30 DAYS, A MARRIAGE
by Lady Memory
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of J.K. Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.
Many thanks to my readers and reviewers.
Friday - Day 20 – Pride and Prejudice
For the hundredth time, Hermione considered the piece of parchment she had in her hands. It was the famous message to Professor Dumbledore to ask for more black wool, but she wasn't sure she still wanted to carry on with her project.
Would Professor Snape accept a present - and such a present - from her?
Furthermore, did he really deserve it?
Her brows furrowed, reliving the episode with Robert. Yes, the boy's visit had been a consequence of her previous imprudent behaviour, but she thought she had atoned for that… But no, evidently it wasn't enough, and Hermione felt hopeless. Though she was trying to do her best, according to her new life, and above all, to his requirements, Professor Snape was continuously rejecting her efforts, exposing at the same time the worst sides of his character. Even more maddening, he seemed incapable of overcoming his opinion about her. For him, she was only a child, a spoiled child whom he needed to control. And for some strange, frustrating reason, the situation always ended by giving him reason.
Hermione sighed deeply. When she was in Hogwarts, she had thought she had some qualities, at least one or two useful ones… but here, when put to a test, she seemed to be only and ignominiously failing. Her self-esteem was crumbling. Her only valuable characteristic seemed to be that notorious secret hosted in her mind. What could it be? And why, when and where had she learnt it?
The girl heard the door of his room open and close for the third time: her guardian had surely gone to pick up the books before leaving, and she smiled bitterly, thinking how well she had got to know his habits after those long, frustrating weeks together. But she wasn't prepared for the flood of memories that suddenly invaded her mind as if they were waiting for a moment of distraction. And amongst them, the unexpected, funny image of a not yet shaved Professor Snape, wearing a worn out dressing gown and fumbling to keep it closed while entering the kitchen.
How vulnerable he had looked! And she had probably been the only one allowed to get a glimpse of such vulnerability. Not even Professor Dumbledore had ever had the chance to see his formidable subordinate in similar moments…
Those thoughts had a calming effect, and finally Hermione decided. Resolutely, she entered the living room and waited for him to come out of his lair.
...
Professor Snape looked a bit surprised when he opened the door again, books under his left arm. But his face darkened immediately.
"Yes?" he asked coldly, and his eyes had a sinister glow. But Hermione had been somehow softened by her memories, and his anger didn't frighten her.
She presented him the roll of parchment with three simple words, "To Professor Dumbledore."
His brows furrowed dangerously, and she hurried to add, "Please."
Snape grabbed the parchment with his free hand. "A complaint?" he asked sarcastically. "Whining because you have finally realised that you and I are incompatible under the same roof?"
"Actually, a request for… feminine supplies," the girl replied, carefully giving the right hesitant intonation to her voice to show a bit of due embarrassment.
The man looked savagely at the roll as if he were going to crush it. Then he put it in his pocket, still looking at her with anger.
"A nuisance as always! But at least, this time you have been wise enough to give the burden to somebody else."
Snape strode towards the door and took his cloak, trying unsuccessfully to put it on, forced as he was to use only one hand. Silently, Hermione advanced and placed the cape correctly on his shoulders. He seemed to freeze and stiffen for a moment, then turned to look at her with a frightening scowl - an effect nevertheless ruined by his fumbling with the clasp of his cloak.
"Don't try to play your tricks with me, Miss Granger."
"Heaven forbid!" Hermione replied bitterly. His brows furrowed but she didn't seem to pay any attention to that alarming sign, as she kept staring at him defiantly.
"Miss Granger, you are decidedly irritating this morning," he warned her.
"Why? Because I've helped you?" she asked.
Snape was still struggling to fasten the clasp. In his temper, he had deformed the metal so that the object was resisting the pressure of his fingers, making his face redden in exasperation.
"You aren't a help! You are a trouble, a hassle, a pain in the neck, and the most distressing of my assignments!"
"Thank you for explaining your point of view," the girl replied coldly.
"Manners, Miss Granger!" he thundered but Hermione didn't withdraw. Very well, she was a trouble and a pain in the neck, and once more, he was shouting at her. Okay then, let him shout. What else could he do except shouting? What else? Send her back to her room? Send her back to Hogwarts? Merlin's beard if that wasn't exactly what she wished most! She would do everything to put an end to that intolerable situation, even encourage him in his irritation.
So, Hermione replied bluntly, "I didn't say anything rude," and as expected, Snape exploded. "Go to your room!"
Now, that morning she didn't want to obey.
"Are you going to lock me in?" She folded her arms. "Please do, otherwise, as soon as you leave the house, I'll be free to go out."
Hermione had obviously meant "out of the room", so she wasn't prepared to the reaction her declaration raised.
Snape turned to watch her, and his eyes became icy. "I suppose you are planning to meet that young idiot again," he snapped.
That was unexpected, but her confusion lasted only for a moment.
"Robert is no idiot!" Hermione replied irately.
"Of course!" Snape snorted. "He is tall and blond and blue-eyed, and that's enough for you."
Merlin! How and when had he noticed all those details? She stared at him open-mouthed, and he grew even more furious. "Is he going to visit you again? Did you promise him anything?"
Ah, that really was enough!
"You don't trust me, I see," Hermione replied angrily.
"Who would be so foolish as to trust a woman in these matters?" Snape retorted.
She glared back. His reactions were disconcerting. Why was he so scared of Robert's possible return? The boy was a Muggle, therefore he couldn't represent a danger!
But thinking more clearly, perhaps his continual coming and going in such a desert land could draw unwanted attention on their house… And what if the boy had already talked about her and her "husband" to his sister and friends? Somebody might get curious about such an odd couple… Somebody who had completely different reasons to investigate that very peculiar relationship.
Hermione suddenly felt very uncomfortable. How silly she had been, behaving in such a childish way with a man who was exposing himself to unimaginable risks to protect her! Yet, she didn't want to apologise, so she lowered her head while he kept struggling with his clasp.
"See the problems you have created!" Snape finally burst out as soon as he had won the object's resistance. "How can I leave you here alone? The chances of him coming back are too high to be ignored!"
Hermione paled. The prospect of a whole day with that enraged man was terrifying.
"I'm sorry, Professor," she murmured. "Please forget what I said. I'm sure that Robert won't come again. However, I promise I won't go out of the house. Neither will I let anybody in."
"I don't believe you, Miss Granger," Snape replied sharply. "Like every woman, you follow your emotions, so you simply can't be trusted."
He hesitated but anger brought him to the inevitable conclusion.
"Few things count for those of your sex. And loyalty certainly isn't at first place: women are so easily persuaded by sweet words and pretty faces!"
Hermione reddened in indignation. "How can you say such… such nasty things?"
Snape smiled his hateful sarcastic smile.
"Because I have been offered plenty of evidence, and not only from you," he concluded.
"Women are NOT as you say!" the girl cried, fuming in anger. Then, trying to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, she added venomously, "Though I imagine I should make an exception for Slytherins!"
Snape inclined his head and crossed his arms.
"Actually," he said slowly, "the woman I'm thinking about was a Gryffindor."
Hermione widened her eyes. "Ah!" she exclaimed, and backed a step, so to envelop his whole person in a disgusted glance. "That's why you hate us so much! Now I understand!"
His face altered in such intense emotion that she felt scared.
"No!" Snape said, and his voice trembled in a disconcerting way. "You understood nothing!"
He stopped abruptly and clenched his hands.
"I'm leaving, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet and therefore even more alarming tone. "Don't bother cooking for me this evening. I'll have dinner in the castle before coming back."
His voice became bitter. "Better see each other as little as possible."
Hermione felt suddenly exhausted. What was the good of hurting each other while a demonic monster was quietly waiting to exterminate them both? Wasn't that thought torture enough? Why did they need to add more pain to moments that could be their last ones?
Her head dropped.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't really mean what I said."
…
Hermione watched him go. As soon as he disappeared in the distance, she went to her room, threw herself on the bed and shed all the tears she had accumulated in those last hours, sinking her face in the pillow and sobbing like the desperate teenager she was. The storm took a bit to dry up, but finally she raised her head and focused her misty eyes on the objects in her room. No, nothing had magically changed in the meantime, and no fairy had appeared to offer her consolation. She had to find a solution by herself. But what could she do?
Well, first of all, she needed to recover her calm. And to reach that desirable state, she needed something quiet and boring to do. So, half-heartedly, Hermione took the needles and began to knit, hoping her brain would come out with something useful during that repetitive work. But soon she was forced to stop, as the wool had definitely ended. It was still the middle of the morning, and she felt depressed. So, once again, the girl turned to her favourite pastime and raised her eyes to the bookshelf on the wall; the last of those sugary romances she had begun to read in the first days of her segregation was still waiting to be opened. She picked it up and went to sit near the fireplace, ready to anaesthetise herself.
It would be delightful to say that it was a powerful story, with well-described characters and forcefully painted feelings… Unfortunately, it was only a cheap, unpretentious popular romance, where hate and love mixed in a whirl of passions; nevertheless, her mind clung to it with all the force of her saddened heart. Hermione read and read and read, and while she read, her brain relaxed in a sort of drunken stupor until she disciplined her feelings again. And finally, an idea lit in her mind.
"To the kitchen," she ordered herself.
…
When Snape arrived, Hermione was still in the kitchen and hurried out to meet him. A delicious smell followed her, filling the air with its enticing aroma. It was his favourite dish; she hadn't made it for days, and his eyes lit up for a moment before turning cold again.
"Good evening," she greeted, stretching out a hand to take the supermarket bags. But, strangely, he hadn't brought any. Hermione swallowed. Was that a signal of something worse to come? Whatever it was, she went on, playing the part the book had suggested her: the frail, innocent girl opposed to the courageous but severe and… and… – oh well, let's be sincere and say despotic! – man. The method never failed according to the heroine of the story, whose philosophy Hermione had absorbed in her afternoon reading.
"I… I hope you had a pleasant day," she said timidly, trying to recover the lines she had rehearsed in her mind before his arrival.
"I did, thank you," Snape replied composedly.
"It's still very cold, outside, isn't it?" the girl continued and blushed under his gaze. Surely, he ought to be surprised. She was behaving so unnaturally, especially considering what had happened in the morning! But he didn't even blink.
"Yes, very cold," he confirmed, watching her as if she was an interesting specimen.
Hermione inhaled, glanced at her clasped hands and capitulated, abandoning her self-imposed pretension. "Then… then perhaps you would like something to eat?"
"I was supposed to have dinner at Hogwarts," Snape reminded her calmly. Too calmly. Hermione felt the blood chill in her veins, and prepared for an explosion.
Instead, surprisingly, he tilted his head and added quietly, "But I haven't. So, I'll be happy to accept your invitation."
"Oh!" she said, and her voice wavered in relief. "I'm so glad! I had hoped so much that you…" She stopped, suddenly uneasy. "That you would change your mind," she ended bravely. Then, steadying her tone, she explained, "You see, I have prepared something special."
"Yes, I noticed. Of all the possible days, you chose exactly today." Snape stood for a moment, than considered, "I would call this bribery."
Hermione blushed even more vividly and bit her lip. "Cooking is the only way I have to show you how much I appreciate your… help," she murmured.
The wizard raised his brows in an ironical expression. "Oh, but there are so many others! Manners and a respectful silence would be adequate thanks, most of the times. But I'm glad you have chosen such an appetizing way to demonstrate your… appreciation."
They stared at each other, then with a wry smile, Snape offered her a small package, wrapped in a paper decorated with joyfully coloured lollypops.
"Before I forget. From professor Dumbledore, with his best regards."
Hermione took the package, that was obviously containing the yarns she had asked, and understood that he wasn't aware of its content. Suddenly, she felt exultant. The impending feast was evidently the last of his thoughts. Her gift would therefore be an unexpected surprise, and for a strange reason, that consideration filled her heart with an immense happiness.
"Thank you, Professor," the girl said, raising her face and smiling at him so joyfully that Snape frowned, taken by surprise. And, as always when he was surprised by her – and disconcerted – he blushed.
...
The quarrel of the morning seemed to have slipped in an obscure corner, and there was nothing else to add. So, they went to the kitchen, and the man sat at the table, a look of anticipation on his face. Hermione filled his dish and then paused to watch him eat, enjoying the first assaults of his fork. Odd as it may be, she felt elated and lost herself in that pleasant sensation…
Snape noticed her quietness, and arched an eyebrow in his typical interrogative air.
"Well?" he asked ironically. "Have I been caught defencelessly in a trap? Did you poison this food, counting on my appetite and credulity?"
Hermione awakened abruptly. "You will have to decide by yourself," she declared with a smile, and presented him a chocolate pudding.
He seemed impressed. "How shrewd! I suppose I'll have to take the risk," he replied. He savoured the sweet with evident pleasure. "From now on, you are allowed to poison me every evening, Miss Granger."
The atmosphere became relaxed. When everything was finished, Snape put his spoon on his scrupulously emptied plate and leaned back on his chair while she busied herself with reordering the kitchen.
"You have outdone yourself this evening," he said, toying with his napkin. "But what if you had been wrong? What if I had already had dinner in Hogwarts?"
"No," Hermione shook her head, carefully arranging the glasses in the sink. "I knew you wouldn't."
"But how could you be that sure?" Snape insisted.
"Oh!" she replied vaguely, stacking the dishes in an ordered pile. "Call it feminine intuition."
Her face reddened in panic as soon as she realised what she had said. Her eyes glanced at him then turned to the sink while she expected his temper to explode. Yet, seconds were slowly ticking away, and nothing happened. Hermione watched him again, her lips curling in a timid, embarrassed smile.
Snape returned her gaze with an indefinable expression.
"I thought you had lost the power to surprise me, Miss Granger."
Notes:
1) I'm glad to receive messages that ask me to update soon. This means that those who wrote them like the story, so thank you very much. However, kind readers, I am updating every day. I believe that faster than this is impossible ;)
2) amr, I think we already met in another site whose initials are TPP. I would like to answer your comments, but you are not registered. Could I perhaps answer you somewhere else, more specifically using the PM of the other site?