Castaways on a Sullen Sea
By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Please be so kind as to refer to chapter one.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder that, while this is categorized as a "romance", it's also categorized as "drama". Romance is a touchy subject, because I suppose that many readers want sweetness and light. Hate to break it to you, but this isn't it. This is more along the lines of a "gothic romance" – please refer to the sisters Bronte for more information. The story is not going to change, nor do I suspect the vast majority of you want it to. I will not compromise my understanding of these two very difficult, very opinionated and at times disturbing characters. I will reiterate my previous warning of discussions of murder, rape, adult language and other issues that touch on the darker side of the human experience. If this bothers you, please don't read any further. Thank you.

Chapter 13 – Domesticity

Hermione had learned a great many things in the month since she and Severus had fought. For example, she learned that Malfoy had been the one to take Severus in after his mother died, and that it was with Lucius' encouragement that Severus entered the service of the Dark Lord. She also learned that the magical tattoo had stung uncontrollably for months even before her mother's death, so Severus knew that Voldemort would soon be up to his old tricks.

Severus had apologized for striking her. It bothered her that he would have raised his hand to her, but she knew, also, whom she was dealing with. Severus Snape was not known to be kind or thoughtful. Indeed, he had made a career out of being a bully, elevating mental cruelty to an art form, and although she didn't have any hard proof, Hermione could imagine what he had done as a Death Eater. Still, she knew that after the slap, things had changed between them. He treated her respectfully, much better than a student, but distanced himself from her as often as possible. However, he had given her free reign, and after a brief conversation about why he didn't want to discuss Lucius Malfoy, they came to an understanding. All was forgiven and the slate was wiped clean between them.

Hermione's knitting skills were improving, for Gromnett now owned a pair of woollen slipper cosies and a purple sweater with a large black "G" on it. He asked for another pair of slippers for his friend Grisby, one of the Durmstrang house-elves.

"Grisby is the only elf more learned than me," Gromnett said. "He used to be the personal elf of Karkaroff, but he was relocated right before You-Know-Who came back. He'd love these slippers, miss. Thank you."

Hermione wondered if Severus would mind her knitting clothes for various house-elves, but she didn't quite care. To her, it was still the most deplorable form of slavery imaginable, and she wished that there were something she could do to stop it. She was, however, thankful that there were more house-elves who were happy about being free, but she noticed that all of them had been the elves of Dark wizards. She remembered something that Professor Dumbledore had said about how people treat their inferiors, and thought it was categorically true in the case of the Death Eaters.

Gromnett, as well as his master, had made Hermione very comfortable in their home, but she still missed being able to go where she pleased, as well as the Burrow. True to her word, she sent an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley every week. Ron and Harry also sent owls from their sojourn to Eastern Europe. She felt terrible that she could not let her best friends know where she was living and with whom, but she knew that they would cut their vacation short in order to "rescue" her from "the clutches of Snape."

Dotty old Errol appeared outside of window of the study, holding a large piece of parchment and another, smaller rolled piece. Hermione took both of the parcels and gave Errol the rest of the berry she was eating. He clicked his beak in appreciation and flew off towards a tall tree in the arbour, apparently exhausted from his journey. She opened the small rolled parchment first.

Hermione,
Molly and I will be coming to visit you in a week. We have some information about your mother, as well as Ron and Harry. I thought you might be interested in the Muggle newspaper I've sent over, I don't know what type of news you get at Snape's house. Stay safe, and we'll see you soon.

Regards,
Arthur Weasley

She opened the larger package and found The London Times. Hermione smiled at the thoughtfulness of Mr. Weasley. She missed reading about the Muggle world and what was happening with it. Instantly turning to the entertainment pages, she caught up on some outrageous escapade that Geri Halliwell had done on Portobello Road. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Muggles had it so easy. There was nothing quite as dangerous out in that world as was in the Wizarding one.

Severus entered the room, dressed in a comfortable pair of black chinos and a thin green sweater. His hair was pulled away from his face. He crouched down next to Hermione's chair, peering over her shoulder at the newspaper.

"What's a Posh and Becks?" he asked impishly.

"Two Muggles – one of them was a famous singer, the other is a soccer player." When Severus shot her a puzzled look, she quickly explained, "It's sort of like Quidditch without the brooms."

Severus frowned. "They both look bloody ridiculous to me."

"Posh and Becks are nothing. You should see what the American celebrities are like." Hermione turned the page to show Severus a quarter-panel picture of a drunken Tara Reid vomiting on the sidewalk outside of a Chelsea eatery.

Severus smiled a bit. "You see why I no longer receive Muggle newspapers. I haven't been in touch with anything Muggle since the end of my more rebellious streak." He walked over to a rolltop desk and opened the bottom drawer, where he extracted a cracked leather-bound photo album. He handed it to Hermione. "I think I still have a bit of that defiant element in me. Take a look."

Hermione opened the journal carefully. Inside, she found not the enchanted photographs of the Wizarding world, but yellowed clippings and ticket stubs from Muggle establishments. She looked through each page with wonder, in awe at the hidden side of Severus. Hermione pointed to an aged picture of him, dressed in ripped jeans, white t-shirt and a black leather jacket, standing next to pierced men with Mohawks. "When was this picture taken?"

"Sixth year; my mother had just died and I was spreading my wings. I fit in just fine with my long hair and pale complexion. I got hit in the head during a concert and some punk broke my nose, which made it even more crooked than it already was."

"Who took it?"

"I associated with a group of Muggles in those days. It didn't endear me to my surrogate family, but at the time I didn't care."

"I thought you hated Muggles."

"There was once a time in my life that I hated everything, Hermione. Being a pure-blooded wizard didn't help me at all, after all I had heard about Muggles and Mudbloods…" he heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione, "I mean, those who aren't pure-blooded…regardless, I wanted to rebel against everything. Xavier's – that's the boy there with the blue hair – his sister and I were both in the same herbology class, and I approached her, wanted to know more about Muggle life. She told me that during the next Hogsmeade trip, her family and her Squib brother would be there. That's how we met. During holidays, I would go home with Lucretia and then Xavier and I would go to different nightclubs with his friends. They knew me as Severn – Severus is too much of a giveaway that I didn't belong in their world."

Hermione sighed wistfully. "That's a lot more exciting than my life."

"Oh, but you are best friends with the Boy Who Lived," Severus sneered. "You can't tell me that you haven't had many wonderful adventures."

"It's different, though…you weren't constantly in danger when you were a teenager."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.

"So, what happened to Severn Snape?"

Snape took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. It was obvious to Hermione that he didn't want to talk about his Muggle rebellion. "He grew up."

"He grew up? Or did he just grow old?" Hermione looked closely at the photos in the book. "When was this one taken?"

Severus looked over her shoulder. She was looking at an enchanted photograph of Severus and someone who looked a lot like Goyle, the Slytherin oaf in her year. The duo were slouching and frowning, the wind blowing through Severus' hair, both wearing black robes. Lucius Malfoy stood behind Severus, his hand on Snape's shoulder.

"Graduation day."

"You look a lot different."

"I was a lot different. It was at that moment of time that I began my metamorphosis to Death Eater." Severus held his arm, as if he was in pain.

"May I ask…"

Severus grabbed the book from her hands and shut it quickly. "No. That's enough of that, Hermione. You'll go tattling to Potter and Weasley in the next owl you send."

She glared at him. "I can't believe you think I'd tell Harry and Ron about something private like that. Don't you trust me?" Her voice broke.

"I don't trust anyone, Hermione. It has served me well over the years." Severus walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Hermione behind him.

---

Gromnett had risen with the sun, full of frenetic energy. His friend Grisby, the Durmstrang elf, was going to visit him. By the time Severus and Hermione rose, the entire house was glistening. On the stove was a spinach and tomato strata and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Hermione took a spoonful of the egg dish and sat at the table, lazily munching on the breakfast. Her hair was sticking straight up; she had long since given up on looking attractive. She was searching for the pepper grinder when she noticed Gromnett enter the room, smartly dressed in the purple sweater she had knitted for him and his usual black pants.

"Good morning, miss. Today is very special! You should dress soon!"

Hermione finished her breakfast and placed the dishes in the sink. "Grisby is coming, right?"

"Yes, miss! Look what Gromnett is wearing! The sweater!" He was beaming.

Hermione patted the house-elf on the head. "You look great. I'll get dressed and we'll wait for Grisby together, okay?"

The house-elf nodded and ran to his room. Hermione turned toward her own room, thinking how nice it would be to have visitors of her own. The Weasleys were supposed to visit every week, but duties with the Order of the Phoenix made it impossible for Arthur to hold to that promise, and Molly would not come to Snape's home by herself. Hermione missed her friends dearly. By now, she was supposed to have gone to the Burrow and started preparing for her entry into higher education. Instead, she was in exile, with her best friends in another country. She felt as though she would rot away in Snape Manor.

She decided that she would wear the robes she bought when she thought she would be going through Auror training. They were black sateen cotton with a piping of red around the neck and wrists. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. Her hair was a mess; even she could see that it looked ridiculous. She rummaged through her belongings and found a jar of smoothing cream, which she applied liberally to her roots. A few hard tugs on her tresses with a brush and the frizz was mostly gone. She twisted her hair into a loose chignon. Hermione looked at herself again. What little frizz was left in her hair gave her the look of an old-fashioned heroine.

"I don't look half bad," she said to herself.

Hermione made her way to the study, where she found Gromnett nervously pacing in front of the fireplace. He looked up, his eyes wide in appreciation.

"Oh, miss, you look beautiful! Grisby will be so very pleased."

Hermione blushed. "Gromnett! Sweet old house-elf, thank you."

"You should wear your hair like that more often, Miss Granger. It makes you look…almost approachable." Severus was dressed in his usual garb, but seemed less pale than usual. Hermione noticed a slight colour creeping up his neck. "Your robes are… why didn't you wear these robes more often?"

"I bought these when I thought I was going to work for the Ministry."

Severus' eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy. "Everyone has a dream deferred, Hermione. It's not a tragedy."

"I understand, Severus, but I don't know what to do with my life. Maybe I should look into going to a Muggle University, getting out of the Wizarding world for a while."

"You would enjoy it, but you'd miss the spells, the wonder of the Wizarding world after a while. Trust me, Hermione. You might be of Muggle origins, but you are a witch."

"Perhaps, then, I could go into teaching. I could still feed my academic interests." Hermione said.

Severus put his hand on her shoulder. "Indeed. Tell me, Hermione, what would you teach?"

Hermione smiled. "There are so many things that interest me, Severus. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions…"

"Potions. You're much too bright to spend the rest of your life hidden behind a foggy cauldron," Severus smirked. And too beautiful, he thought.

"It's positively fascinating …witchcraft without the wand. I think it's the most scientific of all the Wizarding Arts."

Severus frowned. "Scientific, yes, but it's also exacting, unbending, and there are so many limitations, unlike Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. You still want to teach that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Who wants to be stuck behind a simmering kettle of foul smelling ingredients, teaching children who don't want to learn? At least with the Dark Arts, you can find something to interest them."

"Why do you teach," Hermione blurted, "if you hate it so much?"

Severus looked at her with surprise. "I don't hate it."

"You seem like you do."

"Don't automatically assume you know everything, Hermione. That's one flaw you haven't grown out of."

"I was just curious, Severus. You have always been so mean to the students, and especially to Gryffindors."

"Do you expect me to greet all Gryffindors with boxes of candy? I'm head of Slytherin House! Besides, Hermione, students are not necessarily nice to me. I know what they say about me behind my back. I'm not stupid."

Hermione blushed. "I know you're not stupid…"

"Great greasy git, vampire, slimeball, horse's ass, son of a bitch, bastard…" Severus punctuated each insult. "I believe that's from Ron Weasley alone. I've never heard 'Professor Snape is my favourite teacher' or 'I've learned so much because of Snape's classes'. Not that I ever dreamed I would."

"Maybe if you were nicer to the students…"

"No, I'm just being who I am. Everything's not all roses and Chocolate Frogs, Miss Granger," he sighed. "I'm not Albus Dumbledore, the good, kind and gracious. I'm just Severus Snape, last of a long line of powerful pureblooded wizards, former Death Eater and current spy. I'm bitter, cruel, and at times insufferable. I'm not a nice person."

"You can be, when you want to be, Severus." Hermione placed her hand in his.

Severus caressed her fingers. "No, Weasley is right. I am a son of a bitch."

Hermione smiled. "I never thought I'd hear you say the words Weasley is right."

"Nor did I." His voice was husky.

Hermione lifted her hand to Severus' face, softly running her finger down his jawline and across his lips. Severus parted his lips slightly and drew her finger in, gently licking the tip. Hermione shuddered, drew closer to him, and put her other arm around his torso.

"Hermione, I don't believe this is proper."

"To hell with what's proper."

Suddenly, a feminine scream punctuated the air, and Hermione let go of Severus.