These characters and their setting are the property of J. Rowling and her associates and affiliates.
Chapter 26: Not No Way, Not No How
"I'm not going." Hermione's voice was righteously mutinous.
"Yes. You are." Snape's was implacable.
"Oh no, I'm not!"
Her pitch had raised significantly, and Severus' hands, hidden in the sleeves of his robes, twitched as he kept his tone carefully calm. Unlike Slytherin anger which could smolder indefinitely with cold, calculating purpose, Gryffindor rage was hot, flaring up quickly yet just as quickly dying down. If the flames weren't fed they waned all the sooner. It was possible to bring her around to the very position for which she was now opposed (and look superior in the process) but that process was tedious. Severus hadn't expected this violent a reaction from her-- and now, he supposed, he really should have. He set his teeth and dug deep for patience, but her belligerent attitude pricked him in the raw.
"I am going, therefore you are going. It's that simple," he interposed quietly.
"Bollocks!"
"Language, child," he growled. "I am, after all, a teacher." He sent her a stern, warning look but Hermione refused to be warned-- or to back down. She continued to glare at him.
"I'm your wife, Severus, not your slave!" she countered icily. "And I'm not a child either!"
"Really? Well, one would never know it by observing you, now would they? Especially when, at this moment, you're acting like a two year old. Perhaps I should spank you and put you to bed."
Severus watched his wife swell with furious outrage. She huffed, squared off at him, fists on hips, and stamped her foot-- acting very much like the toddler in the "terrible two's" he had just compared her with. If Snape hadn't been seriously irritated at that moment he might have laughed. Gryffindor passion, noble though it could be at times, certainly had its comical side.
"I AM NOT A CHILD!" she shouted. "I've been of age for over a year! And speaking of putting me to bed," she added. "If I were still a child, I wouldn't be sleeping in YOUR bed and doing... the things we do in it."
It was too perfect an opening and Snape couldn't resist. "Call it sex, Hermione," he put in snidely, knowing full well it would steam her all the more. "Adults aren't afraid to say the word."
"Fine, then. SEX! You don't have SEX with a child-- at least not and still teach at this school! If you have SEX with me, you can't keep calling me a child. I am your WIFE!"
"Exactly," he almost purred.
Severus smirked slightly, letting his eyes travel over her in a hooded, suggestive way and deepening the smirk a little when his wife's face reddened even more than before. No need for legillimency to guess what popped up in her mind, and good for it! Snape wanted her to remember what it felt like to surrender to him-- and how much she thoroughly enjoyed it... It would help to put their positions in proper perspective. She needed to recall who was boss.
"Yes, Hermione. You ARE my wife, and a wife has duties and obligations-- one of them being to follow her husband wherever he needs or wishes to go. As a good and proper wife, you should do what your duty demands-- without complaint or question."
Her reaction to that was livid and shrill.
"I'm not supposed to question? When you want to take me to the Malfoy House? Anyone alive would question that!"
Snape rolled his eyes. This was starting to get old. "It's a party, wife... not a Dark Revel!"
"Well it might as well be a Dark Revel, husband! This is Malfoy Manor we're talking about. There'll be deatheaters all over the place, whooping it up and having a wonderful time! I'm sure they'll be really be happy to see ME. Don't you think it might be just a teensy weensy bit dangerous?"
"Hardly," he scoffed with a snort. "In all actuality, my dear childish bride, I doubt any deatheaters will be there at all. The guests will consist of the rich, powerful, and presently influential. Even if Lucius wanted his nefarious associates mingling with the Beautiful People, they wouldn't come. Deatheaters, former or otherwise, do not congregate in public."
"Oh? Well why not? If they've already managed to weasel out of Azkeban, why shouldn't they congregate every chance they get and flaunt it in our faces?"
Severus brushed some imaginary dust off his robes. "Mutual distrust, of course. They all suspect each other of treason, and being a traitor myself I acknowledge their good sense. This party is simply for Lucius to show off his connections. It's for Ministry Cronies, Pure Blooded snobs, Old Gold, and Entrepreneurial hot shots. Fudge will likely be there."
Unfortunately, that had been the wrong thing to say and Hermione flared afresh.. "All the more reason to count me out! I don't want to be anywhere NEAR Fudge! He's the reason for all this trouble in the first place! And it's not like I'd fit in at this high-brow party, or have anything to say to these important people. They won't want me and they certainly won't miss me if I'm not there. I'm not going."
Snape was starting to become seriously peeved. "As I told you before, staying home is not an option," he fumed. "Not only are you being childish, Hermione, you're being RIDICULOUS!"
"I'm not being being ridiculous, Severus, YOU are! You think you can just force me, don't you? You really think you can just bark orders and that's all there is to it! You think my feelings and opinions don't count for anything! Well I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I?" Her ending tone was snide.
"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" He had the sense that things were getting out of hand but he didn't seem to be able to do anything about it.
"You just love to point out my duties as wife, but what about YOUR obligations as a husband? Believe it or not, a wife is a partner, an EQUAL, not a minion! My feelings DO count. I know wizard culture is unbelievably backward Severus, but you don't own me!"
"You are absolutely out of your head!" he shouted, "This has nothing to do with ownership, one-upsmanship, alpha male dominance, or any other silly, stupid idea floating about in your normally intelligent mind! This has to do with etiquette and propriety, with the rules of civilization! We have both been invited, therefore we BOTH must attend. A wife's place is at her husband's side. I cannot attend without you."
Hermione was beyond incensed. "How can you mention "Propriety" and Malfoy in the same sentence? Why do you WANT to go to this party in the first place? We should be staying away from those people not rubbing shoulders with them! I just can't believe this! How can you drag me along to the Malfoys knowing what they are and how I feel about them? How can you do this to me? What kind of a monster are you?"
At the word "monster" Severus saw red. Hot, furious energy surged and trembled through every one of his limbs, and before he knew what he was doing, he had advanced on his wife with menacing intent. He saw her eyes widen in alarm as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against a nearby wall, a flash of real fear flaming up in her defiant eyes. That look of fear almost choked him.
He made a supreme effort to control himself, and he knew she recognized it as such, but his soul still screamed in despair. Why did he always end up hurting her when he loved her so much? Why couldn't he act the way he wanted instead of losing his temper and scaring her? Why couldn't he charm his wife instead of fighting with her? What was wrong with him? Maybe he was a monster after all.
For a moment he did nothing but look at her, intense black eyes meeting frightened brown ones-- brown eyes still stubbornly accusing. One one level, Snape was glad she wasn't cowering. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted her to love him. But there was precious little chance of that now-- or ever. He was always going to be out in the cold as far as love and Hermione were concerned. Sadness pervaded anger like a poisoned, inky cloud and he was aware that his arms were shaking. Slowly, he loosened his tight hold of her and took a cleansing breath.
"It is necessary that we both attend this party, Hermione," he said in a level, quiet voice.
"Malfoy's a murderer," she whispered. "He murdered my friend."
"I know that."
"He murdered his own children!" she spat, tears coming into her eyes the way they often did when she was angry.
"You don't need to tell me what I already know."
"And you don't even CARE?" her anger flashed again. "He murdered my friend and you actually expect me to go to his party?"
Snape moved in closer to her so that their faces were barely inches apart. He forced his voice into the soft, menacing hiss that gave students nightmares and looked again into her accusing eyes. He also said far more than he meant to.
"Did it ever occur to you that I'm attending this party for a purpose? Can you possibly consider that the reasons you've cited for not going are the very reasons why I absolutely MUST? As you have already pointed out, someone has died and WE are among the very few who are questioning how that happened! If you really cared about your friend you'd want to see her killer brought to justice-- or stopped before he can do it again."Hermione looked taken back. "You mean, this is... Order business?"
"Hardly," Snape laughed bitterly, letting go of her and looking away. "Would that it were. The Order sees me as paranoid. They won't listen to anything I say when it concerns Malfoy. Old Lucius seems to have charmed the whole Wizarding World with his "changed" behavior and his public displays of cooperation. And the sick reality is that his willingness to marry Muggleborns is seen as proof of reformation, not perfidity! The Ministry, of course, has their heads completely up their butts... "
"But I don't understand," she persisted, "If the Order isn't investigating, why are you--"
"Lucius is going to kill again and it's only a matter of time." He turned back to face her. "I have to get into that house, Hermione! He's strengthened his wards so I can't get past them by magic. The only way to find out anything at all about what he is or isn't doing, unfortunately, is to pretend friendship-- to ingratiate myself with him. This party is the perfect opportunity."
"Why didn't you say something?" Her voice was small. It also contained a sullen note of accusation.
"Because, Hermione, you didn't need to know! You are a student, not an auror-- and you're certainly no spy. Besides, the more innocent you are, the safer we both remain. Don't think my "old friend" won't notice if you are looking about his household suspiciously."
"What are you looking for when you get there?" Again, her persistent curiosity-- curiosity that could get her killed...
"I don't honestly know, and if I did, I wouldn't share it with you. YOU are not to go 'sleuthing!' The reason you are coming along is to make this look like a social visit. If I could keep you home, believe me I would! Your official job is to mingle graciously with the female guests and look attractive by my side." He paused. "Which, by the way, will entail the purchase of new robes. I'll have Tonks accompany you to Diagon Alley this next weekend to make the purchase."
For some reason, Hermione bristled at that. "Why? What's wrong with the robes I have? I think what I have should be good enough for the Malfoys!"
"You need dress robes, child."
"I have dress robes," she said stubbornly.
"No," he countered, "You have the gown you wore to the Yule Ball four years ago, not robes appropriate to the occasion."
"Well what's wrong with that? I only wore that dress once, so it's still perfectly good! Who cares if I wore it before? What the hell's the point?"
Snape had reached the end of his patience. He had no idea why his wife was fighting him. It seemed she would fight him over everything today.
"The point is that you were fourteen years old when you wore those robes, and they were suited to your age and station. As you have stated earlier-- with vehemence-- you no longer a child. What looked well enough on a schoolgirl of fourteen will look ridiculous on a mature married woman. You need something new."
"I'll alter it." She sounded pig-headed enough for Snape to lose it again.
"What is the matter with you woman? I'm buying you clothes! Woman are supposed to LOVE new clothes. Fighting me about this, and everything else you've done today, is absolutely stupid! Now you will go to a robe shop and buy some robes. Buy exactly what I tell you to buy-- something festive enough for a grand reception and suitable to your married status."
"I don't think I'm comfortable with my status right now," she grumbled.
"Well, too bad," he sneered. "You're stuck in it as much as I am!"
Tears welled in Hermione's eyes. "FINE! I'll get some robes. Appropriate robes! And while I'm at it, I'll get the most expensive ones I can find!""Good!"
She turned around and flounced out the door, slamming it behind her, and Severus slumped down into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. He didn't see how this could possibly have gone any worse.
Why did Hermione have to fight him on everything?, And why was it that confrontations with her-- especially the ones where he "won"-- always seemed to turn out disastrous? Snape loved his wife, cherished her more than she would ever know, but every time she chose to exert her modern notions of independence, he always lost his temper. He supposed he really couldn't help some of that. Severus had been a teacher for seventeen years and was used to giving orders. Hermione still felt like a student to him, and whenever they weren't having sex, he usually found himself treating her that way. It had always seemed to be safer since he had no good role model of "husband" to base his behavior on. His father had been a monster.
He had to admit they didn't fight that often. They didn't communicate often enough to have many fights. But there were always times that his wife asked the wrong questions-- and continued to ask them in the face of his obvious displeasure. There were times when her preconceived notions of how things should be done clashed with his, and vise versa. And Hermione wasn't one to meekly back down when she thought she was right, either. She was a true Gryffindor crusader. There were times that drove him absolutely crazy-- both with anger, and conversely, with desire.
What had most infuriated him was her lack of trust. She had just blithely ascribed wrong motivations for him, and then set herself up in opposition. Why couldn't she have thought first? Did she really think he still wanted to pal up with deatheaters after working so hard to defeat them? Couldn't she have figured out there had to be more to it? Surely she couldn't think he would put her in any real danger! But she had thought that. And then she had reproached him for not apprising her of all his plans when she learned his true motives.
But there were things he couldn't tell her. It was safer for her not to know. Snape could have kicked "Saint" Potter right up his snotty little arse for the pre-marriage conditioning his friendship had given Hermione. Potter had put her into danger again and again-- every blasted year-- and now that was what she was used to. She expected Severus to treat her the same way. Not on his life!
As far as Snape was concerned, none of those children should have been adventuring about the castle in their early student years. They should have stayed safely in their dormitories instead of chasing after Sorcerer's Stones, exploring secret chambers, or running around outside after curfew as tempting bait for werewolves. And the worst thing they had ever done was that ridiculous, suicidal rescue mission at the Ministry! It had been luck alone that had saved Hermione that night. Had Dolohoff been able to cast his curse correctly, she would have died.
Severus didn't want Hermione involved in any more danger. She may not like it, but he was going to see to it that she stayed out of the thick of things and concentrated on her studies. He was her husband, and husbands took care of their wives. His wife would just have to understand. She would just have to realize that she wasn't a reckless single student anymore; she had an obligation to accept his protection. But how was she going to do that when she thought the worst of him?
The sigh he heaved was bitter. Had he really told her he felt stuck in their marriage? Yes, he had. Severus hadn't meant that the way it sounded. He wanted to convey to her that they were both in the same boat, but he was angry and fired it off as an attacking volley. And his missile had hit its mark. Hermione's tears before she stormed out were of hurt more than anger, and Severus ached with shame over his loss of control.
He had botched it all. There would be no easy way to restore the tenuous camaraderie they had patiently built up between them. There would be nothing now but smoldering silences, accusing glances, and awkwardness. She might even hate him. There would be no more of her spontaneous smiles and thoughtless laughter. And of course, there would be no possibility of willing sex... All because of some stupid, thoughtless words.
That had happened before with Lily. One thoughtless word had brought down their friendship like a mighty tree felled by a whack of a single ax. None of his apologies then had been able to undo what he had done and he didn't think any apologies would cut it now. In matters of the heart, words were potent weapons-- more potent than wands. And he wasn't even sure he'd be able to apologize...
How could he apologize? Besides scaring her for a moment, the only thing he had really done wrong was lose his temper and say that one damning sentence. Everything else still seemed inordinately right to him. He had been right to insist on their going to Malfoy's party, and right to keep Hermione innocent. He certainly had been within his rights to insist on her buying robes!
But if he tried to apologize for one thing, it would bring up all the rest. And then one of them would get angry... which would make the other get angry. And then they'd start shouting again and saying even worse things... He sighed again despairingly. The whole thing looked hopeless.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Hermione stormed out of their quarters and marched furiously up to the seventh floor to the Room of Requirement, intending to scream out her rage and frustration. The door opened easily into a spacious chamber filled with cushions, a large, frilly pink bed, and plenty of ornamental breakables. She stared about her in surprise. The sight of all the fragile glassware displayed invitingly for demolition checked her emotions a little. After all, she hadn't really meant to smash anything! She had just wanted to get away, pull herself together, lick her wounds a little, and of course to cry...
The plump, comfortable bed looked very inviting and Hermione collapsed onto it and indulged herself in what her husband would probably call a very childish bout of tears. Well, what of it? At least she wasn't so cold and unfeeling that she couldn't cry. She was human, dammit, and she was a woman. And if Severus was so sure about what women wanted or didn't want (Women are supposed to LOVE new clothes! What's wrong with you?) let him understand this!
Oh, why did Severus have to act so damn superior all the time? Why couldn't he have told her what all this was about instead of keeping everything so secret? This whole argument never would have happened if he had just talked to her instead of patronizing her the way he always did! If she had understood what was going on she wouldn't have gotten so angry-- then he wouldn't have gotten so angry... She pounded a nice, cushy pillow in despair. Oh how stupid. Stupid, stupid, STUPID!
She didn't want to fight with Severus. If she had to be married to him, she wanted them to get along. It would be awful of they went days without talking to each other, coming and going in dark, withering silence, sleeping stiffly beside each other, perhaps even copulating in a cold, detached, soul-killing way. Severus probably wouldn't care one way or another, but Hermione knew she would choke under those conditions. Why did he have to be so cold, so uncaring, so cruel? Why was she so unfortunate to have to be married to him? Surely there couldn't be another man on the face of the earth more nasty, more hateful, than Severus Snape!
Except that wasn't really true...
There were plenty of people worse than her husband. Malfoy, for one. At least Snape didn't hurt her. He just treated her like a child. And she did owe her life to him... When she really thought about it, she had to admit that Severus wasn't really hateful, after all. He wasn't evil either. Considering all the things he had done over the years, he was actually a good, rather than a bad man-- an anti-hero instead of a villain. He just wasn't nice or kind. Or was he?
It wounded Hermione to think that Severus disliked having her as his wife, that he was merely enduring his duty until the Marriage Law was repealed. Well, too bad! You're stuck in this as much as I am... True, she had married him out of necessity, but except during arguments like these, she wasn't miserable in their life together. She respected Severus as a person and even found herself liking him-- even if it seemed he didn't want to be liked.
Hermione knew he didn't hate her. He certainly didn't love her, but there was nothing of hatred in his treatment of her. If anything, he at least seemed to respect her—even like her. And he did things occasionally that were unnecessarily thoughtful. Even during sex, there were quite a lot of things he did routinely that added only to her pleasure, not his, that he certainly didn't have to do. She could ascribe it, of course, to his brand of medieval honor, noblesse oblige, or something-- except it seemed more than just honor. It really did look like kindness.
Oddly, now that Hermione thought of it, Snape had shown her various forms of kindness from the very beginning. He just obviously didn't want to be thought of as kind. Any show of thoughtfulness was always accompanied by stiff words or by strong irony or sarcasm-- except during sex, when it could be disguised as lust. It was as though he was ashamed of being kind... or perhaps frightened by it.
Hermione knew that children from abusive homes were almost always emotionally scarred. One couldn't grow up in an atmosphere of pain and cruelty without being damaged or twisted in some way. There had been poison in Snape's childhood. There were traces of it still in his system. She had seen it wake him in the night, horrified, frantic, grief-stricken and, yes, angry. Who knew what it was that made him afraid to show kindness. And yet... he was kind.
She thought of the scrubbed and scoured atmosphere of Snape Manor. Severus had done that. Heaven knew what he had purged from that house, but that was most definitely what he had done. Everything, the walls, floors, ceilings, and even furniture had been reduced to bare bones and restored. He had scraped, sanded, and even blasted all traces of the past from the place, and he had done it with what looked like the zeal of a convert, a pardoned sinner who had seen the light.
That was the reason for the nondescript look of the house. It was spartan, even puritanical, in decoration because it had been purged. There was an air of penance in the stern formality of the rooms, and he had obliterated all traces of his family as though they had never existed. The only place they still lived was in his mind. No wonder he had gotten almost crazy when she called him a monster! Hermione put her head in her hands. She had pushed the worst button he had!
She supposed she should apologize for that. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring back any pain from his past. But it galled her to have to make the first move. She hated, just HATED being ordered around! And she was still angry because he never communicated with her, never told her what he was thinking or planning. She felt insulted that he didn't think her worthy to confide in.
Didn't he realize she could help? She was used to helping, and she was good at it! Harry and Ron had never planned anything without her. For the past eight years she had been right there through all their adventures, and she knew she had been part of the reason for Harry's success over Voldemort. She had been needed. She had been important! Surely all that experience had to count for something? She could HELP if only she was allowed to try!
But now she wasn't dealing with Harry and Ron. She was dealing with Severus Snape, and if ever there was a lone wolf, a solitary figure who kept his own council, it was him. Unlike the boys, her cleverness didn't impress him, and there was no way she could ever boss him. Snape was not going to ask for her help, or eagerly wait her opinion with expectant, admiring eyes. Those black eyes of his saw her as a student-- someone to be led by him, not the other way around. He would never treat her the way her friends had. He wasn't her friend, but her husband... and he used to be her teacher. To Professor Snape, she probably really did seem like a child.
Hermione sighed and wiped her tears on the sleeve of her robes. She supposed her grouchy husband had good reason for not confiding his plans or his suspicions to her. He just couldn't consider a mere student his equal, and he had always been very disapproving of all the things she and her friends had done over the years. And perhaps he had a point.
She sighed again. There had been things she and the boys had done that really hadn't been wise. Storming the Ministry to save Sirius had actually been very stupid. Hermione had known it was stupid at the time, but she had gone along with it anyway because she had promised Harry she would help him no matter what. Snape would probably point to that as proof of immaturity-- because she had known something was wrong but had done it anyway. But she had had to!
How could she have let Harry go rushing off into danger without trying to help him? That was loyalty, not foolishness! And if Severus hadn't been so nasty to Harry-- and to Sirius too-- Harry could have gone to Snape for help first. Then he wouldn't have felt the need to charge blindly into the Ministry in the dead of night. Things might have turned out so differently. Sirius might still be alive...
But that was circular thinking, and it did no good. Neither Snape, nor Harry, had gone about things in the right way, and they were both so stubborn in their wrongness. It saddened her that she'd never have the camaraderie with her husband that she had once had with her friends. And now she didn't even have them anymore. Harry and Ron had moved on without her and now all she was left with was Snape-- aloof, detached and secretive... who now seemed to regret that he had ever married her. Tears threatened her again.
If only she could have kept her temper. Severus could actually be reasonable in an argument if one argued with him reasonably. He only lost his temper at things like bull-headed obstinacy, blatant stupidity, histrionics, or... if somebody called him a monster.
She should have known better than to say that. Hermione had heard him on that once before. What sort of a monster do you think I am? What in the world had made her use his own words against him?
Hermione had seen her point of view as completely righteous, but now she wasn't so sure. Now, looking back, she could see her behavior had possibly been less than reasonable. It was she who had picked the fight, acting angry and accusing from the start. I'm not going-- not no way, not no how! She had gotten her back up at the very first mention of the the Malfoy party, and it had never occurred to her simply to ask, "Is there a reason?" Instead she had assumed the worst of her husband. No wonder he was royally peeved.
Of course Snape had been insufferable. He had treated her like a child, threatened her with a spanking, and man-handled her against a wall! If that wasn't unreasonable, she didn't know what was. Hermione had only been obstinate... and belligerent... and... Oh, hell...
So they had both acted badly, she only a little less than him. And most of it was only words-- stupid, ridiculous words. Hermione knew that when it came to Snape, his words were always worse than his actions. But words could be weathered. They could be ignored. They could always be redeemed by an apology...
But Snape would never apologize. Not this time, and Hermione knew it. He probably had no idea how much it hurt to be patronized-- to be "taken care of" without regard to her intellect or dignity. This "woman's point of view" wasn't something a man of Snape's age and mindset would easily understand. It would take a lot of time for Severus to see her as other than the student she had always been to him. Perhaps in his mind, he had done nothing wrong. All he would know was that she had insulted his character, hadn't trusted him, and had poked rather hard at his Achilles Heel...
Hermione really didn't want to have to apologize. She felt she was only half wrong, and didn't want to take all the blame for a fight that still hurt. Just the thought of what his face would look like-- all smug and superior-- made her start to feel angry all over again. How stupid would it make her look to if she had to get all humble with him? After that, he'd always expect to win! Each argument, all he would have to do would be make her feel bad and then just wait...
Unless she apologized only a little and stood her ground on everything else... But that could start the fight all over again. Would this just keep getting worse? There had to be a way to do the right thing and still keep her dignity-- though, now that she thought of it, storming out of the dungeons and threatening to squander all her husband's money on dress robes hadn't done her dignity any favors... Either way, things were going to be unpleasant, and would probably stay unpleasant. But from now on, no matter what, she would try to keep her temper! Sadly, with her feelings only slightly assuaged, and no breakables littering the floor, Hermione left the Room of Requirement.
The rest of what should have been a pleasant Saturday dragged slowly on. Lunch picked it's way through the accustomed hour with half-eaten portions and sparse gulps of pumpkin juice before Hermione went to the Library to study. Since hard work had always helped to clear her head, she dutifully tried to immerse herself in an early Transfiguration essay, but she found it difficult to concentrate. Very difficult. Her brain kept playing hide-and-seek with thoughts of Severus.
Every time she tried to hide within the realms of research, again and again the nagging little memories of the morning's quarrel would find her. Again, she would see the look in his eyes when she had called him a monster and see the bleakness there when he had struggled to control himself, to hold his dark emotions in check. Why did she have to remember that? Why not the times he was sneering at her, or dismissing her, or ordering her around? Why did she always remember the moment she hurt him? She didn't really want to hurt him. But did he care if he hurt her?
At dinner, the lowering sense of something hanging over her persisted. She gamely attempted to make conversation with her friends as she tried to choke down dry, tasteless food. Occasionally she looked up at at the Head Table, at Severus eating with his fellow teachers in apparent nonchalance, and envied him that cool detachment. Once, when she happened to glance his way, she caught him looking at her. When their eyes met, he seemed to stiffen.
Hermione quickly turned her attention back to her plate of barely touched dinner and the people around her. She smiled bravely over at Luna who was deep in a debate over famous Chasers. Luna smiled back at her encouragingly and then suddenly leaned forward to hand her a spinach calzone.
"Try one of these, Hermione. They're really good, and it will help to keep up your strength." She paused as Hermione, not knowing what else to do, took the offering. "And it really doesn't hurt to apologize now and then," she added thoughtfully, "even if the argument isn't all your fault. Sometimes it's the push men need to apologize back. They're such babies, you know."
Hermione just stared at Luna, too shocked to make a reply. How did she know? Was it written all over her face? Nobody else seemed to have noticed! But then again, nobody else seemed to notice much at all when it came to the resident know-it-all. It was only Luna, whose large protuberant eyes seemed to penetrate the soul, that ever appeared to actually see her.
The exchange seemed to have occurred in surreal sort of a heartbeat. In another second, Luna was somehow back into her Quiddich conversation as though she had never interrupted it. She didn't even look at Hermione... as though she never had. Indeed, the whole incident might have only been a fevered figment of Hermione's imagination except that she did have the calzone... and a warm feeling that somebody cared. Hermione took a perfunctory nibble. It was the first food that had tasted good all day.
How did Luna always seem to know things? She might be a nut who believed in mythical monsters and everything else her tabloid father wrote about, but when it came real insights into people's motives and hearts, she was incredibly uncanny. Hermione felt spooked. Maybe Luna was right. Maybe she should apologize to Severus. She'd feel no peace until she did something. She just wasn't sure what...
Later in the dungeon, taught silence reigned over the Snape private study, with latent expectancy hovering in supercharged air. Severus corrected papers in dark detachment, his scritching pen the only sound emanating from his corner. Hermione couldn't even hear his breathing, though the sound of her own was overly loud to her ears.
Presently, the scritching stopped and Hermione heard the tap of the quill as it was put in its stand, the sounds of the ink bottle being carefully stoppered, and the ruffle of parchments methodically being stacked. Her husband was done for the day. If she was going to say anything it would have to be now.
"Severus," she began, and the rustle of the parchments stopped. She cleared her throat. "I just wanted to say... um... that I think I got a little too angry this morning."
There was a pause, and then, "You were uncommonly angry." It was a statement, not an accusation.
Hermione closed her eyes and rushed on. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry. I'm not the only one who did. You.. you got much too angry too, but... I lost my temper first and I shouldn't have."
She stole a look at him. He was standing like a somber, black statue, the stack of parchments frozen in his hands. Expressions barely perceptible flickered across his inscrutable face, and after a second he seemed to relax a little. For a fleeting instant, Hermione almost thought she saw a flash of relief pass over him, but she had to be dreaming. What she was extremely thankful for was that his expression wasn't cold or sneering.
"I said some things I shouldn't have said," she finished dutifully. "I'm sorry."
With measured movements, Severus put the parchments carefully down. "My own behavior, as you have pointed out," he said softly, "was far from exemplary. I am in no way proud of it."
Hermione relaxed and let out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. As far as apologies went, that was quite good for Snape.
"I should have asked you about that party instead of just refusing to go, " she continued sadly. Then she looked up at him. "If I had asked you, would you have told me the reason?"
Severus sighed almost harshly. He sounded exasperated, and very tired. "I don't know, Hermione. Probably not. I know you don't wish to hear this, but there are matters I can't involve in you. You're not my student anymore, but you're still a student, and as a master here at this school, I have an obligation to keep you safe. Yes, you have suffered dangers in the past, and yes, you have fought in a war, but none of those things should have happened to you in the first place! You are not ready to do the work of an auror or a spy. This is one adventure you will not be part of."
"But I could help. I know I could!"
"I don't want you to help! I want you to stay safe! You were the one who pointed out to me this morning that a husband has duties. Well, the first is to protect his wife. Like it or not, Hermione, I WILL do that. My investigation of Malfoy is not sanctioned by the Order. I have no back-up. The last thing I'm going to do is drag you into danger with me. This time, Hermione, the closest you're going to come to the action is sipping champagne at the Malfoy Ball." He looked at her somberly. "Now do you think you can you live with that?"
"I suppose I'll have to," she replied, though she felt mutinous. "But I feel so useless, and I used to do so much. I used to be valued."
"You ARE valued-- as a student, not as cannon-fodder. There is nothing you can do against Malfoy. He is way out of your league."
Hermione didn't say anything. It hurt to hear Severus tell her that he didn't want her help, that he didn't think she could help-- that she was too young, completely outclassed, a babe in the schoolroom. But then, she had known all along that he would think like that. He was twenty years older than her, and he had been her teacher. He was also a bit of a male chauvinist as well...
"I just wish you would communicate, that you would tell me something."
"As I explained once before, I will tell you what I think I can." He paused. "Though I probably could have conveyed something more to you when I announced our invitation to Lucius' party. I should have realized how apprehensive and how angry you would have been, and told you there were important reasons for us to go there. At the very least I should have assured you that I took no pleasure in Malfoy's company and that I had no intention of hobnobbingwith my former partners in sin. I should have told you I wasn't straying back into darkness."
"I didn't think that. I don't think that."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"Severus," she said falteringly. "One of the things that I said, that I was uncomfortable with my... status. I didn't mean that-- at least not the way it sounded. I was only uncomfortable at the time because I was so mad, and... and hurt. My... situation... really isn't bad. It's not bad at all."
"Really?" His voice had lost some of it's bleak tone. "Indeed. Humph! Does this mean you are reconciled to a husband won't let you fling yourself into danger, and forces you, on occasion, to buy... clothes?"
"Well, I don't like to be ordered to buy them!"
"I certainly comprehend that, and I will refrain from issuing you orders providing you give me no cause to do so. You neglect yourself, Hermione. There comes a point where you can be too studious and too... unselfish. You need to do a few things for yourself, purchasing clothes on occasion being one of them." He paused. "After all. The last thing I want is to be accused of being a stingy husband."
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. That sounded so irritating! And yet... And yet she thought she saw the smoke and mirrors behind the usual Snape snark. He was doing his best not to be kind again. He was offering an olive branch disguised as a prickle bush. Oh why did he always have to do that? It made accepting that branch sometimes so very difficult.
"I'd rather you ordered me to buy books," was all she replied.
"I might if you buy the robes."
"Severus," she asked carefully. "Are you sorry you're stuck with me?"
"No." The sound was like velvet.
He walked over to where she was sitting and held out his hand to her. Hesitatingly, she took it.
"Truce?" he asked, and she nodded. Then he drew her gently to her feet. He drew her very close.
"Time for bed, Hermione. And speaking about taking care of yourself, you look extremely tense. Since I have a tendency to do that to people, that is probably my fault. So I propose you allow me to alieviate the condition by rubbing that tension out of you. What do you think?"
Of course. Sex, again. It was the only way he knew how to be kind. But at least she recognized this for what it was. And she really did want the closeness, the warm feeling that all was right between them again-- or at least almost right between them. She also really loved the way those long, talented fingers did a massage...
"I think that sounds good, actually."
Oh, and by the way. When you buy those new robes this weekend, get yourself some books... and a negligee too. Consider it an order."
This time Hermione did roll her eyes, but she continued to let Severus lead her into the bedroom-- one of his hands already massaging caressing circles into the small of her back...
"Aye, aye, sir!"