At Sixes and Sevens


The Daily Prophet, 15 August 1998

HALF BLOOD PRINCE TO MARRY GRYFFINDOR GOLDEN GIRL

By: Rita Skeeter

It pleases this author to have the exclusive privilege to announce that the Office of the Minister just released his Cabinet member in charge of intelligence, Severus Snape, is set to wed none other than Hermione Granger. No date has been set for the wedding and neither Lord Snape nor Miss Granger were available for comment; however, this pairing that has resulted from the Marriage Law Decree holds promising tidings for the rebuilding efforts of our society.

Hermione watched the Prophet's thin pages crinkle in Ron's tense fits. His breakfast remained untouched on the table, a bad sign to be sure, but Hermione could do no more than take in her friend's whitened knuckles. The tension rolling off his hunched shoulders was loud, despite his wordlessness, as well as belligerent.

His energy made Hermione restless in her seat. Additionally, as she sat there in the vibrating silence, it beckoned the absurd comparison of the way Ron emanated tension to Snape's method. His knuckles rarely whitened, his shoulders were never hunched, and the deadliness that vibrated around his stiff form somehow reassured, instead of rankled.

Lost as Hermione was in her mental comparisons, she missed Ron trying to get her attention.

"Pardon?" She asked, her cheeks growing red.

"You're going to get tired of hearing this from me, 'Mione, but are you sure you want to do this?"

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

Two weeks ago when he asked, she'd have internally yelled a vehement 'no' at this arrangement. It was all that the button symbolized, weighing heavy around her neck, which kept her holding her tongue at Ron's relentlessness. Yet, even with the mysterious Vow encapsulated there as a constant reminder, Hermione hardly could stand to be in the same room with her soon-to-be husband.

Now though, after several 'courting sessions' with Snape, the question seemed more like a trap.

"There's no want about it," she evaded but Ron was nothing if not relentless.

His face twisted unconvincingly as he retorted, "How are you even going to pull this off? You need to look cooperative. Happy."

The conversation was starting to grate. Turning away from Ron, she exhaled an impatient breath as she looked out the window over the kitchen sink.

It took everything she had not to grasp at the hidden chain that held Snape's button, to hold onto what seemed like the only anchor in an increasingly vast sea of doubts.

"Am I not capable of those emotions, Ronald?"

Grumbling from him ensued but after a moment, Hermione could feel the tension drain away from his body.

It had taken nearly eight years but Ron finally understood what Hermione meant when she used his full given name. It meant a hard stop, an unyielding call to surrender. Implicitly, Hermione didn't need eight years to know that the same tactic would never work on Snape.

She couldn't help but wonder what would...couldn't help but castigate herself over making more comparisons, even as a thrill traced down her spine.

She suppressed the shudder, and then turned back to Ron. A pile of ash- once the Prophet- now lay in front of him as he proceeded to stuff his face with cold breakfast.

"Is the rest of your family coming to this?"

"Yes," he managed between mouthfuls. "They should be here soon."

Just then, Hermione caught a series of pops from the yard. The Weasley family, at least those who didn't live at the Burrow, filtered in through the side door. Bill helped an irritated Fleur over the threshold; shortly after Yaxley took power they had announced they were expecting, and seeing Bill care for Fleur, well, it was a sight that both warmed and rankled Hermione.

Following close behind were the twins in complementary suits. They still ran their joke shop to great success; however Hermione had heard snippets of conversation as to the reality of keeping the business once they were married. Susan might be okay with a working class man as her husband, but tradition bore that George be home as head of the newly converged Selwyn-Weasley line.

It was a circuitous argument that Hermione and Snape had debated over in the moments during their courting sessions when he could surreptitiously teach her "the old Wizarding ways".

They were ways that Hermione, still, could not come to fathom. Or, frankly, find the desire to participate in.

"Oh! Hello, soon-to-be Lady Snape." Fred winked at Hermione good naturedly before going to the stairs to call down the rest of his family. Hermione tried to feign calm as she waited in the midst of all the rambunctious gingers but her stomach was flipping unpleasantly.

She wasn't quite sure why.

Soon enough, Molly, Arthur, and Ginny joined everyone else around the table. Hermione sent a quick pressed-lip smile to Ginny who, for the time being, could be counted among the Weasley ranks. She somehow convinced Zabini to put the wedding off to the last possible minute in hopes that Hermione and Snape may break the system before then.

It was a hope that Hermione could not yet find the energy to harbor. Still, what remained of the core Order seemed ready and willing to help- hence, the gathering.

"Hermione," Arthur smiled his greeting. The rest of the family followed suit, quieting before directing their attention to the sole brunette. "Why don't you update us on things?"

Toffee gaze bouncing around the room, Hermione measured out in her mind what information was relevant enough to pass on to the Weasleys. If she were being truthful, it all felt a little too personal to be considered reconnaissance.

She clenched down as an unruly warmth raced up her neck, heading straight for her cheeks, and started to talk before too significant a pause had passed. It wouldn't bode well to have to elaborate on her discomfort to the Weasley horde and if she were being honest, she should practice a facade of indifference.

Snape had told her time and again her face gave too much away. He also had berated her for not involving the Weasleys in their strategy so today, she planned on following through if only to get the sound of his sneer out of her ear.

"Based on my first session with Snape-"

Bill crinkled his brow. "Session?"

Hermione blinked at the interruption. Having mentally pepped herself up for this talk, she hadn't expected to need to explain basic semantics. "Yes. Session." She said slowly because she wanted this to stick. "It's what we privately call it instead of a date."

The word fell uncomfortably into the following silence but Hermione refused to dwell too long; otherwise the heat would continue its creep up her skin.

"As I was saying," she repeated with a warning sweep of her eyes, "Snape has used our time together to catch me up on wizarding traditions so I know what we're up against. Yaxley is playing by the books so we need to be prepared to do so as well."

Everyone around the table nodded, which was a relief as Hermione, herself, thought the logic weak.

Why would Snape need to actually demonstrate courting rituals?

Why would he have to start every meeting with a stoic bow, his dark eyes locked on her own as if she were his personal lodestar?

Why would he need to kiss the air above her hand, the breath of anticipation shivering across her skin?

Thus far, these "lessons" on Pureblood tradition has taught her nothing but how to be visibly flustered by any brush with the line of intimacy.

Ginny cut into her wandering thoughts with a question.

"So what can we do to help?"

A gesture toward productivity- Hermione latched on with unfiltered eagerness. "Play both sides. Be the anticipatory fiancée and whisperer of dissent." She looked to each Weasley in turn, focused now on the bigger mission. "If your intended is sympathetic to the cause, have them do the same."

Having the only "safe" spousal match in the room, Fred nodded at Hermione. She smiled at him briefly and then turned intent, amber eyes on the adults.

"We know there's dissent, it's the whole point of this farce." She swallowed around the word, throat thick with the taste of untruth. "So we need to capitalize on it. Hustle an organic growth by tapping into known progressives like Neville and the Patil twins. Then we need to find someone to counter Skeeter."

Bill immediately smiled the smile of a true Weasley, one rife with mischief.

"I know someone." And he left it at that, absurdly enigmatic but also thankfully, no longer a responsibility for Hermione.

To that, she sent the eldest Weasley a nod of thanks.

Everyone started to disperse after that and the briefest flicker of contentment thrummed in Hermione's blood. She accomplished what she set out to do with this gathering- maintain a no-nonsense attitude as she entrusted their allies with the strategy that she hoped would bring an end to Yaxley.

That they hoped would bring an end before…

Contentment quickly turned to a staccato beat of anticipation as her thoughts ever circled back to Snape. She couldn't even meander through her mind without somehow tying the two of them together with theys and theirs, as if she and Snape were a unit.

Which, in all fairness, they were operating as such. After all, they had jointly come up with the loose strategy to usurp the tyrant but that fact didn't quiet the beat of her blood.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ginny approach from the other side of the table. The girl had become a stilted friend with the lost link of Harry; when she reached Hermione, they stood in loaded silence for several moments before Ginny finally made her intentions known.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

The question was soft, tentative, as if it sat atop the most fragile of ice. It was also damn redundant. Hermione held back a sigh of irritation that she seemed to be having this conversation again and instead cast a tempus charm, her stomach flopping at the time.

She was due to her next courting session.

A hand wave dispersed the glowing numbers. Then, with a spared glance at Ginny, Hermione answered the belabored question with more resolve than she felt with Ron.

"I'm sure."

oOo

Severus stood perfectly still as he looked down the main stretch of Diagon Alley. He had been nearly late, an abomination, since some inner voice had convinced him to go home and change out of his Cabinet robes.

So now, in the pre-approved meeting point, he stood in shorter, slightly less staid robes to find he was not the abomination at all.

Miss Granger was.

The inner voice reared again, urging him to cast a tempus charm to see exactly how abominably late the witch was, but he banished the thought with a swift contraction of his Occlumency walls.

He would not be seen so obviously waiting.

And that voice, impulsive and irresponsible as it is, would not command any more of his actions today. Severus was a snake, for Merlin's sake. He knew to have more cunning than that troublesome voice could provide.

Nevertheless, he looked down the cobblestone street, implicitly aware of Miss Granger's tardiness, and wondered- not for the first time- why he was subjecting himself to this sham at all.

Yaxley had given him a perfectly no-nonsense directive- marry the chit and subsequently squash the last few voices of dissent. After that, he could have gone back to his habitual brooding, the couple living separate and no-less-fulfilling lives.

But then he had disapparated into that bloody field, catching his first sight of Miss Granger since the battle of Hogwarts, and the most foolish emotion rose in his chest.

It had been hope. A warm, unfamiliar wave of optimism such like he hadn't felt since Dumbledore was alive- all because his former student had met him head-on over a directive he hadn't spent more than a few moments contemplating. The outright rebellion from the chit had been refreshing and remained the only legitimate reason why he stayed, a ridiculous statue, on this bustling avenue of Wizarding Britain at high noon.

He believed he would have caved to Yaxley's impatient whinging a long time ago if it weren't for the utter contradiction of her person. To this day, Miss Granger remained equal parts frustrating and surreal, a daydream he couldn't quite grasp hold of. Then, just like one, she appeared on the far end of the street. She was dressed in appropriately modest, sky blue robes with not even the hem of a trouser leg showing with the swish of her walk.

He watched her shapeless form maneuver the busy lane and oh, how Severus wanted to grasp hold, if only to catalog what it felt like beneath his fingers.

She hurried closer, his thoughts veering sharply into practical, as he concluded there would be more lessons to come if she believed that pace to be appropriate for a Lady witch. As she pulled level with him, his eyes flicked up to the toffee-colored curls that cascaded in every direction.

He wouldn't dare even address the nature of her hair.

"Lord Snape," Miss Granger greeted a bit breathlessly. Color had bloomed in her cheeks; whether from the speed of her trek or something else he did not know- but he was fascinated with the way it made her look alive, more touchable than ever.

His hands flexed as he placed them behind his back. After Severus glared his disappointment sufficiently and the urge to reach out had passed, he offered a deep bow, keeping his eyes unmoved on the ever-changing hue of hers. Inwardly, he couldn't help but reel from the transparency of her face.

It was unbecoming in public.

It was much too intimate.

It was a look he intended on whisking away, into the unknowable dark, where it would be safe and secure.

Perhaps even appreciated.

Severus concluded his bow, and MIss Granger returned the gesture with a hand over her heart and a brief dip of her head. Once he proffered his arm, the two took off down the street before the long overdue meeting could be any more conspicuous.

"You're late," he pointed out, watching from his peripherals for her reaction.

The witch didn't miss a beat, fast learner that she was, and rendered an apology with just a hint of remorse in her tone. Miss Granger's face remained placid, her hand decidedly less so as the pads of two fingers dug into his wrist, crinkling the crown.

It was intended as pain, a pulse of warning.

It wasn't absorbed that way.

They had reached their destination, a tucked-away tea shop with a proprietor who knew how to mind her own business. Having Hermione Granger, war heroine and prevailing spirit of light on your arm, didn't hurt.

Severus seated them at what had become their usual table. A tea pot with varied accoutrements was served and then he was alone with Miss Granger in the otherwise unoccupied shop.

Traditionally, it would be a stain on her reputation to get caught alone with her intended.

Severus found he didn't bloody care, especially with the portly shop owner in calling distance. Until the fated nuptials, this was the closest he could get to her.

Pathetic bastard that he was, he found himself inexplicably longing to take the risk.

"Pour," Severus said shortly, the inconvenience of emotion sharpening the tone of his voice. Studying her, he could sense the threat of an eyebrow raise flicker across Miss Granger's face but she impressively kept her serene demeanor.

Instead, she moved to pick up the tea, murmuring "Yes, my Lord," with enough cheek that Severus actually felt his lip twitch.

Impossible, contrary girl- he couldn't imagine any of his lessons would ever stick. The challenge of making it so, however, was too enticing to let lie.

"How has your day been?" She asked as she handed him his tea. Their fingers brushed on the transfer and the china clattered just a bit once Severus had it in hand.

He attempted to cover the noise with a sarcastic remark.

"Other than waiting for my tardy fiancée," he paused here to take a sip, to drive the point home, "my day has been perfectly ordinary."

Miss Granger took her own, measured sip of tea and then spoke before Severus could reply with the customary "and how was yours?". Eyes dipping down, almost submissively, she said, "After our numerous tea times, I can't help but consider our tea preferences to be a reflection of our souls."

Severus looked straight at her, a strange mix of irritation and admiration stirring his blood.

"I take mine black."

The witch actually dimpled. "Exactly."

Severus remained unmoved. He struggled internally with how to respond to her impertinence, how it was detrimental to their overall task, but the blasted voice broke through, eager with the chance to spar with the fiery witch.

It had been a long while since he sparred with a witch.

Severus leaned in close to the table and said, "If you try it that way, you may like it."

Miss Granger's eyes flashed.

"I'll need to be convinced."

He felt her words echo deep, a gauntlet thrown down to the depths. You certainly shall.

They continued their tea in silence after that until the weight of their banter became too cumbersome, too overt. After stewing in the serene ritual of tea taking, Severus could no longer deny that the entirety of Miss Granger's… audacity… was doubtless just a rehearsal for what was to come of their fake union.

He forgot for a moment they were playing to a pretense. He forgot everything in the midst of the effortlessness of their interactions. Swiftly, Severus shot from his seat with the half-drunk cup still in his hand. He put it on the table and watched ripples dance across the black surface, catching the low lighting of the room, before the tea settled to stillness.

Miss Granger may be all at once ridiculous and accurate with her assessment of his soul, but he best not forget it himself, ever again.

"Your charisma during this session was sufficient, if not a bit bold."

She blinked once at him, slow and in a disoriented way, and Severus forced the rest of the words out, remembering the Vow.

"It will particularly be needed when we next meet."

Miss Granger still hadn't moved from her seat when she asked, "Why's that?"

"Next, we meet the Minister."


A/N: Ohhhh my heart is bursting! Over 300 views of the Interlude yesterday within 9 hours of posting and I am so happy that it's pleasing people to follow, favorite, and review! I hope this next chapter is satisfying but leaves you wanting more...like I mentioned in the last set of chapters, plan for updates once a month while I work on my other WIPs. Virtual hugs to you all, especially turtlewexler for her beta skills and jessivyy for her best friend skills :)