AN: There was much excitement in the reviews section when I mentioned doing a newsletter, so I'm excited to announce its launch.
To keep it simple (for now), simply email thefanfictioncurator at gmail com and I will add you to the list.
The monthly emails will contain recently finished, recently started and old-but-good fanfictions featuring Hermione and Severus, as well as some tangentially related fictions I think we'll like, art of the month, writing prompts and more.
As members, you will also have the ability to send me fanfictions you liked for consideration in the next mailing list (please do this! I'm obsessed but my time is sadly finite and I don't want to miss amazing fics just because I have to work! :D).
"The Cottage" as Hermione discovered, was a villa in Spain, near Granada rather than something quaint and tiny tucked off in the middle of nowhere as she was expecting. There were green trees lining the dusty roads surrounding The Cottage and every morning Hermione smiled as she woke up to the smell of ripe pomegranates Breinda had prepared, scooping the seeds into a little plastic box which lived in the cooling cabinet.
"Good morning, Mrs. Snape," Breinda greeted her with a warm smile as Hermione took a seat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. "I'm afraid the young master is still asleep, but I can put some bacon and eggs on for you if you like?"
Hermione took a sip of the iced water Breinda handed her. "No, thank you. I'm just going to grab a quick bite before I head upstairs."
Breinda frowned. "Of course, Mrs. Snape. Let me just get you some bread and perhaps a few slices of watermelon?"
Hermione nodded, watching the woman work as she bustled around the kitchen. Breinda was 30 and had the self-possessed air of a woman, next to which Hermione felt herself to be an awkward child.
"How long have you been working for the Malfoys?" Hermione asked as Breinda placed three long, succulent slices of watermelon onto a plate before her.
"Since I was a little girl." The woman informed her. "I think I must have been 8 or 9 at the time, although I was a little malnourished when they took me in so I looked younger."
"Took you in?"
"Well, yes, of course." Breinda pulled open the oven and brought out a crisp loaf from which a few slices had already been cut. "I was living on the streets when Narcissa recognised me and you know the rest."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't," she admitted. "I had no idea."
"Oh, I thought Draco must have told you. You are friends at school, after all. He talks about you an awful lot, that boy."
Hermione bit her lip. There was no real way to respond to that. Yes, they had been friends but only for their final year and a half. Even then, they were hardly the type of people to swap stories of their youth - instead they tested each other's knowledge before exams as though they were a set of sharpening stones for a blade.
"Well, I was the youngest child of one of the premier families here in Spain. They were a little like your Blacks are over there, only of course here we aren't quite so egalitarian. A little more… feudal? Is that the right word?"
Hermione spread a thin layer of butter over her bread and took a bite. It was heaven. Her eyes slid shut as Breinda continued talking.
"So, I was the pampered little princess of one of the most prestigious families. My father made calls on the King and I played regularly with Cissy, Bella and Andromeda when the Blacks visited on their diplomatic missions - you must know Narcissa's family worked very hard to maintain Britain's links with the rest of the Wizarding world?"
Hermione turned white at the mention of Bellatrix and she stopped eating, dropping the bread back down on her small plate. Fear gripped her throat as she tried to swallow.
"Anyway, I wouldn't say I had close friends but I knew the girls. They were older than me, 14, 17 and 18, I think." Breinda waited until Hermione nodded before continuing. "But it became clear I was a… what is the English word? A Squib? It became clear I was a Squib when I was 8 and so the family threw me out."
"What?" Hermione exclaimed, pushing her own trauma far down. "What do you mean?"
"They cast me out. They didn't want me anymore. Oh, don't look like that, dear. Good riddance I say. I lived on the streets for a few weeks, stealing food and begging for coin, when I saw Narcissa. It was early winter so I almost thought I was hallucinating when I saw her but that beautiful blonde hair didn't disappear so I chased after her."
"I didn't really have a plan, I just wanted a few coins - something to help me survive. But as soon as Narcissa recognised me she dragged me to her father. Cygnus was a kind man, that one, he had to be with the size of his family! Always with the cousins Sirius and Regulus underfoot too; Sirius at odds with Bella over any little thing, Regulus dragging Dromeda out from hiding in her room- The children were constantly bickering, and their mother!" Breinda looked fervently around the room as though she were going to be caught by Mrs. Black at any moment.
"But Cygnus took me in and fed me; they let me live here with the woman they hired from the village to take care of the property. They put me through school and once I graduated they gave me a job here. Narcissa asked for the cottage as her wedding gift."
Unattractively, Hermione's mouth was hanging open in utter disbelief. "I can't believe your family threw you out," she whispered. "How awful, especially when you didn't have magic."
"Well, exactly. I suppose if I had known how the muggle world worked, it might have been a little less dangerous but as it was I knew nothing. I kept trying to go back to the shops I knew my mother might visit - I thought if I saw her I might persuade her to let me back in. But of course none of the doors would open for me without magic."
Hermione could feel tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. "That's just… awful."
"There, there." Breinda chucked her under the chin with a wide grin. "It all worked out in the end. Try to have another bite of this bread before you go upstairs, you're getting far too skinny."
Obeying, Hermione took another bite of the freshly made loaf, savoring the rich, sweet-cream butter she had spread over the top. Knowing Breinda's story had comforted her in some strange way - she had never really thought of the Malfoys as having any sympathy for those outside of their family and yet Narcissa had convinced her own family to take in a young homeless girl and cared for her for years after the fact. It eased her worries about staying in "the Cottage" with them.
Technically, she knew that what she and Severus were doing wasn't exactly legal. They were, quite literally, running from the law. Or, rather, she and the Malfoy's were carrying Severus away from the law - her husband was only conscious for a few hours each day, could barely speak, and had trouble breathing. The Spanish Healers whom Malfoy had employed indicated that with enough bedrest, soothing pain relievers, and time, all would be well. Hermione had hesitated on contacting Esma, not wanting to put her new friends in a delicate position with the Wizengamot.
"Morning Granger," Draco drawled, pulling out the chair next to her and helping himself to a slice of bread from her plate. His hair was somehow still stylish, even when he'd just dragged himself out of bed.
"Snape," she reminded him, rolling her eyes.
"Habit. Can't expect me to change the habit of a lifetime just because you went and got married, can you?"
She narrowed her eyes as he flashed her a characteristic Malfoy smirk.
"I just wanted to say, Granger, that I am terribly thankful you came along to rescue me."
"I didn't do anything," Hermione pointed out, her expression pained at the memory of Bella's insane smile. She tamped it down before it had a chance to fester. "Severus did it all."
"Severus and my father are obligated to help me. They are family. You were not. Therefore," Draco drummed his fingers on the table and grinned up at her. "You are the only one that deserves thanks."
"Oh, really?" Hermione pushed at his shoulder in an effort to relieve the tension. "You're letting me stay here, away from Wizarding Britain - that's thanks enough after the month I've had. The cottage is beautiful - has it been in the family long?"
"Generations beyond measure," Draco shrugged. "It's a Black residence really. My father received it as a wedding present from his father in law. It will go to whichever lucky witch ends up with the Malfoy name next, of course."
With a debonair wink, Draco wiggled his eyebrows at the door leading to the pool.
He was far more cocky today than he had been the previous week and Hermione was glad to have a bit of her arrogant friend back. Since his parents had returned to England to face their wizarding trials, he had been sullen and depressed. "Good news?" she asked, tapping her fingers against his letter.
Before he could reply, he took a large bite from the only remaining bread Hermione had.
"Outstanding." He clapped her on the back and winked at Breinda as she brought him a plate of his own piled high with bread and fruit. "Turns out that for the week before the war my father was helping old Severus find all sorts of dark artifacts from the Dark Lord's personal history."
"He was what?" Hermione yelped.
"Apparently these momentos were cursed to help bring back the Dark- Granger, where are you going?"
Hermione ignored him, pushing all of her energy into her pumping legs and her tight fists, forcing herself up through the labyrinth that was the Cottage, her anger fuelling her as she stalked through the hallways to where her husband was resting.
"You lied," she snarled as she forced the door to Severus' room open with such force that it hit the wall.
"Good morning, Hermione, he whispered, wincing. "May I ask why I am being accosted at such an early hour?"
"You lied to me." Despite her anger, the witch was embarrassed to feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes at Severus' seeming betrayal of her trust. She blinked, trying to let her anger wipe them away. "You said you were helping Fred and George when really you were out galavanting through the English countryside with Malfoy Senior."
Severus lifted an eyebrow in response to her accusation. "And where have you heard such things?" He asked, his tone perfectly calm and altogether too innocent sounding.
"Don't." Hermione flicked an errant tear away from her eye as she stood her ground. "Just… don't. I can't believe I trusted you when you said you would stay safe." Her voice broke when her emotions could no longer be controlled as thoughts of Severus in danger rushed through her mind. . "It was the only way I could function, knowing you were safe somewhere, off the front lines - and instead you were smuggling bits of Voldemort's soul around with a half-reformed Death Eater."
Severus' eyes widened as he studied the witch who appeared to be doing everything possible to hold herself together, even if she wasn't being very successful. "Hermione," he kept his voice calm, though it pained him to speak at all. "We couldn't tell anyone. Dumbledore knew I had a plan but only I and Lucius knew how to execute it. As soon as you let slip the word Horcrux on the train, I knew how he had come back last time and I damned well wasn't going to suffer through that again. The world is a better place rid of that man."
She stared at him sullenly.
"So, Lucius and I compiled a list of the possible vessels. Some were easy to retrieve - the Black family vault is the only one Bella is allowed now that she's been to Azkaban so Cissy dipped in and retrieved a cup for us. Hogwarts was more than willing to give the headmaster a suspicious diadem, which we destroyed neatly alongside a ring Dumbledore had found last year." Severus peered at her over his fingers, where he was counting the number of victories he and Lucius had somehow, through luck, long years of service, and hard-work, managed to win over the Dark Lord. "Lucius figured out where the last piece was - a locket. Some were a little harder to find than others, but in the end we retrieved them all."
Her jaw was still tightly clenched and Severus longed to pull her into his arms and whisper his secret to her but his voice was fading in and out from use. This was the most he'd spoken since the attack and each syllable felt like fire in his throat the longer he spoke.
Turning from her, he took a long pull from a chilled water glass by his bed.
"I'm sorry," she flopped into the reading chair on the left hand side of his bed as her anger deflated. "It's hard, thinking of you in danger."
"I had similar troubles." He hoped she would understand even as the words were forced out despite the pain searing his throat. He'd been worried sick about her, camped out in the woods, hoping the Ministry and the Death Eaters wouldn't find them first. It had made his usual broken sleep even more unbearable. If he hadn't known already that he was completely besotted with her, he certainly would have realised it when found himself daydreaming up mad scenarios where, a few years after the war, she discovered what he'd done to help defeat the Dark Lord and visited his grave every year or hung a portrait of him in the house. Something, anything to remember him by.
The fact that he was alive following a war he never thought to survive somehow paled in comparison to the fact that his witch was cross with him over his actions over the past few weeks to help them win the war. The thought twisted in his heart.
"It was foolish," she admonished as she carded her fingers through his fine, black hair. "And brave, so very, very brave."
He gave an attempt at a scathing look but didn't reply. For a few moments he let himself luxuriate in the feel of her nails against his scalp. It was so peaceful to rest in her presence although he could feel his consciousness slipping even now, back into the dream-like fog he had been enduring since the battle.
"Granger, Snape." Draco nodded at both of them as he opened the door. "You left so quickly at breakfast that I didn't get to tell you my good news. My parents are both free. They'll be coming back tomorrow - it was the fastest father could get an international portkey."
Springing up from the chair next to Severus' bed, Hermione enveloped Draco in a hug. "That's wonderful! Now I'll be able to thank them in person for letting us stay here." Severus' eyes narrowed at the sight of his witch wrapped around another wizard and a bitter taste seemed to rise in his throat, although it was not because his wife embraced Draco, moreso the warm flush that filled the boy's face as he encircled her in his arms. After a brief moment she pulled away. "What about Severus?"
"My godfather is a free man, even though he didn't attend his own trial." Draco smirked at the Potions Master, now prone on the bed. Severus couldn't smile back. "My parents have the best lawyers in the business - the case the Wizengamot prosecutor put together didn't stand a chance."
Severus' eyes fluttered as he felt sleep trying to claim him once more. It could've been the massive dose of pain potions coupled with the cocktail of other potions which had been prescribed by the healers, but had someone asked him to, he would've put money on his godson harboring less than platonic feelings for his wife. Could it really be helped? They spent so much time together during Severus' convalescence, caring for him and keeping each other company.
"Speaking of which." Hermione asked, turning to Malfoy. "Did you happen to get any books with your owl this morning?" He nodded, and from one pocket pulled a shrunken brown parcel. She barely gave him time to return it to its original size before she grabbed at it, running reverent fingers over the paper and filling the chamber with a satisfying crinkling.
"You know," Draco mused with a cheeky grin, "you should be careful, witch. They'll be able to track you down through the massive quantities of books being ordered to the south of Spain soon enough."
Mrs. Snape grinned at the half-jibe and ripped open the brown paper just as Severus finally lost his grip on consciousness.
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Severus woke much later in the day, a few hours after noon judging by the position of the sunlight streaming in through his window. Hermione and Draco were both still there, having taken up almost permanent residence in chairs on either side of his bed. Draco, Severus noticed, had his head bowed over a book and despite the appearance that he was reading, his eyes would periodically drift over to the muggle-born witch opposite of where he was currently sitting. Severus rolled his eyes.
Despite his annoyance with Draco for not-so-secretly admiring his witch, Severus finally allowed himself to take a peek at her as well. She was a riot of curls as her quill rapidly scratched across a roll of parchment in her typical style of furious note-taking, her hair seeing to move and shake of its own accord with each stroke of the quill. There was a smudge of purple ink across one of her cheeks but it only made her more beautiful in his eyes. It was as though the imperfection merely clarified just how glorious she was.
As if she could feel the weight of his gaze, she paused in her studies and caught his eye. Any worries he might have had about his godson were eased when a smile bloomed over his wife's lips and the apples of her cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink as their eyes met. He was married to this witch, there was no way Draco could trump that.
"Hi," she whispered as she set the quill and parchment down upon her lap.
He inclined his head towards her, admiring the rosy color of her cheeks.
"Did we wake you?" While her speaking volume had returned to normal, his witch was clearly studying him for any sign of pain, tightness, or irritation, her eyes flitting over him rapidly before making eye contact once more.
"No," he replied. He took a sip from the magically cooled glass which permanently sat on the bedside table. "No, I don't think so."
"I was just trying to tempt Granger outside, get some sun." Draco added a bit too cheerfully for Severus taste and he noted the boy's ears were turning pink. The feeling in Severus' stomach returned, bitter and hard.
She rolled her eyes and locked a hardened gaze on Draco. "Snape," she emphasised. "It's hard to believe you were ever close to top of your class."
"Granger," Draco drawled. "I was top of every class you weren't in and some you were."
Severus was, once again, reminded of his age when he realised how much the adolescent posturing wearied him. He dropped back onto the pillows, taking several steadying breaths as he was reminded that, though he was married to the witch, it was hardly because she had said she wanted to be his wife. He had accepted her proposal to escape a marriage to Bellatrix, though he probably would have accepted a marriage to a random witch off of the street than be married to that absolute loon.
As loathe as he was to push them together, he wasn't sure how much longer he could abide their flirting. Compared to Draco, it was abundantly clear to Severus that twenty years of life experience had left him battered and ugly where as Draco possessed the vibrancy of youth. It didn't help that his godson had inherited the best features of his parents and had grown up to be a handsome young man. A handsome, monied young man.
Not that Severus had ever had much chance in the looks department to start with given his own lineage.
"You should go," he told Hermione, clenching his hand into a fist to stop from reaching to tug on a stray curl which had fallen over her shoulder. "It will do you some good to get some fresh sea air. We can't both atrophy."
Hermione studied him for a second, a small line appearing between her brows before nodding. "It might be good to give you some time to rest, I suppose." Her reluctance to leave him was clear, though she tucked her giant book into her bag.
"You won't need that!" Draco laughed, ensuring her bag remained firmly on the ground near the chair.. "We're taking a short walk, no reading allowed."
Hermione, with a little laugh that jangled against Severus' nerves, accepted Draco's outstretched hand and tugged on it as she rose. "Alright, Severus. We'll be back soon."
She waved to him as Draco practically pulled her out of the guest room and Severus felt his heart wrench painfully in his chest.
Draco Malfoy was one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain. He came from good stock, had an excellent reputation, scored nearly as many N.E.W.T.s as Hermione and, on top of all that, he was handsome and could charm the goblin-forged tiara off of the head of the most stubborn pure-blooded matriarch if he put his mind to it. He could buy Hermione all the first editions and rare texts she could ever dream of, portkey her to any number of conferences, museums, or galas, and set up meetings with any government official she needed to speak to about any cause near and dear to her heart - assuming of course that the Malfoy name would bounce back. It had a habit of remaining incredibly durable despite the less-than-pure habits of that house.
Severus Snape was not eligible. If his status a a known Death Eater and practitioner of the Dark Arts didn't discount him, then the fact that he was the son of a muggle and a disgraced pureblood witch certainly did. While he was an adequate brewer and was generally considered intelligent, he was ugly as sin. What Severus knew about the current fashions and topics of conversation could be written on a postcard and, what's more, he could offer her only a mouldy two bed terrace in one of the ugliest areas on the planet.
The comparison between his own home in Spinner's End and The Cottage made Severus feel physically ill. This wasn't even their main house for Merlin's sake.
It wasn't as though Lucius and Narcissa would disapprove of an out-of-wedlock dalliance, unless it was for Severus' sake. Extramarital relationships were common in the Wizarding World, where witches and wizards often married young, couldn't separate, and were still considered rather young and spry well into their 70s. As long as Draco didn't marry the chit his parents would be supportive, especially since there was no chance at the two of them exchanging vows since she was already married.
The thought calmed him a little and he realised he had been spiralling into a well of bitter, jealous thoughts which bordered on the edge of paranoia. Hermione was married to him. He could allow her a boyfriend, couldn't he? The way his heart thudded painfully against the wall of his chest reminded him that he had never been one for casual vows and when he loved, he loved deeply. This might ruin him. But if it made his wife happy and she came back to him at the end of the day, would it really matter?
Experimentally, he released his Occlumency shields and visualised what that future might bring. Hermione would saunter into their home with a smile on her face, clutching another first edition to be added to their already overflowing shelves, though her smile would fade as she frowned at the state of their home, mentally comparing it to Malfoy Manor. The possibilities evolved before him playing through his mind like vivid memories in a pensieve. Eventually, the Hermione in his mind moved out of their shabby, little home and into a grand London flat in the heart of the city which Draco had purchased outright for his mistress specifically because it was near both the wizarding and muggle branches of the British Library, a place where he could meet her at any time of day or night and charm her into a glittering dinner out.
Why would she ever want stay with him when Draco could offer her so much more? The disparity between what he and his godson would be able to offer the witch was too painful to think about, twisting his stomach into knots.
Cursing, he flung himself out of his thoughts and back into the room, forcing himself to focus his eyes upon a painting so he wouldn't become consumed with his own shortcomings. If the witch chose to live without him, he would tolerate it. Although he would make certain that they still saw each other - even if it was only for Friday night dinners where he cooked for her, or something like that. A ritual. Something that would make the void that stretched before him meaningful. Severus needed some way of seeing her to make his life worth living. She had been a balm for his lonely heart and he couldn't bear to imagine a future without her.
His Occlumency shields repaired themselves, slowing building up around his mind. The rapid pants of his breath slowed to a normal steady rhythm over the next minute and he felt some of the tension release. He took another sip from the cool glass, feeling the relief against his neck.
It was as he placed it back that he saw the book peeking out from Hermione's bag. A heavy, brown leather tome with embossed golden letters spelling out the title. He stood on shaky legs. His muscles were weak after the week of enforced bedrest, but he refused to give in to such base needs as rest. He clawed at the book, tossing it onto the bed with a gesture that took far more effort than he anticipated. With relief, he followed it and slipped once more under the covers. That had been far more taxing than he had expected.
He flipped the book right-side-up to check the title.
"British Wizarding Laws in the 21st Century - A Guide For The Muggleborn"
An odd choice. Why would Malfoy be smuggling Hermione books on the law?
Severus slid a nail between the pages where a ragged piece of parchment marked her place and cracked open the book, ignoring the anxiety pooling in his stomach before he even had a chance to read a word on the page.
It was a testament to how much his worry was driving him that he didn't even pause to take the compelling scent of knowledge at his fingertips, as he usually did, lifting a book to his nose to take in it's unique scent before reading. Instead, he flipped over the scrap of parchment, expecting some sort of hand-written notes on whatever the page entailed. He knew his witch's proclivity for jotting notes on the nearest bit of parchment: but it was blank. Curious, he began to read - and it was like someone had cast a Reducto on his heart.
The chapter Hermione had marked, the one she was so diligently taking notes on, was entitled "The Wizarding World and Divorce - The Current State."
Despite the fact that his hands curled into involuntary fists and he found his entire body shaking, it was the salty tears which formed in the corners of his eyes which frustrated him the most. He'd known all along that their marriage was a sham, a convenience but in truth, he'd been comforted by the fact that the witch had been bound to him, even if he'd known she'd never truly be his.
The searing pain in his lungs made him feel like he was drowning, as if the crushing pain of his emotions wasn't enough.
Was she so disgusted by him that she planned to completely change hundreds, if not thousands, of years of tradition? Did she find him so revolting that she felt she needed to bring a case before the Wizengamot to legally divorce him, something that simply wasn't done within their world? She would publicly shame him, but she had a chance at being free. The part that completely ripped at his soul was that she was brilliant enough to succeed, especially if she capitalised on the hard fought final battle and the fame which would, no doubt, follow on after her.
Fuck.