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.

As always, thanks to my readers and reviewers.

Saturday - Day 28 – Who Are You, Really?

Hermione woke up in a bizarre mood that morning. She felt uncertain and, at the same time, very confident. She felt delightedly lively and slightly intoxicated by that sensation. And she felt that she was ready to start another trip into what he would call "her reckless behaviour".

Perhaps it was the sun, the girl considered. The clouds had left, and a brilliant light was making everything shine; another day had passed, and they were still safe and sound in the cottage.

Again, that strange sensation made of anxiety and joy prickled in her chest. And, suddenly, Hermione realised that such a sensation had been stirred by her last conversation with the dark man resting on the other side of the wall. They had spent so many days together, and yet he was still a closed book to her!

The thought was simply unbearable, especially after the mysterious words he had pronounced about her being unaware of his real identity. Her curiosity had been piqued, and an indefinite yet powerful feeling had nestled in her heart.

The girl spent some other moments in bed, indulging in her musing until finally her sense of duty brought her back to earth. Her stomach was empty and sending powerful signals. Breakfast, she thought happily, and impulsively decided that she was going to prepare something special to celebrate his coming back to life.

Then Hermione paused again, considering her patient's situation. Professor Snape had regularly taken his medication and passed another quiet night, so she hoped that his mood was still calm and his physical recovery proceeding well. Obviously, after his improvement, she hadn't dared enter his room anymore. The day before she had seen him only for dinner because he had rested quietly for the whole afternoon, and perhaps he had even worked, judging from the sound of scratched parchments coming from his room.

So, Hermione got up and dressed eagerly, head full of ideas for a rich food preparation. Then she opened her door. And, like a déjà vu, she found Professor Snape waiting in the living room, fully dressed and sitting in the armchair. The book - her book - was in his hands, and he looked absorbed in its pages.

Her brows lifted at that sight. The man interrupted his reading and raised his head to greet her.

"Good morning," he said quietly; then, noticing her expression, he glanced at the little volume then back at her with an apologetic air. "I'm sorry, I borrowed your book without asking for your permission."

"Don't worry," Hermione said with a smile, pleased to see him so involved in reading. "It was a wonderful gift. I'm glad to share it with you."

And I'm glad that you can still can appreciate such magnificent things as those immortal words of friendship, hope and love, she added in her mind while going to the kitchen.

After breakfast, Snape was still in a quiet mood, and the girl felt that the moment had come to tactfully investigate, so to give an answer to the many questions that were bouncing in her mind. Therefore, she sat at the other side of the table, rested her chin in her hand and watched him reading. After a while, he finally seemed to become aware of her attention and raised his eyes again with an interrogative expression.

Hermione bit her lip under his gaze, not really knowing how to voice the many things that were clashing inside her.

"I was wondering what we are going to do in the next days, now that we know that he knows," she tried just to start a conversation, and smiled timidly.

Snape frowned, and she winced at that signal. But he closed the book, inserting a piece of parchment inside its page as a bookmark, and replied calmly, "I suppose we can only wait. I have no orders from Professor Dumbledore except watching over you. Which I admirably failed to do lately, it seems."

"Oh, come on!" Hermione instinctively exclaimed. "I'm sure he prefers you alive."

He darkened. "Yes. Alive. And at his disposal."

The girl was saddened by a reply that seemed to underline his frustration, so she continued softly, "Why do you say so? Professor Dumbledore values you!"

"You speak too much, Miss Granger, and you know too little to judge. But I'm in debt to you, so I'll forgive your impertinence."

"You are in debt to me?! And why?" Hermione exclaimed with a mischievous expression of innocence. Then continued seriously, imitating his tone, "If you take the time to reflect, you will see that I have only been selfish, because your task isn't finished, and I still need you here."

"That's why your credit is greater. You completed your assignment. I still have to fulfil mine. But I'll do my best." His lips curled in one of his rare smiles.

"So, you are in debt to me?" The girl repeated, savouring the chance he was offering and enjoying his good mood. "Then perhaps you will answer a question," she tried almost jokingly.

"I am your humble servant," the man replied with a bow.

"Thank you, sir." Hermione smiled and nodded in return while her heartbeats accelerated their pace. Her curiosity, kept under control till that moment, had definitely broken its barriers. The girl was afraid to be daring too much, but the stone had been thrown, and she was persistent like a hound when she had a goal.

"I was wondering about your words of yesterday." She hesitated. "About my not knowing who you are. Really are, I mean."

The atmosphere perceptibly changed, making her immediately regret her decision.

"I suppose you have the right to know, at this point," Snape said bitterly. "But this is a secret that's no more mine, and it's a dangerous one. The Dark Lord could easily extract it from your brain."

"And then you'll be condemned?" Hermione couldn't help to ask.

"I'm not concerned about me," he said harshly.

"Then it's the secret in my mind? But the Dark Lord knows about it by now!"

"It's not you either!" the man snapped.

"Then… then who else?" she breathed, too fascinated by that game to consider the risk. "Could it be Harry?"

Snape clenched his fists and growled, "I'm not going to answer."

"Ah! So it could be him!" Hermione said triumphantly.

"I forbid you to go on with these considerations!"

A coughing fit interrupted his speech, and she watched him fight to recover his breath. Finally Snape succeeded while his face reddened with the effort. They stared at each other in grim silence for a moment; then, stretching a hand as if she wanted to touch him, Hermione said in a contrite tone, "I'm sorry. I always make the same mistakes."

"And you always repeat the same words to justify yourself!" he replied, trying to steady his still uneven voice.

The girl smiled an embarrassed smile. "Perhaps it would be better if I'd leave you now," she murmured, lowering her head in a rueful gesture.

"There is no need to confine yourself to your room," Snape hastened to say, and again the cough stopped him.

"Just… just watch… your… tongue," he concluded haltingly.

Hermione nodded gratefully and relaxed on her chair, watching the flames in the fireplace without really seeing them, and following her train of thoughts while smiling inwardly.

But that peculiar mood was still urging her to go on. So, after a few minutes, she felt compelled to interrupt his reading again, in spite of what had just happened.

"Perhaps you would like to play chess afterwards?"

Snape looked surprised.

"That would be a pleasure. But you don't need to bother yourself for me."

"Why not?" she said seriously. "I'd be happy to help you."

"You did that already," he replied in the same grave tone.

"But I was thinking of something different from just… well, you know, giving… making…" suddenly, Hermione felt uncomfortable. "Finding those medicines," she finally completed, feeling her cheeks become hot.

"I wasn't thinking only of that. You have helped me in ways you can't even imagine… Miss Granger," Snape replied with a quiet smile, and suddenly blushed too.

Silence fell for a long moment, then they both began to speak simultaneously: startled, they stopped just to resume their speaking immediately after, superimposing their voices in a confused mix, then looking at each other in disconcertment and finally grinning openly.

Hermione felt a warm wave of sympathy run in her body.

"You look younger when you smile. You should do it more often," she said, light-hearted by his elation.

Strangely, this was once more the wrong thing to say. His expression became undecipherable, and Snape hastened to mutter something about the necessity of adding more wood to the fire.

The girl tilted her head to watch him rise from his chair, kneel before the fireplace and choose a log from the ordered heap at its side, fumbling with tongs to position it correctly and then carefully adding small branches to revive the flames. Myriads of shiny green sparks raised and fell in a merry dance each time he moved the tongs, and Hermione silently watched the reflections they were creating on his hair and on the walls.

Deplorably, it took him a long time to follow all those operations; when Snape sat back on his chair, his face was reddened by the heat, the smoke and the effort, but he looked calm again.

Hermione felt disappointed. Evasive, she thought in irritation. And she stubbornly decided to launch a new attack as soon as possible.

The opportunity for another try came in the evening. Snape had spent a big part of the day by writing and reading, so evidently absorbed in his tasks that Hermione hadn't dared interrupt him again.

But the girl was patient in her impatience, and hunted her prey tenaciously. She proposed him a chess game immediately after dinner, and the man accepted it dutifully, but he was too distracted to be a worthy opponent.

Furthermore, in spite of her attentions, Snape seemed to be strangely aloof. His answers were polite but brief, and he seemed to avoid every attempt at conversation, though his eyes followed her constantly when she moved in the room – he didn't imagine that she had noticed it, Hermione thought with grim satisfaction, but she had surprised his gaze several times by turning her head unexpectedly.

The girl was feeling unbalanced by his uncharacteristically passive attitude, but she generously attributed it to his exhaustion and to his persistent cough. So, when she saw him sit and open her book again, she was perhaps too ready to intervene.

"You look very tired," Hermione said, standing before him with a protective air. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to go to bed?"

Snape reacted with mild irritation.

"You don't need to be so worried about me," he said, keeping his eyes focused on the pages.

"Why not?" she placidly opposed, and the mischievous little devil acting inside her somehow drove her to add, "After all, I'm your wife."

His face altered, and he took a deep breath before raising his head to look at her. The girl noticed that a more vivid shade of pink had coloured his cheeks.

"Amusing consideration," Snape said coldly. "But I need to remind you that, luckily, our marriage is only a ruse."

Hermione felt irritated. "I know it perfectly. Nevertheless, I thought that you would trust my friendship, if not my memory."

Evidently baffled by her statement, the man stared at her wordlessly. But before he could have a chance to answer, Hermione went on daringly.

"And why 'luckily'?" she asked, crossing her arms with dangerous calm. Snape inclined his head, apparently fighting back his cough while hiding his face under a veil of black hair.

"I didn't imagine you cared so much about this pretend marriage," he considered as soon as he could speak, a hint of his old irony tingeing his voice.

The girl snorted, and he shrugged, cornered by her determination. "I said luckily because, being a ruse, you are free. You have no obligations. Or did you really think that I would exploit the situation?"

Hermione faced him. "You know very well what I think of you by now."

"What you think may not correspond to the truth."

"Just because you have a secret, that doesn't mean that I have neither eyes nor brain to discern."

Snape's cheeks coloured even more while the girl animatedly continued, her face taking a childish expression of resentment, "I thought we were friends. You promised we would be friends. I even learned to play chess for that!"

"I do remember my promise," the man said gravely. "But that was meant for another occasion, for a happier time that has still to come. For the moment, you are only a student entrusted to my care."

"Of course," Hermione replied in a deceptively calm tone. "I am only a student. And a silly child. And the most distressing of your assignments," she concluded bitterly, quoting the opinion he had so bluntly expressed during one of their past quarrels.

Snape closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to control the cough that was welling in his throat.

"I admit that living with me can be very hard. Perhaps you will accept my apologies for such offensive words? I didn't really mean them."

The girl was too embittered to appreciate his offer and that amazing lack of reaction.

"If you allow me, Professor," she said without answering his question and underlining his title intentionally, "I would like to go to sleep. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to declare that I am very tired; so, if you haven't anything else to add to your rather eloquent speech…"

Snape looked unbalanced. Saddened. And at loss of words. With a sudden movement, he closed the book he was still holding in his hands, got up from his seat and handed it to her.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he replied quietly. Hermione hesitated, then took the book and resolutely turned her back to him.

...

The girl went straight to her room and closed the door, throwing herself on the bed. Why had she got so upset, after all? Did she really think that Professor Snape could care for her? Be her friend? Oh, how ridiculous! He had just confirmed that she was only one of his assignments. And probably the most annoying one. Disappointment tasted acrid in her mouth.

Hermione glanced at the book. There was a piece of parchment amongst its pages, and the sight irritated her. The book was going to be ruined. The pages would permanently open in that point, deformed as they were by that wedge so carelessly inserted. Her rage had finally found a pretext to explode, and she got irrationally furious.

The idiot! The insensitive idiot! He hadn't even thought of taking away his bookmark. The girl extracted the parchment with an enraged tug, then put the book on her nightstand and sat again on the bed, ruminating her resentment.

Some long minutes passed in that gloomy activity. And finally regret and unhappiness tightened her heart. That was not the way she had intended the conversation to go.

For a moment, Hermione thought of going out of her room and finding him and speaking and explaining. Then she heard his door closing softly. It was too late. They were divided by two wooden panels and a wall of bricks.

The feelings that were urging inside her would have to wait for the following morning to be expressed.


From the author (who can't evidently stop leaving notes because she loves speaking with her readers)

Hi to everybody! I keep receiving desolate messages complaining that the story is reaching its end and asking me to go on with new chapters. Unfortunately, this is not possible, but thank you for asking. This means that you are enjoying my invention. However, please be assured that there are still surprises in store before day 30. How would that be possible? Keep reading and you'll discover it.

For the unregistered reader who called me "liar" because there are only 27 chapters in spite of the title stating 30 Days... Dear you, whoever you are, the story is complete, but is being posted a chapter a day. I explained this several times. Why don't you take the time to process the information you are being given? ;)