AN: This is yet another story based on the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge. It doesn't follow the rules (they were a bit limiting and my imagination wanted to go further a field than they technically allowed for) but I think it follows the spirit. And it should be a bit different from the rest of the ones you've read. At least it's different from the ones I've read.
With Respect to Happiness
Oh Happiness! our being's end and aim!
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! whate'er thy name,
That something still which prompts th'eternal sigh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die;
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise:
Plant of celestial seed! if dropt below,
Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair opening to some court's propitious shine,
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?
Where grows?—where grows it not? vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil:
Fix'd to no spot is Happiness sincere;
'Tis nowhere to be found, or ev'rywhere:
'Tis never to be bought, but always free,
And fled from monarchs, St. John!, dwells with thee.
—Alexander Pope "Essay on Man — Epistle IV:
Of the Nature and State of Man, With Respect to Happiness"
THE DAILY PROPHET
BLACK WIDOW—Death. Inheritance. Revenge. It has all the makings of a novel but there's nothing fictional about the recent rash of unexplained deaths—deaths of persons connected with a certain Muggleborn witch. Ministry Aurors were again on the scene of a mysterious pureblood death. Aurors responded to a call by Hermione Granger Malfoy Malfoy Goyle early this morning. Married only a few hours, the Widow Goyle had been in Muggle London for the weekend and arrived home to find the body of her husband. Investigation so far has been inconclusive and no charges have been filed. The death of Gregory Goyle is yet another in a string of deaths of men participating in the new Marriage Law. The Law—recently passed despite disapproval from the Wizengamot and most notably Albus Dumbledore—requires the marriage of all non-pureblood witches of child-bearing age to a pureblood wizard able to father children. All single, divorced, or widowed witches are required to register at the Ministry. Additionally, use of contraceptives and infidelity are strictly prohibited and punishable.
The Law was passed in hopes of reviving the wizarding population from its current slump. Statistics on the number of pureblood squibs and magically inclined children with substandard intelligence and magical ability born in the past three centuries were compiled as a NEWT level project by sixth year Hogwarts student, Hermione Granger. The alarming trend detailed in the report propelled the normally torpid Ministry into action this past summer. The war with He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named early this fall caused immense casualties amongst the pureblood population and brought urgency to solving the growing problem. The Ministry realized that drastic measures were needed to save the future of wizardingkind.
But this story only starts with the law. It ends with mysterious circumstances and a multitude of unsolved deaths. The names of all eligible witches were determined and a list sent to all eligible wizards for petitioning. No special dispensation was given for those still in school or abroad. Ms. Granger the first witch petitioned for. Her subsequent marriage to Draco Malfoy was The Event of the past decade. Young Mr. Malfoy's untimely death barely a month into the marriage—death by means still unknown—caused Mr. Lucius Malfoy, the father of Draco Malfoy and an upstanding citizen and vocal supporter of the Ministry, to take his former daughter-in-law's hand in marriage. "It was the only honorable thing to do," Mr. Malfoy stated when questioned. "The young lady was taken from her studies and promised security by my family. It is up to me to provide that security. I have also lost my son and heir; it is lucky that my new wife will be able to provide me with more children." Mr. Lucius Malfoy's first wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy, had only one child and died shortly after the recent war: "Of a broken heart," Mr. Malfoy stated, eyes filling with unshed tears. "She was simply devastated that her beloved society could be plunged into war. It tragically sapped all her strength—not that she had much to begin with, bless her soul." Mr. Malfoy wed his son's widow in a quiet ceremony at Malfoy Manor as befitted a great house in mourning.
Unfortunately and tragically, Mr. Malfoy died of an apparent heart attack at home less than a week after the marriage. The twice widow Malfoy was again up for petition—this time the petition was won by Gregory Goyle, another former classmate of the Widow Malfoy. Goyle's petition was accepted immediately on behalf of the Widow Malfoy and in the name of expediency. The two wed in a ceremony two days ago. Mrs. Goyle was called away by a family emergency on her wedding night and returned the next day to find her husband dead. Other recent unsolved deaths of pureblood wizards are those ofGregory Goyle Senior, Vincent Crabbe and his father Vincent Sr., Thomas Nott and Niall Avery. Goyle Sr. was found dead of unknown causes the night before his son's wedding to the Widow Malfoy. Vincent Crabbe and his father were married to Nymphadora Tonks before their suspicious deaths, Nott to Madame Rosmerta Meliflua, and Avery to Madame Virginia Malkin. Interrogations under Veritaserum by England's premiere potions master, Hogwarts' Professor Severus Snape, have thus far cleared the women of any wrong doing. All five women are up again for petition—but brave be the heart that weds one of these women. No life—in the form of magical children—has come from any of these marriages—only death has resulted.
The question the Daily Prophet would like to ask the Ministry of Magic: is this new law supposed to increase the number of magical children or decrease the number of magical adults?
Hermione Granger Malfoy Malfoy Goyle rolled up the newspaper and contemptuously threw it into the fire burning cheerily in the fireplace. The fire flared briefly as it consumed the skewed, emotional tripe that passed for news these days. The warm glow and heat from the fire was a direct contrast to the cold austerity of the formal dining room where she sat. The Goyle Mansion was a mausoleum. Soaring vaulted ceilings in a drab gray marble, granite tables and iron chairs, along with innumerable wall sconces completed the tomb-like impression.
Her quiet morning tea was interrupted by the arrival of a House Elf.
"Madame has a visitor," the little elf squeaked.
"Thank you, Missy," Hermione said as she carefully wiped her mouth. "Please show them to the reception parlour."
Hermione carefully folded up the napkin, placed it precisely beside her plate of untouched biscuits, and went down the hall to greet her guest. She stopped in the doorway and cleared her throat. Her visitor turned toward her, and she was unsurprised to see Professor Severus Snape standing there. He hadn't changed at all in the five days since the last time she had seen him—the last questioning session at the Ministry concerning the death of upstanding citizen and pureblood Gregory Francis Goyle, Sr. Now he was here, in the Goyle—her parlour.
She cleared her throat gently before speaking. "Professor Snape," she said, keeping her voice neutral and emotionless. "What can I do for you?" She knew perfectly well what he was there for, but there were appearances to keep up—and besides, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. He deserved that at least.
Snape took a step toward her, gave a slight bow over her hand—precisely observing all pureblood formalities, and said, "The Ministry has asked that I question you again, Madame Goyle." The twisted smile he gave her told her that he knew what she was doing and that it didn't bother him in the least.
Hermione shuddered slightly at his form of address but kept her body and visage otherwise impassive. "Very well. But they will have to wait a few hours at least. I cannot go with you now," she explained to him calmly, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I have a burial to attend this morning."
"Of course, Madame Goyle. We certainly must pay our respects to your poor departed husband," Snape said, his voice oozing compassion. "Will you allow me to escort you? We can go directly to Hogwarts for questioning after the ceremony."
Hermione self-consciously licked her dry lips and nodded her acquiescence. "That will be fine, Professor." She moved toward the doorway. "Allow me to change into something more appropriate," she said, looking down at her dressing gown and slippers. "I shall only be a short while. Please make yourself comfortable." She gestured toward the formal furniture, and Snape took a seat on the antique sofa. "Missy!" Hermione called. The house elf crept into the room from behind the doorway where she had been hiding, obviously listening to the conversation. "Missy, please provide the Professor with whatever he wishes. I shall return shortly." With that final remark, she swept out of the room.
"Madame Goyle! Madame Goyle! Did you kill your husband?"
"Gold-digging mudblood whore!"
"Widow Goyle what do you have to say about accusations…"
"Madame Goyle, how do you explain the deaths of two husbands within a week of each other?"
"Murdering slime!"
The shouts rang in Hermione's ears, and she was hard-pressed to keep her expression neutral. The crowd of witches and wizards and reporters were held at bay only by the determination of Ministry Aurors. They had gathered, despite the cold November drizzle, at the gravesite for the burials—both Gregory and his father had been interred together—and now that the solemn ceremony was complete, they began to demand answers from the woman whose name had all too recently been connected with four deaths.
"Be quiet," the calm, quiet words nonetheless cut through the din and successfully silenced the crowd. "Madame Goyle has other pressing engagements—she cannot be delayed to answer your questions. The Ministry will have a report in the morning; speak to them then," Severus Snape sneered at the mass or magical folk. His hand firmly grasped Hermione's upper arm, both effectively preventing any possibility of escape and conveying to the crowd exactly who was in charge. "If you will excuse us…" he drawled, the normally polite phrase spoken in such a tone that no one present could fail to recognize the implicit reprimand. The crowd parted, and Snape lead Madame Goyle through the gap. Once clear of the crowd, he tightened his hold on her, and the two disapparated.
They reappeared at the gates of Hogwarts and started up toward the castle, silent and tense. When they reached the doors, Snape violently pushed them open and dragged Hermione off to one of the lesser used corridors. She craned her neck, looking for any sign of her friends. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relived, but there wasn't anyone around—not even any of the castle ghosts. Soon, she was too busy following Snape to even glance around. She did her best to keep up with his long stride, but kept stumbling. Only his ever-present hand on her arm kept her from falling repeatedly. Snape stopped abruptly in front a blank section of wall. He pulled out his wand and with a muttered spell, the wall dissolved into a doorway. He walked into the room, dragging Hermione with him. He abruptly let go of her and she stumbled to a stop. The room was echoingly empty. Snape held up his wand and performed some warding spells. Hermione also recognized a spell or two to keep listeners out and to check for any listeners already present.
"There are no spies listening in," he assured Hermione as he transfigured a table and chairs. He pointed at one of the hard wooden seats, and Hermione sat down.
Out of his voluminous black robes, he pulled a small vial. "Veritaserum," he said, measuring out three drops into a draught. He handed it to her and scowled at her dubious look. "Take it Madame Goyle and let us get the questioning over with."
With one final moment of hesitation, she took the potion and downed it in one gulp. She made a face at the bitter taste of it but remained silent, waiting for Snape to continue.
The Potions master pulled out a quill and piece of parchment and charmed a small device with a recording charm. "We shall be very thorough Madame Goyle, so there will be no cause for us to have to do this again. My time is valuable," he groused as he recorded information about the current date and time. "The only reason I agreed to do this again for the Ministry is because it is a Sunday and won't interfere with my classes; as it is, I shall just be a day behind in my marking." He glared at Hermione as if blaming her for the disruption of his schedule. "Shall we begin?" he sneered.
Hermione nodded, doing her best to not respond to his baiting.
"Very well then. Let us start off easy. What is your name?" Snape asked wanting to be sure the veritaserum was working.
"Hermione Granger…Malfoy Malfoy Goyle," was the fully-truthful response forced from Hermione's reluctant lips.
"And how old are you?"
"Seventeen."
After a few more basic questions designed to prove that the truth serum was indeed effective, Snape got down to the real questions.
"Madame Goyle, did you kill your husband?"
"No."
"Did you hire someone to kill your husband?"
"No."
"Did you murder any of your previous husbands?"
"No," Hermione's voice was calm and certain.
"Did you murder your husband's father?"
"Which husband?" Hermione queried bitterly.
Snape clarified emotionlessly, "Gregory Goyle."
"No."
"Were you present when he died?"
"No."
"Where were you?"
"I had been called away the previous night by a family emergency and only returned that afternoon."
"What kind of family emergency?" Snape's bored voice held no concern or interest—only cold detachment for the questioning process.
"My mother had broken her leg, and my father was away for the weekend. She needed help."
"How were you summoned? I thought your parents were Muggles."
"They are Muggles. But I gave them an owl so they could keep in contact with me. The owl arrived with the message that my mother needed help so I went home to help her."
"What time was that?"
Hermione thought a moment before replying, "Somewhere around eleven on Friday evening."
"And you went home immediately?"
"No."
Snape made a note of this and continued, "What delayed you?"
Hermione paused biting her lip to keep from speaking. She glared at Snape who stared back impassively.
"Answer the question or you will be held in contempt," he said, not relenting at all.
Hermione took a deep breath before blurting out, "My husband and I were…having relations… at the time. It delayed me."
Snape didn't react at all to this admission. "Your husband was alive when you left?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, her voice taking on a wry tone, "and snoring very loudly." Her face showed none of the emotion that was leaking into her voice.
"And then you went to your mother's house?"
"Yes."
Snape scratched another note. "Is there anyone to corroborate your story?"
Hermione considered the question. "My mother. Our neighbour who came to look after my mother when I left on Saturday, maybe. The house elves should at least be able to confirm that I wasn't in the house. I didn't go out anywhere or talk to anyone while I was at my parents' house."
Snape made a note about the lack of impartial witnesses. He asked the next question in the same bored, detached voice. "What time did you arrive back at Goyle Manor?"
"It was around two in the afternoon."
"Did you speak to anyone upon your return?"
"Yes. The house elf, Missy. I gave her my cloak."
"What did you do then?"
"I went up to the bedroom to take a shower and change."
"Why?"
"I was wearing the same clothes I had thrown on the night before; I wanted to get clean."
"Did you speak to your husband before getting into the shower?"
"No."
"Did you see him?" Snape's voice held a definite sneer.
"Yes."
"Elaborate," was the curt command.
"Gregory was in the bed. He appeared to be sleeping."
Snape wrote this down and said, "Sleeping? At two in the afternoon? You didn't try to wake him?"
"No," was the quiet answer, "not then."
"Why not?"
Hermione paused. Finally she answered, "I desire to wake him up. I didn't want to deal with him."
"Madame Goyle, is it customary for your husband to be asleep at two in the afternoon?" Snape's voice oozed derision and contempt for her perceived obtuseness.
"I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed, bristling at the implicit accusation. "I'd only been married to him for less than a day. How am I to know what his sleeping habits are—were?"
"I will ask the questions here, Madame Goyle!" Snape thundered, pounding his fist on the table.
Hermione shut her mouth and glared at her former professor.
Snape was silent for a moment, making sure that she had fully subsided. "Very well. Let us continue. You arrived home, saw your husband in bed, did not speak to him or otherwise attempt to communicate with him…then what?"
"I took a shower and changed into fresh robes."
"What happened next?"
"I left the bathroom and saw that he hadn't moved. I looked at him more closely, and it didn't seem like he was breathing. I…I thought he was playing a joke on me."
"What did you do?"
"I went over to him and touched him on the shoulder. I knew then that he was dead."
Snape wrote this bit of information down and asked, "How did you know he was dead?"
Hermione shuddered as she recalled. "He was cold and…stiff."
Again, the silent room was filled with the scratch of Snape's quill on the parchment.
"Once you determined that he was dead, what did you do?"
Hermione shifted in the uncomfortable chair. "I called the house elf and got some floo powder to call the Ministry."
"You didn't try to resuscitate him?"
"I don't know CPR…and I…I think he was probably too far gone for that. He was quite cold." Hermione shuddered at the memory.
"What happened then?" Snape repeated the question for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"The aurors arrived. They examined the scene, collected evidence, questioned me, and took the body for examination." She paused trying to recall events that had happened only a day ago, but seemed an eternity ago. "They then sent a note informing me that the burial was today and that you would question me further." Hermione fell silent at the end of her tale.
"Do you have anything further to add?" Snape asked as he wrote down what she had told him.
"No," Hermione replied. Her face showed a tiny amount of relief that the questioning was over.
"Very well," Snape finished his transcription. "I will send this to the Ministry. It is up to them what to do with you. The Ministry thanks you for your truthful answers to all the questions." Snape's voice betrayed no hint of the irony he must've felt at uttering that final sentence. He turned off the recording device and rolled up the parchment.
"Wait here," he said as he strode out of the room.
Hermione's shoulders crumpled the moment he left, and she buried her face in her hands.
It was only a few minutes when Snape returned, shutting the door and reapplying the wards. Hermione looked up at him in confusion—she had been expecting to be dismissed immediately as had happened before. Severus Snape apparently had a different plan.
His expression softened minutely, and he held out his arms. He was only slightly shocked when a sobbing Hermione threw herself at him. His immediate defensive reaction—honed by years as a spy—was quickly over-ridden by compassion. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him as though her life depended on it. Her balance depended on it because she was suddenly crying so hard she could barely stay upright. Severus put his arms around her and gently led her over to the table which he transfigured into a comfortable sofa. He took a seat and gently guided her down next to him. "There's no one watching now; let it all out. You've been wonderful throughout this whole mess, go ahead and cry."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasped through the tears. She knew how much he hated emotional confrontations—that scene with her father during the summer was an example of that, but she had to tell him. "I just…I just can't do this any more. I can't." If anything, her tears came harder.
Severus didn't say anything; he just continued to rub her back as she cried.
"I know it's not very Gryffindor or brave of me, but I just can't," her voice cracked on the last word, and Severus was surprised to hear the raw desperation in it.
"No, no you're right," he said as her sobs quieted down. "You've been brilliant, but you were never supposed to be involved…we never would have asked this of you…but we couldn't anticipate Malfoy petitioning for you." He sighed as he remembered, "We underestimated him." He sat back with a smirk and said, "But, I think it's safe to say that he underestimated you."
Hermione looked at him and said quietly, "I'm not sorry he's dead."
Severus sighed and after a slight pause replied, "I am not either—I…I thought he could be saved, but after what he did to you that night…No. I am only sorry that I misjudged him so badly." Severus Snape shuddered as he remembered that horrible night when a beaten and bleeding Hermione had flooed into his rooms and promptly collapsed. He had had to call Madame Pomfrey—after swearing her to secrecy—to heal the battered girl.
"It's not rape if it's your wife, right?" Hermione laughed hollowly.
The sound wrenched Severus' heart further. "I am sorry that my lack of foresight has cost you your education and…so much." He shook his head feeling that the guilt from this would just have to be added to that which he already carried. He also realized how inadequate his apology was—even if he had ever been good at apologizing, which he hadn't. "And I never would have allowed you to even consider Draco if I had known that it wasn't going to end there…The custom of giving a widow to the next of kin is ancient and abhorrent. We should have been expecting it, especially since they used that on Tonks too." Severus clearly recalled the horror of that day, when Draco's will had been read aloud. "And that travesty of a Ministry, allowing it—as though you were property!" Severus hadn't known how far he had come from the person he had been in his youth until that day. All the prejudices his parents had bred into him had been finally washed completely away on that horrid day.
Hermione was silent for a moment before speaking. "I wish I had never gotten involved with this."
"You were never supposed to be involved," he snarled in impotent anger. "Only older Order members. Ones who volunteered. Tonks and Rosmerta. Not you. Never you." He got up and began pacing. "We were so blind. So enamoured with the chance to finally get close to and eliminate those Death Eaters who had eluded us that we didn't think about the cost…" His face clearly showed his anger at himself. "And it worked so well with Draco and Lucius…they just couldn't pass up the chance to get the Goyles too. Sometimes…sometimes I think that Albus doesn't realize…" He broke off and pursed his lips together. It didn't help to argue with Albus Dumbledore when the man thought he was right.
"Goyle did always want what Malfoy—" she cut herself off with a shake of her head. "You were starting to get sloppy there at the end. Draco and Lucius they would believe, but both Gregory and his father in two days? We'll be lucky if we get away with it. And I can't believe you actually convinced my mother to break her leg," Hermione said, trying to focus on something else.
"I know it was painless, but I am sorry about that too," Severus said. "Unfortunately, it was the best alibi I could come up with on such short notice. I must really be slipping in my old age…" His face twisted up as he again recalled the deviousness of Goyle Sr. forcing his son to marry Malfoy's widow less than two days after the funeral—three weeks before the scheduled wedding. So much for vaunted pureblood attention to the state of mourning. At least the elder Goyle had been easy to eliminate—the man never did watch what he put into his mouth.
But those thoughts were about the past. He had to focus on the present and the future. He tried to gather his thoughts—and his courage. "I will be stopping by with some Skele-Gro for your mother as soon as the Ministry is convinced of your innocence—and they will be convinced. I have another batch of that undetectable contraceptive for you to take," he hurridly said that last sentence. The last thing they wanted was any accidental conception and a new Goyle—he shuddered. How could the Headmaster have sacrificed one of his students like that? It took some concentration, but he managed to focus back on what he had been saying. "With any luck," he said, voice laced with irony, "we won't have to poison your next husband. Albus wants you to—but no. I am not going to let them use you again—no matter how "effective and efficient" you've been." His voice held some contempt for his mentor and his blatant disregard for the emotions of those who followed him. "I'll put in a bid for you, if you'll have me," he said, his calm demeanor betrayed by the hint of nervousness in his voice and the speed at which he had spoken. He wouldn't be surprised—whatever the understanding they had come to over the summer—if she never wanted to see him again. If she never wanted to see any of the members of the Order of the Phoenix again.
He was therefore surprised when Hermione nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, I'll accept. If…if you'll still have me."
"If?" Severus asked incredulously. He felt like getting down on his knees and praising God that she would even consider accepting his offer. Over the summer they had quickly become friends when their work for the Order had required them to treat each other as equals and dispense with the formalities. In Hermione, Severus had found an intelligent, hard-working scholar; in Snape, she had found that his biting comments about the other members of the Order were terribly witty and funny. Their friendship had quickly escalated until they were more than friends but less than lovers. Not even (and Severus sneered at the words) "boyfriend and girlfriend" but something…indefinable. Her parents had sensed it on the few occasions he had escorted her home for a visit. Her father had even started an argument with him about his intentions toward his daughter. It had taken some time for Severus to convince the irate father that his intentions were entirely honorable. Severus had been planning on pursuing a relationship with the brilliant young witch as soon as she had graduated from school—and then that damn law had been passed and bollocks everything up.
"I…I know it's irrational," Hermione said quietly, "but I feel…dirty. Used." She turned away from him as she said this.
"Hermione," Severus said, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. He was gratified that she didn't flinch or pull away as he continued, "There is nothing irrational about emotions. Or everything is irrational about them. I promise, you have my word as a Snape, that I will not touch you unless you want me to. You can have all the time you want to…to heal." He removed his hand, mindful of the promise he just made. "You can go back to school…" he began.
"No!" Hermione interrupted him. Her eyes welled up again, and she said, "No. I…I don't think I can come back to school. I…I just couldn't bear all their eyes on me, knowing—knowing that Draco and Goyle and Lucius…I just couldn't bear it." Her voice was full of revulsion.
Severus nodded, understanding her fears. "I think most people will be more understanding than you give them credit for, but," he raised his hand to forestall her protest, "we can have private tutors, or some of the faculty to give you lessons on your own. You managed to complete most of the seventh year Potions curriculum this summer as my assistant. Everyone knows that you have never performed less than excellently in all of your classes. You could probably sit the NEWTS in a few weeks and be officially done, if that is what you want." He paused before continuing, "I know it might not help, but since you were proven innocent of all the deaths, you, as next of kin, should inherit both the Malfoy and Goyle estates." Hermione didn't say anything. "I should think that would make you the richest person in the wizarding community," Snape said with a twisted smile.
"Not much of a trade for my dignity and self-respect," Hermione muttered bitterly, wiping away the tears that refused to stop.
"No," Severus agreed, "not a fair trade at all. But, do not discount what money can do when applied correctly. If we learn one thing from the Malfoy family, it should probably be that." Severus was silent for a moment before continuing slowly, "Growing up, my family didn't have much money. I think it is safe to say that my parents and myself to a large extent were influenced by those who had power over us—those who had the money." He quieted again, not sure how to make his next point and uncomfortable sharing so much information about his past. "If you do not want to keep the money, you might consider putting it in a fund to help out other children who are susceptible to others." He let this idea sink in. "Or," he said in a very persuasive voice, "you could put it toward getting the law repealed." Hermione looked at him in surprise. "After all," he continued, "money from the Malfoy family is what helped get the law signed in the first place. I think it's only fitting that Malfoy's money get it thrown out."
A slow smile formed on Hermione's face. "I'll think about it," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I never considered—I mean, I don't want the Malfoy's money, but if I have it, I can use it." She shook her head and said with a sigh, "What I really want is to just go to sleep and find out this was all a terrible, horrible dream."
Severus threw caution to the wind and gathered her up in his arms. He was gratified when instead of pushing him away, she relaxed into him. "It doesn't work that way, you know," he said, resting his chin on her head. She sighed heavily and moved deeper into his embrace.
"I know," she admitted quietly. There was a long moment of silence before Hermione broke it, saying, "This isn't how I had planned my life. I wanted to be happy. I didn't want it to be like this."
Severus pulled her closer and said gently, "No one ever plans life—it just happens. And you either survive or don't." He thought a moment before adding, "And I, for one, am very glad you survived. And Potter and Weasley—all the Weasleys—Minerva, and the rest of the Order will be happy too. You think you have sacrificed parts of yourself—and likely you have—but you have also gained more than I think you realize. More than you'll realize for some time.
"And it may take time, but we can find happiness together…if you are willing."
There was a long moment of silence before Hermione grasped his hand and said, almost inaudibly, "I'm willing."
The End
Final AN: Well, there it is. Hope you enjoyed it. This is an un-beta-ed version, and I am an American, but I did my best. All mistakes, therefore, are mine (and maybe the spell-checker's). I played fast and loose with some of the names and probably some of the bloodlines. And ff.net pulled out some of my formatting. Mea culpa. Feel free to tell me what you think, to ignore it, or to rip it apart—my skin is pretty thick. My head too.
The Marriage Law Challenge Rules:
My challenge is this: The Ministry of Magic has finally acknowledged, publicly, that the wizarding world is in danger as the continued intermarrying of the Pureblood line causes more and more stillbirths, squibs and barren children. In an attempt to save the old families The Marriage Law has been put into place. Under this law any Pureblood wizard or male head of a Pureblood family can petition for a betrothal contract giving them legal power over a Muggleborn witch. This step has been deemed necessary as they discovered Muggle families feel that betrothal contracts are too 'old fashioned' and would rather let their daughters 'fall in love'. Our leading man of choice is going to get a contract on Hermione.
Deadline is 04/09/14
Conditions:
1. Your choice of how his contract comes to be:
A. Severus' father, desperate to save the Snape family, selects her for her brilliance and power.
B. Severus falls in love with Hermione, but she rejects him, forcing him to take a more 'high handed' approach.
(nope, didn't follow this one)
2. There must be a confrontation between Severus and Hermione's father.
(well, I IMPLIED it...)
3.
No Rape! Hermione must either skillfully convinced or
romantically won over into being a willing participant in the marriage
bed.
(Whoohoo! I actually got one!
Well...kinda. She wasn't willing in Malfoy or Goyle's bed. Does that
count?)
4. Lucius Malfoy must challenge, either by duel or wizard court, Snape's claim to Hermione in an attempt to get her for Draco.
(well...kinda...I thought he deserved to be more than just a matcher)
No limit on length or rating, but remember to warn younger readers if you're going to be racy.
Be funny, serious, however you want to be.
Remember, jealous young snots are fun to screw with.
(or poison...)
If you're going to post on WIKTT, please put the story in the challenge folder so we can find it.
Enjoy yourselves!
I love picture, so feel free to throw in illustrations as well.