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Chapter 10

A long ray of early morning sunlight slanted across Minerva's sitting room. The long oak table gleamed golden while tiny motes of dust swirled in the air. Robert McGonagall, dressed in his silvery-grey robes, sat at the foot of the table unpacking an elegant briefcase. He had foregone the stuffy white wig, choosing instead a deep blue power tie to match the blue Ravenclaw eagles that adorned the cuff and hem of his robes.

Arthur Weasley sat at the table's head. He was sorting through several official scrolls and forms. A pot of ink and several quills were set out before him, and already there were ink stains on his hands.

On one side of the table sat Filius Flitwick, counsel for the groom, and Severus in his best Potions Master finery. Snape's thunderous black expression and tightly buttoned lip matched his clothing. It was evident to all that he was a very unhappy man.

Hermione's counsel sat opposite the men. Pomona Sprout and Molly Weasley were settled on one side of Hermione. The young woman, dressed in a simple white blouse and dark skirt, held her hands over her head as it rested on the table.

Minerva laid a gentle touch on her shoulder, offering her a hangover potion. Hermione whimpered, lifting her head. "Thank you," she murmured as she tossed back the contents of the dark blue vial. Within moments, her headache and nausea were gone. She was even able to open her eyes without the sunshine stabbing her.

Minerva winked. "Severus makes the best hangover remedy." She sat down at the table next to her.

"Right, then," Robert McGonagall began. He flicked his wand and a double-sided parchment and two quick quills appeared in the air between the two parties. "I, Robert Burns McGonagall, acting as a neutral party, agree to draw up a legal marriage document between Severus Tobias Snape and Hermione Jean Granger." Another flick of his wand and the parchment was titled and inscribed with the statement. "Ladies first." He nodded to his left.

Pomona Sprout, a serious expression on her face, replied in a clear voice. "Hermione requires Severus' protection and asks him to provide for her."

Flitwick smiled at his wife. "Agreed. In return, Severus seeks a warm home and to be cherished."

"Agreed," Molly answered with a smile and nod. "Hermione would also request the right to continue her education."

With a quirk of his lip, Filius barely kept himself from laughing aloud. "My client is in absolute agreement on this topic; in fact, he insists upon it. Further, he requires a helpmate in return." The Charms professor leaned forward across the table and spoke directly to Hermione. "You must understand that you will not be eligible for a traditional education here at Hogwarts, at least not now."

"But, why?" Hermione cried. "If I am to remain at the school, why can't I continue with my classes?"

All the while Robert McGonagall's quick quills were recording the demands and counter-demands of the two, but here they stopped. They were specially charmed legal quick quills and would not transcribe anything that both parties did not agree upon.

"Because, dear," Minerva answer, "married students are not allowed to attend Hogwarts." She held out her hand. "Now, I know that, technically, we have already broken those rules, and I have no doubt there will be merry hell to pay for it later on." She sighed and looked around the table at her fellow co-conspirators. "But, during that semester, you and Severus were married in name only."

"We have a plan for your education," Pomona assured her. "You'll be given copies of syllabi from the classes you would have taken, and you'll do the work as an independent study." She reached over and patted the girl's hand. "Oh, don't look so glum, Hermione. You'll be able to move ahead at your own pace."

Flitwick gave her an encouraging smile. "Believe me, Hermione, Severus will make sure you finish your education and pass your N.E.W.T.'s."

"I refuse to procreate with an uneducated dunderhead," Severus added dryly.

Hermione swallowed hard. "All right," she said softly. "I agree."

With that the quick quills began scratching again. Robert McGonagall spoke next. "In compliance with the law number 7734, Hermione must agree to give Severus children. They are to offer one another faithfulness, honesty, and loyalty." He shifted in his chair, giving his older sister an apologetic smile. Taking a deep breath, he added, "And Hermione is required by this law to pledge him her obedience."

Molly ground her teeth. Pomona clenched her fists. Minerva glared murderously.

"Ladies," Severus drawled, halting the feminine mutiny before it could begin, "and gentlemen, may I take a moment to speak with my intended? In private?" He stood. "Perhaps while the rest of you go down for breakfast, Hermione and I might have a private meal here?"

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The sun was breaking over the horizon by the time the surgery was finished. An exhausted Poppy Pomfrey straightened up, her back crackling in protest. "Dobby, thank you for your help," she told the elf. "Wingardium leviosa!" She held aloft the hermetically sealed cursed hand. "Now, if you'll please destroy this hand completely, we'll be nearly done."

"Dobby will destroy the hand," he answered solemnly, "just as Matron Poppy says. Then Dobby will return."

Poppy smiled, her soft cheeks filling with lines. "Thank you, Dobby. Albus?" She called gently and shook the Headmaster. "Albus, wake up."

Albus slowly sat up and blinked. "Poppy?" his asked, his voice harsh and scratchy.

She smiled and handed him his glasses. "The operation was successful. How do you feel?"

Donning his glasses, he raised his prosthetic hand and inspected it. "It looks just as before, but I feel no pain from the curse," he told her in surprise.

"Well, what did you expect?" she growled. "I don't do shoddy workmanship." She untied her pinafore and balled it up.

"Oh, I didn't mean to suggest that you did, Poppy." He gazed up at her. "It's amazing. I feel perfectly fine - no pain, nothing, but it looks just the same, right down to the blackness of the nails. Amazing, really." He turned the hand over in wonder.

"Dobby has destroyed hand," the little elf announced as he returned noiselessly.

Poppy nodded. "Good, the cursed limb is gone, and now you're in need of a hot, hardy meal."

"Dobby will bring something for Headmaster and Matron."

"No, thank you, Dobby," Albus said as he stood slowly. "I think I would prefer a meal with the others. Poppy, would you be so kind as to accompany me?"

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Severus stood. A ray of sunlight drifted lazily over him, creating a blue gleam on his ebony locks. "Hermione," he spoke with an uncharacteristically soft voice, "join me please." He gestured towards the two chintz chairs sitting near the fire.

Hermione rose. She couldn't help but smile. Impossibly prickly one minute and gently polite the next, he was such a puzzle of a man. With rapid steps and heartbeat, she followed him closer to the fire. "Grazey," she called out as she settled herself.

"Yes, Missy 'Mione, what can Grazey do for Master of Potions and his bride?" The little elf was actually jumping in place with excitement.

Blushing, Hermione told the elf, "Uh, would you please bring Prof -" She stopped herself, glanced at the dark man beside her, and squaring her shoulders, she began again. "Grazey, would you please bring breakfast for Severus and me?" Her voice was calm, betraying no sign of her nervousness.

Severus smiled. "Well, done," he told her. "I asked for some alone time for the two of us so that -" Here he stopped as Grazey returned with a joyful pop with two huge breakfast trays. "Thank you, Grazey," he said gravely with a half-nod, earning a squeak of delight from the small elf.

"I think she likes you," Hermione informed him when Grazey vanished. She received a non-committal grunt in return. A long, nervous silence stretched between them, which they filled with consuming their meal.

Leaning forward, Severus set his cup down with a decisive clink. "Hermione," he said softly, "I need to speak with you frankly about some things." He raised his head to look intently into her face. "These things are not to be spoken of outside of our marriage. Do you understand? Because of the - nature - of my - employment," he began quietly, soberly, with a raised brow.

She nodded slowly. "I understand. I would never betray you," she added.

"My life and that of yours and our - children - will depend on whether or not I can count on your discretion. That is why it is imperative that our marriage vows contain the phrase 'to obey'. It is not simply a legalistic matter."

"Can you promise not to give any petty or ridiculous tasks?" she asked. "I mean, with an unqualified vow like 'to obey' you could order me to…" she shrugged. "Oh, I don't know! To do something stupid like fetch your slippers and rub your feet."

"You mean, you wouldn't rub my feet?" he asked mildly.

Hermione's face darkened with anger. She opened her mouth, intending to blast him, when she noted the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth and a definite crinkling in his eyes. He's teasing me. "Oh, no you don't," she told him. "I'm not taking the bait."

"Pity," he murmured. His dark eyes continued to gleam with mischief for a moment longer, and then he became serious. "No," he conceded, "I'll not make silly demands. However, there may be times when you will view my requests as 'ridiculous' when they will be, in fact, essential. For those times, I will explain my orders once whatever dangerous situation has passed."

Hermione thought over his words while she gazed earnestly into his eyes. "All right," she told him. "I'll trust that you won't take advantage of me."

"Thank you." He shifted, crossing one long leg over the other, and leaned back in his chair, gaining both physical and mental distance. "Now, to address the topic of children," his said coolly. "Although we entered into this 'marriage' nearly six months ago, we are not equal partners." He snorted. "I doubt that we will ever be equals in this marriage; however, we must maintain a semblance of friendship."

"I thought we were friends," Hermione blurted out, the hurt in her words evident. "And why can't we be equal partners?"

Ignoring the young woman's obvious emotional upset, Severus told her. "We are unequal partners for many reasons. I hold the equivalent of a PhD in Potions while you haven't even completed your education. I am gainfully employed while you will be dependent upon me for everything." His tone was growing more acid with every word. "The age difference alone is enough to make us unequal."

"We can't alter the age difference," she said earnestly, "but the other factors will even out with time."

"We have no time," he hissed at her. "I have no hopes of surviving the coming conflict." At seeing her obvious distress, he held up his hand. "Long ago I agreed to devote my life to the defeat of the Dark Lord. And, when the end comes, regardless of what happens, I will be viewed as a traitor to one side or the other. I have accepted my fate, and you should be prepared for young widowhood."

"But -" she cried.

But he continued on, steamrolling over her reply. "Back to the topic of children: I am well aware of my reputation, of the fear, suspicion, and hatred with which others feel for me." Finally, he paused to take a breath. "I need to know if you find the idea of bestowing any motherly affection on a child of mine repugnant. Consider the question carefully before you make any grand and dramatic Gryffindor gestures. Remember that you will likely find yourself a young widow with at least one small child clinging to your skirts." He peered at her intently. "This is a matter of particular importance to me. If you find that you are unable to love and care for my off-spring, I will find a good Wizarding family to foster him or her."

Hermione was stunned. Her mouth dropped open, but before she could find the words to tell him how appalled she was at his suggestion, he had risen from his seat. Already he was calling for Grazey to clear away the breakfast and ask the others to rejoin them.

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Albus Dumbledore, wearing his house robe and slippers, leaned on Poppy's arm for support. Although she had protested most vehemently, he had ignored her and insisted they go down to breakfast. His only thought had been for Minerva and settling things aright with her.

"Stupid, knuckle-headed, stubborn, jackass of a man," Poppy muttered in a steady stream as she ushered the Headmaster down to the staff room. She took a moment to swipe at her straggling hair with her free arm, but she only managed to destroy what remained of her usual tidy coiffure. "Damnation," she growled.

With a soft, slightly drunken chuckle, Albus chided her, "Language, Poppy." He leaned against her, admiring his new right hand. "And I must say that pain potion you gave me earlier is doing an admirable job." He wobbled a bit, and she took a tighter hold on him.

The pair entered the Great Hall to find the staff table full. Looking up at them with raised brows and eyes filled with speculation were the Hogwarts summer staff and guests. Filius and Pomona quickly gauged them, shot an equally assessing look at Minerva, and butted heads together in a private conversation.

Poppy's hair, askew with no hope of being contained without the mysterious feminine weapons of various sprays and a myriad of potions, floated around her shoulders. Her blue eyes were sparkling from a flushed face, and her normally immaculate dress was open at the throat.

Albus, looking bed-tousled, was wearing his bed robe and slippers. His left arm was around Poppy's shoulders while his right hand, blackened and bruised, held tightly onto her right hand. He was leaning heavily against his friend.

Molly eyed them both with suspicion and returned her gaze to her plate. Arthur, though, bit his lip, trying to hold down his rampant speculations. He cast a glance at Robbie McGonagall, sitting across from him.

Robbie, rising anger in his eyes, stood abruptly, wiped his mouth, and threw down his napkin. "Min," he barked at his obviously distraught sister, "you've yet to show me the room. Up with you now. No time to waste." He marched around the table and helped his sister from her chair.

"Minerva," Albus said. His voice, slightly slurred from the pain potion, gave the impression that he was a bit intoxicated. "I would like to speak with you in private."

"Not today, Dumbledore," Robbie answered for her. He tenderly herded Minerva towards the door. Now was not the time for her to explode - whether in tears or a fine Scottish temper. "Sis will be busy with me all the day." He pushed her from the room only to stick his head back inside for a parting shot. "In fact, she'll be busy helping me all the summer long."