ONE MONTH LATER
With the pots and pans sizzling on the stove, Severus and Hermione sat at the kitchen island and took a break, keeping an eye on the food.
"I still can't believe my mother convinced you to go to this thing." Hermione helped herself to another cup of tea, refilling Severus's as well. "I think she wants to give them something to talk about."
Severus shook his head, disagreeing. "The way she put it, she hasn't seen her sister in a while, and neither have you. Jean confuses me, because I see so little of you in her. I've considered that Bryan gets some of her boldness from her. We two are content to lie low and stay under the radar, but Jean? She's not afraid to cause a stir when her young daughter appears with a much older man and 'his' three children."
"That's stupid, though. In real life, if the cover story were legitimate and I were actually married to you, a much older man, would I truly ask three somewhat grown stepsons to tag-along to something that has nothing to do with them?"
"If you were close to them, perhaps. And maybe if there was no ex-wife in the picture."
Hermione shrugged. "What sort of normal nineteen-year-old gets married?" She covered her face with her hands, dreading the impending trip across the pond.
"Potter's getting married, and he's younger than you, in both senses."
Hermione shook her head glumly. "He's hardly normal either. No wartime generation is." The memory of Harry's trepidation as he was officially introduced to Severus recently was enough to make her smile slightly. She'd been so overjoyed for her friends when they announced their engagement. "So I ask again, what sort of normal—I'm thinking American and muggle—nineteen-year-old gets married?"
"The kind who got knocked-up?"
Her eyes turned to him sharply. "No. I'll play along with my mother's ridiculous idea of fun but I'm not letting them know that I'm pregnant. That's a little too much for me." Though she had started to show just slightly, the fluttery summer blouse she'd chosen disguised her enough that she didn't have to resort to glamours.
"You are apparently married," he pointed out. He went to pour more tea for himself and cursed when the kettle turned out to be empty.
"No, leave it. We'll be off soon, anyway."
He scowled.
"It's not as normal getting married so early in the muggle world, but you know that. I'm not the kind to have a shotgun wedding, and I won't have these strangers thinking that."
"Oh, they'll think something when they see my age and face."
It was Hermione's turn to scowl. "Yeah, they'll think I'm damn lucky."
He scoffed, but he let it be. "Strangers? I thought they were your family?"
"The only two people related to me would have to be Aunt Josephine and her son Richard. Everyone else is bound to be relations of Josephine's husband."
"I see." He glanced at the time, looking at it pointedly to convey that they ought to be going. Hermione sighed loudly.
"I'll go get the boys."
"And I'll finish up the roast and take the pie out of the oven."
Hermione's parents informed them multiple times how convenient it was to not have to buy aeroplane tickets, even if the sensation of apparition—especially overseas apparition—wasn't all that wonderful. Severus and Hermione swiftly disillusioned and silenced their whole group so that they weren't seen when they arrived a few houses down. After finding a bush, they undid the charms and unshrunk the dishes, walking the rest of the way to the normal-looking suburban house. Cars were already parked all along the sidewalk. Hermione and Severus shared a look of dread, knowing that they were about to join a huge crowd of people.
A barking dog signaled their arrival, and the door was swiftly flung open. The woman standing there looked confused at the sight of the four Snapes, but her eyes softened when they landed on her sister. "Jean! You're here! Traffic alright?" Inside, there was the sound of voices all mixed together as well as the unmistakable smell of southern barbecue.
Jean looked like a deer in headlights, so Hermione swiftly answered. "Yeah. There was just the slightest bit of a slowdown on the US-17 after leaving the airport."
More than one of her sons stared at her. As if she was the odd one for having done her research.
"Hermione! I haven't seen you in years!" Josephine reached out and gave her a big hug, and despite herself, Hermione relaxed into it. "Your mother told me you graduated at the top of your class, but she's been quite silent on everything else! Come in! You'll have to introduce me to who the others are, as I'm drawing a blank here."
Josephine ushered them into the house and then straight outdoors to the deck. Hermione found two large tables filled with foods to be grilled and placed the dishes she'd brought on it. They were immediately met with a sea of unfamiliar faces, who turned to look at them. Her aunt quickly introduced them. "This is my sister and her family. Carry on." The chatter started again, and she began pointing out people. "That group over there includes the families of one of Chris's brothers and his sister. Over there, you can see his other brother's kids. Richard is there with them."
Chris? Severus mouthed.
Her husband, Hermione whispered back.
"Now, you must tell me who this dashing man and the boys are! John, is that your brother? I can't remember if you had one?"
"In a manner of speaking." John clapped a firm hand on Severus's back. "But actually, Severus here is Hermione's husband." Amazingly, he kept a straight face as he said it.
Josephine tried to hide her surprise—she really did—but she wasn't successful. "Husband? Husband? Jean, you never said!"
"Never came up."
"And the children?"
"My sons," Severus spoke up. Their mother left after he—" Severus patted Roman— "was born."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. You have a lovely voice, has anyone told you that?" Hermione rather thought that she resembled a broken clock who was still processing the idea that her young niece was married.
Severus didn't answer vocally; rather, he inclined his head in acknowledgement. The song changed, and more than one person cheered as "Livin' la Vida Loca" came on.
"Fuck, we're straight outta the nineties," Bryan whispered to Johnny. "This song is old as balls."
"I'm fairly sure it came out this year," Johnny returned.
"I'll let you mingle, then. Richard in particular is excited to see you, Hermione."
"Is he? I'll head his way first, then." Placing a comforting hand on Severus's back, she went Richard's way. The fifteen-year-old was conversing with a few of his cousins from his father's side. When he spotted her, he grinned.
"Noah, Paul, Joe—this is my one cousin from my mom's side. The one I mentioned earlier."
"The British one?"
"Yeah, the British one and the only non-adult here that you aren't related to. I haven't seen her in six years. Isn't that crazy?"
Hermione took a seat and smiled at the group. "So, are the three of you brothers or cousins? I forget what my aunt said when she pointed you out."
"Joe's my brother," Noah answered. "I've got another brother and a sister somewhere around here. Paul's a cousin."
"I'm going to get us some chips. Save up for the main meal and all, but food is food." Joe got up and went toward the massive food table.
"Y'all call them crisps, right?"
"We do indeed." Hermione looked around and saw Bryan with a group of teens at the far end miming something silly with his hands. Well. Guess he fit in. Johnny was at a different table, listening to the others talk but himself seemingly not avidly joining in. Roman was seated with Severus at a table with a bunch of other adults.
"Who're you looking at? I can point out their names, if you're wondering."
"I'll just forget them," Hermione laughed. "There's so many more than I expected."
"Fair enough. Who are the people that you came with? The four that aren't Aunt Jean and Uncle John?"
Joe came back with a selection of barbecue, sour cream and onion, and cheddar crisps. Hermione thanked him and reached for one.
"The three minors are my stepsons," she told Noah, not oblivious to the surprise her response elicited. "Although I'm close enough to them that I'd rather just get rid of the 'step' and call them my sons."
"You're married? But you're, like, only four years older than me?"
"How old's your husband?" Joe piped in. "The blonde dude looked older than you, so he's got to be pretty old to have a son that age."
"You can ask him if you're up to it. He's the one in the black over there, with the little long-haired boy attached to him."
Noah whistled. "They sure do things different in England."
Hermione stifled her laughter. "I bet. Hey, I'm going to go say hi to some of the other people here." She made her way over to Johnny's table—slowly, though, which allowed her to hear the conversation. Words including Blockbuster, dial-up internet, and Gameboy came up. No wonder Johnny was tight-lipped. When they asked him who his favorite singer was, she had to intervene.
"Hey, you lot. Mind if I steal him?" She would've joined them, but she didn't trust her own knowledge of the muggle nineties. American at that. Johnny almost bolted over to her. Not caring that they would stand out, Hermione led him toward the lone empty table.
"Merlin's pants, that was stressful."
"Did you tell them you were German?"
"What? No."
"You should have. Granted, I don't know how different or not different Germany was in the nineties compared to the states, but it could have explained why you had no answers."
"True. Meh, they probably just thought I was shy or weird."
"Shy? Sure. Weird? No way."
With no strangers asking him things he didn't know, Johnny relaxed. It really was turning out to be a good thing that there were so many people—hardly anyone paid them any attention, even though Hermione was sure that Josephine had blabbed to members of the family about her 'marriage.'
"Is that Dad at the grill?"
Sure enough, Severus was one of the men hanging around the smoke. His expression was stiff, and Hermione was almost certain that he'd been cajoled there. She watched as one of them said something to her and then looked straight at her. In return, she met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, daring him to judge her.
"It sure is. Let's go check out what's happening over there."
"Oh, you're in for a treat. I've heard English food is awful. Who ever thought to combine fish and chips?" A man—evidently, he was Josephine's husband's sister's husband—grinned innocently at Severus. "At any rate, it can't compare to mac and cheese, fried chicken, and sweet tea."
Severus chose not to waste his breath and correct the man's misconception of fish and chips. "I've tried the sweet tea and I don't think I've tasted anything more horrible."
"Really? That's a damn shame."
Beside him, Roman supported his opinion. "The unsweetened tea was too bitter and the sweetened tea too sweet. I tried mixing them but it was still horrible. So there you have it."
Peter—that was his name—stooped to Roman's level and made a face. "There's always cider and soda. There's got to be a southern drink you love. Everything's better down here."
"Don't forget the lemonade," another man threw in.
"Lemonade isn't purely from this area," Roman scoffed. "That's not fair."
"Is it?" The man cracked a kind smile. "I'm going to go get the patties started. Severus—that was your name, right? Mind if you come with?"
Groaning internally, Severus got up and followed. He coughed when the cover was lifted and smoke flew right up his nose.
"Pal, have you never operated a grill before?" Peter used tongs to grab the patties and placed them on the rack, each of them landing with a sizzle. "What even happens over there? Besides picking up hot, young chicks?" He glanced at Hermione, only to look away when the young woman caught his gaze. "I don't see why you up and married her," he continued almost inaudibly. "Marriage should be a last resort. Now you're not as free to play the field anymore. Unless, of course, she's alright with that. It's not as if you're in need of someone to carry on your name. You've got that covered." Lowering his voice, he took a step closer, making it seem like he was about to divulge a big secret. "I was married once. Worst decision of my life. Trapped me with her and no one else."
The words struck a chord with Severus, and he felt the ire in him rise. "I married her because I care for her," he hissed. "I have never been one to play the field." To his embarrassment, he hadn't seen Hermione approaching until she was behind him.
"That's always good to hear."
Severus turned, feeling his face heat up. Must've been the smoke. "You want a turn?" He pointed at the grill.
"I'm alright, thanks. Come sit."
They had all of ten minutes to briefly discuss some of the family members they'd met, and somehow that led to a discussion on the house at Spinner's End. A couple had put in a deal recently, and Severus rejoiced at finally being able to put that episode of his life in the books.
When it was announced that the food was ready, Severus and Hermione patiently waited for the crowd to die down, not caring to get tangled in all the people. Roman and Johnny went for it, as did Bryan from where he remained with some of the other young men.
"You think we should try and sit with some of the families?"
"I think we should, but that doesn't mean that I will." His statement was for naught, as a husband and wife couple each holding a full plate headed straight toward them.
"You're the Brits from Josephine's side, right?"
"We are."
"Does it really rain nonstop?"
"That would depend entirely on where you live, but for the most part, yes." Spying his two younger sons returning, Severus rose. "Excuse us. We're going to go get some food." He and Hermione left the table.
There was a bit of silence to start as Johnny and Roman didn't know what to say or whether they should say anything at all.
"Is it odd having a stepmother just a few years older than you?"
Johnny stared for a moment.
"Pardon me. I'm Heather, and this is Dawson. You might've met our kids? Joe, Noah, Ethan, and Annabelle."
"'Fraid not," Johnny remarked. "I was briefly with that table over there." He pointed. "As for Mum being so young? I got used to it pretty quickly." He turned to Roman, and the two shared a smirk.
"Do you see her as a mother then, and not a friend? And you even call her Mom? Surprising."
This time, Roman looked unsure of how to properly answer both truthfully and logically. "Erm, I'd say she's both."
"Both what?" Hermione returned, scooting in beside her youngest. Severus was not too far behind her.
"Oh, I was just wondering how your age affected your relationship with your stepsons. I'm so curious, how did you and your husband even meet?"
Gently, Hermione's foot kicked Severus's, signaling to him that she was likely about to say something he didn't expect. "We bumped into each other at a bookstore, actually! I do love a man who reads." The false cheeriness was something that only her immediate family could pick up.
Beside her, Roman got out of his seat to whisper in his father's ear. Hermione strongly suspected that it was to tell him that she was telling the truth about the first time around. The thought made her realize how little of their past he really knew. At least, the specifics. They'd been so focused on living the now and continuing to nurture their relationship as it stood currently. And they were doing a fine job, she privately thought.
"And you were still a minor, I presume?" Heather backtracked quickly. "Just curious, of course. I'm not judging, I promise."
A multitude of potential responses crossed Hermione's mind, but none of them seemed appropriate. It didn't help that 'minor' went all the way to eighteen in the muggle world, and that the older woman likely knew or could easily find out that Hermione was only nineteen. "Not for long," she finally said. "I'm afraid I'm the boring sort. Nothing happened that would scandalize even a grandmother." The smile she gave was tight, and Dawson tactfully changed the topic with an admonishing glance at his wife.
"Whereabouts England do y'all live? It's just London and Liverpool I've heard of."
"We reside in the southwest of Cornwall, which itself is in the southwest of the country." Severus cut into his steak and took a bite. It was good, but he preferred the Shepherd's Pie he'd brought in himself. Hermione caught his eye and laughed at him, silently conveying that he was a fool for getting such a large portion of food they could easily make themselves.
"It's wicked," Roman jumped in. "We're on a cliff, so there's a great view, and even though the cottage itself is in a comparatively wooded area, it's only a short walk to the sea."
"And the five of you all live together, right? Are you in college, Hermione?"
"No, not in uni." She was feeling petty and wanted to emphasize the Britishisms. "It's been my dream to open a bookshop, actually, and I'm currently in the process of looking into spaces to rent or purchase. I did say I loved books."
"Oh wow. I hadn't expected that, based on the few things I've heard about you. And you, Severus? What do you do?"
Severus looked disgruntled to be addressed but answered nonetheless. "I was a professor at a small boarding school."
"Was?"
"I opted to leave the staff this term in order to pursue my own business."
"And how is that going?"
"Term only ended a month ago. Do you think I've had the chance to get everything running?"
Hermione coughed to hide her laugh. Both Heather and Dawson looked embarrassed. Thankfully for them, one of their sons came over. "Mom, what was the make and model of your first car again? We're comparing our parents' old cars and I only remember Dad's Pontiac Catalina."
"Ford Galaxie 500 Fastback. 1966."
"Thanks!" Joe sped off without another word.
"Kids these days. I'm jealous that yours deign to eat with you. Speaking of cars, what was your first, Severus? I sure regret selling mine just before my daughter was born."
Severus was momentarily stumped. "I've never had a car," he finally said. "Public transportation is much more convenient where we're from, and as I lived at work—boarding school, if you recall—it never became necessary."
"Really! That's unthinkable to me."
Seemingly out of nowhere, Severus jumped out of his seat and hurried off with a mumbled "pardon me." All of them stared at his retreating form in confusion, the reason only becoming apparent to Hermione and the boys when they saw an owl flying after him.
"Was that an…"
"Owl? I believe so." Hermione gave a pretty convincing expression of bewilderment to Heather.
"Does he have a phobia of owls? If that was the reason, his eyesight sure is sharp. I didn't see it till it was right in front of us."
"Imagine Dad being scared of owls," Roman whispered. It was loud enough for everyone to hear, and Johnny's resulting laughter told them that their father likely wasn't afraid of them.
"That's odd. I'm going to try and go find him."
Hermione ventured out, not seeing any flashes of black hair. Imagining that Severus would go somewhere unseen by others, she made her way to the edge of the property. Strong, invisible arms wrapped around her middle, and she let out a breathy gasp.
"Minerva has horrible timing." Severus redid the disillusionment charm so that they were both under it. "Her poor owl had to fly all the way across the pond, imagine!"
Said owl was fluttering in circles around them, almost certainly because its owner had asked for a response.
"What did she say? Is it urgent?"
"Not at all. Here, read it."
Severus,
I find it quite unfair that Prophet readers are hearing more about you than I am. They certainly gravitate toward you. I hope you've settled in nicely, though if reports are correct, you've found alternate and—shall I say—more pleasing lodgings. As every year, my summer residence is open to you, and I hope that this will be the first year that you do not reject. Bucol has been instructed to wait for your reply, so don't think you can get away with it.
P.S. Tell Hermione that I send her my warmest greetings and that I wish her well as she progresses.
"So that was the owl's name! Bucol. I couldn't remember. Are you going to write a response?"
"Not exactly."
He transfigured a reed of grass into a small sheet of parchment and pulled a quill out of one of his pockets. "I'd like more time to compose a worthwhile message, and now is not the time for that. Though it would be quite nice to avoid all these people…."
Hermione watched as he wrote a succinct message: I am otherwise occupied at the moment and do not have the time to provide you with all I would have liked to say. In order to not anger your owl—by the way, Bucol is a horrible name; what happened to Artemis—I will give it this. Expect my actual reply at a later time.
He left out his name and gave the sheet to Bucol, who seemed to sense that he hadn't put any effort into the missive. Still, having received the parcel in its claw, it swooped away.
"Ready to go back?"
"More like ready to go back home."
Though Hermione gave him a stern expression, she agreed with his sentiment completely. The fact that he called their place home was not lost on her, and the words gave her an extra spring in her step.
