Author's Note: Thank you for your continued readership! You know, usually I update on Sundays. I felt like being early since baby Lily is actually sleeping and who knows if tomorrow night will be the same? Lol
Chapter 3 Part 2
"For the last time, Minerva, no!" Severus snapped in annoyance. He paced around the Headmistress's Office, refusing both her offer of a comfortable chair, and tea and biscuits.
"I do not require a leave of absence for a thrice-damned honeymoon! The whole idea is ridiculous!"
Minerva's lips pursed in disapproval. "But the two of you eloped, and you've only gone to a wedding. Surely you could use a little time alone together..."
He recoiled at the suggestive way she trailed off. "Minerva!"
His employer's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he scowled.
"I swear, woman, sometimes I want to slip something particularly unpleasant into your morning coffee."
She laughed, and he stole three of her ginger newts, easily dodging the mock slap of his fingers.
"Do the two of you at least have Christmas plans?"
"It is none of your business," Severus replied, "but I imagine that we will end up dropping in on her friends and mine—and don't look at me like that, you meddling biddy, I do have friends—before spending several hours in blissful silence."
"Then you have gone shopping already? When did you even leave the castle?"
Severus gave her a disgruntled look, sinking into a high-backed chair with a tartan throw over one arm. "Owl order, Minerva. Do keep up to date with the latest."
It was her turn to scowl. "I am well-acquainted with owl order. I was probably using it before you were born! But isn't that a little bit impersonal?"
He crunched through his biscuit thoughtfully before replying. Impersonal? Really? "Not really. Hermione has always been rather easy to shop for, as are my acquaintances, and she has taken care of the gifts for her friends. It is actually far more difficult to shop for you without repeating myself."
Minerva chuckled. "Ah yes. I always appreciate your amusing gifts, Severus. Last year's squeaky mouse on a string was rather inspired with the way it spat catnip everywhere."
"I know. I found proof of your high regard Christmas night in front of my door. Still warm. Nearly stepped in it."
They both shared an amused look, and he accepted a cup of tea.
"Hey," Hermione said by way of greeting as he entered their chambers that evening. She was curled up in her armchair, reading the Prophet. "Have you seen this? They just sent another four witches to Azkaban for refusing to marry any of the wizards they were assigned."
"No, I had not. What does that bring the total to now? Twenty-seven wizards and thirty-four witches?"
Severus draped his teaching robes over the sofa, uncaring if they wrinkled. He wasn't teaching for a few weeks and could wear a cloak instead.
Hermione paused, clearly counting in her head. "Thirty-three witches, but you're spot on with the wizards."
His lips thinned in distaste. It was a pity that as Hogwarts professors they couldn't take a more public stance against the Ministry unless it affected the students directly. Bloody stupid restrictions.
"And how is the public taking it?"
"It's hard to tell," she replied, tossing the paper down and shifting to regard him steadily. "Skeeter is writing the articles in a way that vilifies the people in question, so it's hard to tell if there is enough outrage for a revolution yet, or if people are still letting it happen."
Severus crossed to the side table as he tugged his cravat loose, and retrieved two frosty bottles of Butterbeer from the charmed cupboard. He handed one to his wife, cherishing the way her eyes lit up, as he took his own seat.
"It will get worse before it gets better, I think," he said after his first sip. "They will continue to incarcerate those who, wisely, will not comply, and when they run out of witches and wizards willing to play along, the Ministry will likely begin targeting the students. Contracts and the like. With some sort of clause or guise to make them 'date' their supposed choices until school ends, at which point it will be forced intimacy and child-bearing."
"Ugh." Hermione took a swig of her Butterbeer. "I suppose we'll have to find a way to sneakily start the seeds of a rebellion."
Severus chuckled. "Just teach them a few things that will come in handy and keep writing to the Ministry. Don't put it past the little bastards to start one on their own, Hermione. You and your own little miscreants were rather quick, as I recall."
"Don't remind me." She smiled impishly at him, making his heart skip a beat. "On a lighter topic, have you any plans for the hols?"
"You mean you haven't colour-coded and indexed and time-tabled all of it yet?"
She gave him a mock glare and swatted at his arm. She missed, but the gleam in her eyes told it her it was intentional.
"Well, I know that you do Christmas Eve with the Malfoys, and that I do Christmas at the Burrow. But you never gave me a straight answer on whether or not you were attending with me."
"And you never replied to Lucius's owl," he countered.
"It's at the Manor," Hermione said quietly. "I really do have trouble even thinking about going back there."
"Understandable. Lucius and Narcissa are aware of that, as well, and have offered to host the party away from that particular drawing room. I believe they suggested we use the greenhouses for the fete. If you wish to accompany me, you are welcome, and if you need to return home, we will do so."
Merlin, her face was so vulnerable when he said 'we'. It almost gave him hope that she would one day return the emotions in his heart.
"I can try," Hermione said quietly. "I don't want to make any promises, and I also don't want you to miss out on your traditions because of me."
Severus shrugged. "I can always return once I see you safely here. You forget, I have seen you mid-panic attack and dislike the idea of finding you some hours later on the path to the castle, frozen in the fetal position. You know that I would be blamed or some such rubbish, and finding a new wife would be such a hardship."
Hermione giggled, looking relieved. "Careful, Severus, you almost sounded like you cared."
"You know I do," he grumped. More than she knew he did… he cared very much.
"And I care, too."
Was it his imagination, or was there more weight to her carefully-spoken words than normal?
"You can tell the Malfoys that I am a tentative yes, I suppose. Worst case, you attend alone."
Severus nodded and Summoned Lucius's invitation and a quill. He marked the appropriate boxes, added a note, and set it aside. He'd owl it later.
"And Christmas?" Hermione asked hopefully once he'd finished.
"I would prefer to spend the morning here… with you," he said.
"I wouldn't inflict you on them first thing in the morning anyway," she said drily. "Or myself, given a choice. Not without several cups of tea."
He snorted and took another drink. "I am uncertain how much of their cheer and Molly's mothering I can withstand before I start poisoning them all."
Of course, her answer was a cheeky grin. "How about Christmas dinner at the Burrow? I can send their gifts by owl, and we can have a quiet morning and afternoon together, like before term started."
Severus suppressed the urge to smile. That sounded far too wonderful. He missed those days when it had been just the two of them. No staff, no students, just he and Hermione in her chambers. He missed cooking for her, missed her forays into magical cooking with far greater success than the usual sort.
"That would be acceptable," his lips said of their own accord.
Her face fell before she smiled. 'Acceptable'? Merlin save him, 'acceptable'? There was nothing he would like more than to have his wife all to himself, and that was what he had to say about it?
At a complete and utter loss for how to rescue the moment, Severus simply watched mutely as Hermione rose to find paper and biro for her own message. He accepted her hand on his shoulder and the accompanying squeeze as she took the other note for Lucius and headed out the door, presumably to send both letters.
The door clicked shut and Severus sagged in his chair.
"'Acceptable'," he muttered sourly into the empty room.
Hermione sighed. Severus had woken early and disappeared without a word, though she did appreciate the stasis-held cup of warm tea on her night table, made just the way she liked it. And call it her imagination, but she even thought she felt the lingering trace of a kiss on her cheek.
It left her all twisted up inside, and she folded another pair of knickers, setting them atop the pile of Severus's drawers. She still wouldn't let the House Elves do all of the laundry. They had a deal: they got to wash and dry it, but she got to fold it and put it away. Convincing them to let her do Severus's as well as her own had been difficult, though.
She moved on to hanging the shirts, hers and his, side by side in the wardrobe.
On one hand, the chores were soothing. On the other, they left her with plenty of time to think. Far too much. Hermione Granger-Snape was in love with her husband. Worse things could happen, but right now she couldn't think of one. Proclaiming her love wasn't something she did. Before, it had been Ron who had spoken first, and she had just replied.
But this... she didn't know how to go about it. Sure, she could just blurt it out. Or plan some horribly cheesy romantic thing. But how would Severus react? Would she ruin their relationship—and marriage, which she really did like—by confessing? Or was he harbouring feelings of his own? Was she hurting things by not speaking first? She knew her taciturn husband well enough that he wouldn't say anything unless he was certain his feelings were returned.
Hermione finished the last of the shirts and started on her robes and his frock coats, wondering again why he had basically a week's supply of the same outfit.
Maybe she'd get him some new jumpers for Christmas. The thought made her smile, especially thinking of him lounging in their quarters as he read, his white shirts peeping out at the collar and cuffs. It was a homey, domestic image, and she blinked when she realised she was planning a life with him again, for her mental picture included a bassinet by his feet.
Right. Like they were emotionally ready to have children. Why in Circe's name was she even thinking about that right now? Must be close to her period.
Hermione growled and all but slammed his trousers into place and kicked the wardrobe door shut.
In any case, she decided, firmly directing her thoughts back to their original train, telling Severus she loved him probably wasn't the wisest idea yet. She'd just have to show him.
Severus flipped through the owl order catalogue by wandlight as Hermione dozed beside him. In the sitting room were piles of packages, ready to be shrunk and mailed to their respective recipients in time for Christmas. And with three days until the bloody holiday, here he was, sitting in bed with his wand like a naughty child with a good mystery book, shopping for his wife.
Not that he hadn't already shopped for her, no. He had finished well over a month ago. But he felt as if he should make a gesture of his love without actually revealing it.
It was difficult. He could not be too subtle, but nor did he wish to be too overt.
Jewelry was overrated. Hermione did not favour perfume, and she chose her own cosmetics. She didn't collect anything, and he had already purchased her a handful of the books that he knew she had been eyeing, as well as a rather nice set of quills. Merlin knew she had nibbled her current ones half to death.
It wasn't too different from what he had purchased for her before. In past years it had been a subscription to a journal of her choice—which she shared with him—and some of her favourites from Honeydukes. He had already acquired those as well, and was admittedly very curious if she would deviate from her usual gifts to him.
He wanted to give her something...more. To show his affection. Lucius's last letter had suggested lingerie, which had, frankly, horrified Severus. Though perhaps some comfortable pajamas? Hermione's favoured pair were from a Muggle set, and rather...holey.
Making a mental note to owl Malkins' about recreating the softness and sizing, Severus closed the catalogue and left it in his nightstand drawer.
By Christmas Eve, Hermione oscillated between enjoying the quiet time with Severus in their rooms and working herself into a right fit over whether or not she had chosen well for his Christmas gifts. At least she hadn't had to worry about what to wear to dine with the Malfoys, and Christmas Eve luncheon with the staff had been quiet and surprisingly well-behaved.
None of their presents from the staff had involved any sort of lubricating potions or dirty sex books or anything that Severus had fretted over—not that he had admitted as such—that morning. Instead, it looked more like their colleagues had decided that the two of them should go out. Certificates to a few choice restaurants seemed to have been popular, but now they had a very nice bottle of heather scotch from Minerva as well. Severus had seemed interested to try it as a base for sleeping draughts, which had made Hermione laugh.
Hermione poked through her paltry collection of jewelry, trying to find the earrings she wanted. A gleam of pink caught her eye and she grinned in triumph. Snagging the little flowers, she poked them through the holes in each lobe. A long-ago gift from her mum, they were her favourite earrings, and her go-to on most holidays.
"Almost ready?" Severus asked as he swept into their bedroom, adjusting the cuffs on his formal robes.
She turned to him with a smile. "Just need my shoes."
"They're by the door."
"Thank you!" Hermione rose, crossed to him, and bussed him on the cheek. "You look lovely."
"An adjective better suited for yourself," Severus replied with a snort.
She beamed at the compliment.
The walk to the Apparition point was quiet except for the crunch of their boots in the snow and the occasional thunder of hooves as the centaurs partook in their traditional yule hunt. Hermione cautiously swung her mittened hand a little as they walked, brushing occasionally against Severus's leather-clad one.
"Oh for fuck's sake," he muttered the third time it happened. "If you cannot be trusted to walk unaided, I suppose I must assist."
And then he took her hand in his.
Her heart skipped a happy little beat.
Severus handed their cloaks to an elf with a murmur of thanks as Hermione batted snowflakes from her hair. She had worn it down, to his relief. He liked it when she wore it down, wild and bushy and liable to devour any hairbrush that dared attempt to tame it. Pulled back, she looked very professional but sometimes disturbingly similar to Minerva. He also appreciated when she tamed it into curls, though the riotous mass was infinitely better.
"Severus! Finally. I was beginning to worry."
"Apologies, Narcissa. You look lovely." Severus met her halfway and accepted her hand. He raised it but did not kiss it.
"You both look wonderful. It has been too long since Draco's wedding."
She embraced Hermione, though Severus noticed that his wife did so very stiffly. When Narcissa released her, he moved closer and offered her his arm. Hermione accepted with a strained smile that did not reach her eyes.
Narcissa skillfully led them through the side halls of the Manor, avoiding the drawing room completely, but he still felt Hermione's nails digging into his arm. Narcissa deftly ignored her guest's discomfort and pointed out some occupants of the gilt-framed paintings. Hermione nodded politely at the proper intervals, but Severus didn't think that she was really listening. Not even the word 'library' seemed to turn her head.
"Here we are, the greenhouse for tonight's dinner."
The doors opened with a genteel flick of Narcissa's wand, which quickly disappeared into the folds of her silk robes.
Hermione proceeded him into the greenhouse at his gesture, but stopped at the sight. Severus smiled behind her back. He never grew tired of a Malfoy Christmas Eve.
"Forward," he murmured. "You can gape all evening."
"Sorry," Hermione whispered, allowing him past.
The greenhouse was spectacular. Faint lights glowed within the climbing ivy, while a charm to make it appear as if it were snowing flurries hovered just over their heads. Tinsel was hung on rosebushes, which were in full bloom. Near enough to the table to impress but not too close to overpower the scene stood a pine tree.
Adorned with deep crimson garlands, silver baubles seemed to sit of their own accord on the branches. Candles in golden holders flickered lazily, their flames the pale icy blue of a Lumos. Here and there glitter and snow glazed a branch. Under the tree lay mounds of presents, each exquisitely wrapped.
"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed.
"Thank you."
Narcissa looked pleased. Christmas was her favourite holiday, and she took great care in the planning of and decorating for the yearly event.
The heady scent of roses and the grand pine tree filled the air, which was just cool enough to hint at winter yet perfectly comfortable. As it always was, the scene was breathtaking.
Outside the clear glass walls, snow was falling for real, thick flakes rushing downwards and silencing the world. The strains of a violin quartet playing carols came from a rather expensive-looking player in the corner that Severus recognised from the ballroom. The song was one of his favourites, as well.
"You have outdone yourself," he said in praise, earning a smile from their hostess.
"Madam Granger-Snape, Severus," said Lucius with a sketched bow. "Welcome. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas," Hermione replied.
Draco and his wife, Astoria, were also quick to greet her and they all took their seats. Narcissa's favourite china and crystal glasses were at each place. Severus would have to tell Hermione later that it was a sign that they approved of her. Not that she would care much, but perhaps it would mend some fences.
Appetizers were brought to them by beaming elves, who were quick and prompt in their clean white pillowcases, each embroidered with bright holly leaves.
Dinner progressed well, Severus thought. The conversation flowed easily, for which he was grateful, and by the third course Hermione had ceased to play with his mother's ring on its chain, which was usually a good sign.
Every course was, as expected, delicious. Salad with glazed pecans, pears, and tart cranberries. Rolled slices of roasted rabbit stuffed with dates. Sides of crisp vegetables paired with rich gravy and mounds of silken potatoes. And the one thing that Severus thought simply must be present at a Christmas feast: the duck. Golden brown, the skin rich with the flavours of butter and herbs, crisped to perfection. The meat moist and well-seasoned.
For dessert there was an array of delicacies. Traditional Christmas pudding, trifle, treacle tarts, fluffy gingerbread cake with a lemon cream...a sampling to ensure their appeal to every guest. Hermione seemed most taken with the sherry trifle and he made a note of it.
Severus adored dining at the Manor, much as he would rather not admit it. And especially not to Lucius, who was finishing his final bite of dessert and leaning back in his chair with a measure of whiskey.
Severus sighed before taking a sip of his dessert wine. "What have you been holding off on saying, Lucius?"
He was willing to wager it was news that Astoria was expecting; the brunette had not had a sip of any of the three wines and had eschewed the offer of either brandy or whiskey as well.
"You know me so well." The blond toasted him and took a sip of his drink. "I hear that the law isn't progressing as the Ministry desired."
Fuck. That was not what he had expected.
Across the table, Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Do get on with it before you spoil the evening."
"Are they going to be targeting witches and wizards still in school?" Hermione asked, twisting her napkin in her lap. Severus found himself reaching to still her hands in comfort, but noticed too late to end the motion. Her fingers were warm under his.
"No," said Draco.
"The Ministry is targeting all married witches and wizards of child-bearing age," Astoria said grimly. "We are all going to have to reproduce."
Bloody hell.
"Oh," Hermione said in a small voice, sagging in her seat. She squeezed his hand and Severus returned the gesture.
"How long?" Severus asked when he found his voice again.
"I am uncertain," Lucius said with a tone of regret.
"Draco and I are trying already," Astoria offered quietly. "My mother is on one of the councils and while the majority of members are not listening to her attempts to get them to see reason and to cease alienating the populace, she is at least able to pass me information. They are going to be monitoring any couples paired under the Marriage Law, and if those already wed—even outside the Law—don't conceive within six months, they're going to be enforcing visits to healers."
"I see," said Severus. His vision was getting spotty. Was it the wine?
"We thought that you deserved fair warming," Lucius was saying from very far away.
Hermione was nodding. "We had discussed children but aren't really ready yet. I would have to miss at least a term if not a full year, and children are expensive to raise, even living in Hogwarts three-fourths of the year. Assuming we would be allowed to raise a baby within the castle walls."
"The Ministry will be providing financial support as an incentive," Narcissa told her. "I am told that the payment per child is exceedingly generous."
"And Mother says that the payments will continue even if the law is ended," Astoria added. "Which, I suppose, is a small comfort to those now forced to bring a child into the world and raise it."
Severus found his head nodding mechanically at the right pauses in conversation.
Children. Or at the very least, a child.
"Do you think we have long?" Hermione asked.
Draco shook his head. "The legislation will be passed within the year. Six months is the current time to conception. That may change to as little as three months. The Ministry is not known for its patience."
"So soon?" Hermione's voice was small. His wife looked at him, pale under the last vestiges of her summer freckles, for support. He didn't feel particularly hale himself at the moment, but thanked Merlin for his naturally pale complexion.
"Yes," said Lucius, a trace of bitterness in his voice. Severus recalled how hard his friends had tried for children, and how many of the rosebushes in the greenhouse were planted in memory of the babes that didn't make it. Draco was their only living child.
With any luck, the younger Malfoys would not suffer the same heartache.
"So, children." Hermione seemed stunned.
She clutched at the ring again, the metal of the chain making a small zipping noise as she tugged the ring along it.
"I am afraid so. You two had best get off your potions and get started," Narcissa said gently. "From what Astoria has said, I don't think you will care for the healers the Ministry will be employing, and I doubt that they will be as patient as you will need them to be."
"I see," Severus murmured faintly.
His blood was rushing through his ears. Or he thought it was. Perhaps it was a train in the far-off countryside. Which was odd, since he could no longer hear the carols played.
The Ministry was going to be interfering in a way far more devious than merely forced matrimony. He could still move to the Continent, but to what end? With his luck, he would be denied a visa, or there would be no need for a Potions Master at other schools, or no one would want a newcomer joining their legion of brewers and apothecaries. He would have to sell his house to escape the law.
But another glance at Hermione, raising her chin in defiance, told him that his bossy bookworm of a wife was going to do two things: ask him for children, and begin a campaign against the Ministry's laws.
And because he loved her, he was going to do it.
He was going to assist her in the pregnancy, play father—and presumably do so better than his own had—and probably spend long hours of the night researching laws and checking over her impassioned letters to various publications.
Hermione was looking as if she'd like to be ill, but he knew her well enough to know that this meant war. And so, apparently, did the grim-faced Malfoys around the table. They were all prepared to play along to stay safe, but they were also ready to fight.
And, of course, he was going to go along with this madness again.
Once again, it was for love.
Severus did the only sensible thing.
He fainted.