As time went by, the days passed, overtaking each other, and everything for Snape was mixed in a motley kaleidoscope of preparations for the Winter Solstice. He was engaged in endless paperwork, he worked on potions for St. Mungo and his personal projects. Snape was busy. His own unsettled personal life frustrated him.
Snape moved the cast-iron cauldron of elixir for the burns left by the Dark Curses with an effort and squinted at Hermione's open notebook - the one from the future which she used when working on the Potion of Pristine Memories. Another task that needed his attention. Snape checked the time and ran his hand over his face. He had a feeling like he was running out of time.
The Ministry had allocated forty days to consummate the marriage. Arithmancy treated the number forty with particular caution. forty symbolized the withering of old outlook and the determination to take the first step into the future. Snape, for his part, was absolutely ready to move on, if only...
If only his wife spent her nights at home, and not at Harry's on Grimmauld twelve, intending to finish the unfinished business at all costs before the Winter Solstice!
In the living room, mindful of the explosive nature of her best friend, who did not favor when he was interrupted from work on such trifles as a visit of an old friend, Narcissa made tea and laid out lemon biscuits on plates. Lemon biscuits were Snape's favorite delicacy, since childhood. Receiving his confusing message, the beaming Lady Malfoy rushed to help. She didn't care whether her Severus was from the past, from the future, or the present: he was still her "Sweet Darling", who sometimes suffered from unnecessary worries way too much.
So, with the perfect timing, Narcissa knocked on the laboratory door, and, carefully looking inside, she showed Severus a plate of biscuits. As usual, that was enough to lure him out of hiding.
Snape turned down the flames under the cauldron, sealed the result with a protective charm, and followed the call of tea. He badly needed, if not Narcissa's help, then certainly her tacit sympathy, and, perhaps, her advice as sharp as herself.
Nodding in greeting to his best friend, Severus handed her a bottle of antidepressants, which she accepted with a grateful smile, and settled into the chair with a blissful sigh.
"Drink your tea and tell me everything," Narcissa began bluntly, sinking elegantly onto the sofa.
"I thought you'd be overjoyed at the possible return of your dearest cousin to the living world," Snape hissed, taking the first sip.
"You mean Sirius? Yes, I've heard a lot about your wife's intentions, and Draco recently asked about our ancestry. To be honest, I'm surprised, but nevertheless glad, you know Siri has always been my favorite cousin."
Snape nodded in agreement. He remembered very well how Narcissa had given Black long lectures on his misbehavior. For a while, he even listened to her.
"The Black family needs their Head, Severus, you know it. If we had protection and influence in the political arena, neither I nor Lucius, nor any other pureblood would let Voldemort play with our destinies. But that's not the point." Narcissa waved her hand imperiously, interrupting Snape's slightest attempts to argue. "This is about you and Hermione, as well as the fact that your time is coming to an end. Would you like to tell me anything?"
Snape watched the tea leaves thoughtfully for a while, trying to predict his own future.
"If I needed help seducing my own wife, I would turn to Lucius," he finally replied with a smile. Narcissa laughed.
"Ah yes, I remember very well your trip to the "Red Lace" brothel in your senior years. Dear Lucius boasted that he would make a man of you, but in the end, you didn't even have enough money for a welcome dinner, so you quickly disappeared from there. I made Sirius, who was also a frequent guest of that respectful place, pay your debt. You still owe me for saving your impeccable reputation."
"You're right as always, Narssi. The first time, everything happened so messily that we almost did not understand that we consummated our marriage," Snape admitted running his hand through the tangled hair. "As you know from my stories, we fought for more time than not. I never really managed to get to know her. Instead of asking questions, I used only reproaches and mockery when talking to Hermione, however, I am well aware of my own shortcomings."
"So, tell me, Severus, if Hermione annoyed you so much, why did you agree to marry her at all? I will never believe that in this way you wanted to repay her for saving your life," Narcissa asked, pouring a new portion of tea into cups. In fact, this was the question Severus had been waiting for. No one but Narcissa, and perhaps Poppy Pomfrey, had the amazing ability to sort out his own life.
"What do you know about the Power of Mutual Suffering?" Snape began from afar.
Narcissa put the cup down on the table and leaned forward.
"Besides the fact that this spell has an outrageously pretentious name? The term is widely used for the victims of the Unforgivables, specifically the Cruciatus. If people happened to be tortured under Crucio, moreover, if the curse was imposed by the same magician, they somehow become connected by one thread, by one suffering, and one shared pain."
Snape nodded, satisfied with her answer.
"And by coincidence, we were lucky enough to experience all the hatred of dear Bella. Apparently, this was a kind of trigger that made me take Hermione as my wife."
Narcissa thought for a moment as she tapped a fancy melody on the armrest. Snape watched his friend. They were connected by such an intricate and strong friendship that he sometimes wondered, what did he do to deserve such a faithful, intelligent, and devoted friend as Narcissa Malfoy?
"Debts and vows aside, Sev, we will think about them tomorrow. You didn't tell me the main thing: how did you manage to fulfill your marital duty the first time?"
Snape snorted in response and, it seemed to Narcissa, blushed slightly.
"That was simple: we were drunk. The Winter Solstice was approaching. We quarreled, as usual, Hermione tried to persuade me to help the Longbottoms, she set herself a goal: to bring Neville's parents back to consciousness, and kept failing. You know, sometimes I think that with her hero-complex, she would fit perfectly well among the badgers of Hufflepuff. So, she kept pestering me, I refused to help her without explaining my reasons. In fact, I shared the Power of Mutual Suffering with the Longbottoms too. So, if I tried to help them, the consequences of ten rounds of Cruciatus would have fallen on my shields mentally. I don't think I could have endured them, even with Occlumency. So, she grumbled at me all day, and in the evening, nevertheless, she decided to light the fireplace and arrange the ritual of burning the Yule log. I sat next to her and watched her actions detachedly. She was lonely, we both drank a lot, trying to numb the pain of our failure of a marriage. Well... Everything happened by itself."
"And what, praytell, prevents you from doing the same thing now? Bypassing the Longbottoms' talk and your fight?" Narcissa asked, raising an elegant eyebrow in question.
"Besides, if your wife is seriously concerned about saving each and everyone, we will simply need the help of Sirius - he is a born Legilliment. And I was friends with Alice. I don't understand why no one has yet thought of applying a mental charm to her and Frank."
Snape nodded gravely: he could try to help, but he needed the assistance of a powerful Legilliments. Damn Black!
"Very well, Narssi, I intend to try."
"I wish you good luck, Sweet Darling, may you succeed!" Narcissa smiled back at him.
By evening, Hermione seemed to have resolved Snape's doubts herself: she started decorating his chambers for Yule. Solstice night was approaching, the longest night of the year. In its honor, a big celebration was held, awaiting the revival of the King of the Oak, the Sun King, who gave life, who warmed the frozen earth and awakened strength in the seeds awaiting spring.
Bonfires were lit in the fields, and crops and trees were blessed by drinking spicy cider. Children went from house to house and carried cloves and apples, which lay in baskets of evergreen branches and wheat stalks, dusted with flour.
Apples represented the sun, the cloves symbolized immortality, the stalks of wheat represented the harvest, and flour meant success, light, and life. Holly, mistletoe, and ivy were adornments not only outside, but also inside houses, meant to invite the spirits of nature to the feast. The holly was kept near the door all year round as a constant invitation of fortune.
As cynical as he wanted to be known, Snape secretly loved ancient rituals, a pristine connection with nature, a new hope for the future. That was why he allowed Hermione to lay apples all over the place and bake Yule log - a traditional pie with cloves and other spices, while he himself took up spicy cider. Whether planned or not, Snape was determined to make their first celebration together happy.
"For some reason, I'm sure," Hermione shouted from the living room, "that this year will bring us a lot of happiness. And I won't even pay attention to your grumbling, I'm going to teach you that life is not only black and white, it has many shades."
"Sure, like the brown that your blouse will turn into if you don't stop grinding the spices so violently," Snape remarked, grinning to himself.
Hermione's surprised exclamation gave him a worthy response.
He liked her enthusiasm. No, Hermione hadn't insisted on the tree yet, but the baubles were hanging everywhere magically attracting the glare of the flame and the light of the setting sun, giving hope for victory over the cold. Apples symbolized fertility, and the scene that Snape spied on in the Mirror of Erised, still gave him some thoughts. She wanted to have a baby. In the past, he managed to fulfill her dream. It couldn't be that this time his feelings, having passed the test of tragedy and pain, became dimmer.
Hermione, of course, did not hear his thoughts. She crept up from behind and hugged him around the waist, spying on the action that simmered in the pot.
"How delicious it smells! Mmmm! You are a real wizard."
"And you have an amazing ability to notice the obvious, dear," Snape replied waving the stirrer, pretending not to notice Hermione armed herself with a comb and was arranging his lank hair into a ponytail. In those minutes, even his own not too clean hair with gray strands did not bother him. She was there.
"Stop grumbling. This is our first holiday, let's celebrate it properly."
And he obeyed.
He was comfortable sitting on the floor by the fireplace, meditatively observing the dance of the flame, which was reflecting in the glass baubles and glasses with cider. He loved to feel the warmth of Hermione, practically snuggling into his arms. She cradled a cup of cider in her palms and in a low voice she was retelling the ancient Yule traditions, such as burning a log and scattering its ashes over the ground, people of old days believed that this action would grant a fertile year.
"Let's go to Black Lake, do this ritual, and on the way back visit Hagrid? I almost forgot about him these days, I feel so bad."
"As you wish, darling," Snape said in a husky voice, making a trail of kisses on Hermione's neck. His hands slid under her sweater, and she stifled a sigh, cheekily snuggling closer, just in a place that made his growing desire very obvious.
"Severus, I really want this, but for the next four days it will still be impossible," Hermione muttered and blushed. "I'm in the middle of my cycle. I have cramps, and there is a real disaster down there."
Snape laughed and put both arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap.
"You are an impossible woman, Hermione."
"I'm glad to be with you, really, I want you, Severus," she whispered, burying her face in his neck, just next to the oversensitive snakebite scars. "We should hurry, December is coming to an end."
Indeed: what were four more days if she really wanted him?