Fred, easily snatching his attention from "Ten Safety Precautions Every Transfiguration Student Must Take."
"I thought this rubbish would be interesting, about horrible accidents and all, but no. It just goes on and on and on…" Fred groaned, spilling onto his desk like a blob of goo. "We're the only ones in here! C'mon, let's go outside."
Scanning her surroundings, Molly found her cousin's statement to be only partially true. While most students who weren't in class were indeed enjoying the fine weather, there were a few older Ravenclaws, as well as Professor Jareth, who inhabited the library. "Fine with me. I'm easy," Molly answered nonchalantly, halting her quill. After receiving no response from her friend, she glanced over to find the girl still entirely absorbed in her quest for the perfect potion project. "But what about Athena?"
With eyes still glued to the page, Athena replied, "Sorry, I can't until I find something."
Releasing a frustrated groan, Fred grabbed the top book from Athena's unread stack, a glutinous volume of dust and tawny pages titled Five Thousand and One Common and Unusual Potions. "Come on, there must be some potion in here that you can do!" the boy exclaimed, heaving the heavy book open. Scanning the page to which he had opened, he suggested, "Laughing Potion?"
"Too easy," Athena dismissed, propping her chin up with her free hand as she turned another page.
"Vitamix potion?" was Fred's next recommendation as he randomly flipped to another section in the oversized book.
"Eh."
"Amortentia?"
"Again, a sixth year potion."
"Baneberry Potion?"
"Professor Jareth said no poisons! Weren't you listening?" Athena asked in mild annoyance, finally lifting her eyes from her books.
The smile on Fred's face immediately fell. "Bloody hell, there goes my Death-Cap Draught…" he muttered in grave disappointment. After turning another ancient page, however, his eyes immediately brightened with intrigue. "Ooh, Fungiface Potion?"
Closing the substantial encyclopedia with a loud thud, Athena scooted it to the discard pile and retrieved another from the shrinking stack of the library's potions resources. "I'm not demonstrating that to the class," she replied frankly.
After an indiscernible mutter from Fred, the trio again fell silent as the sound of flipping pages replaced their conversation. Seeing that they were not going to venture outside for quite some time, Molly had set aside her Potions essay to take up her Charms textbook, eager to read further than the assigned pages. While Fred and Athena remained fixed on their task of perusing the dwindling tower of books that sat between them, Molly enjoyed a little reprieve from the subject that her friend constantly exhausted.
The sweet potion-free silence had an unfortunately short reign, however, for after flipping past a few dull-looking draughts, Fred happened upon an intriguing image of a shimmery potion.
"Fortaffectus Potion?"
Eyes that could not be easily coerced into leaving the pages were suddenly upon Fred as Athena abruptly raised her head. "What?"
Unaware of Athena's particular interest, Fred brought his face closer to the book he held, squinting as he analyzed the letters. "Fortaffectus – I think that's how you say it," he repeated. "Oh, but it says here that the ingredients are unknown and for more information, see Farbanker's Index of Mythical Spells and Potions." As he sensed Athena's close proximity, he raised his face to allow her a better view of the page she so eagerly sought. Scooting back in his chair to escape her wild tresses, he commented,"That's stupid. Why is it in here then if it's not a real potion?"
After swiftly skimming the scanty three-lined paragraph and artist's rendition of the potion, Athena leaned back into her own seat, much to Fred's palpable relief. "It is a real potion," she stated softly.
Lifting her eyes from her book, Molly had only a moment to consider how odd Athena's statement had sounded, bearing none of her usual confidence, before Fred laughed. "Don't tell me you've made it before," he said incredulously.
"No, of course not," Athena replied, her matter-of-fact tone returning. A short stretch of silence followed as a thoughtful expression reappeared on her features, taking a moment to contemplate before again speaking. "But…my mum once did."
"Really? How?" Molly asked curiously, glancing at the book's shimmery illustration.
"I'm not quite sure, it was long before I was born," Athena admitted, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "But Mum told me she used her own memories of my father to make this sort of healing potion after he was bitten by a snake. It saved his life."
By the time Athena had concluded the account, Fred's eyes had oddly expanded to the size of Hagrid's dinner plates. "Bloody hell! Your mum brewed a mythical potion!" he exclaimed in clear admiration, his voice all too loud for a library.
After reminding her cousin of manners he didn't consider necessary because of the library's emptiness, Molly examined the book's limited knowledge on Fortaffectus before turning to Athena. "Why doesn't she contact the publisher and tell them the ingredients?" she inquired.
"I don't know," the black-haired girl admitted with a shrug. "Father doesn't like to talk about it."
Fred's smile grew rapidly into a cheeky smirk as he released a chuckle. "Probably 'cause she put him in the shade," he theorized, deriving great pleasure from the thought of the arrogant professor being surpassed in his own craft.
Athena appeared to ponder the notion for a moment before promptly closing the subject. "Well I need to get back to work."
Once she had again buried her curly black head back into the ancient tomes of potions knowledge, her friends were unsuccessful in coaxing her gradually tiring eyes from the moth eaten pages and miniscule script. Even Molly's suggestion that she ask for Professor Jareth's assistance, recalling his generous offer to assist any students in need, fell on deaf ears. Recognizing that Athena was stubbornly set in her occupation, the Weasley cousins eventually ceased their attempts and left her in peace, eager to spend the remaining daylight hours outside.
The small, corner table had fallen into complete shadow by the time Athena finally vacated it. While it took some effort to return the countless volumes, collect the various note-covered parchments, and leave the workspace in an orderly manner, the girl was quite confident as she left the library that she had selected the perfect potion for her first project.
The following day proved quite typical for Hermione Granger. Other than receiving a few birthday kisses from her husband that morning, the Wednesday appeared as ordinary as every other day of the year. But while Hermione's birthday was filled with teaching students and marking scores of assignments, the practical Gryffindor would not have had it any other way. She enjoyed her daily routine and usually experienced no desire to change it, even upon special occasions like the anniversary of her birth. Thus, after a day of continuous teaching, the Charms professor had nearly forgotten it was her birthday until she returned to her quarters to find her husband and daughter, whispering conspiringly.
The moment Hermione entered the sitting room and gazed upon the man who sat comfortably in his favorite armchair and the girl who was perched beside him, the soft whispers instantly halted and the semblance of normal conversation followed.
"Was it the Glow-in-the-Dark Draught you said?" Severus asked his daughter nonchalantly. So impassive were his features that if she had not known the man for many years, Hermione would not have suspected anything amiss. As he casually thumbed through the book that lay open on his lap, he added, "Yes, though it may seem impractical and frivolous to the layman, it does possess a few highly useful properties. An acceptable choice."
The manner in which Athena's features were perfectly composed caused Hermione to question the Sorting Hat's decision for a brief moment, for whatever she and her father were concealing, it was accomplished with trademark Slytherin subtlety. The thought soon left her, however, when Athena turned to her with a large, guileless grin.
"Happy birthday, Mum!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, hopping off the armrest to throw her arms around her mother's waist. Quickly withdrawing from the hug, Athena retrieved her book bag from the coffee table and produced a square, brightly wrapped parcel. "I just stopped by to give you this."
As she received the package from Athena, Hermione's features brightened with a vast smile. "Oh, what could this be?" she wondered. With lips pursed, the witch turned over the gift a few times in her hands, testing its weight and smiling knowingly as she recognized the familiar shape.
"There's only one way to find out," Athena responded, her toothy grin pushing her freckled cheeks up towards her eyes.
Without further delay, Hermione commenced opening her gift, carefully tearing in only certain places to keep the wrapping paper intact. While she could have used magic to aid her efforts in preserving the paper, there was something about opening a gift the Muggle way that felt far more genuine. After a few noncommittal grunts from Severus in response to his wife's perfectionism, she pulled back the final flap to reveal a stack of leather-bound books tied together with a large ribbon. Upon the ribbon was an elegant script that read "The Dylan Marwood Collection."
"Oh, Dylan Marwood's linguistics books," Hermione observed, untying the ribbon. With an eager fascination reserved specifically for receiving new books, she began perusing the five volumes. "Mermish, Gobbledegook, Troll…" she murmured as she briefly examined the books, nodding approvingly at each one. After completing her preliminary inspection, the witch pulled her daughter into a hug."Thank you, Athena! I haven't read most of these."
As Hermione released Athena from her grateful grasp, Severus peered up from his reading, his brows knitted in distaste. "Marwood? Wasn't he that buffoon you were so enamored to meet last spring?" When his wife made no response, already nose-deep in one of her new books, he continued, his features adopting a sort of condescending amusement. "You dragged us to his infernal book signing and behaved like a silly school girl." A subtle smirk tugged at his lips.
Lifting her gaze from the intriguing world of the Troll dialect, Hermione immediately countered, "He's not a buffoon, Severus, he's a brilliant linguist." As Severus' irritating smirk only grew, she lowered her book and raised her chin. "And I was not enamored – I simply admire his work," she stated firmly.
"And his hair," Athena chimed in.
Tucking her stack of books under one arm, Hermione placed a hand on her hip and turned to Athena. "Don't you have homework to do?" she questioned sternly.
Athena's cheeky grin dampened as she recalled the Transfiguration essay that was eagerly waiting to be written. "Right, I guess I should…" she realized. At the same moment she turned for the door, however, a sudden cough from her father called her back. "Actually, do you want to take a walk with me?" she asked her mother innocently. "The weather's really nice, and we could visit Hagrid."
Observing Athena's wide, artless grin, Hermione shot a suspicious glance to Severus as he casually returned to his book. Although she knew she was succumbing to whatever her husband and daughter were plotting, her curiosity caused her to agree. Before leaving their quarters with Athena, the witch awarded her Slytherin husband's craftiness a knowing grin and bade him farewell.
Once the door had shut behind his wife and daughter, Severus set down his book and commenced his preparations, unable to resist the smirk that tugged at his lips as he imagined the surprise that was sure to overcome Hermione.
A/N: Well now that I've gotten a few things out of the way, I can finally return to Snanger fluff in the next chapter. I was hesitant at first, but now that they've had a couple of arguments (and I've read more Snanger fanfiction recently), I'm eager to try some more romance between them. Of course they've been married for a gazillion years, so don't expect anything too fiery.
By the way, if you have any cute/fun/interesting/weird/hilarious/etc headcanons about what a married Severus and Hermione would be like, please let me know. I'd love some inspiration. :)
