CHAPTER SEVEN

Forever Holding His Peace

"Severus Tobias Snape."

He sighed and shrank back into the corner of the pew. Gratefulness chased disappointment through his veins. They hadn't heard him. Or perhaps the sound hadn't actually escaped his throat like he thought. Or did they simply ignore it as some wayward noise from somewhere beyond the darkening stained glass? No matter. What was done was done. And there would be no other attempt.

"Will you have this Woman to your wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

The same silky baritone that exuded confidence in the Potions classroom echoed through the chapel. "I do."

He bloody well better. He released his wand and returned his hands to his lap, keeping them closed in tight fists. He bloody well better.

"Hermione Jean Granger. "Will you have this Man to your wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"

He leaned forward, silently urging her to admit what he'd tried to wrangle from her lips as recently as last evening.

Although he'd snuck into The Burrow on countless occasions, this was the first time he felt like a thief. And perhaps he was. After all, he was trying to steal another man's bride. No. Not steal. Merely reclaim what should rightfully be his.

He started up the stairs, easily avoiding the ones that creaked. Would she be with Ginny in the pink and purple monstrosity his sister hated almost as much as he did? Or would Mum have insisted she needed the peace and quiet of Percy's room now that the prodigal son had returned to his flat in London? With Angelina and Astoria assigned to his old room for the duration of the weekend and Harry, Draco and Charlie bunking in with George so Bill and Fleur could have the privacy the recently married deserved, it was the only two options available. But which would it be? The left hand room on the second floor or the right hand room on the third?

Perhaps he should have paid more attention in Divinations after all. Drawing a deep but silent breath, he closed his eyes and pulled on every logical cell in his body for the answer. As confidence built, he slowly headed to the usually unoccupied room one flight higher.

His pulse thrummed in his ears, making it next to impossible to discern any noise from the other side of the door. Palms dripping, he hastily wiped them on his jeans then reached for the chilly knob. Wishing on Merlin's beard, he leaned his shoulder against the door, turned the brass handle and pushed with slow, even pressure like Fred had shown him the first time he and George had taken him on one of their midnight outings.

There was no doubt luck was on his side when the door swung inward without even a hint of creaking. A silvery moonbeam spilled through the small slit in the burgundy and gold curtains and fell on golden brown curls. For the first time in weeks, his lips curled into a genuine smile. He'd chosen wisely.

"Hermione?" He startled slightly at the way his voice cracked in the silence. Swallowing, he tried again. "Hermione, wake up."

She stirred beneath the muggle-style quilt Grandmother Prewett gave his parents once her anger over their elopement gave way to happiness over the birth of the first grandchild. He held his breath and crossed the room. Waited until he could almost touch her. "Hermione."

Groaning, she turned over then opened her eyes. Bleary honey brown widened in fear then narrowed in anger as she scrambled toward the other side of the bed away from him. "Ron!" She grabbed the sheets and tucked them tightly beneath her chin as she pressed her back against the headboard. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled and moved forward until he could lower himself to the edge of the mattress. "Come away with me, Mione." He reached for her hand and tried to ignore the sting of embarrassment when she jerked hers away before he could curl his fingers around it.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Ronald?" She looked at him as if he were some blast-ended skwert. "I'm getting married tomorrow."

"But you don't have to, Hermione. Can't you see that?" Irrational thoughts started to creep in. He closed his eyes and tried to force them away. After all, he needed as many rational vibes as he could muster if he wanted to sway the Gryffindor Princess. "I can give you anything you want. Anything that bloody dungeon bat -"

"His name is Severus." Fire flashed in her brown eyes. "And no, Ronald Weasley, you can't. You would never be able to give me what I already have with him. No one can. Now get out."

"Hermione -"

Before the syllables finished forming, he had the tips of four wands against his throat. "You heard the lady, Weasleby." Draco's voice chilled as much as his gray-blue gaze. "Get out. Now."

Anger surged and forced all reason to retreat. "Now listen here, Malfoy. You can't tell me what to do in my own family's house."

"No, but I can, little brother." Bill added a firm grip to his shoulder as the others chosen to be groomsmen pressed their wands a little more firmly against his Adam's apple. "Leave, Ron. Before you wake Mum and Dad and bring holy hell down on us all."

"I do."

Hermione's confident reply crashed him back to the present.

To the here and now.

To where he would be forever holding his peace.